“That’s not right,” said the bald man.
“I’ve forgotten it,” said Colcord. He tried to calm his breathing. He was surprised at how afraid he was of death. A vision of Cash, nose red, cranky, and bundled up against the cold, flared across his mind’s eye. He had to delay. He had to make sure she had gotten away. “I wasbaptizedCatholic. And I believe…” He choked up, unable to finish.
There was a sudden silence. Then the man swore. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Are you really willing to take that risk?” Colcord said. “It would be a mortal sinon youto deny me last rites. God sees and knows all.”
The woman scowled, the scar on her throat twisting and enflamed. “Ready the viaticum to assist him on his journey. Hurry up.”
The man swore again but did as she said, retrieving a packet of wafers with the Baby Jesus on them and a chalice, which she poured wine into.
The woman placed the host on his tongue, and Colcord took it.
He then felt the cold press of a chalice rim against his lips, the sweet Communion wine spilling into his mouth. He swallowed, playing along with the charade.
The woman made the sign of the cross and began to pray in Latin. Colcord listened to the pattering of the rain outside, desperate for the sound of footsteps. Maybe Cash had escaped and was bringing the cavalry. But no, it was only the fervent wish of a condemned man. There hadn’t been nearly enough time for that.
She took some oil on her thumb and anointed his forehead, saying more prayers in Latin. The seconds dragged on, Colcord straining his ears for any sign of Cash. After two minutes, the woman finished her prayers.
Colcord could see concern play across the man’s face.
“Brother Gregory’s been gone a long time,” said the man, staring out the window. “Hurry up. Get the embalming kit ready.Quickly.”
Brother Gregory—at least Colcord had finally identified one of the killers. A lot of good that would do him.
The bald man paced from window to window as the woman opened a black case and began to take out various tools and lay them out. Colcord tried to keep from panicking. They were going to embalm him alive. He knew from the investigation that the next step in the process would be the one that killed him.
The chemical smell of embalming fluid filled his nose as he heard the clinking of bottles she was arranging next to him, laying out rubber hoses and instruments. The woman then retrieved a scalpel from the black case. It glinted wickedly in her hand. Her beady eyes gleamed in the light from the window, the angry pink scar across her neck looking like a writhing snake in the shifting shadows. She leaned over him.
Colcord felt the pressure of her fingertips, and the tip of the blade bit into his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end.
