Before the other man even stepped into the room, Jesse knew he couldn’t deal with this. He wished Emma were there. He wanted Gideon. Brooker’s not the same. He’s not the same man. And he believed that. He believed the man who acted as pastor in this church wouldn’t harm him. But the past six months hadn’t been dictated by logic, by what he believed. The past six months had been dictated by the physical memory of violation. A memory that seeped into flesh and went to his bones.
Marcus stepped out of the rectory, smiling pleasantly. But it was the same face. And Marcus had smiled at him often. Why shouldn’t he? He had thoroughly enjoyed every second of the torture. Everything went cold.
The greeting died on Brooker’s lips as concern darkened his tawny eyes. His gaze flickered to Mary, who
