Where Truth Lies (17 page)
D
ry leaves swirled around Grace’s feet as she walked briskly across the empty parking lot. Although calmer now, she was eager to get far away from the church and Father Donnelly, whom she sensed was still watching her.
The gallery was only a couple of blocks away, but she now regretted not taking her car. Her uneasiness turned into raw fear when her peripheral vision caught a moving shadow. She stopped and turned just in time to see someone duck behind an oak tree. Father Donnelly had vanished, but the thought that
he
could be the one following her was too ridiculous to consider.
She started to run. Born and raised in a big city, with its share of violent crimes, she wasn’t about to take a chance with another unknown assailant, no matter how well she may have perfected her kicking technique.
As she burst onto Bridge Street, a car went by. For an instant, she thought of flagging it. But what if the driver didn’t stop? She would lose precious seconds and put herself at the mercy of whoever was following her.
Her footsteps resounded loudly on the pavement. She had no idea if her pursuer was still after her. She focused all her attention on reaching her car, praying she’d have enough time to get in and lock the door.
She wasn’t that fortunate. As she rounded the corner, she collided with a man. She would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her.
“Let me go!” she shouted when he gripped her arms.
“Grace!” The man shook her. “Stop. It’s me, Matt.”
She went still. “Matt?” Still shaking, she glanced over her shoulder. Except for the headlights of an oncoming car, the street was deserted. Had she imagined her pursuer? “Were you following me just now?”
“No. Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know.” She waited until the car went by. “What are you doing here?”
“I stopped by the gallery, thinking I might catch you before you closed. Are you okay? You’re trembling.”
“I’m fine.” She took a few shallow breaths. “No, I’m not,” she admitted. “Someone was following me.”
Matt scrutinized the street. “Where?”
“In the church’s parking lot.”
“What were you doing there?”
“I went to see Father Donnelly. I wanted to ask him if he would talk to Bernie and try to convince him to go away. It was a long shot, I know, but I had to try. As it turned out, I never got a chance to ask him anything.” She told him about seeing Bernie run out of the church, and Father Donnelly’s denial that he had been there.
“Are you sure it was Bernie?”
“Not you, too,” she said impatiently. “Yes, I’m sure. It was Bernie. Something frightened him in that church, Matt. That’s why he ran.”
“Maybe he didn’t recognized you, or your voice.”
“No, he had to know it was me.”
Matt took her arm and they started walking at an easy, calming pace. “Why are you so concerned about Bernie?” he asked after a while. “He’s a grown man. He’s smart and self-sufficient and seems to be getting along just fine.”
“I don’t know how to answer that question. It’s true that I’m being overprotective of him. Maybe it’s because he had no friends other than Steven, and now that Steven is dead, he’s all alone again. Or maybe it has something to do with what happened at the river the other night. I heard that once you save someone’s life, you become responsible for that life forever.”
“That saying has been amended.” Matt’s tone was light and comforting. “The words ‘responsible’ and ‘forever’ have been deleted.”
“You’re making this up.”
“I tell you what. You show me where you read
your
saying, and I’ll show you where I saw that amendment. Deal?”
“You’re crazy.”
Still holding her arm, he made a sudden one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.
“What are you doing? Where are we going?”
“I don’t want you to lose any sleep over Bernie, so we’ll do it your way. We’ll go and talk to Father Donnelly.”
The tension of the last twenty-four hours began to ease off. “Thank you.”
The parking lot, still deserted, seemed much less threatening now that Matt was with her. And whoever had been lurking in the shadows was long gone.
“Is this the door you used?” Matt asked as they approached the side entrance.
“Yes. Bernie had left it open and I just walked in.”
Matt tried it. “Father Donnelly must have locked it. We’ll use the one on Main Street.”
The church was as silent as it had been a few minutes ago but no longer felt as oppressive.
“Father!” Matt’s voice echoed loudly. “Father, it’s Matt Baxter. I need to talk to—”
She stopped him. “He’s praying,” she said, pointing at Father Donnelly kneeling at the altar. “We probably shouldn’t disturb him.”
“Stay here.” Matt’s tone had changed.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know yet.” He pushed her back and started walking toward the praying man.
Ignoring his instructions, Grace followed him, stopping a split second after he did.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Father Donnelly was on his knees. His head was bent in prayer, his hands joined together.
Sticking out of his back was a knife.
H
is face grim, Chief Nader contemplated the motionless body of Father Donnelly. He was still in a praying position, his upper torso supported by a small gilded railing. Two police officers had cordoned off the crime scene while out in the street, Deputy Montgomery tried to calm the growing crowd.
After a few more seconds, the chief walked over to where Grace and Matt stood. Matt had wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and she was grateful for the comfort and safety that arm provided.
“I understand that you two found him,” the chief said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“That’s right,” Matt replied.
The chief turned to his other deputy, a young but surprisingly efficient man Grace had met at the police station the previous day. “Locheck, come here and take some notes.” Then to Grace. “You were the last one to see Father Donnelly alive, so you go first.”
Matt looked at her. “Do you feel up to it? If you’re not, I’m sure Josh won’t mind waiting until tomorrow.”
“Excuse me, Matt, but I run this investigation, and I do mind. I need to have the facts as Ms. McKenzie remembers them right now, while the details are still fresh in her mind.”
Grace laid a hand on Matt’s arm. “It’s all right, Matt. I can do this.”
The coroner had arrived and she turned away so she wouldn’t have to look at the body again. In a voice that was more or less steady, she told the chief about seeing Bernie, her talk with Father Donnelly, and his denial that Bernie had been there.
At the mention of Bernie’s name, the chief waved two of his officers over. “You two know where Bernie Buckman lives?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. He’s up on Windy Bush Road.”
“Go get him. Don’t give him any details, but be sure to tell him this is not an arrest. I just want to talk to him.” As they walked away, the chief turned to Matt. “Your turn.”
As Matt gave his version, Grace looked around her. A police photographer was taking pictures of Father Donnelly from various angles, while two members of the crime scene unit were dusting for fingerprints. A third searched the floor and the pews for any evidence he could find.
She felt light-headed and out of touch, as if she was watching a movie being filmed without being part of it. She kept thinking about Bernie. How would he handle a police interrogation? Had she betrayed him by bringing up his name?
Fifteen minutes after the two officers were dispatched to Bernie’s residence, they came back. “He’s not home, Chief,” one of the officers said. “We stopped by the hospital to talk to his sister. She hasn’t seen or heard from him all day. She’s on her way here now.”
“Good. In the meantime, I want you to keep looking for him. He was last seen on foot, so he couldn’t have gone far. Or he could be driving Fred Baxter’s Firebird.” He rattled off the license plate number.
As he turned to talk to the coroner, Matt put a hand on his arm. “If it’s okay with you,” he told Josh. “I’d like to take Grace home.”
Pleased to have been consulted, Josh nodded. “I have more questions but they can wait until morning.”
Grace felt Matt’s hand on her back, pushing her gently toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
It took all of Matt’s persuasion to get the crowd outside the church to let them get through. More than thirty people followed them to the car, hurling questions Matt refused to answer.
“It’s not my place to comment about a case under investigation,” he said. “However, the chief should be out momentarily to make a statement.”
“Grace!” Denise unceremoniously pushed through the crowd and threw herself into Grace’s arms. “Thank God, you’re all right. Adele Scott rang my bell a minute ago. She said that someone had been killed and you were involved. I was scared out of my wits.” She walked with them. “Where are you taking her?” she asked Matt.
“Home.”
“She can’t stay alone. I’ll come and stay with her. Or you could come to my house, Grace. We have plenty of room.”
“She won’t be alone,” Matt said. “I’ll stay with her.”
Normally, people speaking for her was one of Grace’s pet peeves, but for some reason, she didn’t mind. It had been a long time since she’d let a man take charge, and it actually felt good.
“I’ll call you in the morning,” Grace said, giving Denise a quick hug. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m in good hands.”
Denise gave Matt a long look before whispering back, “You go, girl.”
“Would you like some coffee?” Grace asked as they hung their jackets on the rack in the foyer. “I’m pretty decent with a coffeemaker.”
“I’d love some, and while you dazzle me with your coffeemaking skills, I’ll start a fire. Is that all right?”
Grace wasn’t sure a fire could warm the cold she felt inside, but it couldn’t hurt. “That sounds good, thank you.”
Ten minutes later, she was curled up in front of a roaring fire, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. “I can’t get the picture of Father Donnelly out of my mind,” she said. “It was so gruesome, and…irreverent. How could someone stab a priest in the back, while he was praying?”
“Twisted minds do strange things, Grace. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Who would want to kill him? And why?”
“Probably for the same reason Steven was killed. He may have known something about Felicia Newman’s abduction. And perhaps Steven’s death as well.”
It was a valid possibility but not a practical one. “How could a priest know something about a murder that could clear an innocent man and not come forward?”
“Priests are often called upon to make difficult decisions. Concealing a horrific crime must be one of the hardest.”
“What makes you so sure that he knew something?”
“Certain details are beginning to make sense.”
“Like what?”
“I went to see Ellie Colburn today—”
“Who is Ellie Colburn?”
“Dusty’s mother. Dusty was the man charged with Felicia’s abduction. He was later found incompetent to stand trial and was sent into a mental institution for life.”
“I remember now. Denise told me about him. He can’t talk, therefore he was unable to defend himself. What did you find out from his mother?”
Matt told her about Father Donnelly’s uninterrupted weekly visits.
“Actually, that’s not so unusual,” Grace said. “I come from a Catholic family and one thing I remember about our parish priest is the role he played in the lives of his worshipers. He didn’t just perform services for all the important events, he was invited to all the parties—birthdays, weddings, Christmas celebrations, Thanksgiving. He, too, would have continued to visit Dusty, no matter how far he had to travel.”
“Would he also have lied about Bernie being there?”
Grace hesitated. “No, I don’t believe he would have.”
“So what does that tell you about Father Donnelly?” When she didn’t answer, he added, “Priests are human, Grace, and not as beyond reproach as we’d like to think. That’s a reality the church has had to deal with for the last several years.”
“You really believe that he could be involved in a murder?”
“Maybe not directly, but he knew something. He must have, to end up with a knife in his back.”
“And now we’ll never know,” Grace said softly. “Father Donnelly took his secret to the grave.”
“Maybe not.”
She gave him an inquisitive look.
“We have Bernie. The fact that he went to see Father Donnelly after a twenty-year absence tells me that, somehow, he is involved.”
Grace was thoughtful for a moment. “How old was Bernie when Felicia disappeared?”
“Thirteen or fourteen. From what I recall, he was one of Father Donnelly’s most devoted altar boys. He sang in the choir, too.”
“He and Father Donnelly must have spent a lot of time together. He could have overheard something.”
“Possibly. Everyone in town, including his sister, believes that his sudden withdrawal from the church and society was triggered by the death of his mother, but it could have been for an entirely different reason.”
“We have to find him, Matt. Before the killer does.”
Her cell phone rang. She picked it up but didn’t recognize the number on the display screen. “Hello?”
“Ms. McKenzie?” The voice was so low and shaky, she didn’t recognize it.
“Who is this?”
“Me. Bernie.”
