"The road to redemption..."

Jared struggled with the words, muttering and muddling, trying to remember the end of the phrase. He dragged himself down the alley, clinging to garbage bins and the moss-covered walls, keeping his eyes focused on the street light twenty yards away.

Dragging his broken leg, ignoring the searing pain as the shards of bone splintered, spiking and stabbing the inside his thigh, Jared had but one thought, that of survival. If he could make it out of the alley, into the street, he might have a chance. Every inch of his body was a testament to the brutal beating he'd endured.

The body of Hank Frost, had already aroused the interest of the tenants--the rats--proof of Jared's demonic rage.

He closed his eyes, paused, giving himself time to find more strength and shuddered with the reality that he'd killed the man he'd come to save. He was certain that Satan had saved him. Who else could have infused him with such fury? Would God not have welcomed him, lifted him off the asphalt grave? Why had he used the last bit of strength to fight back?

Even now, as Jared inched towards the light, his new salvation, he felt God's love dissolving, dripping down his leg and pooling on the trash-strewn alley, leaving a trail of blood and regrets. Jared failed, failed the dead man and in a moment of clarity, Jared knew he'd spit in the eye of God. He should have died, and didn't. He suffered his own tragedy.

"I'm weak," he whispered, "not worthy to serve." Steps from the sidewalk, where someone might find him, Jared collapsed. Just before he succumbed to oblivion, the words filtered through his mind; 'the road to redemption is paved with good intentions.'

***

Bosko and Adams were patrolling the docks, not anxious for action. It was only two hours before their shift ended, and neither officer wanted the hassle of paperwork.

"We got lucky tonight," Adams said, sipping his coffee. He and Bosko had run out of conversation hours ago and were just biding their time until they could head back to the station.

"Yeah, for sure; a couple of drunks and a stiff. The floater looked like a drop. Did you see those shiny shoes? Uptown, not a regular scum bag from the ships."

"Let homicide figure it out. I've got other things to think about," Adams said.

"We have another circuit. You finished your java yet?"

The cruiser followed the regular route, creeping down Canal Street until they hit Lakeshore.

"Whoa, hold it. We've got another one." Bosko yelled at his partner.

Bosko jumped out of the cruiser as Adams pulled to the curb. "Shit, call a bus. This one's still alive." Adams radioed for an ambulance as Bosko took a closer look at the bloodied man on the payment.

"What the hell happened to you, Father?"

"What you got?" Adams asked.

"I'll be damned. It's that new priest from the mission."