The Church of the Holy Child Read online

  “Are you speaking from experience?” she asked.

  Realizing she was referring to Griff, I laughed. “Professional experience. Maybe you should stop psychoanalyzing the relationship and just tell him your concerns. You said he was mature for his age. Or you could say nothing and just enjoy it.”

  “Because it won’t last?” she asked.

  “Because you deserve to be happy.”

  The waiter set a new glass of Chardonnay on the table in front of her. She raised it in salute. “Thanks, that’s what I needed to hear.”

  Over grilled salmon salads we discussed Allie’s schedule and Eliza slipped back into character. She gave me a list of times and activities, including school, soccer, piano and homework and explained how long it would take me to drive from my office or apartment to each. As if I didn’t know how to figure that out myself. She would call to check in every other night at seven o’clock. She preferred to call every night, but Neil thought that would be over-protective, not to mention insulting to my capabilities. I wanted to point out that she insulted my capabilities on a regular basis and that I was quite used to it, instead I smiled, bit my tongue and whispered a silent thank-you to Neil. When we finished she picked up the bill as soon as the waiter set it down.

  I let her. What the hell, her boyfriend was richer than mine.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  In small cities, state agencies try to maintain a level of respect for one another, even camaraderie. Sometimes that relationship impedes progress, especially when it involves legal issues. James Rhyder had no such loyalties in Portland, Maine and so he had no trouble demanding that Sandra summon every last resident, employee and volunteer to be interviewed. Rhyder had no history with Sandra so her resistance fell on deaf ears. He told her if she wasn’t comfortable with him coming to the shelter then he’d be happy to arrange for them to come to the police station. She opted for the shelter.

  Hoping to lessen the blow for Sandra, I returned the borrowed files to her before Rhyder’s arrival, leaving out the fact that I’d copied the records of Bolitar and Trek. It was one thing for a cop to work below the belt, but it was expected of a PI. She took the files without a word and carried them back to the file cabinet in the corner of her office, carefully inserting them alphabetically between the metal rungs inside the drawer. She walked back to me, her jaw clenched.

  “Will you be in on the questioning?” she asked.

  Rhyder had made it clear to me and even Griff given his adjunct status, that being in on an FBI interrogation was above our pay scale. He said that he and Detective Stark would ask the questions. I was willing to bet that John wouldn’t get a chance to open his mouth.

  “No,” I said. The FBI agent is handling this part of things. As far as I know, he’ll bring in one woman at a time and ask where they were on the days of Shirley’s, Karen’s, Peggy’s and Rochelle’s deaths. How well did they know the deceased, and did they play any role in or have any information regarding the escape plans of the victims?”

  Rhyder appeared in the doorway just as I’d finished speaking.

  “Call me,” I said to Sandra.

  Rhyder exhaled a little too loudly. I smiled as I walked past him. I liked the fact that I annoyed him. The feeling was mutual.

  I got into my car in the parking lot and headed back to the office. A place I’d seen little of over the past week. Even though my contract with Beth Jones was my priority, I still had an unfaithful husband and a pilfering bookkeeper that I was keeping tabs on as well.

  “So what’s the latest?” Katie asked when I opened the door.

  I sat on the edge of her desk and filled her in on Rhyder’s arrival, his assessment of the suspect and the interviews he was running this morning.

  “Why aren’t you there?”

  I gave her the same explanation I’d given Sandra.

  “What happens if he gets a lead?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who tracks it down?”

  “He’s got John and Griff. Right now, I’m following up on Trek, the hotline volunteer that moved to Florida.”

  “So you’re dispensable.”

  I shrugged. “I’m doing this for Beth Jones not for Rhyder.”

  “Seems more like a wild goose chase. A traveling serial killer sounds like a long shot.”

  “Probably is, but at this point we’ve got nothing. So no lead goes untraced. If nothing else, I can rule him out.”

  “Well don’t forget it’s not up to you to do the FBI’s legwork.”

  “We’re all working for the same end. I promised Beth Jones I’d find her sister’s killer and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “You, Griff and Mr. FBI, a three-way. You have all the luck.”

  “Jesus, Katie, do you ever come up for air.”

  “Only when I have to.”

  “Travis is one lucky man,” I said and opened my office door.

  “That’s what I keep telling him.” She looked back to her computer screen, her right hand hovering over the mouse.

  Before I closed my door she was on the phone and as usual, it was not a work-related call. Not unless we were handling the recent death of a rock singer in L.A. But Katie was so good at keeping the office on an even keel that the outside interests that trailed her to the workplace were overlooked.

  I relaxed in my chair surveying my surroundings. A picture of Griff and me on the corner of my desk showed us on a ledge at the Portland Light during a Nor’easter. The ocean spray from the rocks beside us had left a drop of salt water on the camera’s lens and become a part of the picture lending authenticity to the surrounding storm. On the opposite corner, Amy and me arm in arm at Higgin’s Beach in South Portland. Amy was pregnant at the time and ready to burst. Twenty-four hours later she gave birth to Caleb. It had been a happy day, the kind of day we hadn’t had in a long time with both our lives so busy. I made a mental note to call her. We were long overdue.

  Katie opened the door, crossed the room and set a Starbuck’s take-out cup in front of me.

  “You just ran out for this?”

  “I bought it on my way in this morning.”

  “You didn’t even know I’d be here.”

  “Intuition, but I got the time wrong so it was a little cold. Lucky for me God made microwaves.”

  “Kind of Him to think of you.”

  She curtseyed. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  I opened my laptop and for the hell of it Googled Randolph Trek. Everything from Randolph Scott to Star Trek popped up. I went to People Search and found three Randolph Treks in Florida. I called the first one. His mother assured me that he was in school, eighth-grade to be exact. The second was in a nursing home, the third deceased. That didn’t entirely let the state of Florida off the hook, it simply meant Trek wasn’t a resident, his mother was, and I had no idea if they shared the same last name.

  I decided to get serious and searched Trek nationwide, this time adding his social security number and date of birth, which I took from the copied pages of his file. I went back to the computer and re-entered my information. I found the same Randolph Trek in five states, including Maine. I listed the cities and states and called Griff.

  “Cole,” he said on the first ring.

  “Where are you?”

  “John’s office. What have you got?”

  “No Trek in Florida,” I told him, “But he may not be a resident if he just went to take care of his mother. I did find him in five other states including Maine.” I rattled off the cities. “The guy gets around. No arrest history, not even a traffic ticket.”

  “Nobody’s that clean,” Griff said.

  TWENTY-NINE

  We were a few weeks from Thanksgiving. I’m not quite bah humbug, but I’m close. The holiday season reminds me that the memories I harbor of turkeys and Christmas trees are nothing like those of a normal child. Amy and I would celebrate the season together this year, like always. No adult had ever overseen our holidays. Why start now
? Griff would join us, as would Allie, at least for the preliminaries.

  Eliza and Neil were set to leave on their seven-day cruise through the Caribbean and Allie would be arriving at Griff’s apartment today after school. We’d decided, along with Eliza, that it made more sense for all of us to stay at Griff’s place instead of mine since so much of Allie’s stuff was already there. So it was more like me moving in than Allie.

  It wasn’t the greatest timing with us knee-deep in a case, but with Eliza’s track record of complaints surrounding Griff’s work, we couldn’t very well bow out of our promise. I left the office and headed for the grocery store to stock up on Allie’s cuisine of choice, Golden Grahams, bagels, tuna fish and Skittles.

  When I got to Griff’s he was already home and sitting at his dining room table with a yellow legal pad in front of him. Files and scraps of paper were piled high around him.

  “Looks like you brought the office home,” I said.

  “Kind of have to while Allie’s here.”

  He finished making notes while I put away groceries then he followed me around, shouting over the din of the vacuum cleaner that all of the alibis he’d followed up on from ex-husbands, family members and the shelter staff had checked out. Then, as he tucked the fitted sheet over the rounded corner of the mattress he told me that one piece of information he’d come up with was that each of the victims had had a cell phone, but no cells had been recovered at any of the crime scenes.

  I looked up from my corner of the bed. “He killed them and took their cell phones?”

  He nodded.

  “Because the phones would incriminate him?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. He must have talked with them, so his number would show up. John’s going after their phone records now.”

  The buzzer on the intercom went off.

  “Shit,” Griff said. “I mean not shit because Allie’s here, but shit because I think this means something and we have to put it on hold.”

  “No father-of-the-year award for you,” I said. “I’ll call Rhyder, tell him to come over around ten. It’ll be easier to have him here than for us to get to the precinct and Allie will be in bed.”

  “Already called him,” he said over his shoulder and walked toward the intercom.

  Eliza and Neil flanked Allie as she arrived at the door. The grin on her face told me she was more than happy to shed the two of them for the next seven days.

  “Looks like she’s moving in,” Eliza said setting a second suitcase beside the one Allie had carried in and letting a satchel slip from her shoulder to the floor.

  The mournful edge in her voice made me question her excitement over the cruise.

  “She can stay as long as she likes,” Griff said.

  He pulled Allie toward him for a quick hug and she moved into his arms without hesitation.

  “Well, we should be on our way.” Neil reached for Eliza’s elbow.

  She sidestepped his outstretched hand and flashed me a smile that begged forgiveness. For what I wasn’t sure, but I guessed it was some kind of maternal guilt she felt for leaving Allie behind.

  “I wrote up Allie’s schedule for you” she said, handing me a folded sheet of white paper. “She has soccer practice and piano and --- ”

  “Mom,” Allie interrupted, “I’m not five. I know what I have to do.”

  Eliza sighed and shook her head.

  “It’s okay,” I said, “That’ll be really helpful for me.” I took the piece of paper.

  “I’ll be fine, Mom. Go.” Allie shooed her mother with a flick of her wrist.

  “Yeah, Mom,” Neil said. “Let’s go.”

  After they left Allie and Griff and I settled down at the kitchen table to cold pizza, a coke and two Coronas. Then Allie retreated to her bedroom where her cell phone, a television, a computer and homework all lay in wait. I didn’t ask her priority.

  Shortly after ten o’clock Rhyder showed up and the three of us got to work in the living room spreading out the files of each victim, notes and photos on the Berber rug. Rhyder sat on the couch stretching his runner’s legs out in front of him. I sat at his feet, hoping there was no psychological inference. I just like the floor. Griff paced, as always.

  “Okay,” Rhyder said, “Each of the women had a cell phone, but none were found at the crime scene. So we have to assume the killer took them with him. That tells me that the killer and victim had been in communication. They knew each other. These were not random murders. Each woman left her child in a safe place and was willingly leaving an abusive relationship. Peggy is the exception. Her murder was unplanned. Nonetheless, it’s conceivable that she may at some time have contacted the shelter and she had a child that she’d lost. She fits well enough.”

  “They met with him the night they were leaving,” Griff said. “He had to be the person that was helping them escape. Or so they thought. They trusted him. Don’t forget, there were no defensive wounds on any of the victims.”

  “But he made sure of that with the hand washing and clean nails,” I said. “They could have fought him and that’s why he had to clean their hands.”

  “There weren’t any marks on their forearms or wrists either,” Griff added. I don’t think they suspected a thing.”

  “But if he was helping them leave, why’d he kill them?” I asked.

  Rhyder sighed and drew in his legs, his knees in front of his chest. I felt better, no longer lounging at his feet. He rubbed his palm over his chin. “Here’s what I think. He either was or is connected to the shelter. That’s how he made contact and got their phone numbers.”

  “Hotline,” I said kneeling then sank back onto my heels. “He’d have had access to their numbers when they called the hotline. Caller ID. It’s a safety measure.”

  Griff stood in front of us, his hands on his hips. “If he quit his volunteer position on the hotline after getting their numbers the women wouldn’t have known that they weren’t still dealing with someone from the shelter’s staff. So if he called and said it was time to go they’d have assumed their plan was in motion. And they’d have already made arrangements for their child, so they’d arrive at the meeting place without them.”

  “But if he’d been through the training at the shelter, which everyone who volunteers has to do, he’d already know that the shelter advised them to leave their kids behind,” I said. “He’ll have to kill them all.”

  “Maybe that’s what he’s doing,” Rhyder said. “Slowly and methodically. He’s a Missionary serial killer. He believes it’s his duty to punish these women for what he perceives they’ve done wrong. When the others understand his teachings, it will all come to an end and his mission will have been a success.”

  “His teaching? You mean his murdering?”

  “In his mind it’s the same thing. Each woman he kills is a message, an example for the rest.”

  I stood up sensing that we’d reached a conclusion and that the thinking part was over. The doing would come now.

  Rhyder got to his feet. “Most likely, it’s what happened to him.” He looked at me. “Contact the shelters in each of the cities Trek lived in and see if he was ever a volunteer.”

  “If he was, it might be better if I go talk to them in person,” I said.

  Rhyder smirked, “You? I know I told you to follow him up, but now this is looking like it may be a hotline volunteer, which means Trek is a good possibility. You really think you’re still the best choice?”

  “First of all, I’m going after Trek for Beth Jones, not you. Second, you delegated Trek to me. And third, if it is him he’s obviously here, not someplace in the Mid-West. It makes more sense for you to stay put and for me to do the legwork. Anyway, most women’s shelters are more comfortable talking to a woman.”

  Rhyder looked at me while he formulated his answer. “We’ll discuss it in the morning,” he said, “after we get the victims’ phone records and see what they show us.” He turned to leave. Halfway out the door he added, “Just so we’
re straight, Callahan, I’ll decide what we do with the information and who goes where.” He disappeared into the hall.

  “And just so you’re straight, Rhyder,” I said to the closed door. “I don’t work for you.”

  THIRTY

  In the morning, Griff left early to meet John at the station. Allie and I had a quick breakfast of bagels and orange juice. In the back of my mind I could hear Eliza commenting on the lack of protein and made a mental note to make up for it at dinner. I drove Allie to school then headed for the office ready to call the shelters in cities where Trek’s name had shown up.

  When I arrived at Cole and Co. Katie was standing in front of the door wrestling with her keys and juggling a briefcase, a cup of coffee and a bag from Dick’s Donuts. I shook my head.

  “Don’t say it,” she said holding up the bag like a shield. “I get enough at home.”

  “I’m not interested in your sex life.”

  That started her laughing, which ended in everything including the cup she was holding, hitting the ground.

  “It’s a good thing I love you,” she said. “Where have you been?”

  “I dropped Allie at school. Griff had to go to the station to meet John Stark.”

  “Isn’t that cute,” Katie said. “You take care of the kid while he goes off to work. Except that she’s his kid and you have the same job. How do men do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Always get out of household responsibilities?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Next he’ll have you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

  I felt somewhat torn by the image, but I didn’t tell Katie that. I picked up her briefcase and followed her inside.