Author's Note: Many apologies for the amount of time it has taken for me to get this chapter done. I have been trying to get back into the swing of things (A.k.a SCHOOL) and I haven't had much time to write. But never fear, the new chapter is here! It is on the short side and it may seem like I am leaving huge chunks of information out but I promise the next chapter will be up by Saturday at the latest and it will fill in the blanks. As always, the characters don't belong to me, but for the record: I think they should.
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It's funny how things work out sometimes. People have the amazing ability to see only what they want to see. All too often, what they see is not what is really a matter of fact. They can turn a blind eye to the obvious, and instead find an answer to a question that was never even asked. Their ideas about things often obscure what is staring them in the face. When faced with something that invokes fear, a person is more than likely going to find the easiest, most painless route to remedying the situation. They forget that what is easy is not always what is best. People will allow their fear to take control of the situation. Thus, instead of controlling the situation with their head, they are now controlling it with their heart. They don't stop to get all of the facts, nor do they look for any alternative solutions. Instead, they find the quickest way out of the darkness. But sometimes escaping the darkness is only the start of the battle. While darkness lies behind, the unknown lies in front. While the darkness can be terrifying, at least one is not face to face with what it is that scares them. The unknown however will bring us right up to the doorstep of our deepest, darkest fears. It is funny how that when confronted with one's true fear; they often wish that they were back in the darkness. Back in the oblivion. Things suddenly seem much clearer in the dark. The things that we fear need not be confronted. We can simply tuck them away and pretend that the solution we have found is the ideal one. Sadly, our solutions rarely get to the heart of the problem. They are merely a "quick fix" and an attempt to reassure ourselves that we are in control. But we aren't. As long as we live in fear, we are not the ones in control. The fear is. And fear is a very close friend of evil.
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Grissom's found fell from his hand. Everything was in slow motion. The phone seemed to fall at a rate of speed that defied the logic of gravity. The sound of Catherine pushing her chair back was a long, harsh scratching noise. It should have been fast, a sharp noise that would be over before it really begun. Yet it wasn't. The chair dragged across the floor with a bewilderingly slow groan. There was a cacophony of voices. All trying to talk at once. But where they should have been talking at lightening speed, they were slowed down to an unintelligible mumble. The words were warped, like a tape that is being played far too slowly. It is funny how time slows down when the truth finally hits you in the face. It is a mocking gesture, intent on making you see the error of your ways. And as his phone fell, Grissom could see all of his mistakes come rushing towards him like a freight train. He had only looked at one possible solution. He had failed to look beyond what lay in front of him. He was so convinced that Rachel was their culprit that he had not even entertained the possibility that there was another explanation. When Nick had told him about Ray, he had simply twisted the information to conform to his pre-existing hypothesis. He had taken the facts and not fully explored them. He had assumed that the priest was telling the truth and that Ray Jacobs was a murderer. He never even thought about questioning the priest. But now he was acutely aware that Father Manilla, the real one, was very much dead and that the man claiming to be Father Manilla was very much alive. Worse, Grissom now had two of his closest friends at the hands of the mad man. He was only half listening as Brass began shooting orders. He heard himself tell Brass where Nick and Sara were and he heard Brass tell someone (Grissom wasn't even sure who) to follow him over to the church. Grissom felt very mechanical as he followed Brass to the car that would take him to Holy Order of the Cross.
He could only pray that they wouldn't be too late. The sound of silence was still ringing in his ears.
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It had happened so fast. One moment Nick had been on the phone talking to Grissom, the next he was back in a nightmare he didn't want to repeat. He had heard the click from behind him and realized that it had come from the safety of a gun. A gun that was in the hands of a man whom Nick had trusted. In that instant Nick knew what it was about the man's eyes that were suddenly so different. They were no longer the eyes of a beleaguered parish priest. They were the eyes of evil. There was no light in them, no sign of anything resembling human emotion. They were dark, bottomless pits that were devoid of any capacity for goodness. The eyes held only anger, only cynicism, only hatred. They were the eyes of someone who long ago had sold their soul in return for something that they thought the world owed to them. Nick had been so mesmerized by the eyes that he had not even seen the gun at first. He was aware of it only when it exploded like a fire cracker. The bullet had rushed out so fast that the human eye can't even register that the bullet is in motion. Whether or not it hit its desired target, Nick would never know. Bullets don't discriminate. Their only purpose and their only reason for being is to inflict bodily harm. There are no other uses for a bullet. They are weapons of destruction that work in terrifying synchronicity with the gun to take down whatever it is that the evil deems necessary. The bullet had erupted and a scream had rung out as it found its mark. Nick was transported back to Pandarus Point, back to the kitchen, back to the nightmare that he had been trying to battle for three months. But this time, he was not a part of the nightmare. This time, he was on the outside looking in.
"Sara!" The word was screaming in his head, but he hadn't spoken it aloud. He had dropped his cell phone, thus killing his only connection to the world of sanity. He dropped to his knees beside Sara and began to frantically search for the wound. He found it in her right shoulder, just below her collarbone. A quick probe with his fingers proved that the bone was still intact. It also told him that the bullet was still lodged in her shoulder. The wound was bleeding, though not as badly as he would have expected. She was the one who had screamed, though more from shock then from pain. She had succumbed to unconsciousness almost immediately. A quick check told Nick that she was still breathing. He was relieved beyond words. This was his fault. She wasn't even supposed to be here. She had come along to help him, and instead found herself on the receiving end of a bullet. He carefully pulled her into his lap, in an effort to make her more comfortable. His mind was racing and he tried to sort through his jumble of thoughts. He needed to get Sara to the hospital, but he also needed to make sure that this man didn't get away. He was still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. This man was obviously not a priest; that much was abundantly clear. He was a murderer but Nick still didn't understand how all of the pieces of the puzzle were supposed to fit together. The easiest way to solve a puzzle is to find the corner pieces, or the most obvious clues, and work your way inwards from there. It can be time consuming, but if you try and sift through all of the pieces of information at once, you will just find yourself searching harder than you really need to. Nick needed to get the answers to this puzzle. And he needed to get the answers now.
"Who are you?" his voice was surprisingly strong though he couldn't yet bring his eyes to meet the eyes of the man who stood before him.
"Just a simple parish priest" the words were cold and the smile on the man's face turned Nick's stomach. He was mocking Nick. Mocking him for the fact that he had believed the story that the man had told him.
"Look man, don't give me that. I want to know who you are!" his voice was rising. The man watched him carefully for a moment and made a decision.
"Give me whatever weapons you guys have on you, and I will be more than happy to tell you what I know" Nick didn't like it but he didn't have much choice. He removed his and Sara's gun and slid them across the floor, one at a time to the man. The man who Nick had known as Father Manilla began to speak again.
"My name is Joseph Parnell. I used to be a parishioner here. Long story short, I killed those two men. It's not important why. But I knew that I had enough time to get my affairs in order before I escaped. I was very careful you know. I made sure that there was no trace of me at that crime scene. I had it all figured out". A look of sudden anger and frustration danced across his face.
"But the one thing I didn't expect was the unexpected. I went out to the church to dump the buckets of blood. That was all I had to do. Then I was going to be off. So imagine my surprise when I find that I have company. You and your stupid friend just had to go snooping around. If you had just kept driving everything would have been perfect."
"There was no one else there, was there?" Nick interrupted.
Parnell shook his head. "Of course not. Only me and you two idiots."
"Did you attack Greg?" Nick's voice was controlled now, but if Parnell was responsible for hurting Greg, Nick didn't know if he could control his rage.
Parnell dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. "No. Everything happened the way Greg said it did. He heard a noise, he fell and hit his head. The only difference is that I was the noise he heard. I was going to come out and take care of business, but your friend took care of that for me. He took himself out. That fall saved his life".
Nick felt chilled to the bone. There was not even a hint of remorse in this man's voice. He would have killed Greg and never thought twice. He tuned back in as Parnell continued.
"I thought I was going to get out of there after all, when wouldn't you know it, I run into you two coming out of the church. You had a gun, so there was no way I could pull out mine. Of all the places, in the entire world, I had the misfortune of running into the two of you – the very people I was running from. I made up the story about Ray Jacobs. I needed to keep any suspicion off me. And it worked, didn't it? I mean, who would ever suspect the priest? You certainly didn't." Nick blushed slightly. He had been played for a fool. He never even questioned the man's story about Ray Jacobs. And now here they were.
Parnell continued. "When your friend lost consciousness in the car, I saw a new opportunity to get away. I told you that he needed a hospital right away, even though there was nothing really wrong with him. I knew that you would be worried about him, so I seized the moment and slipped away. I figured by the time you noticed I was gone, it would be too late. I came here and was moments away from leaving when you and your girlfriend came in."
"She's not my girlfriend". The words escaped quickly and Nick could feel himself turning red again. Sara wasn't his girlfriend……yet.
"Well that's a pity. Because she got involved for nothing then. I didn't want to shoot her, but I knew as soon as you took that phone call that everything was about to fall apart. In fact – " he consulted his watch "-I bet your friends are on their way here right now."
He stepped closer to them and smiled. He said conversationally: "So this is it: Time to die".