Part 16 (1/2)

Doc Adams glanced over, eyes narrowing, then quickly looked away. ”I don't know what-”

”I was there. Outside. You left. They kept talking. Arguing, even. Then Browning and Dobbs left. Eleazar wanted to discuss something with them out of your earshot. I'm sure you know it. He sent you away, just as the mayor sent me away when I balked. What did you balk at, doctor?”

The doctor's expression told Preacher he had not balked. Not openly.

”He knew you would,” Preacher said. ”That's why he sent you off before the subject was raised. Because, like me, you are a fellow of conscience and-”

Doc Adams spun on him. ”Good G.o.d, man. Do you never stop? You're like a hound with a bone. Leave it be.”

”I will not. I'll ask until I have answers.What's the other cost? What else must we pay for our children's return?”

The doctor turned and resumed walking.

”The old man's dead, you know,” Preacher said.

Doc Adams glanced back.

”Rene. Eleazar's a.s.sistant. He's dead.”

Again, it was the expression that gave the doctor away. Preacher had expected shock. He didn't see it.

He's not surprised. He's not horrified. He knew, and however it happened, this man-this good man-has no compunctions about it. How is that possible?

The cost.

When the idea hit, Preacher brushed it aside. It was as wildly fantastical as Addie's claims of demons and possession. And yet it clung there, like a burr, p.r.i.c.kling his mind as he caught up and walked alongside the silent doctor.

”That's the price, isn't it? To return life, you must give life.”

The older man's shoulders slumped and when he looked over, it was with an expression Preacher saw each week . . . in the face of a paris.h.i.+oner at confession.

”Yes,” Doc Adams said. ”That is the price. But the old man gave his life willingly. He volunteered.”

”And now you need to find a volunteer for each child? Is that what you said to the Osbournes?”

”No, I was told not to tell them.”