Ralph Reid said. He and Father Thomas had come out of his cabin and joined us at the water’s edge. Steve shook his head. “We’ve got a little blood in a boat. Don’t even know if it’s related.” “But if it is—” Reid began. “It could belong to Father Thomas,” Steve said. “Could prove he did it.” “It doesn’t,” Father Thomas said, “and it won’t.” “I’d really like to believe that, Father, but there’s a lot of physical evidence against you.” “What happened wasn’t physical. It can’t be explained in physical terms. That’s why your search for a killer is so vain. Human agency wasn’t involved.” “That’s not exactly true,” I said. “Even if what you’re saying is true, it’s not purely physical or Tammy would still be alive. What happened to her ended her physical life.” “You’re right, of course. All I meant was her killer’s not flesh and blood, but spirit and darkness.” “And yet,” I said, “we have a stolen diary, a stolen boat with blood in it, and a drowning.”
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