Thicker Than Water читать онлайн

’ He raised his hands to his face as though he was going to bury them in it, but instead he just clamped them on either side of his forehead and held them there, rocking slightly backwards and forwards in an autistic pantomime of grief and pain.

This time I did throw my arms around him, if only to stop that scary display. Violent shudders were running through him like peristaltic waves."

"‘It will be all right,’ I said again, between my teeth. ‘But you’ve got to trust me, Matt. You think the room is bugged? They don’t do that, because it would shoot the case down as soon as they tried to use it in evidence.

And Coldwood wouldn’t pull that shit on me in any case. What is it you think you’ve done?’

‘I can’t—’ Matt moaned. He lowered his head onto my shoulder, not for comfort but as though he was about to faint and couldn’t hold it upright any more. ‘I just - what I’ve done is—’

He didn’t seem able to make it any further. The next word couldn’t be ‘unforgivable’ of course: all sins can be forgiven if they’re truly repented of, and it’s never too late.

For Christ did call the thief upon the cross, and offered him comfort.

Matt was far from comfort right then: he was host to some terrible secret that was ricocheting around inside him like a bullet, breaking everything it touched.

‘Tell me,’ I said again. But if there’d ever been a moment when he was going to do that, it seemed to have passed. He pulled himself away from me, raised up his hands to ward me off.

‘Don’t let Mum know,’ he choked out. ‘Don’t let anyone know.’

I threw out my hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘That a Roman Catholic priest has been arrested for killing someone with a straight-edged razor? Matt, it’s going to come out. It can’t be hidden. Gary may be able to run a bit of interference for us, but as soon as you show up on a court docket you’re front-page news. The only way you can help yourself is to tell me the truth.’

He was still crying, but the shuddering had stopped now: he was visibly getting himself under control, one piece at a time.

‘No,’ he said at last.

‘Why?’ I yelled, beyond all patience. ‘Even if you’re right - even if what you’ve done is worse than murder - you ought to confess it. That’s how the drill works, right? You confess, you do your penance, the world goes on. Whereas if you keep your mouth shut, you’re probably looking at twenty to life.’

Matt didn’t seem to have heard me.