A Prayer for the Devil Read online

  Knowing how busy most priests’ daily schedules were, Luke called ahead to arrange an appointment with his boss, Monsignor Swiger. After a few minutes on hold with the church secretary, he was surprised when told that the monsignor would meet with him in an hour. Luke showered, shaved, and dressed hurriedly in his black clerical garb.

  As Luke was leaving, his father insisted that he promise to meet them at Aaron’s house for dinner. Luke said good-bye, kissed his mother and father, and headed out the door. After several attempts, his old truck finally started and he was on his way to Saint Leonard’s parish in Boston’s North End. Pulling into the parking lot, he dialed Aaron’s cell number, listened, sighed heavily, and made his way toward the rectory office. Before he could reach the front door, he saw a reporter jump out of a car and hurry to intercept him. Luke put his head down and ignored the man’s questions. When Luke reached the rectory door, the man gave up and walked back to his parked car.

  What most people didn’t understand was that running a parish was similar to running any successful business. In today’s churches, there are schedules to meet, bills to pay, and paychecks to issue. Luke understood that his request for an extended leave would place a burden on the other priests and employees of the church. Before entering the building, he hoped that God would understand if he needed to be selfish at this critical time in his life.

  Luke peered around the partially opened door of the simple office. Looking up from his notes, Monsignor Swiger immediately stood and waved him inside. They met halfway, and Luke collapsed in the kind old man’s arms. “Luke, I’m so sorry for what you’ve been going through,” the monsignor murmured. Once Luke composed himself, they separated and sat at opposite ends of a small antiquated table.

  “Thank you so much for taking the time to see me today,” Luke said.

  Seeing Luke’s pain, the monsignor asked softly, “How’s your family?”

  Luke described their difficulty in dealing with the loss of Aaron but never mentioned the inner turmoil he himself was feeling. The monsignor pulled a stack of newspapers from his desk and placed them on the table in front of Luke, pointing at them. “I’m worried about you.”

  Luke didn’t have to look down to see what the headlines said. Not knowing how to respond, he replied wearily, “With God’s help I’ll work my way through this. I just need a little time away.”

  Swiger agreed to a leave of absence, though he felt compelled to gently remind Luke of his responsibilities before he left. “OK, take some time, but please remember that we are shorthanded and we need you here with us. The community needs you, the parish needs you, and I need you. Luke, you know that this life we’ve chosen is not an easy one, and God asks us to make very difficult sacrifices every day. Some of our brothers have even given their lives in the service of God. We have been given an easy path compared to others; remember this and please return as soon as possible.”

  Luke thought carefully for several long seconds before answering respectfully. “I’ve also suffered while serving God. Please don’t forget that before being assigned to your parish, I spent almost four years in Johannesburg where three of my fellow priests, all close friends, were murdered in one week. One of them, Father James, died in my arms.”

  “Luke, I know that you have suffered a tremendous amount for your faith, especially for a man of your young age. But there is so much more you can do. Even though your tragedy has affected all of our lives and broken our hearts, it can be used to bring people to God. Since you’ve been at our parish, attendance has risen by over thirty percent. People want to see you preach, God wants you to preach, and I want you to preach. You have done, and can continue to do, great things for God. Just promise me that you’ll pray on this and return as soon as you can.”

  Standing, Luke looked at his superior and said firmly, “Believe me, I’ve already prayed on it, and I’m doing what’s best for my family. I’ll check in with you every few weeks, and I promise that I’ll return as soon as my family can accept my absence.” Luke turned and walked out the door. As he reached the lobby and began to exit, the parish secretary yelled, “Wait, Father.” Thinking that the monsignor wanted to see him again, Luke turned impatiently, trying to think of what more he could say. She stood and handed him a small note.

  “A man from an insurance company who says he was friends with your brother stopped by to see you. He asked me to give you his number and said it’s important. You might want to call him when you have a few minutes. He seemed sincere.”

  Luke thanked her and put the note in his pocket. As he opened the door to leave, a horde of paparazzi ambushed him and began yelling questions while taking pictures. Lightbulbs flashed in his face, but again, Luke put his head down and quickly ran to his truck. When they blocked the front of his truck and pounded on the hood so he couldn’t leave, he rolled down his window and yelled, “Please, leave me alone.” He yanked the gearshift into reverse and quickly backed up, then violently gunned it forward, swerving to avoid hitting them. Emotionally drained, he picked up his cell phone and called his brother’s voice mail.

  REALIZING THAT HE WAS being followed, Luke quickly headed toward the sanctuary of Aaron’s mansion. Once the press saw the gates open and the private security guard wave Luke in, they knew they had no chance of getting to him, but they were content to sit in their cars on the quiet street and wait for the next opportunity. Before Luke could get out of his truck, his dad opened the front door and walked to the driveway to meet him. Again, he hugged Luke tight, saying, “Thank you for coming back.” As they walked toward the house, Luke noticed Deborah and the children waiting at the front door. Luke knew that Deb was trying, with little success, to make them understand that he wasn’t their father.

  While they ate dinner, the house phone rang continuously. Deborah had stopped answering it days ago because she was sick of reliving the incident. But when her cell phone rang, she rushed to see who was calling. She answered cautiously, “Is something wrong?” Luke stood and walked over to her. She handed him the phone. He listened for a minute before saying, “I’ll meet you in the driveway.”

  He walked out the front door and saw a tall, heavyset, imposing figure heading toward him. As he approached, Luke extended his hand. “Luke Miller. Nice to meet you, Detective.”

  Shaking his hand firmly, Robert Romo said, “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Father Miller.”

  Luke forced a smile. “Me too.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s been several days since the tragedy and we really need to ask you and your family some questions.”

  Looking him directly in the eyes, Luke responded sharply. “Not here. You can talk to me and Deborah but not my parents or the children.”

  “I understand, Father.” Romo handed Luke a business card. “Why don’t you come to police headquarters tomorrow morning at ten o’clock? The address is on the card. I’ll do my best to ensure that your parents and the children are left alone.”

  Luke thanked him, placed the card in his wallet, and walked back into the house just as the cook was serving the main course. He sat, said grace to himself, and tried to eat his meal, but he merely pushed the food around on his plate, while eating just enough to sustain himself. After dinner, he pulled Deborah aside to let her know that they needed to talk to the detective tomorrow. She agreed to be questioned as long as Luke stayed with her, and he willingly concurred.

  Luke woke to the sound of the in-ground sprinkler hitting the gutter downspout outside his window. Looking at the clock on the nightstand, he saw that it was 6:20 a.m. His surroundings were unfamiliar, not because he hadn’t been in Aaron’s house many times before, but because he wasn’t used to living such a luxurious lifestyle. The king-size bed was twice as big as anything he had ever slept in. The private bath attached to his room was larger than his entire bedroom at the rectory. The fireplace, ornate columns, coffered ceiling, hardwood floors, and Persian rugs would have impressed most people, but for Luke, th
ey just added to the discomfort of an already uncomfortable situation.

  Trying to relieve some stress, Luke quietly made his way toward the gym in the basement. As he passed Deborah’s bedroom, he looked through the half-open door and noticed Alessa and Abel in bed with her. Continuing down the long hallway to the stairway and into the workout area, he thought about the time he and Aaron had spent together in high school. They were both outstanding athletes. Luke was the pitcher on the baseball team and Aaron was the catcher. Both all-stars, they were highly recruited by colleges during their senior year. Luke turned down a full-ride scholarship to UMass, while Aaron attended Boston College and went on to law school at Harvard. During construction of the Newton mansion, Luke and Aaron would often meet at the property to discuss progress with the architectural teams, but what they looked forward to most was playing catch in the expansive yard. It was during one of these meetings that they decided to build the gym.

  This was no ordinary gym; it rivaled any college gymnasium. The footprint of the house was tremendous, and the gym encompassed the entire lower level, with a full wall of glass doors that opened to the backyard. Looking around the room, Luke was touched to see that Aaron hadn’t removed any of the baseball pictures or newspaper articles from their high school days. Aaron had surprised Luke by having many of their action shots blown up to full size and then covering the walls with them after construction.

  As Luke walked around the immense area examining each photo, he realized that his anger toward the people who had killed his brother was getting more intense with every passing day. He thought about many of the funerals he had presided over and his distant words of advice that were intended to comfort the grieving families and make them feel better, while now understanding that at the time he had no idea what those people were feeling. He now knew exactly what they were feeling, and he had never imagined it would be this hard. Thinking back to his days in Africa, he wondered why the inner rage he felt now was so different. He had experienced murder up close and personal in Johannesburg, and it felt terrible, but not like this. Maybe the fact that Aaron was identical to him in almost every way meant that the murderers not only killed his brother, but they killed a piece of Luke also. Even in the pictures, it was difficult for Luke to tell the two of them apart. If it wasn’t for a small, almost unnoticeable scar on Luke’s chin, only God would know the difference.

  Luke sat down on the shoulder press machine and started the circuit-training routine that he and Aaron had done so many times together. He worked hard and fast, finishing in about half the time it normally took to do this workout. Drenched in sweat, he moved on to one of six treadmills and began running at a seven-minute-mile pace. He was in great shape from a physical standpoint, but emotionally he was a wreck. No matter what he did, Aaron’s murder was on his mind. Looking around the gym, the full-length pictures that he once loved had now become a constant reminder of his brother’s death. Every time Luke looked in the mirror, he saw Aaron. His nights continued to be filled with nightmares of death, anger, and revenge.

  After running three miles, he decided to move on to the heavy bag, feeling that this would be a better outlet for the suppressed rage he was feeling. The punching bag was strategically fastened to a steel beam underneath the garage floor, making it virtually soundless to the people upstairs. Starting slowly, he hit the canvas and waited, then hit it again. The more he thought about his brother, the harder and faster his punches became. After several minutes, he was grunting loudly while hitting it with both hands as fast as he could. Seeing something move in the mirror’s reflection, he turned his head quickly and noticed Abel standing on the last step, watching him. Luke stopped abruptly and quickly draped a towel over his wet shirt while walking over to pick up the fragile child. Silently, he carried the boy upstairs and into the family room. Several minutes later, Abel was sound asleep in his arms as silent tears fell down Luke’s flushed cheeks and blood dripped from his bruised and swollen knuckles.

  LUKE WALKED OUT TO the backyard and took the piece of paper out of his pocket that the church secretary had given him. He dialed the number and asked for Jim Hathaway. After a few minutes, Jim picked up the phone. “Hi, Luke, and thank you for calling. Please accept my sincere condolences. I am, I mean, was, a business associate of your brother’s and also a friend.”

  Trying to ease the awkward silence that followed, Luke replied, “Thank you, Jim. Have we ever met?”

  “No, I went to law school with Aaron while you were in the seminary. About a year ago, we were reacquainted when I began working with Aaron on estate planning, but I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Confused, Luke asked, “From who?”

  “Luke, even though you and Aaron had some disagreements, he always spoke highly of you and admired your passion and conviction. My firm specializes in financial planning, so I spent a substantial amount of time with him discussing his investments and his will. We talked for hours, and in great detail, about your family so that he could decide the best way to take care of everyone if something ever happened to him. You should know that as recently as three weeks ago, he asked me to include a provision in his will that gave you sole custody of his children if he and Deborah both died before the kids were of legal age.”

  Luke struggled to speak, as his bottom lip quivered and his eyes filled with tears. When he didn’t respond, Jim continued talking. “That’s why I asked you to call me. Aaron had taken out a separate life insurance policy for two million dollars, with you as the beneficiary.” Luke heard what the lawyer said, but it didn’t fully register. Hearing silence again, Jim kept talking. “If his death is considered an accident, or something Aaron couldn’t predict or prevent, the policy contains a double indemnity clause. This means that the payout amount could be doubled. Also, insurance payments are not subject to income tax.”

  Luke didn’t respond but paced back and forth in the manicured yard. This prompted Jim to ask, “Luke, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, there’s just so much to think about.”

  “I can only imagine. I wanted you to have this information as soon as possible.”

  Luke stated softly, “Please, just give the money to Deborah.”

  Jim hesitated. “Luke, I can assure you that Deborah and the children will never have to worry about money. And there’s another policy for your parents.”

  After talking for a few more minutes, Luke thanked Jim, who asked that he call to make an appointment to sign the required paperwork. He promised to apprise his parents about the other policy.

  Knowing that he needed to be at police headquarters at ten o’clock, Luke headed back into the house. Deborah had already asked Luke’s parents to watch the kids while they were away. After another uneaten meal, Luke showered and shaved in preparation for the meeting. He decided that he wasn’t going to wear his clerical garb because it only seemed to attract attention. Realizing that when he rushed out of the rectory he never stopped to collect any of his casual clothing, he searched the workout bag from his truck for something else to wear. Finding an old pair of sweatpants and an unwashed blue T-shirt, he hand-ironed the wrinkled shirt, dressed, and went into the family room to wait for Deb.

  Deborah entered the room looking incredible. Her full-figured profile, dark olive complexion, and silky black hair were complemented by a beautiful tailored pantsuit. As Luke stood to greet her, he saw the surprise in her eyes as she looked him over. “I didn’t want to wear my priest stuff because it only draws attention.” She nodded, pretending that it was OK. He continued, “Maybe on the way back from police headquarters we can stop at the rectory so I can pick up some clothes.”

  Deb motioned for him to follow her. Leading him into her bedroom, she opened a door at the far end of the room and said, “Luke, take anything you want.” He peered into the huge closet and was amazed. Hundreds of suits, pants, shoes, and shirts were arranged meticulously on cedar hangers and shelves. He felt like he had walked into the men’s department at an ex
clusive clothing store. “Deb, I’m fine, really. After the meeting we can stop by the rectory,” he said, although the rectory was the last place he wanted to be right now.

  “If you’re not going to wear any of these clothes, then who else deserves to have them? Please, just think about what Aaron would want. I know this is hard to hear right now, but he loved you very much, and we often talked about the need for you two to reconcile your differences. Luke, he would want you to have his things.” Luke nodded as Deborah walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  A few minutes later, Luke reentered the family room wearing navy blue lightweight wool slacks, a crisp white shirt with cuffed sleeves, and beautiful soft black leather shoes. Deborah looked up from the couch and did a double take. Luke realized that now he looked more like Aaron than before. Feeling uncomfortable, he said, “Let’s just take my truck.” She shrugged, and they walked out the front door. Luke rushed ahead of her and opened the passenger door of the old truck, moving some newspapers off the seat. Deborah hesitated, then climbed in while Luke held the door. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he attempted to start the truck. After several futile tries, Luke saw Deb glance at her watch. “Luke, let’s take one of the other cars. I don’t want to be late.” He tried the ignition a few more times and then surrendered to her request.

  They went back into the house and down the hallway toward the garage. She opened the door and Luke followed her inside, where four cars were parked side by side on the black-and-white tiled floor. Deb pressed a button and one of the arched doors opened. She reached up to a small metal box affixed to the wall and handed Luke a set of keys. He followed her down the steps toward a sleek black Mercedes. After opening her door, he proceeded to the driver’s side. Looking at the back of the beautiful car, he noticed the model number: CL550. He made a mental note to look it up on the Internet when he had time. As he backed out of the garage, he saw two other Mercedes and a car that looked like a Ferrari or Lamborghini. He was amazed at the amount of wealth his brother had amassed.