Chapter 4: Priscilla
A Tomas Priest Mystery
“Loneliness is like ice. After you’ve been lonely long enough you don’t realize you’re cold, but you are... I don’t know, maybe at the center of me there’s some ice that never will melt, maybe it’s just been there too long. But you mustn’t worry. You didn’t put it there.”
― Larry McMurtry, The Last Picture Show
It was late on a Friday night. The college campus was all but empty, deserted by student and faculty alike, and Priscilla Edwards was studying in the library. The snow had only just started, and she could hear the windows rattle in the old building with each gust of wind. Just the thought of walking back to her dorm made her skin crawl with goosebumps.
Her practicum assignment wasn’t until next week, but she was studying as though at any moment her professor might break through the door and quiz her. How do you deal with a patient with a bomb lodged in their chest who has lost 99% of their blood? Oh no - what if that was a legitimate question? She better study more. Priscilla knew her stuff, and she knew it well, but sitting there by the single lamplight in the expansive college library, she had completely lost track of time. The librarian had left her with a key so she could lock up when she was done 5 minutes ago? 10 minutes ago? It was actually closer to 45 minutes. After all the work she had done to get into this college she was determined to make the most of it.). Looking up from her textbook and checking the clock she realized how late it had truly gotten. She should really head back to her dorm…5 more minutes.
“There you are!”
Startled out of her concentration, Priscilla looked up in the direction of the voice as her dear friend Tomas Priest appeared.
“Jeez, you scared me Tomas.”
“Ha, sorry about that,” Tomas smiled as he sidled up to her. “When I couldn’t find you back at your dorm I figured you’d be here studying again.”
“Yeah, I was just thinking I should probably finish up. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“Perfect! Then you can join me.”
“Where?”
Tomas reached into his jacket pocket and revealed a set of keys hung on a leather lanyard.
“I got my hands on Professor Saunders’ keys. And I know how to work the projector in his lecture hall.”
“Tomas!” Priscilla said with mock annoyance. “He’s going to kill you when he finds out.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun until then. Which do you prefer? Heat? Or Home Alone?” He pulled out the two VHS tapes from his backpack.
Priscilla sighed with a smile, “Home Alone. With the snow just starting it feels like the right time for a Christmas movie.”
“All right. Let’s go!”
“Just let me finish this chapter.”
“Ugggh.” Tomas swung the chair around nearest Priscilla and sat in it backwards, leaning forward on the back two legs.
“Calm down. It’ll only take-”
“Another hour. Come on! I’ve been wandering around this campus bored out of my mind. Everyone has gone home for Thanksgiving already.”
“Ah, so I’m only your second choice.”
Tomas smiled, “Third actually. The guys all went home last night so you got bumped up the ladder.”
“How generous of you.”
“Come on,” Tomas started gathering up her books for her. “Time to go.”
Priscilla relented and pretty soon they were tiptoeing down the halls of the campus looking for Saunders’ lecture hall. Their footsteps echoed through the dark empty halls and reverberated in their ears.
“You know I hate crime thrillers. Why did you even bother with Heat?”
“You never know…maybe one day you’ll finally say yes and get to enjoy one of the best movies of the decade!”
“Doubtful,” Priscilla shook her head.
Saunders’s hall was in the next building over so they had to brave the cold. Even though neither of them were dressed well for the winter air, they couldn’t help but pause for a second to appreciate the peace of the falling snow showcased in the lamplit path to the lecture hall. Priscilla said it looked like snowy little ballet dancers descending on the ground. Tomas said that it reminded him of Professor Glenn’s dandruff that would float around the dead spaces in his classroom. Priscilla pushed him into the snow and they both laughed.
Once they had found the right lecture hall, Tomas unlocked the door and they rushed in, quickly shutting the door behind them. Priscilla grabbed some loose paper to cover the window (just in case) and flipped the lights on. Tomas ran up the steps to the projector.
“You find a seat while I get the movie started.”
Priscilla looked around for the best spot for optimal viewing. But this was no movie theatre. The seats here were designed specifically to torture poor students while professors, such as Saunders, droned on and on. Luckily, Saunders was also rather old and kept a couple pillows behind his desk to help his ailing back. Priscilla swiped these and decided the floor directly in front of the large screen would be best. Why have your legs cramped behind a desk more than necessary? The movie began to flicker to life on the screen as Tomas leapt over the steps towards her.
“Eggnog?” Tomas produced a white carton and a couple red solo cups from his backpack.
“Yes please.”
Tomas poured them each a cup and sat down next to Priscilla. As the adorable face of young Kevin McCallister flickered above them they settled in, each sipping on their eggnog.
“Thank you Tomas.”
“Hey no problem. I mean, I would be here with or without you. I should be the one thanking you (even if this means I don’t get to watch Heat).”
“I mean, I really didn’t want to head back home for Thanksgiving. My mother…” Priscilla paused. “…anyways, I was expecting a pretty lonely weekend. So this is nice.”
“Ya, I figured,” Tomas said. “Don’t mention it. It’s nice for me too.”
Priscilla leaned her head on Tomas’s shoulder, and they were both perfectly content. They sipped their eggnog and laughed in tandem at the Christmas misadventures happening on the screen above them. As cold as it was outside, it was warm in Professor Saunders’ lecture hall that night.
Priest woke up to the sound of someone moving something above his head. He slowly pried his eyes open through the crust of sleep in his lashes. Reaching up to wipe away the last of the haunting dreams from his face he discovered that moving his left arm was harder, and much more painful.
“Sonnuva-”
“Oh good. You’re awake.”
Priest looked up to see the source of the voice. Priscilla. It was like she had stepped out of his memories and into the real world. She stood with her head turned back in his direction as she adjusted the IV suspended above the bedframe. Her silky straight raven hair encircled her pale face and fell into place just below her shoulders. She wore a white T-shirt and navy blue scrub pants. Looking at her, taking her in, Priest was filled with an immense sense of joy and deep melancholy all at once. It all came back. He thought of their college days together. He thought of her desperate cries over the phone. He thought of her lost son. He tried to think through what to say to her, but he had nothing. Luckily the pain in his shoulder distracted him.
“Ag! This hurts even more than when he fired the bullet!”
“Your body has been through some serious trauma. Now that the adrenaline and shock has subsided you’re going to feel the pain a lot more.”
She knelt down beside him as she checked the stitches in his arm. “You’re lucky that the bullet was still in or you would’ve lost a lot more blood than you did. I’ve removed it now and patched you up so you should heal without any serious long-lasting effects. But that arm is going to be pretty stiff for a little while.”
Priest groaned, “Thank you.”
He watched her closely as her brow furrowed in focus on his shoulder. Her lips pursed together as she worked. In Priest’s estimation, she was as beautiful and lovely as when he had last seen her. But he couldn’t help but notice how tight her skin looked against her bones, and the darkened circles under her eyes. He said the only thing that made any sense to him at that moment.
“I’m so sorry Priscilla.”
She didn’t look at him. “Don’t say that. You did everything you could. It’s me who should be saying sorry. I had no idea the danger I was putting you in.”
Priest reached for her forearm and lightly touched his cracked skin to hers. “I just wish I could have found him, or at least found something to help.”
She looked at him with a faint smile as her eyes began to water. She looked down and shook her head before looking back up at him through her hair.
“You can’t blame yourself for any of this. I knew it was a longshot.”
It hurt more than if she had poured lemon juice into his wounded shoulder and stomped it repeatedly. She would never say it, she would never even think it, but Priest was a detective at heart, and he knew a lie when he heard one, even if she didn’t realize that was what it was. As long as Priest was on the hunt, there was still the hope that Jamie would be found. But what hope was there for Priscilla now? He felt helpless, and even humiliated, that he was now relegated to the sidelines while Jamie was still out there. Her kindness and comfort now were a balm for his pain, yet they were also a dreadful reminder that he hadn’t been able to do anything. He thought back to the gas station, and the bloody bathroom stall.
“It’s good to see you Tomas,” Priscilla had choked back her tears with great effort. “I’ve missed you.”
“It’s good to see you too.”
There was a dead silence between them. What was there to talk about given everything that had happened? Priscilla did them both the favour of finding something.
“Marc seems like a good guy. And a good partner?”
“The best. There aren’t many men out there willing to drop everything when their disgraced partner calls them with a bullet in their shoulder.”
“He’s been a big help tending you since he brought you here. Even made me breakfast before I woke up.”
Priest smiled, “He’s just doing his ‘penance’. The Catholic guilt in him is sorry for inconveniencing you in your home with a gunshot victim.”
If anything it’s nice having other people in the house again. We hadn’t been here long enough to really connect with the community before…”
Priscilla’s voice trailed off. The thought of her husband had robbed her of her words. She had thought she was done crying, but grief was determined to have its way with her whether she was ready for it or not. Priest swallowed hard. This poor woman had barely finished burying her husband before she had her only son stolen from her, and here Priest was still pining after her like a stupid schoolboy. He pushed that part of him down as far as he could. Priscilla needed him, but not the way he had wanted all these years. He needed to focus.
They sat still for a minute or two. There was nothing more that either could say. Priest could tell that she still held out hope that Jamie would be found. He wished to God that it was true that Jamie was still alive, but his years on this earth told him a different story. Looking at her now, he wished a lot of things could be different.
“Knock knock,” it was Gomez in the doorway.
Priest looked up to him with a weak smile, “Hey, buddy.”
“Glad to see you’re up. About time too. You already slept through all of yesterday.”
“I’ll make up for it today.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Priscilla interjected. “You are going to stay in this bed until I say so. You’re on the mend, but you’ve lost a lot of blood and need time to recover.”
Priest started to protest, before the stiff pain in his arm suggested to him that too much movement might not be a good idea. Pain is a persuasive beast, capable of winning any debate, court case, or election.
“Yes ma’am.”
“You’ll need at least a couple more days in bed to rest. The IV will replace the fluids in your system and hopefully keep your blood pressure up, but without a proper blood transfusion you need to wait on your body to do its thing. Which requires rest. I’m heading into the hospital for a couple hours, but I will be back to check on you. I expect you to be here.”
“I won’t be going anywhere. Not until my head stops spinning at least.”
Priscilla softened her tone, “That will pass eventually. Like I said, you lost a lot of blood. You were pretty lucky, all things considered.”
Priest sighed, “Don’t I know it.”
It warmed Priest to see the fire of her stubborn, caring nature. She was a good nurse.
Gomez stepped forward, “I have to leave soon too, but I need to talk with you first. Can we have a moment, Priscilla?”
Priscilla started to turn away, “Of course. I’ll be back soon Tomas. Rest!”
He gave her a weak thumbs up and, as she stepped out, held her gaze as long as he could. He tried to take in the image of her in its totality, but even when she stood there in front of him he felt like her figure was impossible to define, or even see clearly. Gomez’s large form stepped into his view.
“I’m heading back to the city,” said Gomez. “I’m going to see what more I can dig up on the Chief and his son. Plus, I want to see what he does when his son doesn’t show up.”
Priest nodded, “And what do you need me to do?”
“Nothing. Nothing Priest.”
Priest groaned.
“I mean it, man. You heard Priscilla. You need to rest.”
“What I need to do is find her son. Jamie could still be out there.”
“You’ve done all you can for now. You were shot! You can’t just walk that off. You need to rest. I’ll let you know what I find out, but for now you need to take a backseat. Let’s not forget that if they find that body, you’re technically a fugitive. And if what the Chief’s son said is true, and if his father really is involved, then this is seriously dangerous for all of us. I don’t want anyone finding you like this. They won’t take kindly to you killing their man.”
Priest cursed under his breath, being sure to use the words that he knew Gomez especially disliked. Gomez shook his head and ignored him.
“Your stuff is folded up on the dresser beside you there, along with a burner phone I got you. I’ll contact you if I find out anything,” Gomez softened a little. “I know you want to help her Priest. But we don’t even know if her son is still alive. So right now the best way you can help her is to make sure you get better.”
Priest reached with his right arm for the dufflebag that held his clothes and few belongings. His left arm throbbed as his weight shifted.
Gomez tried to catch his gaze, “Listen to me. She’s lost her husband, and now her son, I don’t think she could lose you too.”
This caught Priest’s attention. He paused and looked at Gomez with an ice-cold look mixed with weary determination. “I will do anything to help her, Gomez.”
Gomez nodded his head silently. Priest returned to the dufflebag and continued rifling through it. Gomez patted Priest’s bed covers and started towards the door. Without looking back at him as he left the room, Gomez called back.
“Right side pocket. Locked and loaded already.”
Priest pulled out his gun holstered in its shoulder strap and checked the magazine. He grinned. It was just as Gomez said. He returned the gun and strap to the bag and placed it within easy reach below the bed.
Gomez was almost out the door when he paused to look back at Priest.
“Be kind to yourself man. This isn’t on your shoulders.”
The duo, police detective and gunshot victim, shared a look and a nod as he left. With Gomez finally gone, the room felt cold and empty. Priest slumped back on his pillow.
Be kind to yourself. How was he supposed to do that?
Outside, the masked man watching the house from behind the wheel of his black Subaru Forester was getting antsy. He watched as Priscilla exited the garage in her blue minivan and turned left. A few moments later, Gomez exited the house by the front door and got into his car. He pulled out of the driveway and turned right.
The masked man looked in both directions. He waited for a few moments, counting under his breath. Without signalling, he turned left.