Sacred Sins

tidy until … well, until a few months ago.”
    “Tess, as far as this case is concerned, you were brought in as a consultant. It's the police department's responsibility to find this man.”
    “Maybe I could have left it at that. Maybe,” she murmured, running a hand through her hair. “I'm not totally sure. But now, how can I? He's turned to me. When he spoke to me, there was a desperation, a plea. How could I, how could any doctor try not to answer that?”

    “Treating him at some later date isn't the same thing as feeling responsible for the results of his illness.” A frown of concern entered his eyes as he linked his fingers and rested them on the desk. “If I had to speculate out of hand, before a thorough reading of this report, I would say he's drawn to you because he senses compassion, and a certain vulnerability. You have to be careful not to give so much of the first that you fall victim to the second.”
    “It's difficult for me to follow the rules on this one. Ben—Detective Paris—wanted me to go out of town. When he suggested it, for a minute I thought, I'll go. I'll get on a plane and go down to, I don't know, Mazatlán, and when I come back this will all be over and my life will be as neat and tidy as it used to be.” She paused and met Logan's quiet, patient gaze. “I really detest myself for that.”
    “Don't you consider it a normal reaction to the stress of the situation?”
    “For a patient,” she said, and smiled. “Not for me.”
    “There is such a thing as overachievement, Tess.”
    “I don't smoke. I'm a very light drinker.” She came back to sit. “I figure I'm entitled to a vice.”
    “I don't have sex,” Logan said contemplatively. “I suppose that's why I feel entitled to smoke and drink.” He looked back, pleased that she seemed more at ease. Confession, he knew well, was good for the soul. “So you're staying in Georgetown and cooperating with the police. How do you feel about that?”
    “Nervous,” she told him immediately. “It's an uneasy feeling to know someone's watching you all the time. I don't mean just—” Shaking her head, she broke off. “I have such a difficult time knowing what to call him.”
    “Most people would call him a killer.”

    “Yes, but he's also a victim. In any case, it's not just knowing he might be watching that unnerves me. It's knowing the police are. At the same time I feel satisfied that it's the right thing. I didn't cut and run. I want to help this man. It's become very important to me to help him. In the dream, when I was faced with him I fell apart. Therefore I failed him and myself. I'm not going to let that happen.”
    “No, I don't think you will.” Logan picked up his letter opener, running the hilt through his hands. It was old and a bit tacky, a souvenir from a trip to Ireland during his youth. He was fond of it, as he was of many foolish things. Though he didn't consider Tess foolish, he was becoming fond of her as well. “Tess, I hope you don't take offense if I suggest that after all this is over, you do get away for a while. Stress and overwork can break even the strongest of us.”
    “I won't take offense, but I might take it as doctor's orders.”
    “Good girl. Tell me, how is Ben?” When she gave him a blank stare, he smiled. “Oh, come, even a priest can smell romance in the air.”
    “I suppose you could say Ben is another problem.”
    “Romance is supposed to be a problem.” He put the letter opener down. “Are you calling the shots this time, Tess?”
    “It doesn't seem as though either of us is. We're just fumbling around. He—I think we care for each other a great deal. We just haven't gotten around to trusting each other yet.”
    “Trust takes time if it's going to be solid. I've had a couple of professional discussions with him, and one rather drunken meeting at a little bar downtown.”
    “Oh, really? He didn't mention it.”
    “My dear, a man doesn't like to mention he got drunk with a priest. In any case, would you like my opinion of Detective Paris?”
    “Yes, I think I would.”

    “I'd say he's a very good man, dependable. The kind of man who probably calls his mother once a month even when he'd rather not. Men like Ben bend rules but very rarely break them, because they appreciate structure, they understand the concept of law. There's an anger in him he keeps well buried. He didn't give up the Church because of laziness, but because he found too many flaws. He gave up