Eli held the key.
But so, possibly, did Steven Heaney, assuming that Steven Heaney was still alive.
I called Anna. “Anna,” I said. “I need for you to do a background check. On Steven Heaney.”
“Steven Heaney the serial killer?” Anna sounded excited over the phone. “Rad, dude.”
I had to smile. Was I the only person in the world who had never heard of this case? “How do you know about Steven Heaney?”
“Oh, God, I know all my serial killers. If there is a book out there about a serial killer, I’ve read it. Sorry, I know that makes me sound so fucking warped, and you’re right. I am warped. I’m warped as shit. But, yeah, I love reading stories about serial killers. They’re so fascinating. The psychology and all that.”
“Well, okay then, I guess this is your dream assignment. Anyhow, I need you to find out all you can about him. Find out about his family. Find out if he had any siblings.” I snapped my fingers. “Find out if he had an identical twin.”
“I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll have that report by the end of the day.”
“Thanks.”
I was going to have to figure this one out.
But first I was going to have to go to the church. Go to the scene. Talk to the cops on the scene and the priests in the parish. Maybe somebody saw something and they were afraid to come forth. The police report said that nobody was around in the rectory at the time that Jack was found. But maybe somebody was actually there.
It was certainly worth a shot.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I went to the Church, after making an appointment to see the Associate Pastor who was serving as an assistant to Father Kennedy. Guardian Angels was a gorgeous church in the heart of Westport. As I entered the church, I closed my eyes, feeling the peace that I always felt when I came into places like this. There was just something reverential about this place. I didn’t always believe in God – I always questioned why a deity would allow such evil to happen in this world. Why a deity would allow people like Steven Heaney to exist. Men who preyed on innocent children. Men who tortured boys like my Uncle Jack. How could men like Steven Heaney exist, if God was always looking out for all of us?
Those were always the questions that I had. Where was God when my Uncle was suffering? When those kids were being murdered? Where was He when bad things happened? I didn’t know. That was the only reason why I often had problems believing in God, even though I tried to bring Abby and Rina to Our Lady of Sorrows, which was a Catholic Church by the Crown Center, every Sunday. I wanted them to have a moral grounding, even if they had the same problems believing in God that I did.
I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to prejudge this case. I didn’t know if Father Kennedy was actually having an affair with Mick. It concerned me greatly that Mick said that he was in love with Father Kennedy. The reason why it worried me was that Mick also told me that Steven Heaney was his lover. He said that Steven Heaney made tender love to him, when, in reality, Jack was 11 years old and Steven Heaney was raping him. Mick was created so that that raping seemed like love-making, so that Uncle Jack could get through it. That was what alters did for the “host” body – they took abuse so that the “host” person didn’t have to. In Mick’s case, he was a homosexual who loved gay sex, so he was able to somehow convert Steven Heaney’s raping into something else.
Now he was saying that he was in love with Father Kennedy. Did that mean that Father Kennedy was raping my Uncle, too? That would make sense, actually. Mick was apparently the alter that Jack had created when there was raping involved.
If that were the case, would Eli have come out to kill Father Kennedy? That apparently was what happened with Steven Heaney, assuming that Steven Heaney wasn’t alive, as Albany seemed to believe. If Eli killed the priest, after all, Jack was going to be the one who was going to be in prison for the rest of his life. Or, maybe, best-case scenario, Jack was going to be the one who was going to be in a psychiatric facility for the rest of his life.
I didn’t want either scenario to happen. I needed Jack to be factually innocent.
I went to the offices, which were on the west side of the church. There was a secretary back there, young, blonde and pretty. She looked up at me. “Can I help you?” she asked me.
“Yes. I have an appointment today with Father Mathews. My name is Harper Ross.”
“Oh, yes. Yes. Right this way.”
She led me to a suite of offices, and she opened the door of one. “Father Mathews, this is Harper Ross,” she said.
He nodded and stood up, giving me his hand to shake. “Ms. Ross, hello,” he said. “It’s very good to meet with you.”
Father Mathews was relatively young – he looked like he wasn’t much older than 30. He was dark-headed and dark-eyed and fit. His hand was soft, as if he hadn’t done a day of manual labor in his life, which he probably didn’t. He had a ready, easy smile, and I immediately felt comfortable around him. I smiled as I thought about how many young girls and women probably had a crush on this man. People tended to have crushes on priests, anyhow, but priests who were young and handsome, as this one was, would be a target more than most.
I knew why Father Mathews was young. He was an Associate Pastor up until the day that Father Kennedy was found dead. He probably never dreamed that he would become the main priest so soon. He probably thought that he would be an Associate Pastor for another 10 years. Yet, here he was, thrust into this position. I hoped that he wasn’t overwhelmed.
“Have a seat,” he said. “I was just working on my Sunday sermon.” He shook his head. “We’ve been working on the problem of attracting more youth into the pews on Sunday mornings and afternoons. It’s an age-old problem, really. People have been straying from church attendance for far too long. I didn’t think that I was going to be taking the main position so quickly, and there’s a lot of work to be done, always.”
I nodded my head. “It seems that way, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. So, enough about me and my problems. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to ask you about my client, Jack Calhoun. What do you know about the relationship between Mr. Calhoun and Father Kennedy?”
“Jack Calhoun.” He grimaced. “That’s the guy who was arrested for murdering Kelly?” He shook his head and just stared at me. “What do you need to know about the relationship between Kelly and Mr. Calhoun?”
“How close were they?”
“Not very. Not that I could see. I knew that Kelly was always attending to troubled parishioners, and he often told me that Mr. Calhoun was one of his most troubled. But it was strange, though. He never referred to him as Jack. I mean, he usually called him Mr. Calhoun, but, sometimes, he used his first name, and he called him Mick. I never heard the name Jack, so I was surprised when I read in the papers that there was a Jack Calhoun that was arrested.” He shrugged. “I figured that maybe Mick was his middle name and he was being called by his middle name, as people do sometimes.”
“So you met Mr. Calhoun in person, then?”
“No, I didn’t. I never met him. All I knew was that Kelly was having issues with him, but he wanted to help. Mr. Calhoun was coming to him, asking him for help. He said that he was new in town, and didn’t know anybody, and that he was having problems coming to terms with something that had happened with he was a kid. I don’t really know exactly why Mr. Calhoun had latched onto Kelly, because, as far as I knew, Mr. Calhoun wasn’t even a part of this church. As far as I knew, Mr. Calhoun wasn’t really all that religious. He was questioning and was more agnostic than anything. So, I don’t really know how it was that he came to know Kelly in the first place. All that I knew was that Kelly was counseling him, for what, I don’t know, but he was counseling him. And he was afraid of him.”
“He was afraid of him? Why was he afraid of him?” My heart sunk when Father Mathews said that about Father Kennedy being afraid of Jack.
“Kelly was afraid of Mick, because Mick kept making sexual
advances on him. Now, I know what you must think. There have been so many priest scandals over the years, you probably think that we priests are all going about, breaking our vows, and having sex with adults and young boys. That’s an unfortunate stereotype that we’re being forced to live down.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t believe that about all priests.” I had seen the movie Spotlight, which told the story of the journalists who had uncovered the scandals involving the diocese in Boston, where many priests were molesting young boys. But I never thought that this was a systemic problem that affected every parish. I did think, however, that there was a chance that Father Kennedy and Mick were having an affair. However slight of a chance. I also thought that there was a chance that Father Kennedy raped Jack, which was why Mick made his appearance.
“So, Mick made sexual advances on Father Kennedy?”
“Yes. Apparently he was doing that. Kelly didn’t want to be alone with Mick for just that reason. Yet, he was counseling Mick on some pretty awful things. I didn’t know what they were, but I did know that Kelly had indicated that they were things that were serious. The only thing that Kelly told me was that the things that had happened to Mick involved another parishioner that we had in our church long ago.”
“Another parishioner? Who was that? Did Father Kennedy give you any names?” I wondered if Steven Heaney was the other parishioner who Father Mathews was talking about.
He shrugged. “No. You have to understand, Kelly was bound by the ethical rules that we have in place regarding our counseling services. We cannot divulge names or details or any of that. He really shouldn’t have told me as much about Mick’s case as he did. I only know that Kelly told me that he had to keep counseling Mick, because Mick was going through something extremely serious, and that the thing that Mick was talking about involved a former parishioner. I’m very sorry, I really can’t tell you anything more than that.”
I sighed. “Okay. Did Father Kennedy have any enemies that you know about?”
“Enemies?” Father Mathews looked at me curiously. “No. He didn’t. None that I knew about, anyhow. Nobody threatened his life, if that was what you were trying to ask. Kelly was somebody who walked the straight and narrow his whole life. He wasn’t like me. I came from the streets. I’m not ashamed to say it. I grew up on the West Side, and I got along just like everybody else did in my neighborhood. I dealt drugs, I got into fights, I went to prison for twenty years. I was on that path, that path that poor kids go on, until I found God. I found a Bible in prison, and I read it every single day. I got out of prison five years ago, when I was 45 years old, and I immediately went into the seminary. I lived that life, Ms. Ross. I lived it. Kelly didn’t. He had a very different path then I did.”
I nodded my head, but I was stunned. Father Mathews was 50? Seriously? He looked so young. Good genetics.
I liked that Father Mathews was so open. I wondered if he had tattoos underneath his robe. I figured that he probably did. “What was his path? Do you know?”
“Yes. He had a religious upbringing. Catholic schools his entire life. He was a part of this church since he was young, and he was an altar boy. He always knew what he wanted to do with his life, ever since he was a young boy. At least, that was what he told me. I admired him, because he didn’t have to go through the experiences that I did to get here. He didn’t have to live with the knowledge that he hurt people.” Father Mathews face looked sad and pensive, suddenly. “He didn’t have to look in the mirror and know that he was responsible for the death of a 13-year-old boy. I didn’t have that luxury.”
I put my hand on his arm, which was a reflexive response to Father Mathews’ sudden sad facial expression. “What happened to that 13-year-old boy?”
“I sold drugs to him. He overdosed that day. I didn’t know that he was a first-timer. I tried not to sell drugs to the neophytes. But I needed the money, he had the money, so I sold them to him.” Father Mathews shook his head. “That was why I went to prison for manslaughter. But I was lucky to get out in one piece. I was very lucky, so I knew that I was going to have to turn it all around when I got out. And I did. I did. You might not think that a guy like me is a lucky guy, considering how I was brought up. But I am.” He took his rosary beads out from under his robe and he kissed them lightly. “I am.”
“You’re very open about all that happened.”
“Yes. I am. I’m open about it to everyone. Especially people who come in here seeking my help. I have parishioners here just like me. They come from the poor areas, too. I see kids just like me. Kids growing up just like I did. And I do outreach to them. I go to their homes, I play basketball with them, I take them out to eat. I bond with them. I let them know that there’s a whole world out there and I try to help them overcome. This is my life’s work, Ms. Ross. I have spent the past five years trying to make up for the fact that I felt responsible for the death of that 13-year-old boy. This is my penance.”
“Are you sure,” I began. “That Father Kennedy doesn’t have a similar story as yours? That maybe he hurt somebody when he was younger, and that person showed up to take revenge on him?”
Father Mathews shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, you never quite know somebody, do you? I’ve been very open about my past. I pretty much tell anybody about it who wants to know. I feel that being open about it is what sets me apart from other priests. It tells my parishioners that they can feel comfortable telling me anything at all. But Kelly wasn’t like that. He didn’t go into detail about his past at all. He only said that he went to Catholic Schools his entire life, was a part of this church his whole life, was an altar boy and that his parents were normal, middle-class parents who raised him in the Loose Park area of town. I get the feeling that his parents are fairly well-to-do.”
He sighed. “I miss Kelly. He was like a father to me. He was my mentor. When I first got here to this church, I was still sorting through things. Sorting through my life. I didn’t know if I made the right decision to go into the priesthood. Kelly helped me see that this was not only the right decision, but it was really the only decision. He guided me through my transition from being a wild street punk, to the priest that I am today. I will always be grateful for that.”
“So you really can’t think of any enemies he might have had?”
He shook his head. “If there was anybody in this diocese who would have enemies gunning for them, it would be me. I know that. That was why I thought that what happened to Kelly was so unjust. Not that I think that I would die at the hands of somebody irate, but I certainly deserve it more than he did. That’s for sure.”
That was odd that he would say that – that he deserved to die more than Father Kennedy did. I wondered why he would go there.
“Well,” he finally said. “I would love to chat with you some more, but I have a service that I need to prepare for, and a basketball game that I need to attend. I don’t mean to brag, but I do play a mean game of hoops. You should come and see our games sometime. We play at the Sacred Heart gym on 25th and Madison.”
“I’ll try to catch it,” I said. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Father Mathews.”
“Of course. If I can do anything to help, I will.”
I left the offices and the church, feeling out of sorts. The only thing that I found out in there was that Father Mathews was a thug and Father Kennedy was somebody who apparently was a good guy his whole life.
Or was he? Father Mathews had a story to tell. A past. He said that he got into the priesthood because it was either that or going back to prison, basically. He knew that path that he was going down, and he didn’t want to travel down it further. He found his life’s calling in the priesthood.
Might have Father Kennedy done the same? Maybe he, too, had a past where he hurt people. Maybe one of those people came in and killed him. Maybe that was what happened, and Jack was there, he witnessed it, and he freaked out so much that Mick came out. Or Eli. Or maybe
he had still more alters inside of him.
I was going to have to find out more.
I walked along the tree-lined streets to my car and I got in.
I didn’t know if I knew anything more about Father Kennedy than I did this morning. But I hoped that I soon would be getting closer to the truth.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jack (Mick)
“Okay, Missy,” I said to Harper. “I’m going to see your court-appointed therapist, and I promise you, he’s going to tell you that I’m sober as a damned judge and just as sane. Oh, wait. I guess that means that judges are both sober and sane, and we all know that they’re not.”
I knew that Harper meant well. It was a struggle for me to come out, however, before the date with the shrink. I was certainly going to have to be the one who the shrink was going to talk to, because I knew that Jack would never get through it.
Jack was weak, though. I could always take over, any time that I wanted to, especially now. He wasn’t weak for many years, though, many years. He kept us hidden, gone for all those years. I didn’t like being pushed down and forgotten about. I didn’t like that I couldn’t come out anymore. I tried to get Jack to let me out, but he wouldn’t. He was just too strong.
Then Mary died, and we all got to come out to play once again. After she died, it was easy for us. I was able to come out much more often, and so was Eli. And so was Sam. Sam was somebody who nobody even knew about. He was much more likely to try to pass himself off as Jack, but he wasn’t Jack. He wasn’t. He was somebody else entirely. Unpredictable. Violent. He wasn’t somebody who was good for Jack, so I tried to keep him from coming out at all. Once I found out about him, I tried to take control and make sure that he stayed hidden at all times.
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