Justifiable (42 page)

“What’d you do, Lucinda?”  Stan’s normally soft-gray eyes teemed with dark anger...and disappointment.

“I’m allowed to have an attorney.”  She lifted her chin to let him know she wouldn’t be cowed.

His eyebrows dropped over eyes that thinned to slits and his lips parted as if he didn’t comprehend what she said. “I don’t care how many attorneys you get. What’d you tell Janeen to do with Kelsey?”

Lucinda rose to her feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What have
you
done with Kelsey? Don’t come in here trying to make me look guilty of something.”

“You’ve done a better job than I ever could have.”

“Where is she?” Lucinda yelled at him.

Stan’s hands curled into fists. “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I figured you must have snapped from all the stress you’ve been under, but I would never have thought you could be like this. Stupid me, I still love you.”

How could four words rip her heart even more?

“I’m getting you out of here – ”

Thank God
.

“ – as soon as they have a bed at the hospital, but you’re staying away from Kelsey until you get your head straightened out.” 

“You’re trying to have me committed?”

He actually looked pained and hurt. What an actor. “I’m trying to figure out how to help you and take care of Kelsey. So tell me what Janeen did with her.” 

“You leave my baby alone!” she screamed. “Don’t you go near her!”  She pounded her cuffed hands against the table.

Her attorney rushed in. “What happened?”

The officer explained that Stan had come to see Lucinda.

The attorney snapped, “No one is to see her from here on unless I’m present.”

When the officer made Stan leave the room, Lucinda sat down hard on the metal chair, dropped her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. What was Stan talking about? Where was Kelsey?

Wait a minute.

She’d begged the monsignor to help her. Told him Janeen would know what to do. Relief fingered through her, massaging the pain in Lucinda’s heart and soothing her worries.

That’s why Monsignor was late. He had Kelsey tucked away somewhere safe.

She lifted her face to Urlich who did a double take and frowned, asking, “Are you alright, Lucinda?”

“I’m going to be fine.”  She smiled and wiped her eyes. Monsignor chose this attorney and trusted him. Now that Kelsey was safe, she wouldn’t continue to delay the meeting. “Let’s get started.”

Chapter 66

What had happened to the ballistics report?

Riley woke with a start on his sofa. He scrubbed a hand over his face, surprised to see daylight.

No phone call? He’d left his cell phone on loud in case he fell asleep. But had the battery worn down without him realizing it?

No, the monitor showed the time in bold – 9:37 AM – and that the phone had plenty of battery left.

He flipped it open, dialed J. T. and got a voice mail, dammit. But J. T. had said he’d call.

Riley ran through the shower and felt a little more human. The two hours of hard sleep would hold him for the rest of today. He’d just poured a cup of coffee when his cell phone chimed.

“Walker, this is Turner. Got a match on that ballistics report.”

Riley had expected this, but still couldn’t believe he’d really been right. Not exactly, since Kirsten was convinced Father Ickerson was their man.

“Walker, you hear me?”

“I heard you. Now you want to know where the bullet came from, right?”

“No, I’m thinking about making a charm bracelet with these things, asshole. What do you think?”

Riley lifted the phone away to spare his eardrums. Not the day to screw with J. T. He pulled the phone back. “I have to call Kirsten first. I made a deal with her.”

He had to pull the phone away again. J. T.’s curses bruised the airwaves. When Riley could get a word in, he said, “I’m calling her now. She’ll call you next.”  He hung up before the conversation turned any more vile.

Kirsten answered on the second ring.

“J. T. got a match on the bullet I dropped off.”  Riley just realized he hadn’t told Kirsten something. “The gun belongs to Monsignor. He’s a crack shot. Ask anyone at the PD shooting range.”

“Monsignor Dornan?”

“The same. I know how you feel about shaking up the church, but you’ve got all the evidence you need to act.”

“I’m still going with Ickerson as my suspect, but I’m not picking up anyone yet until I walk the mayor and the DA through all of this.”

“Dammit, Kirsten – ”

“Listen to me, Riley. We don’t know that he’ll give us Enrique back for sure. I need to make this iron clad so no one will overrule me if I bust a priest. The last thing we want is the suspect to walk because we have nothing to hold over him.”

He didn’t want to admit she was right, but that didn’t change the fact that she was. “Call me when you know what you’re doing, okay?”

“I will if I can. I’ve already shared more on this case with you than I should have, but I did so with Enrique’s best interest in mind and to find justice for the victims.”

“I understand. You know where to reach me.”  He hung up and called Biddy who had taken his wife home from the hospital last night. All was okay with her and the baby for now. Riley caught Biddy up on everything. Biddy had located much of the same information on his list of suspects.

“Hot damn, that nails him,” Biddy said, indicating Monsignor.

“Not yet. Kirsten is convinced it’s the other priest, Ickerson.”

“Ah, man. She’s going to let the big fish slip through her fingers. What if the killer makes his move while she’s processing paperwork?”  Biddy scowled and muttered something under his breath about red tape.

“I’ve thought about that. I’ll just deal with whatever he throws at me. Do me a favor – ”  Riley took a breath. He’d spent part of last night doing more than shagging evidence. “If anything happens to me, there’s a file in my nightstand for my foster dad. Has his address in it. Would you get those papers to him?”

“Sure.”  Biddy was silent a minute then said, “Only if you meet me at Pete’s.” 

He hung up before Riley could tell him he didn’t have time to eat or drink. 

In fact, he didn’t think Pete even opened until eleven so what was Biddy up to? 

Chapter 67

He ended the call to Stan Myers’s television station and dialed the cell number the executive’s nice assistant had shared.

His plan had gone into motion sooner than expected at six this morning when Stan’s housekeeper had arrived at the Myers’s home. She’d stayed fifteen minutes then driven away alone.

Following the housekeeper had been a brilliant move and proved to be a stroke of luck. He’d originally thought the only benefit would be pulling information out of the woman that would help him find Kelsey.

God smiled on those who did his work.

Stan Myers must have thought he was slick hiding Kelsey in the backseat of the housekeeper’s car and sending her to the woman’s home. No doubt thinking to keep his daughter away from the prying media who might ask the little girl questions Myers wouldn’t want answered.

Not a problem now. He placed the call to Stan and took a moment to enjoy the peaceful rural setting while he waited on the cell tower connection. This area on the north side of Philly would be perfect. A short drive for a distraught father even if the weather threatened to interfere. Ripe clouds ganged up, building into a confrontation that promised to turn into one devil of a sleet storm.

Mattered not. He was prepared for inclement weather.

The phone connection clicked. “Stan Myers speaking.”

“I hope you don’t mind, Mr. Myers, but I got your cell phone number from your assistant. I told her I had important information about your daughter.”

“Who is this?”

“I’m Father Ickerson.”  He smiled. Ickerson should enjoy having a notorious reputation for a while. “Your wife came to see me, because she didn’t want to talk about...some things with the priest from your church. I believe I can help you understand what is going on with Lucinda.”

Myers muttered something acidic in a dark voice. “I can’t believe she talked to all these people behind my back.”  He paused a moment. “What did she tell you about...us?”

“I can’t share what was said in confession, even with you, but I do feel that I can shed some light on your situation.”

“I’ll deal with Lucinda later. All I want to do right now is to find Kelsey. Do you know where she is?”

“Yes, I believe I can help you locate your daughter.”

“So tell me.” 

“What I have to share has to be said in person. It’s not something I feel I can discuss over the phone.”

“That’s ridiculous. I have to find my daughter! Just tell me what you know so I can tell the police.”  Stan Myers might be accustomed to expecting people to jump when he shouted at work, but he couldn’t call these shots.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Myers. Calling you was a mistake. If you don’t want to meet I understand and I’ll just – ”

“Wait! Look, I don’t mean to be rude to a priest, but I’ve got to find my daughter. I’ve been driving around for hours trying to figure out where Kelsey might be.”  Stan grumbled something about bullshit. “If you don’t tell me what you know, I’m calling the police so they can talk to you.”

“That would put me in the awkward position of having to tell them what your wife shared outside of confession about you and...Kelsey.”

Stan made a noise that sounded like a pressure cooker getting ready to blow. “Okay, I’ll meet you. Where?”

“I’m not far from downtown and hope you’ll understand that I don’t want to meet somewhere I’ll be caught by the media.” 

“I don’t want that either. I’ll come to you. Just give me an address and tell me what you look like.”

He gave Stan directions to a funeral home in Roxborough, northwest of Philly. “I’ll be wearing my cassock.”

Chapter 68

That hadn’t been pretty.

A better description would be disastrous.

Kirsten hiked through Three Penn Square to where she’d parked her BMW coupe in a prepaid lot. She hadn’t expected a short meeting, but neither had she figured it would run an hour past the ten o’clock time frame she’d promised to call J. T.

Ticking off the detective had become way less important since Van Gogh dropped a bomb on Kirsten’s future.

Once Kirsten had the mayor and Cecelia in the same room, she announced her intentions of gaining a warrant to search St. Catherine’s offices and church. Kirsten finished by explaining how the evidence gave probable cause to bring Father Ickerson in for questioning.

The silence immediately following her thorough presentation sucked the air out of the room.

Took about half a second for Van Gogh to blow her top, but that was mild compared to the mayor whose face turned beet red from his chin to his gray hairline.

The man should drop fifty pounds or go on blood pressure medicine. At close to sixty years old, he was a heart attack on legs.

Kirsten went over and over her methodical process in reaching this decision. Most damning had been the bullet and oil match. Everything settled down and seemed like it was going to work out until the mayor had to step away to take a call.

That’s when Van Gogh got in Kirsten’s face and said, “I understand Riley Walker has been to St. Catherine’s offices asking questions and harassing the Monsignor at the shooting range.”

Kirsten hadn’t heard that, but arguing with Van Gogh at that moment would have only wasted precious time.

Van Gogh wasn’t through with her yet. “You’re going to get your warrant, but you better be damned sure about what you do with it and that Walker is not using you. His ass is on the line with WNUZ. I found out he’s got until noon today to file a major story to get his job back. They’re offering him a cherry deal for this story in fact.”  She’d stabbed her sharp fingernail at the file in Kirsten’s hands. “I heard about you and Walker having dinner the other night.”

That was the minute Kirsten knew she had both feet in hot water.

The DA had shaken her head in a piteous way. “You have a lot of potential, Massey. But I think you’ve let Walker influence your decision-making. Be forewarned, if anything goes wrong in this case, it’s not just your job, because with your connections I doubt that’s a big deal.”

Van Gogh had no idea how wrong she was, but Kirsten kept her mouth shut rather than give the DA any more ammunition.

“Screw this up and I’ll put you in jail, because I’m betting you’ve broken more than a rule or two.” 

Kirsten hadn’t managed a deep breath since leaving that meeting. No sane person connected to law enforcement wanted to end up locked inside a prison with hardened criminals who wanted revenge. Could she go on a leap of faith and trust Riley?

She did believe Enrique’s life was in danger,
if
the child was still alive.