Justifiable (46 page)

Headlights blazed through the forest from all the squad cars. Blue lights spooked through the dark afternoon.

Stan Myers stood shivering with a blanket around his shoulders. Medics and a dozen squad cars had shown up minutes after J. T. and his men arrived on scene in time to see the killer fire at Riley. Shooting the killer at that point was SOP for any law enforcement.

When Riley’s gaze clashed with Stan’s, the executive walked toward him. Agony wrinkled Stan’s forehead.

Biddy started to intervene, but Riley put his hand out to let Biddy know it was okay. He understood the helplessness and terror Stan had suffered.

Stan seemed unsure what to do or say then his face crumpled and he hugged Riley, sobbing. “Thank you, oh, God, thank you.”

Riley patted his back, unable to offer a word of comfort. They stood like that, lost in the moment. Riley had stopped caring about time when he watched Enrique’s lifeline die.

Stan released Riley and stepped back. “The police found Kelsey and Janeen alive. My baby is alive because of you. Thank you.”

All Riley could do was nod then Stan walked away.

The medics made a second attempt to approach Riley. Biddy took one look at where Riley held his side and waited. Riley shook his head. He wasn’t hurt that bad. The bullet ripped a cut across his side, but nothing that would kill him.

If he did die from the wound, so what?

Biddy waved off the medics. Kirsten appeared out of nowhere. She rushed up to Riley and folded into the arm he hugged around her. His heart took a crazy leap. He wished he could hug Enrique, too. “How could I fail another child?”

She pulled back and looked up into his face. “You didn’t. This isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is. If I hadn’t come to Philly the killer would
have – ”

“Picked another news reporter who might not have saved Stan and Kelsey,” Kirsten finished.

Riley’s gaze strayed to the ME standing over the killer’s body. “He put Kelsey in a basement. Why couldn’t he have done that with Enrique?”

“I don’t know.”  She lifted a hand to his cheek. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “He gave back two children, but he was crazy. We’ll pull together search parties for Enrique.” 

“But where...”  Something the killer had said clicked in Riley’s mind. He stared hard at the foundation, wondering, then slipped out of Kirsten’s arms.

“What is it, Riley?” 

He started walking to the steps, holding his side that burned with each breath. He might be injured worse than he’d thought. Climbing the steps took some grit.

J. T. stood over the dead priest, holding a small vial of what appeared to be oil in his gloved hand.

Riley didn’t slow down, just kept striding to where the trees had fallen – one a giant evergreen, the other a naked oak.

“What’re you doing, Walker?” J. T. asked in a guarded tone someone used with a person about to leap off a bridge.

Riley grabbed a branch on the evergreen and yanked. Biddy appeared beside him, not saying a word as he added his strength and snapped branches thick as three fingers. Riley plowed into the dense mangle of limbs, pushing his way through and under.

Biddy stayed right beside him, muscling more wood out of the way.

Down on his hands and knees, Riley’s fingers bumped something an inch thick and flat. A sheet of wood. He pushed to his knees. Branches held his back down as he tried to lift the edge of the plywood and pull, but it was stuck.

“I got it,” Biddy said. “On three. One, two, three.”

They yanked together and the sheet of wood slid free.

Riley went back down on his stomach and rolled under branches, gritting his teeth against the pain. He felt his fingers slip over the lip of a concrete edging then squirmed until he was lying along a square opening. On the next move, he pushed sideways to lower his feet into a void and wormed his body under a gauntlet of branches.

Then his feet bumped a support.

Steps. He climbed down slowly until his shoe soles touched a solid bottom, soft and shifting like dirt. Musty smelling.

“Here ya go.”  Biddy lowered a small flashlight already turned on into view and let go.

Riley caught the light and started fanning it around the underground space. The beam shook in his hand. When his eyes adjusted, he saw something that jacked his heart with hope and scared the hell out of him at the same time.

He took four long steps across the earthen floor to where a glow leaked around the edges of a makeshift wooden door. The covering had been secured with a wooden bar.

Riley stuck the flashlight in his back pocket and grabbed the round pole that was thick like a shovel handle. Not a good visual. He jerked the bar up and flung it to the ground.

In too much of a hurry to consider what he might have to face inside, he jerked the covering away.

A Diego blanket covered a small mound.

His heart threatened to explode. A battery-operated lamp lit the cramped eight-foot- square area. He rushed over and reached for the blanket, lifting slowly to uncover a child lying on a small mattress.

Riley swallowed and scooped the dark haired little boy into his arms. He laid an ear against the tiny chest.

Where a heart beat.

Thank God.

Riley hugged the child. Miracles did happen.

Enrique was drugged, but alive.

Chapter 76

Margo stood at Monsignor’s doorway, working up the courage to have this final talk. The monsignor sat hunched over a file at his desk, so intent he hadn’t noticed her approach on silent feet. That or he was so exhausted from the last two days he was oblivious to any commotion around him.

He’d been absent from St. Catherine’s all hours of the day and night, meeting with the mayor, the DA’s office and law enforcement about everything from Icky’s shooting to those poor people Baylor had killed. She hadn’t found the chance to tell Monsignor about handin’ over the oil, but he had to know by now.

He’d arrived early at St. Catherine’s administrative offices this mornin’, even ahead of Margo who thought she’d be first when she walked in a few minutes ago at seven. She couldn’t stand waitin’ another second to hear his ruling on her conduct.

“Monsignor, I’m needin’ to speak with you. Please.”

He lifted his head and showed her a face she couldn’t read. His disappointment would cripple her more than anything else, even leavin’ the church.

“Have a seat.”  He laid his pen down and sat back, elbows on the arms of his chair and hands clasped in front of his chest.

“I wanted to tell you this two days back, but Father Ickerson was injured, then everything...happened.”  She twisted the material on her corduroy pants, finding it hard to breath. Her eyes searched out everything on his desk, looking anywhere but Monsignor’s eyes.

“Tell me.”

Margo stopped fidgeting. “I gave the reporter a drop of sacrament oil the night before Ickerson was hurt.”  Her insides ached, just thinking about her betrayal, but she still believed in her reason for doing it. She licked her lips and continued in a coarse whisper. “When Walker asked for the drop of oil, I believed it would prove St. Catherine’s was not involved
and – ”  Her voice fell off. Anything more would be whining.

“You believed in me,” he finished.

She lifted her damp gaze to meet his quiet one. “Of course, I believed in you. How could I ever think you’d be capable of somethin’ like...
that
?”

“Many others stood ready to accuse me the morning Baylor set out to kill Stan Myers.”

“Because I made a terrible mistake.”  She turned her head then realized she was actin’ as a coward and faced her mentor.

“Mistakes were made everywhere. I came here to rebuild the faith of this community and help Bishop Gautier overcome the damage done by a thief. I allowed a murderer to walk among us. No, it was worse, from what I now understand.”  Monsignor shook his head and the grim line of his mouth flattened more.

“None of us suspected Baylor.”

Disappointment lining Monsignor’s face said he wouldn’t let himself off that easily. “The police profiler believes Baylor was like a mortar round, filled with potential to kill but not dangerous until activated. My presence was the catalyst. I’ll spare you the classic symptoms of psychotic background, but he had a delusion that fixated on someone...who – ”  Monsignor paused, searching for a word.

“ – was powerful and respected,” Margo filled in. “A leader everyone looked up to.”  A man she revered more than any other person on this earth.

A sigh laden with lament escaped Monsignor’s lips. “Yes, I suppose that sums it up. Baylor had once worked at the cemetery where one body was found and he knew all the victims well, having worked here and at Philomena House. Once the police knew it was Baylor and dug into his past, they found out he spoke easily with strangers, spinning all sorts of tales about his background.”

“He was well liked at Philomena.”  She might be committin’ the sin of procrastinating but this would be her only chance for answers. “How did he come by the cassock and oil?”

“The tattered cassock he was wearing that night was not mine. Must have been stolen at another time. As for the oil, he probably took the key from your desk and opened mine and found where I hid the key to the chest.”

Here was her opening to admit what she’d done but Monsignor continued, allowin’ her a few more minutes of reprieve.

“I can tell myself that my .38 would have been just as accessible if I’d locked it up, but I was negligent in simply sticking the weapon on a high shelf in my closet.”

She offered him what solace she could. “Children are never down here unsupervised, and we’ve never been robbed even when we operated in dangerous areas.”

He waved that off with his hand. “Still my responsibility.”

“I shudder to think how long he might have continued foolin’ everyone,” she murmured.

“Unfortunately, the authorities suspect this isn’t the first time Baylor has adopted an identity. They believe he’s killed before. He was living in the halfway house that had stood on the slab where he’d hidden Enrique. A pyromaniac resident suspected of burning the building was found dead soon after the incident and they think Baylor may have killed him. He’d been beaten as a child by his father. The profiler said he had likely never measured up to his father’s expectations.”

Margo wanted to feel sorry for Baylor, but that would take more prayin’ than she could handle right now with her world collapsing. “Baylor knew about Stan and Lucinda Myers. Lucinda spoke only to you in confession. How’d he find out so much on the victims?”

“That’s the worst part, but at least everything Baylor heard died with him.”  Monsignor rubbed his hands over his face and stood up, then walked to the window to look out. “When the police went through his office in the basement – ”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes.”  Monsignor shifted around and leaned against the window frame, arms crossed. “The police found a camouflaged door to a room where he’d hidden notes and details on all the victims and their families. Baylor also used that area to listen to conversations held everywhere in this building. He was in the perfect position as handyman. He’d wired an audio transmitting system throughout the offices and the church. He could even tap into the system at different locations as well. Baylor was very bright and deeply disturbed.”

Margo’s eyes strayed up to a vent cover on the wall above Monsignor’s head. “Could someone be hearin’ us now?”

“Yes, if Baylor’s office was open, but I’m leaving it locked until the police finish processing evidence, then we’ll obviously have everything removed.”

“We” had once included her, but she’d destroyed his faith in her. And she’d put off the moment long enough. Monsignor had always been there for her so Margo had to make this easy for him. “About what I did. I’ve proven I’m unworthy of your trust, so I’ll accept my penance and leave.” 

“Is that what you think your penance will be? To be relieved of duty?”

Margo flashed a look at Monsignor before she could mask the hurt. What could possibly be worse? “I assumed as a minimum I’d be sent away.” 

“Then you’ll leave me in dire straits.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”  Could he be sayin’...

“Father Ickerson will return, but not for another few weeks. He’ll be here for the pope’s visit, but he still needs to heal. Valdez thinks you raised Ickerson from the dead so he’s now willing to be your new intern until Ickerson is back.”  Monsignor cocked his head to the side in that thoughtful look he struck when he wanted to impart some advice. “You committed no error in judgment. Your goal was honorable and your motivation pure. Sometimes we must risk much to do the right thing. I don’t believe you betrayed me, but
supported
  me. I’ve made mistakes reaching this point in my life, but my father used to say you can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs. If you’re looking for forgiveness, you’ll have to discuss that with God, because I won’t fault you for your faith in me.”

“Thank you.” 
And thank God
. She wiped the tear that escaped down her cheek. “I promise to be the best chief of staff ever and won’t let you regret keepin’ me.”  Thanks be to Mary, she was stayin’ and being given a second chance.