Justifiable (38 page)

The most painful loss he’d ever experienced was the night he’d realized little Sammy Dell would never come home to his parents.

“So,” Biddy finished, sitting back with finality. “I’m not backing off until we find this kid. If Lehman wants to screw us, let’s not make it easy.”  A smile tugged his lips. That was the face of a warrior ready to fight.

Riley sat there for a minute trying to reconcile this Biddy with the one who had rarely spoken in the past months, but he knew when he was being given a hand up. Warriors didn’t walk away from a battle. They ran toward it.

Riley took a deep breath and started in. “In that case, I found archived stories on Judge Berringer
and
his wife. Romeo’s gang got me looking at the judge again. I found a couple of write-ups on his wife’s volunteer work with social services. She’s got a PhD in psychology, too. Visits low-income homes to review childcare. There was a picture of her delivering bags of clothes to residents when the Philomena House first opened.”

Now that he’d explained the basis for his logic, Riley continued, “I’m betting Sally Stanton was part of Mrs. Berringer’s caseload. I can understand how the judge’s wife would avoid admitting she knew Sally Stanton since she probably couldn’t see any benefit to fueling a hungry press ready to make her and her husband’s lives miserable.”

“Makes sense.”  Biddy arched one eyebrow. “Now, my big scoop on St. Catherine’s.”

“I just got threatened with jail time,
again,
if I so much as say that name.”

“So you don’t want to hear what I got?”

“Hell, yes, I want to hear it. Just letting you know we might have adjoining cells.” 

Biddy gave him a cocky smirk. “I’d get us out. So here’s the deal. Margo Cortese and Monsignor Dornan have been working in the same places for at least eight years. Before that she lived in Boston for all of about a month. Originally from Portland, Maine.”

“Any family?”

“A dad and two brothers in Maine, but she doesn’t seem to go back often.”  Biddy leaned in, one arm on the table. “Margo was in a hospital in Boston a week after her apartment lease started.”

“She go there for a treatment of some sort?”  Riley thought back on how healthy and robust she appeared.

“Nah. Based on what I found out, I’m going to guess she never lived away from home before Boston ‘cause she was twenty-one when she moved there and her only prior address was her dad’s. First week of her lease, some guy picked her up in a bar and took her to a hotel where he beat her and raped her for two days.”

“No shit?”  Riley’s gut jerked at the thought of the vibrant woman he’d verbally battled with being abused by some animal. Still, she could be innocent in all this or she could be protecting someone.

Either way, what Riley had just learned would color how he dealt with her in the future.

Biddy had more. “Monsignor was registered at a hotel in Boston near the hospital for three weeks, arriving the day after Margo was admitted. I don’t know where she went once she got out, but her apartment was closed within a few days after her release and the next address that shows up for her is in St. Louis. Two blocks from where the Monsignor lived during the same time in St. Louis.”

Riley rubbed his head. The hamburger had taken the edge off his headache, but he hadn’t slept more than two hours a night in the past three days. “They ever catch the guy?”

“This is where it gets interesting. Guy who kidnapped her had a criminal record and history of gambling debts to mob-operated games. Two days before Margo was released from the hospital, Boston PD found the rapist’s body in Back Bay floating along the St. Charles River. Police figured his past caught up with him.” 

“How’d he die?”

“Gunshot to the head. .38 slug.”

Damn
. Riley sorted through all the implications, mentally comparing that with the current killings. He thought out loud. “Any oil on the body would have been washed off...
if
the police had even known to look for it.”

Biddy tapped his thumbs on the chair arms. “That’s right. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yep. We need to get a spent round out of Monsignor’s .38.”

“You got a home address on him?”

“I asked about St. Catherine’s construction work when I was at Philomena House. The top floor of the three-story building next to the church is going to be the vicar’s residence so Monsignor’s probably got an apartment somewhere nearby, but I don’t have an address yet.”

Lines of concentration formed above the bridge of Biddy’s nose. “I hear the Monsignor spends more time at St. Catherine’s than at home. He might keep his piece in his office. How tight’s the security there?”

“Nothing that would stop you, but Cortese left me a voicemail to call her and said she’d be at the office late tonight.”

“Give me thirty minutes in that place and I’ll either find the weapon and come back with a spent round or determine the weapon is not there.”

“How you going to shoot it without someone hearing the shot?”

Biddy just lifted an eyebrow.

“Right. Stupid question.”  Riley tossed plenty of cash on the table. “I’ve got another idea, but it might involve bail money before the night’s over.”

Chapter 54

Lucinda shivered and swallowed another sob. How could she have screwed up so badly?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

Kelsey was at the mercy of a predator.

My fault
. Lucinda shouldered all the blame, from marrying Stan to confronting him this afternoon. Rage and terror had stripped her sanity, leaving her lost to any thought except getting her child back. She still should have calmed down and thought it through, considered the ramifications of attacking him and threatening to kill him. What had she been thinking?

That Stan would just hand over Kelsey?

No, she’d lost all ability to think past getting to her daughter. Seeing that she was safe.

Stan claimed Kelsey
was
safe. He said he’d brought in a highly touted female tutor who specialized in dealing with troubled and withdrawn children. The tutor was working with Kelsey in a private space just one floor below his office. 

By that point, Stan had been shouting everything he said and Lucinda had been screaming that she wanted her child.

Did she believe Stan? She didn’t know. He could have just been covering his backside with so many people listening. On the other hand, she still couldn’t reconcile the man she’d married with the man who would harm Kelsey, but too many women had fallen into that trap and failed to put their child’s safety ahead of love for a spouse.

What made her any different than those women?

Nothing. She was just a woman who had fallen in love with the
perfect
man, and then trusted the person she loved.

Love. Lucinda didn’t know what that meant anymore.

Cursing erupted ten feet away and behind her. She shuddered and kept her back turned to her cellmates.

Another whiff of urine and body odor struck her so hard she almost threw up on the concrete floor. She curled into herself on the metal bench, fear tearing her apart.

Fear for Kelsey. And there was no one to call since the only friends she had now were those she’d met through Stan.

Fear for herself locked in this jail cell with two women who smelled of cigarettes, cheap perfume and hard nights on the streets. One of them made Elvira look like a poster child for Mother of the Year. 

She was alone in this battle.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway and echoed against the concrete walls in sync with the beat of her thumping heart.

What time was it? Seven, eight o’clock? No windows to see if it was dark yet. They’d taken her watch along with her clothes and given her an orange jumpsuit.

Like a criminal. That happened when you threatened to kill your husband in public, and acted like you might do it right then.

Footsteps kept heading her way. She knew it was unrealistic to think someone might be coming to help her, but Lucinda sat up quickly, anxious to see who approached.

One of the women laughed. “You think somebody gonna throw you a scrap, dog?”

Another one said, “Shut up bitch. She was tryin’ to help her little girl.”

Lucinda didn’t care what anyone thought or how she looked. She just wanted to know if anyone had believed her and gone to take Kelsey from Stan.

A police officer stopped in front of her cell then an angel of mercy appeared at his side. She recognized her angel by the black pants and matching shirt with a white clerical collar.

Monsignor Dornan thanked the officer then stepped closer to the bars once the policeman faded from sight. “How are you, Lucinda?”

She burst into tears that came from so deep inside she couldn’t stop the geyser to answer him. She sobbed into her hands, her heart breaking into pieces that would never go back together the same way again. 

“Here, take this.”  His gentle words drew her head up.

Lucinda could barely make out his face through her watery gaze. She took the handkerchief he offered and wiped her eyes. He waited silently while she pulled herself together.

“Thank you for coming.”  Her voice sounded tiny and desperate to her own ears. She’d always been strong. What had happened to her? She’d gotten complacent, comfortable with depending on someone else. She’d trusted too deeply.

“I spoke with the officers about your charges,” Monsignor told her. He hooked a hand over one of the bars.  “I’ve left a message for an attorney I know. What else can I do to help you?” 

His kindness almost undid her again. After the humiliation of being handcuffed and booked into jail where everyone treated her as though she’d lost her mind or was on drugs, she bled adoration for this man who’d come to help her.

He could have sent the attorney and kept himself from being associated with this sordid mess. With her.

“You don’t know how much seeing you here means to me. I took your words to heart when you said we have to fight the good fight of the faith. I tried, but I failed.”  She squeezed her eyes to stop the weeping. She wouldn’t waste the time he was giving her. “Please find Kelsey and get her away from Stan.”

Monsignor glanced back at where an officer stood not far away. “Keep your voice down, Lucinda. You’re not helping yourself.”

“I don’t care what they do to me if Kelsey is safe.”  She reached for his hand, gripping the long fingers between her palms. His hand felt warm and strong, capable of anything. “Please promise me you’ll save my baby and keep her out of Stan’s hands. I can’t make it through tonight knowing she’s out there alone and vulnerable. Talk to Janeen. She’ll help you.”

Monsignor Dornan put a fist against his head, took a deep breath then lowered his hand and met her gaze. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter 55

How could the police lock up a mother for protecting her child?

He didn’t know who deserved his anger the most – the mother, the police or Stan Myers. What had Lucinda Myers been thinking to go after her husband that way?

She should have been more vigilant in watching her little girl to begin with.

Now he’d have to add saving Lucinda’s daughter to his plan, but he could be flexible and add one more item to his list. In fact, Kelsey would prove valuable in helping his cause.

But he’d have to watch for the perfect opportunity.

A stream of headlights flowed into the neighborhood across the street from where he’d parked in a subdivision with houses still under construction. He’d waited until dark to find the Myers house in Germantown, a northwest section of Philadelphia.

Stan Myers could thank the media for showing everyone where he lived. Reporters interviewed neighbors as if people who waved at Stan and Lucinda in passing knew what really went on in the Myers house.

Stan Myers would probably have a realtor searching for a gated property by tomorrow.

But for now, the degenerate had to deal with a load of media camped outside his house. What did they expect? That Stan would run wild through the front yard, admitting he was a pedophile?

After that scene Lucinda made in Stan’s office, the media might have good cause for any expectation. Both parents had failed Kelsey. Her mother would be in jail for a day, maybe two, depending on whether her husband pressed charges or not.

Then who would stand guard over her child?

Neither Lucinda nor Stan was a worthy parent, but Kelsey had a savior.

He was the only one willing to battle sin while others stood by as Satan built a path of corrupted souls.

Satan was attacking St. Catherine’s through law enforcement. The DA’s office pumped garbage into the media then sent a disciple under the guise of trying to clear St. Catherine’s name.

Investigator Kirsten Massey was crazy to think she could have a drop of sacred oil. God did not have to prove himself to anyone, particularly the DA’s office.

We must fight the good fight of the faith
.