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“We’re working it. Gym?”

“Through that door, straight down to the end of the corridor, turn left.”

“Thanks. And, ah . . .” She jerked her head toward the boys. “Good luck.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Nita doesn’t like cops,” Eve commented as she headed down the corridor with Peabody.

“Either that or she took you seriously. If I didn’t know you, I’d have taken you seriously.”

“I thought scaring kids out of being little assholes was SOP.”

“Well . . . It’s a method.”

“Did you see the kid on the right. Little bastard can take a punch.”

And so, Eve noted when they went through the gym doors, could López. What looked like a portable sparring ring stood behind the center court line. A scatter of kids practiced on equipment on the other half, under the supervision of a couple of women in gym shorts. López—red boxing gloves, black face guard, black baggy shorts, and a white tee—sparred with Marc.

And Marc snuck one in.

Other kids grouped around the ring, called out encouragement. The gym rang with voices, the slap of feet, and the whop of padded gloves finding meat.

Both men had worked up a sweat, and despite the age difference appeared evenly matched to the casual onlooker. But Eve saw López was quicker, and carried that innate boxer’s grace.

An out-fighter, she noted, making his opponent come to him.

He weaved, jabbed, danced right, hooked. Disciplined poetry in motion.

Why, exactly, was fighting the answer of the weak and brainless? Eve wondered.

She watched until the timer rang, and both men stepped back. She’d counted two hits for Marc, six for López. And the way Marc bent at the waist to catch his breath told her he was done.

She walked forward. “Nice round.”

Puffing, still bent over, Marc turned his head. “The guy kills me.”

“You drop your right before you jab.”

“So he tells me,” Marc said bitterly. “You want a shot at him?”

Eve glanced up at López. “Wouldn’t mind, but I’ll rain-check. Have you got a few minutes now?” she asked López. “We have some questions.”

“Of course.”

“Outside maybe? We’ll wait for you on the blacktop.”

“He’s built,” Peabody said when they walked out of the gym. “Who knew that under all the priest gear he was Father Seriously Ripped.”

“Keeps in shape. And something’s up. Father Seriously Ripped had his sad eyes on, but there was more. There was dread.”

“Really? I guess I wasn’t looking at his eyes. He could have heard about Lino by now. Word like that starts traveling fast. Since he’s the man in charge, he’s going to have to explain, I guess, why he didn’t realize a man like that was working under him. Everybody needs a fall guy, right? Maybe the church brass is aiming at him.”

Since the blacktop was swarming with kids, Eve stayed at the side of the building. “Why aren’t these people in school?”

“School’s out for the day, Dallas. On the technical end of things, it’s nearly end of shift.”

“Oh. Maybe he’s worried about his career. Do priests have careers? But that wasn’t it. I know the look that says, ‘I don’t want to talk to the cops.’ That’s what he had in his eyes.”

“You think he’s hiding something? He didn’t know Lino—as Lino. He’s only been in the parish for a few months.”

“He’s been a priest a hell of a lot longer.” She thought of what Mira had predicted, and decided not to dance and jab, but to try for the knockout as soon as López came out.

His hair was damp, and the sweat had his T-shirt clinging to his chest. Yeah, Eve mused, he kept in shape.

She didn’t wait a beat. “The victim’s been officially identified as Lino Martinez. You know who killed him. You know,” Eve said, “because whoever did told you.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “What I know was told to me within the sanctity of the confessional.”

“You’re protecting a murderer, and one who is indirectly responsible for a second death in Jimmy Jay Jenkins.”

“I can’t break my vows, Lieutenant. I can’t betray my faith, or the laws of the Church.”

“Render unto Caesar,” Peabody said, and had López shaking his head.

“I can’t give to man’s law with one hand, and take from God’s with the other. Please, can we sit? The benches