Bill watched Rev. Hinton through one-way glass as Pete and Joe took his statement. He looked different than he had in the park. Not as pale. Less weak. Younger even. Also gone were the stroke symptoms. Mostly anyway. Occasionally his voice still slurred. The symptoms had faded so gradually that Bill had to concede that Hinton was either the world's best actor or they had been real. He wondered what kind of medical condition would come and go like that.

The door opened behind him. "Got some information on the people Hinton healed today," Pepper said.

Allegedly healed, Bill mentally filled in. "Yeah?" He didn't turn away from the window.

"The woman you saw was Ellie Prescott. Seventy six years old. Suffered three strokes in the past six years. Bed-ridden for the past two. The other was a kid…"

"A kid?" He flipped off the intercom and glanced toward her. "He uses kids in his act?" Disgust mingled with anger.

"Kenny Myers. Six years old. Diagnosed with leukemia eighteen months ago. Not expected to live out the month." She paused, and then added. "Both walked out of the park under their own power."

He growled under his breath and shoved a chair out of his way, wincing at the jolt to his shoulder.

"They're real people, Bill," she said. "I checked the stories myself."

"Did you get pictures of these real people?" he asked, turning and making eye contact for the first time. "Just because Ellie Prescott and Kenny Myers are real people doesn't mean they were on that stage today, and it sure doesn't mean Hinton healed them." He grabbed his jacket and tried to put it on without jostling his left arm.

Pepper took the jacket from him and helped him slip it on. "You need to get that shoulder checked out," she said.

"Later. Let's do this."

.

Conversation stopped when Bill and Pepper walked into the small interrogation room, a room made even smaller with four detectives crowded in. The reverend made eye contact with them and regarded them impassively. Cold, Bill thought. Cold to sit there without looking nervous or concerned or even indignant.

"You seem to be feeling remarkably better," Bill said.

"The effects are just temporary," Hinton replied.

"Effects of what?"

"After a healing, I take on that person's affliction for a short time period. Uncomfortable, but…" He paused and considered the situation. "…I suppose it's worth it."

Bill cocked his head. "You suppose? You can miraculously heal the sick, giving hope to the hopeless, and you're not sure a little pain on your part is worth it? Seems like a pretty small price to pay."

Instead of rising to the bait, Hinton looked… melancholy… for a moment, and then with a faint smile, said, "You don't believe those people were healed today, do you, Sgt. Crowley?"

"No, I don't."

He nodded. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't believe it either, if I weren't living it. I didn't believe it," he amended. "Even after I saw it. Sounds like a bunch of hocus pocus. Lay on hands and the dead will rise. Nonsense."

Bill snorted. "Odd line of work for a skeptic."

For the first time, the minister's eyes brightened. "Nope. It's a job for a charlatan. Someone trying to get rich off the misfortunes of others."

Bill leaned forward. "Is that why someone is trying to kill you?"

The man shook his head, and the sadness that had receded for a moment settled over him again. "I'm not rich, Sergeant. Far from it. I don't charge for this. It's a duty that God has called me to perform."

"Donations. To the host church? You're living off something other than manna from Heaven."

"No donations," he said. "These people have been wiped out by medical bills and insurance premiums. Too many who truly need help have nothing to offer, so we ask nothing. The churches who host us provide for our needs and pay a small stipend, enough to cover basic expenses."

"Oh, come on!" Bill's voice was overloud with sarcasm. "No money at all? You're just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"I'm not doing anything. God is."

"Who's trying to kill you?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit!"

"Bill!" Pepper's voice was sharp.

Bill's gaze didn't waver. "If it's not about money, what's it about? Who could hate someone who can heal everyone he touches?"

"I'm not the healer; God is!" Hinton snapped. He looked away and added in a low voice, "And God doesn't always choose to save everyone."

Bill narrowed his eyes. "That's convenient. Your little scam doesn't work, and it's just 'God's will.'"

"Bill." Pepper took hold of his arm and tried to pull him toward the door.

His voice grew louder. "You let them think there's a chance, and then you crush their hopes by telling them it's God's will?" Pepper hooked her arm through his elbow and physically hauled him toward the door. "What kind of monster are you?" he yelled. Hinton met his eyes steadily until the door closed between them. Bill snarled and slammed his fist against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" Pepper demanded.

He whirled to face her, looming into her space. "Interrogating a suspect!"

She stood toe-to-toe with him and poked him in the chest with her index finger. "He's not a suspect. He's the victim!"

"He's lying!"

"Yes, he is! And we won't find out why with you in his face."

Bill grit his teeth. "Fine." He dug the patron saint medal out of his pocket. "While you're cuddling and sweet talking your way to the truth, why don't you ask him about that?" He thrust it into her chest hard enough to rock her back on her heels, and then strode past her without another word.

.

Pepper stood with her head against the door until her blood pressure dropped below explosive, then slipped back into the interrogation room. Rev. Hinton looked over at her when she came through the door, and she was again struck by the gentleness and compassion he seemed to radiate. It was inappropriate to apologize during an interrogation, but she heard "I'm sorry" tumbling from her lips just the same.

He shook his head and waved her off. "It's nothing I haven't heard before. Many, many times. My line of business tends to inspire… heated reactions."

"How long have you been in this line of business?" she asked, sliding onto the corner of the table.

"Four years, June 18th."

"That's very precise."

He managed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "When everything you knew gets turned upside down, you tend to remember."

"What happened?"

Although he'd probably been asked that question a thousand times, the flood of emotions that crossed his face and infused his body were so raw that Pepper's heart ached for him. "I committed a sin. I coveted another man's gift. And God punished me for it."

"He punished you by enabling you to heal the sick?"

"He punished me by giving me exactly what I asked for." Hinton's expression was bleak, and when he blinked she knew he wasn't seeing her or the tiny interrogation room anymore. "One of my parishioners had a brother. A fireman. Honest to God hero. Always able to find the ones who were lost in the fires. Almost always saved 'em too. But things had taken a turn for him. He hadn't been able to save a young woman, and he was depressed. My parishioner wanted me to talk to him, pray with him."

"Did you?"

"I tried. He wasn't very open to the power of prayer at that point. He was angry. Bitter. Not what I expected a hero to be. I admit, I was frustrated and disappointed. He had been given this amazing blessing, and he didn't appreciate it! I knew if I had the gift of saving people, I'd be on my knees praying my thanks every day." He shook his head at the irony. "I told him that too," he added wryly.

"I take it that didn't go over well?"

"Actually, he laughed."

"Laughed?"

The minister nodded. "Made me mad too. Madder'n a wet hornet. I guess you can add pride to that list of sins. He looked up at me, and his eyes almost seemed to glow. I swear they looked right into my soul. He asked me if I wanted it - the gift. Told me to think real careful before I answered. I didn't have to think. I told him straight out, absolutely."

"And then what happened?" The three detectives leaned forward, rapt on the story.

Hinton shrugged. "Nothing. He just told me to be careful what I wished for and left. Honestly, I'd probably have forgotten him by now if it hadn't been for Addie May.

"Addie May Watson was our next door neighbor," he explained to their questioning looks. "About a week later she knocked over a pot of boiling water and burned herself pretty bad. I sat with her while my wife called the doctor and rustled up some bandages. Thing was, by the time Flo got back, Addie May didn't need any bandages. It was like she hadn't even been burned. But my skin was blistered something fierce. At the time I didn't even have sense enough to call it a miracle. It was just…"

"Weird?" Pete offered.

Hinton managed a smile. "Very weird. A few days after that, Flo cut her finger while making dinner. Nothing serious - nothing a kiss and a Band-Aid wouldn't take care of. Thing was, she didn't need the Band-Aid. Within seconds - we watched it happen - her finger healed and mine started bleeding. That's when we knew something miraculous had happened. But we didn't understand."

"Understand what?" Pepper asked.

"The price. Soon we had people camped in our yard every day, every night. Some people thought I was the second coming of Christ. Others thought the power came from somewhere a little more nefarious. And then there were those who just thought I was a charlatan. Non-believers can be very angry people."

Pepper flushed, thinking of Bill's behavior.

"So we started traveling church to church," the minister continued. "And four years later we still are."

"That's a long time away from home," Joe said.

He nodded. "We used to talk about, 'When we go home' we'll do this or that, but over time, even the hope of home faded away. We don't have a home anymore. Just places to hang our hats until it gets too crazy, then on to another just like it."

"So the miracle became a burden," Pepper said.

He nodded and fixed his gaze on her. "Do you believe what you saw in the park was real?" he asked.

"It might have been," Pepper said carefully. "It could have been set up."

"Would you like a demonstration?"

Excitement buzzed in the pit of her stomach. "Here?" The drab interrogation room hardly seemed the proper setting for a miracle, real or staged.

"Men build churches, not God." The minister looked at Joe and gestured to his injured knee. "May I?"

Wariness flickered over the detective's face. His dark eyes flicked to Pete, who shrugged, and then settled steadily back on Hinton. A curt nod signaled his permission.

Pepper released a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. Hinton nodded at Joe, and even though he didn't smile, she was again struck by the comfort that seemed to radiate from him. He laid his hand on Joe's bandaged knee.

"No prayer?" Pepper asked. "And this morning you asked Ellie Prescott's husband to tell you about her. Was that just part of the show?"

"None of it is 'part of the show,'" he chided. "I always pray, though not necessarily aloud. God doesn't need me to speak aloud to ask His help, but sometimes the person I'm healing does."

"And Ellie's husband?" she persisted.

"I've found that when someone tells me things about the person they love, it focuses their energy on what I'm doing. That kind of love has a power of its own. It's not necessary, but sometimes it helps."

"What is necessary? Belief?"

He shook his head. "No. Belief doesn't make something real or unreal."

"What then?"

"Only God."

"You're just channeling God's energy? You play no part?"

An almost palpable sadness settled over him. "I didn't say that," he said. He moved his hand away from Joe's leg. "I'm tired, Sergeant, and I'm sure my wife is tired of sitting in your waiting room. May I go now?"

"What about the demonstration?"

He tilted his head. "It's done."

Her eyes widened, and she looked to Joe for conformation. He looked down at his leg and tentatively wiggled it. "Hey, it doesn't hurt!" He stood up and eased weight onto it. Took a few steps. Then jumped up and down. "It doesn't hurt at all." His voice was filled with awe. "It's like it never happened."

Pepper's gaze drifted from Joe's apparently healed knee to the minister's. Hinton rubbed his knee, and even from her perspective, the swelling was obvious. "But now your knee…?"

He waved off her concern. "It's temporary. A minor inconvenience for a great gift, wouldn't you say?"

Pepper blushed, remembering Bill's words earlier. She didn't meet Hinton's eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. She guessed he had little choice but to accept Joe's supportive arm. The minister limped heavily toward the door, and then stopped and turned back to her.

"Your Sgt. Crowley is a skeptic, but he's not the kind of person I was talking about earlier. The kind of person I meant is threatened by what I do, threatened by the thought that there could actually be a God out there, seeing what we do, caring about what we do. That's not why your sergeant is so angry. There's pain behind his anger." He waited until he saw understanding in her eyes, and then turned to leave.

Bill. That reminded her. "Wait!" She dug the patron saint medal out of her pocket and handed it to him. "Do you recognize that?"

His thumb stroked the face of the saint almost reverently, but he shook his head when he handed it back to her. "I've never seen it before," he said.

She nodded and let him leave then. She sat in the empty room for a long time, staring at the medal. She still wasn't sure what to make of Albert Hinton, but she knew one thing for certain. He lied about the medal.