Fifteen
ON THURSDAY MORNING, I’m at my desk, looking over a list of possible members of the committee for the education center, when my phone rings.
“Tom,” Helen says before I can even say hello, “I think we’ve got the guy who killed Father Tim.”
“That’s great? Are you sure?”
“He resembles the guy in the photograph. The clerk in a convenience store near the Pennsylvania border recognized him from the news and called the police. The guy is here now. I need you to come down and pick him out of a lineup.”
“Really?” I ask, unable to conceal my school-boy excitement. “Like on TV? That is so cool.”
“Yeah, I know. Consider it an early wedding present.”
“You know, I didn’t see him as much as some others there.”
“And that’s the reason I wanted Clark,” Helen says, “but he’s in DC all day and
