by Dan Padavona
“I don’t recognize your voice, sir. And even if I did—”
“Yes, yes. The sacramental seal. You tire me.”
Father Fowler adjusted his robe until it draped over his knees.
“I’ll ask you again. What is your confession?”
“Don’t you wish to ask me about the gift I left you? Would her name interest you, or how she parted with her hand?”
“If murder is your sin, turn yourself over to the authorities and ask God for forgiveness.”
“And will you turn yourself in too, Father? I did this for you. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten me.”
The priest swallowed. His throat made a clicking sound. Beyond the divider, the stranger emitted a tired groan.
“You annoy me, pretend priest. And you give me no choice. If you won’t acknowledge our past, I’ll bring you another gift. A child, this time. Nothing is purer than the blood of innocence.”
Fowler drew in a breath.
“You’re the man on the news. The monster who kidnapped the boy in Poplar Corners.”
“Behold the power of one who can move through a public park filled with adults and children and avoid detection.”
“I beg you, don’t harm the child.”
Laughter followed.
“Why not? The boy needs to experience the harsh realities of life. You taught me well, shaman. I’m out of time, but we’ll meet again. Soon.”
“Please. Confess your sins in the house of God. You still have time to make amends.”
“I am your God.”
The door opened and swung shut. Fowler wrestled with indecision. He wanted to throw his door open and identify the man. Shouldn’t he? Though his oath prevented him from breaking the man’s trust, a child’s life hung in the balance.
Fowler shoved his shoulder against the door and stumbled into the aisle. The stranger was gone.
A dozen children watched from the church steps as Thomas and Lambert climbed out of the cruiser, trailed by two FBI agents dressed in black. Parents clutched their children to their hips. So many kids had been inside the church when the stranger returned. Thomas’s skin crawled.
This version of Father Fowler appeared even older. His face was drawn, the blood drained from his body. His hands wouldn’t sit still, fingers grabbing at his robe as his eyes darted around the church. Fowler stared at the agents.
“Who are these people?”
“You know who they are,” Thomas said, hooking elbows with Fowler inside the vestibule and leading him toward the staircase. “The FBI is in Wolf Lake, and they’re searching for your visitor.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Gardy and Lambert split off to investigate the confession booth and question the people outside. Thomas and Bell clomped down the stairs with Fowler.
“Perhaps speaking in your office will loosen your lips.” Thomas stood beside Agent Bell as Fowler slumped into his chair. The sheriff peeked around the basement and shut the door. “Repeat for me what your visitor told you.”
“He said he’d bring me a child.”
“Lonnie McKinney?”
The priest swallowed.
“I’m breaking my oath. You don’t understand the position I’m in.”
“I’m going out on a limb. But I believe God is more interested in protecting a child’s welfare than maintaining confession secrecy. Did he mention Lonnie McKinney by name?”
Father Fowler shook his head.
“I brought up the kidnapped boy in Poplar Corners. He didn’t deny taking him.”
Agent Bell fixed Fowler with a glare and said, “It’s possible your visitor read about Lonnie McKinney in the newspaper or saw the story on television. Did he say anything that proves he took the child?”
Fowler shook his head and stopped.
“He mentioned something about a public park. The park was filled with children and adults, and nobody saw him.”
Bell glanced at Thomas.
“The kidnapper spoke to Lonnie at the playground.”
“You’re hiding something,” Thomas told Fowler, sitting forward. “Why is this man interested in you?”
Fowler dropped his head.
“I have no idea.”
“You’re lying.”
“I can’t see him through the grates. All I hear is his voice. When he speaks, he does so in a roundabout fashion. It’s as if he’s only interested in taunting me.”
Thomas and Bell spent fifteen minutes interrogating Fowler in the basement office. After, they met Gardy outside the confession booth while Lambert interviewed potential witnesses outside. Bell swung around to face Thomas.
“How long has Fowler been a priest at St. Mary’s?”
“Since I was a child. Two decades or more.”
“During that time, was there ever a scandal inside the church?”
“You mean child molestation.”
“The idea crossed my mind.”
“Never. A story like that would garner regional attention.”
Bell leaned against a pew and tapped a finger against her chin.
“Many times, victims don’t come forward.”
“You’re assuming Fowler sexually abused a child, and now the victim wants revenge.”
“It’s only a theory. The man claims he knew the priest years ago. Whatever Fowler did to him, it must have been traumatic. Why else would he target Fowler and leave body parts in the church?”
Gardy lifted his chin at Thomas.
“The forensics team is en route. I spoke with the staff. Nobody saw the man enter the church.”
“Not surprised. This guy avoids detection. He’s careful.”
Bell folded her arms.
“With the basement packed with kids for church school and vehicles lining up outside, the unsub must have watched the church before he approached.”
Thomas nodded.
“Lambert and I will canvass the neighborhood again.”
“I want security cameras on the front door and aisle. No one approaches the confession booth without the camera catching him. If Fowler refuses, press him until he comes to his senses.”
“My pleasure.”
25
LeVar waited behind Scout with his arms folded over his chest. A digital map filled the computer screen. Coffee aromas wafted through the guest house as Raven carried two mugs into the front room.
“Two more Peeping Tom complaints,” Scout said.
Raven leaned over Scout’s shoulder for a better look at the screen. Outside, the morning sun sparkled off Wolf Lake.
“From last night?” asked LeVar.
“The sightings are already on the digital map. The Poplar Corners ghost is getting active again.”
Raven threw up her hands.
“How does someone stalk his neighbors for the better part of a decade and get away with it?”
“Whoever he is, we need to catch him.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I say we drive to Poplar Corners and interview more witnesses. What’s Darren doing today?”
“He’s busy until sunset. Darren found erosion on the trail below Lucifer Falls, so he’s diverting the path until it’s safe for hikers.”
“So it’s just the three of us.”
Scout gave LeVar a bewildered stare.
“You really intend to push me from door to door while you interview people?”
“Why not?”
“It’s too much hassle, LeVar. It means a lot that you want to include me. But I can work from here. Let me poke around the map. Maybe there’s a pattern I haven’t recognized.”
“If you’re sure. We’ll keep in touch by phone.” LeVar turned to his sister. “Chelsey expects us at work in an hour.”
“We’ll stop by the office and let her know our intentions,” Raven said. “She’s on board with the possibility that the Poplar Corners ghost and Harmony Santos’s kidnapper are one in the same.”
“Bet.” LeVar turned to Scout, who leaned forward in
her wheelchair and studied the screen. “You’re sure you don’t want to come with us? It’s no problem.”
“The last time you took me into the field, you channeled Batman and attacked a jogger with a gun.”
He laughed.
“True. But don’t say I didn’t ask.” LeVar glanced toward Scout’s house. “Your mom home today?”
“She goes to work at ten. Don’t worry. She knows I’m here.”
“Cool.” He started toward the door and spun back. “Keep the door locked.”
“I will.”
“And no parties.”
LeVar double-checked the lock before he followed Raven through the backyard.
“She’ll be fine,” Raven said, reading his thoughts.
“Yeah, I suppose. It’s just that I’m responsible for Scout when she’s at the guest house. Ever since that surveillance fiasco, I’ve become a little overprotective.”
Raven giggled.
“You’ll make a fine father to some tortured teenager one day.”
“Stop.”
“I’m serious. You’re caring and responsible. Don’t push too hard. Scout can take care of herself.”
When they arrived at the office, Tigger was padding down the hallway with his tail curled into a corkscrew. Lately, Chelsey brought the tabby to work, so the cat didn’t spend eight hours alone every day. LeVar leaned over with his hands on his knees.
“Hey, Tigger. Where’s Piglet?” The cat meowed and scampered into the bathroom. LeVar straightened. “That cat hates me.”
“Must be the dreadlocks.”
“Uh, he likes you.”
Raven pushed her hair off her shoulder.
“My hair is beaded and pretty. Your dreads are a cross between Bob Marley and the alien from Predator.”
“Aren’t you funny?”
They found Chelsey in the kitchen, still wearing jogging shorts and a tank top as she nursed a tea. She leaned against the counter and read a folded newspaper.
“You two seem especially chipper this morning,” Chelsey said over her mug.
“Scout found two more Peeping Tom sightings to investigate,” Raven said. “Is it okay if we drive to Poplar Corners and poke around?”
“Sure thing. Mind sticking around until I finish showering? I don’t want to leave the place unattended.”
“That’s fine. I have a case file to close out.”
“Appreciate it. Help yourself to breakfast. The pull date on the eggs is next Monday, so finish them.” Chelsey set the mug in the sink. “Be back in a jiffy.”
After the bathroom door closed, LeVar glanced at Raven.
“She’s still worried about being alone in the office.”
Raven removed the frying pan from the cupboard and placed it on the burner.
“After all she went through over the last year, I understand.” Raven shuddered. “Even before Mark Benson escaped prison, I couldn’t sleep for weeks. Moving in with Darren helped a ton. But Chelsey doesn’t have anyone to watch her back.”
“What about Thomas?”
Raven tossed a slice of butter on the pan and fired up the burner.
“Only if she accepts his offer and moves in.”
LeVar’s mouth fell open.
“Shep Dawg asked Chelsey to move into the A-frame?”
“That’s between us. She’d slap me silly if she knew I told you.”
“Damn. That would be awkward with my boss living behind me.”
“I thought you liked Chelsey.”
“I do. She’s cool.” LeVar stuck his hands inside his pockets and stared up at the lights. “It would be nice having an extra set of eyes on Scout and Naomi.”
“As you always say, bet.” Raven huffed and pointed at the egg carton. “Why am I making your breakfast? I ain’t your momma.”
26
Five minutes after Raven and LeVar left Wolf Lake Consulting and drove to Poplar Corners, the front door to the office opened. Chelsey glanced up from her desk as someone moved down the hall. Her business was open to the public, but it still unsettled her whenever a stranger entered while she was alone.
Lawrence Santos, Harmony’s husband, rounded the corner.
“Mr. Santos,” Chelsey said, standing. “Did you schedule an appointment this afternoon?”
“No appointment, but I happened to be in the area. Where are you in Harmony’s investigation?”
Chelsey slid the desk drawer open and removed the case file.
“We’re making progress.”
“But you still haven’t found her.”
“Not yet.”
Santos rapped his knuckles on her desk.
“What about Gerald Burke? Did you investigate Harmony’s old boyfriend?”
“I spoke with Mr. Burke. He claims he was at a conference in Buffalo the day Harmony disappeared. The conference was at a hotel in the city.”
The man scoffed.
“And you believe him? Burke is a liar and a cheat. I never should have allowed Harmony to invite Burke to our wedding.”
“He’s listed among the paid attendees. But I can’t prove he was at the conference. It’s possible he paid for his ticket and never attended.”
“What about the hotel? They must keep records.”
Chelsey sighed.
“The hotel’s records don’t go back four years, and I can’t access Burke’s credit card history without sufficient evidence he committed a crime.”
Santos dropped his face into his hands.
“Then I’ll never find her. I’m certain Burke kidnapped Harmony. Burke was obsessed, and that was the only way he’d get close to my wife.”
Chelsey chewed on the end of a pen. The possibility that a serial killer had taken Harmony left a hollow pit in Chelsey’s stomach. She didn’t want to worry Santos without proof. Perhaps she could link Santos to the kidnapped boy.
“Mr. Santos, do you have many friends in Poplar Corners?”
He shrugged.
“My neighbors. A few people from work. Why do you ask?”
“Do the names Lonnie and James McKinney mean anything to you?”
“Should they?” Santos scrunched his face in contemplation. His eyes snapped to Chelsey’s. “Wait, those names are familiar. Lonnie McKinney is the boy from the news, right? The kidnapped child.”
“And James is his father. They live two miles from your neighborhood.”
“The FBI is in Nightshade County. I saw it on the television. What’s happening here?”
“The FBI is helping the sheriff’s department search for Lonnie McKinney.”
“The FBI can’t respond to every missing child. There’s something larger going on. Do they suspect a serial killer? Does this have something to do with that woman’s hand the priest found in St. Mary’s church?” Santos rubbed his eyes. “It’s unfathomable a kidnapping could happen in our town. I feel terrible for the father, but I understand what he’s going through.”
“You’ve never met them? At church, perhaps?”
“I’m not religious.”
“What about the Poplar Corners ghost? Are you aware of the story?”
The man fell back in his chair and glared at Chelsey.
“You can’t be serious. That’s just a scary story kids tell each other at slumber parties.”
“You don’t believe there’s a Peeping Tom in Poplar Corners?”
“Some creep probably stared through a few windows over the years. Once the rumors started, the town blew it out of proportion. No, there’s no Poplar Corners ghost. Tell me you aren’t going down this path.”
“It’s my job to turn over every stone.”
“I expected more from you, Ms. Byrd. No one in this region matches your reputation. Yet you’re asking me about ghost stories.”
Chelsey set the pen aside.
“It’s curious, Mr. Santos. A missing woman, a kidnapped child, and a Peeping Tom in the same town. Is it all a coincidence?”
His eyes lit with understanding.
&
nbsp; “Are you suggesting the same guy who took Harmony kidnapped Lonnie McKinney?”
“Think hard. Do you have a friend who knows the McKinney family?”
“It’s a small town. If I dig deep enough, I’m certain I’ll find an acquaintance who knows James McKinney.”
“I’m interested in anyone who knew Harmony and the McKinney family.”
Santos squinted his eyes in concentration.
“I can’t imagine Gerald Burke kidnapped that boy. He’s a sicko, and I’m sure he took Harmony. But a child predator? Are you certain the cases are related?”
Chelsey opened the case file and read through her notes.
“I did some digging. This man, Kit, who showed up at your wedding.”
Lawrence Santos sat forward.
“What about him?”
“I didn’t find Kit in your photos. But people who attended the reception remembered him. From all I can gather, he was friendly, and he hogged the buffet.”
“I recall that, yes.”
“Kit, if that’s his real name, also took selfies at the reception. I have a witness who watched him snapping photos of himself.”
“What does that prove?”
Chelsey dropped the folder on the desk.
“A kidnapper would avoid the camera, not take pictures of himself.” When Santos failed to understand, Chelsey set her forearms on her desk. “He was showing off. Kit crashed your wedding and chronicled the fiasco on camera. He’s a jerk, but he’s harmless.”
Santos touched his forehead.
“What an asshole.”
“He probably yucked it up with his friends and plastered the photos all over social media. Kit didn’t take your wife, Mr. Santos.”
“I can’t believe I wasted four years trying to figure out who he was.”
“You did the right thing.”
“No, I wasted time. If I’d realized he didn’t take Harmony . . .”
The man’s words faded into a mutter. Chelsey waited until he refocused.
“Let’s start at the beginning. Did anyone pay too much attention to Harmony around the time of your wedding?”
“Harmony is a beautiful woman. Guys looked. Not much I could do about it. If Harmony went out with her girlfriends, guys offered to buy her drinks. She turned them down.”