A Necessary Evil (14 page)

CHAPTER 33

Our Lady of Sorrow High School
Omaha, Nebraska

G
ibson McCutty pretended to be bored while his eyes scanned the shelves. Secretly he loved this room. It was the most fascinating one in the high school. But he'd be a total nerd if he admitted it.

He didn't know how Sister Kate managed to do it. There was always a gob of new stuff mixed in with the old faithful. Well, not really new. Most of it was hundreds of years old. Some of the fragile or valuable pieces she kept locked in a glass case, like the hurdy-gurdy. It was a weird kind of fiddle but with a hand crank and a row of keys. It was used by street musicians and beggars in twelfth-century Europe.

Geez! He couldn't believe how many details he remembered. But Sister Kate made the classes interesting.

He watched her greet the new kids, how cool and calm she was. There was something about her that calmed Gibson just being around her. It didn't hurt that she also looked good. He heard his mom once describe Sister Kate as an ageless, natural beauty. He wasn't exactly sure what she meant by it, but he supposed it was because when she wore khakis and a T-shirt like today she looked more like one of the kids than one of the instructors. Even her usual clothes set her off from the other instructors, classy suits __ sometimes jackets with skirts, sometimes jackets with pants __ but in bright colors: gold, red, bright blue, even lime green. With either wardrobe Gibson thought she always looked cool, and he wasn't the only one. All the kids thought so, even the in crowd who thought history sucked.

As for the in crowd, he couldn't help thinking how geeky these kids coming through the door looked. The Summer Explorers' Program was open to qualifying students from all of the parochial high schools in the area. It was here at Our Lady of Sorrow since Sister Kate started and ran it. Gibson had the home-school advantage. For once maybe he'd be one of the cool kids simply because he had all the insider knowledge. Stuff like where the restrooms were and how to make the Pepsi machine spit out a free can if you fed it one more dime at the right time. Earlier, all of his insider knowledge hadn't mattered at all when he tried to figure out a way to get to the second-floor history room without passing Monsignor O'Sullivan's office at the bottom of the stairs. There just wasn't a route, probably why the monsignor had chosen that office.

Gibson had tried to rush by it without looking, swinging around to go up the next flight of stairs, but then he saw him. He was standing in front of the monsignor's desk, wearing a black polo shirt and black trousers, just like the monsignor. For a minute Gibson thought his imagination was playing tricks on him again. He broke out in a cold sweat, unable to move. He was beginning to believe in ghosts when suddenly the man turned. Of course, it hadn't been Monsignor O'Sullivan, but instead a tall man with a hawk nose and powder-white skin but coal-black eyes that sliced into Gibson, pinning him right where he stood.

"Is there something you need?" It was a deep voice, one Gibson thought he recognized.

"Uh, I just... I thought you were Monsignor O' Sullivan." Gibson knew it sounded stupid, but it fell out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Monsignor O'Sullivan won't be returning," the man said and he started to close the door, but something furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes, something he saw just over Gibson's shoulder.

The guy had given him the major creeps. Gibson had spun, readjusting his backpack on his shoulder, and raced up the flight of stairs. He thought the guy had called to him, but he didn't stop. Just kept going, not looking back until he got to Sister Kate's room.

The guy hadn't followed him, but he still felt a little sick to his stomach.

He wouldn't think about it. He needed to focus on something, anything else. Now he tried to concentrate on the kids wandering in, the so-called qualifying students. He took a deep breath and sat back, waiting for the nausea to leave. He reminded himself how much he liked this room, how comfortable it felt. He watched the faces of the kids coming in and it actually made him feel better. He realized it might not be so tough to be one of the cool kids. These kids all looked like losers.

There were supposed to be a dozen of them, three girls and nine boys. Gibson had stolen a peek at the roster on Sister Kate's desk. He already knew that he was the only one from Our Lady of Sorrow. His mom had been thrilled, like it was some big honor. There was no talking her out of it even when she discovered there was a five-hundred-dollar tuition fee to cover their field trips. She shrugged and said she'd get Grandma McCutty to pay it. Gibson complained that the three weeks would totally ruin his summer, but he knew he had already lost the argument. He overheard his mom on the phone telling Grandma McCutty what a privilege it was for Gibson to make the program, if only she could contribute the thousand-dollar tuition fee, then Gibson wouldn't have to turn down such an honor. So there was the real reason his mom was so excited __ not that he had qualified. Not that he would get out of the house and do something all summer other than play computer games. No, it was just one more opportunity to scam Grandma McCutty.

"What do you suppose this is?" a small kid with freckles and reddish-blond hair asked.

Gibson hadn't even noticed the kid come up beside him. He was pointing to one of Gibson's favorites, not daring to touch what at first glance looked like some kind of primitive chalice.

"It's called a skullcup," Gibson told him and picked it up carefully, watching the kid's blue eyes widen as if Gibson had done something forbidden, but Gibson knew Sister Kate wouldn't mind. The items she left on the counters were to be handled, carefully, of course, and examined. He turned it over to show the new kid where the base adhered to the top of a human skull.

"In Tibet, priests use these for ceremonies and stuff. See, they cut a human skull in half and use the top for the cup part. They attach all this decorative crap." He pointed out the jewels and polished stones and his stomach hardly hurt anymore. "It's supposed to symbolize consuming the mind of the dead guy. Or something like that."

The kid was looking at him as if Gibson was not just cool but brilliant. Gibson pretended it was no big deal, yet he started thinking maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it wouldn't ruin his summer after all.

CHAPTER 34

Reagan National Airport
Washington, D.C.

G
wen Patterson snapped her cell phone shut and dropped it into her pocket.

"Still no answer?" Maggie asked as the two of them made their way through the Monday-morning travel crowd.

"Dena came in on Saturday, her day off, so I don't mind her coming in late today. I just wish she would have let me know."

"You don't have to stick around here with me if you need to get to the office. This place is a zoo today."

"I don't mind. How long will Harvey be okay in the car?"

"It's cool this morning. With the window cracked, he'll be fine."

They found a place to sit, not far from the security checkpoint. Maggie tucked and zipped her wallet in the side pocket of her carry-on, an oversize computer case. She stashed the airline ticket in her jacket pocket then began removing her watch and a bracelet, slipping them into another side pocket. She had already relinquished her firearm along with the side holster she wore under her jacket. All the necessary procedures of getting through security in order to fly the friendly skies.

Despite Gwen's calm exterior she felt her insides were screaming at her to tell Maggie she couldn't leave. Not now. She would be getting the results from Benny Hassert's lab sometime today. Then she could hand everything over to Maggie. But now Maggie would be hundreds of miles away in Nebraska. She wanted to tell her now. She didn't want to wait. Twice this morning she had come very close to mentioning the single gold earring he had left for her on Saturday morning. That, of course, would have opened the entire Pandora's box for her to confess about the notes, the map and the cell phone. But Maggie was leaving and Gwen needed a new plan.

"Bonzado seems to think the killer used a hatchet or machete," Maggie said out of the blue. Evidently the case still preoccupied her mind, too.

"How is the handsome professor?" she asked, perhaps overcompensating by changing the subject even though the case was exactly what she wanted and needed to hear about. Was it possible Rubin Nash had easy access to a hatchet or machete?

"He's fine."

She was pleased with Maggie's smile. She hadn't seen Maggie smile about a man since that Nebraska cowboy-turned-district attorney tripped her up. Too much chemistry and no substance was how Maggie explained the disappearance of Nick Morrelli from her life. But Adam Bonzado held some hope. He was certainly someone she could finally share her crazy career with as well as her obsession with evil. And Bonzado was someone who wouldn't flinch or run away from a woman who tracked killers for a living. Quite the contrary, it would be something that would intrigue him. Adam Bonzado also seemed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and would be patient enough to wait until Maggie was ready. Gwen hadn't been convinced that Morrelli had any clue as to what he wanted, nor did he have such patience.

"He has a conference in the District next month," Maggie offered.

"Oh?"

"So maybe we'll get together for dinner."

"Good."

"Have you heard from Tully since he left for vacation?" Maggie asked, very matter-of-fact, as if it was the most natural progression of the conversation.

Gwen felt a sudden knot in her stomach. Had she opened a can of worms by asking Maggie about Bonzado? Now it was supposed to be her turn to share about Tully. Despite confiding in Maggie about her feelings for R. J. Tully, Gwen still wasn't sure she wanted those feelings validated or confirmed. Not just yet. Nor did she want to admit she had missed him.

"Couldn't Cunningham send Tully to Nebraska when he gets back?"

"Gwen?" Maggie laughed. "Tully's gone for another week. Besides, I thought you'd be anxious to see him."

"Of course, it'll be good to see him. That's not what I meant. It's just that I don't understand how Cunningham can send you out on another case when you only got started on the one here. And it sounds like you made some major progress yesterday."

"I faxed over my preliminary report to Cunningham this morning," Maggie said as she pulled out her watch to check the time, which Gwen knew meant that she needed to get in line for security soon.

"You were able to come up with a profile that quickly?"

"A preliminary one. When we know more about the victims I'll learn more about the killer. Racine and Stan have an ID on Jane Doe number three. That'll help."

"They know who she is?" Gwen asked.

"Dentals matched a Virginia Tech college student. Her name is Libby Hopper. She's been missing since early last week."

"Missing? How did she go missing?" Gwen tried, but couldn't remember where the university was. What would Nash be doing cruising college campuses? But, of course, easy prey.

"She was supposed to be staying with relatives here in the District between summer sessions. Her car was found in the parking lot of a nightclub in Richmond."

"Why would he risk bringing her back here?"

"Actually he may not have brought her back here," Maggie explained.

"What do you mean? Of course he did. You found her head on the banks of the Potomac."

"He might not have killed her here," Maggie said, lowering her voice, and Gwen thought it was unnecessary. No one could overhear with the speaker system blasting every other minute about leaving unattended luggage. "He may have killed her somewhere between Richmond and here. That could explain why we haven't found any torsos. It's less of a risk to carry around the head."

"So if Racine gave you all this information about Libby Hopper, does that mean you're still on this case?" She tried to sound curious, not desperate.

"I'm sure Racine will want me to stay involved."

"Of course, she'd be crazy to not keep you involved." She wasn't sure she could guide Racine as easily as she had hoped to guide Maggie.

"I'll keep you posted," Maggie said as she stood. "Gotta go." And she opened her arms, waiting for Gwen to stand so she could give her a hug. "Thanks for taking care of Harvey."

"Harvey and I have a good time. He takes me for nice long walks in Rock Creek Park. I find so many more interesting things with him along." Gwen tried not to think of the scribbled map that had led them to the second skull on one of the park's trails. Instead, she hugged Maggie, then stepped back and smiled. "Hey, I forgot to ask what the case was about in Nebraska."

"Ironically, it's priests getting killed instead of doing the killing."

"Really?" Gwen knew Maggie well enough to recognize that this feeble attempt at morbid humor was only to disguise her own anxiety. She had been too wrapped up in her own mess to even consider what Maggie might be going through. Her friend avoided eye contact as if expecting Gwen's next question, "Are you okay about going back there?"

Maggie frowned at her like it was a silly question. Another failed disguise, because Gwen could see the lie even before Maggie said, "Of course I'm okay. That was what, four years ago?"

"Some scars take longer than four years to heal," Gwen told her, this time meeting and holding her eyes. "Especially when (here's unfinished business."

Maggie just shrugged then reached out and gave Gwen's arm a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry about me. You're the one who looks tired. Get some rest. I'll call you tonight."

And then she was off, down the long ramp with that confident stride that she used to fool everyone. Almost everyone. But Gwen wasn't fooled. This time she'd let Maggie get away with it only because it allowed her to disguise her own secrets. Selfishly she was relieved that Maggie didn't seem to have a clue about the knots twisting in her stomach, or even suspect the mental time bomb wreaking havoc with her conscience.