Justifiable (45 page)

“Get out.”  The killer waited, not opening his door.

Riley climbed out into ankle-deep mud. He slammed the door and heard the passenger door slam before he trudged around to where the killer waited in a drenched robe. When the guy waved his weapon toward a break in the trees, Riley marched forward.

After something like fifty paces through a tangle of weeds, the killer ordered him to stop and don’t move.

Riley had gone past cold to numb. He could hardly see where he was in the downpour until a powerful spotlight beamed on to expose the concrete foundation of a house.  No framed structure, just the base of a foundation constructed of concrete blocks with five steps leading from the ground to what had been the main floor.

“Go up the steps,” the killer directed.

As soon as Riley’s foot hit the first step, he was able to see ragged boards two feet high and charred black at one corner. A fire had gutted the house many years ago.

When he reached the surface of the foundation, Riley took in everything with a quick visual sweep. Bloodstains spread over one area of the concrete, as if something had been dragged. The only other thing on the slab besides a couple of trees that had fallen across one end of the foundation was a hump in the middle of the space with a black tarp covering the mound.

Too big to be Enrique. He had to keep telling himself that.

Forcing himself to play this game, Riley asked, “Where are we?”

“This place? Used to be a halfway house until some heathen burned it to the ground. But he paid for taking our home.”  The killer jabbed his gun in Riley’s back again. “Go pull the tarp off.”

Riley moved forward, repeating to himself that the shape couldn’t be Enrique. He ignored the obvious possibilities, that the shape might include more than one body, and reached down to grasp the tarp when the hump shook all of a sudden.

He snatched his hand back.

“Do it!”

Riley forced his hand out, grasping the cold plastic slick from rain and ripped it away, letting go. The wind caught the covering and blew it off the foundation. He stared at the figure huddled in a knot with his arms bound with rope against his body, the business suit he wore saturated with water. His ankles had been tied securely then tethered with a length of rope to his neck. No way to move without choking himself.

The figure lifted his head. “Help me!” he croaked.

Took Riley a minute to realize he stared at Stan Myers, vice president of one of the top networks in Philadelphia. Riley knew that because he’d seen Myers on television this morning. Something to do with Stan’s wife getting arrested and threatening him about their daughter.

Stan’s body shook hard, trembling from cold, fear or both. His face contorted with anguish. “Please, help me. He’s going to kill my little girl.”

Another child.

Riley turned to find the killer had shed his jacket and wore only the black cassock, but he’d produced a long white silk scarf from somewhere that now hung around his neck and down each side of his chest, very formal looking. A sharp gust flapped the tasseled ends.

“Catch.”  The killer kept his weapon pointed at Riley when he tossed a cell phone in a clear plastic bag. Riley caught the phone then the killer indicated a direction with his head, and said, “Move over there, about fifteen feet back to the spot marked on the cement.

Wiping water from his eyes, Riley looked around until he found an X the size of his two feet in black on the concrete. He moved to the spot. “What do you want me to do?”

“Open the phone to the camera. Use that to film and do the commentary. You show the world that I – ”  The killer lifted his chin, proud and defiant. “ – am stopping the sinners who prey on children. They can depend upon the monsignor.”

Riley couldn’t believe he was going through this again. He couldn’t let this happen. Not again. He pulled the phone out of the bag he discarded, then lowered it to his side where he could hide the way he carefully moved his thumb around pushing buttons. He couldn’t key the wrong number. He wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What’d you do with Kelsey?” Stan pleaded with the killer in the voice of a parent living a nightmare.

“She’s safe from you
and
your wife.”  The maniac held his head high as if he’d performed the holiest of duties by taking Stan’s child. “You’ll no longer abuse her innocence.”  

“No! I didn’t touch Kelsey. My wife is crazy.”  Stan looked at the killer then Riley. “I swear it on my daughter’s life. I wouldn’t hurt that child. I don’t know what got into Lucinda.” 

The killer faced Stan and raised his weapon.

“Wait.”  Riley fumbled with the phone. “I’ve got the video cued up, but you have to prove to the viewers you’re really doing all this to protect children.”

The killer lowered his weapon and stared at Riley as if
he
was the crazy one. “I don’t have to prove anything.”

“It’s good PR, Monsignor.”  Riley couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with a killer, but the guy was delusional and wanted to be treated as if he was the monsignor. “Tell the viewers where Kelsey is. You can always edit out anything you don’t like later.” 

Squinting against the rain, the killer thought for a moment then nodded. “Okay. Start filming.”

Riley made a show of hitting a button on the cell phone, but not the one to start videotaping with the phone. He’d just hit the send button for the number he’d keyed in he hoped like hell was J. T.’s. Then he turned the camera eye of the cell phone toward the killer. “You’re rolling.”

Straightening his shoulders as if he were addressing a congregation and not standing in a downpour with a weapon in his hand, the Killer smiled. “I’m Monsignor Dornan of St. Catherine’s Parish. Today I’ll show you what it takes to stop those in Philadelphia from continuing to sin without remorse. Here – ” He pointed the .38 at Stan. “ – is a man whose child has endured a terror no child should.”

Stan mumbled in a barely audible broken voice. “I didn’t do it, didn’t do it...”  He dropped his head, moaning then shook his head and raised grief-stricken eyes. “You kidnapped my child!”

Undaunted, the killer continued. “No, I saved that child and left her in the care of Janeen in a safe basement. Once I’ve redeemed the parents, I will bring Kelsey into the fold of the church where she’ll be cared for.” 

Riley played the role of interviewer. “You sure the basement is secure?”

“Of course it is. Janeen lives in a nice neighborhood.” 

Riley hoped someone caught that and could locate the little girl and Janeen.

The killer stopped and looked expectantly at Riley.

What’d he want? A thumbs up?

“Sounded great.”  Riley shoved dripping wet hair off his face with his free hand. “Now, about Enrique – ”

“Not yet!”

Dammit. What was it going to take to get this bastard to tell him where Enrique was hidden?

Stan lifted his head and looked to Riley. “Please save Kelsey. You can’t believe anything on the news. Kelsey knows I never touched her any way but as a father.
She knows
. Please save her.”

Riley had nothing to base it on, but his gut told him Stan Myers was telling the truth and about to die at the hands of a lunatic for a sin he hadn’t committed.

“Don’t do this,” Riley told the killer. If J. T. wasn’t here yet that meant he and his men were having a tough time finding this location fifteen miles outside of Philly or that J. T. had to work through jurisdictional issues...or the call from the phone in Riley’s pocket never connected.

“
We
have to do this, Walker,” the killer ordered.

With nothing to go on but instinct at this point, Riley lowered the phone. He wanted to save Enrique more than he wanted to continue breathing, but he had to stop this guy from killing Stan. If Riley didn’t play cameraman and anchor for this nutcase then the killer couldn’t act. “I thought you said you were here to save children. Men of God are supposed to help people, not kill them.” 

“Turn on that video and start filming
now!
” the killer screeched, water spitting from his lips. Veins stood out on his forehead. His eyes blazed with insanity. “Sinners will repent or face the Enforcer.”  He took a step and swung his .38 at Stan’s forehead.

“No, don’t!”  Stan jerked his body, trying to get away. The ropes cut his neck.

“Ready?”  The killer struck a pose, head high, eyes challenging Riley.

Riley didn’t lift the phone. “No! I’m
not
filming this or telling your story.”  He didn’t know what else to threaten. The only possible thing nearby to use for a weapon were the two monstrous trees that had fallen crisscross over the last twenty feet of the foundation. Nothing useable there.

The killer snorted at Riley, the sound degrading. “I thought you cared about Enrique. He’s not far away, you know. You can have him once this is done.”

Was Enrique really still alive? Was this all one big scam? “How do I know you aren’t lying?”

“You have to have faith. Now, start filming.”  The killer turned back to Stan and lifted the weapon again. “I’ll hear your confession now, sinner.”  When Stan just dropped his head, crying, the killer screamed, “Then prepare to meet the devil because the gates of heaven are closed to you.”

Riley had never prayed in his life, but he prayed now.
Please, God, don’t let this be a mistake
.

“The video isn’t working,” Riley shouted. If J. T. hadn’t gotten his last cell phone call by now, Riley had run out of options.

The killer turned, confusion locked on his face. “What?”

Riley dropped the phone to the concrete and slammed his boot heel down on it then rushed the killer. Wind galed across the foundation and icy rain slammed Riley in the face.

The killer screamed, jerked his weapon around and fired at Riley.

Pain burned through Riley’s side when he took two steps.

Another shot blasted and another. 

Riley kept moving forward, adrenaline and fury driving him. He rammed the killer’s chest, rocketing both of their bodies into the air. They went down together. Riley rolled on his side that hurt like a mother. He shoved up to his knees then to his feet.

Men shouted beyond the tree line. Police?

The killer was down on his back, jerking spasmodically and holding his throat.

Blood gushed through his fingers.

The priest had been shot.

“No!”  Riley dove down on top of him. “Tell me where Enrique is.
Tell me
! Don’t you die!”

The killer’s free hand grabbed Riley’s arm. He coughed and choked, blood drizzled out the corner of his mouth. His eyes bulged but then his lips moved, trying to say his last words.

Riley lowered his ear. “What? Say it. Where is Enrique?”

Gurgling noises pulsed from between the killer’s chattering teeth. His body clenched once and shuddered.

Then nothing.

The hand clutching Riley’s arm let go and slipped away.

Riley jerked his head up and stared down at the blank eyes of death.

Enrique was underground. Somewhere.

Riley shook the killer’s dead body and screamed. “
Noooo
...”

Chapter 75

Police swarmed all over the foundation and through the encroaching woods.

Someone was talking to Riley.

He could hear his name, but couldn’t comprehend the words. Didn’t want to. Then a hand clamped down on his shoulder and Biddy squatted into view.

Riley stared at Biddy, who waited patiently. When Riley found his voice the words came out thick and rusty. “Thought you might have gotten blown up.”

Biddy’s answer was a wry smile that didn’t match his sad eyes.

Riley would never question Biddy’s abilities again. “You get Kirsten?”

“Yep. She’s here. Wants to talk to you, but J. T.’s keeping everyone back.”

Riley nodded.

Biddy asked quietly, “Who was the crazy priest?”

“J. T. ran the license. His name’s Oscar Baylor. Worked at St. Catherine’s.”  Riley stared at the house foundation. He’d ended up on the ground with his back against a tree, but couldn’t recall exactly how that had happened. He swallowed. His words came out wounded, scraped along his raw throat. “He wouldn’t tell me where Enrique was.”

“I know, buddy.”  Biddy’s voice was rough as Riley’s. “Fuckin’ bastard, but we’re not giving up. We’ll keep looking.”

Riley had searched for the child in Detroit for another six weeks until he finally accepted that the first two bodies had only been found after the Kindergarten Killer had sent a tip...two weeks after the children had died.

The third child – body – had never been found.

Was Enrique still alive, scared, running out of air in some hole? Riley cupped his eyes, but horror coated the inside of his eyelids. He dropped his hand and took a trembling breath.

Biddy stood and gave Riley a hand up to his feet.