“Yes, the confession was clean.”
She pushed herself up from the window, putting her nearly at equal height to him. “All right then.” She walked to the door and closed it behind her without saying another word.
*
Elizabeth spotted Detective Donovan in the parking lot of the police station exiting her car. She had left her three messages that day, all unanswered, so she decided to pay her a visit. She spent much of her drive over counseling herself on staying mentally on task during her visit.
“Detective Donovan!” she shouted across the lot and waved her hand.
Elizabeth read her annoyed expression correctly and quickly walked to her before she decided to bolt. “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced, but I left you a few messages—”
“I’m a little busy right now. What is it you want?”
“I saw the news. You’re investigating the killing of the priest.”
“I can’t talk about that case.”
“That case,” she said firmly, “is directly related to the Raymond Miller case. I watched the news reports from the crime scene. It has the same MO—a priest left naked and tied up with the carving in the stomach.”
“Ah jeez, here we go.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t considered that.”
“This case has nothing to do with the Raymond Miller case. Raymond Miller confessed. This is nothing more than a cheap copycat. End of story.”
“A cheap copycat? How is that? In the first murder, the police never disclosed the carving on the victim’s abdomen.”
Grace’s face flushed. “If you don’t mind, I have a job to do.”
“How are you going to do that with your head so far up your ass?”
Elizabeth turned back to her car before she could offer a response, and Grace watched her depart before she stomped into the police station.
Grace snatched the phone off her waist and tossed it on her desk with more force than necessary. After plopping herself in her chair, she rested her elbows on her desk and bowed her head, clasping her hands tightly. Those who didn’t know better would probably mistake her for praying, but those that knew her well enough knew that was unlikely.
Although she was greatly disturbed by the discovery of another murdered priest, what seemed to bother her more was her contentious encounter with the strong-headed attorney. Who the hell does she think she is?
During their exchange, she did her best to keep her eyes trained on the soft aqua eyes, but she berated herself for allowing them to momentarily wander lower to the pink silk blouse where the top button was left undone, exposing just enough skin to tease.
“Focus, Donovan. Don’t go there,” she chastised herself.
She knew that any involvement with Elizabeth could unravel everything that she had worked so hard to achieve. She had unintentionally earned enemies as a result of her fast-track promotion, and as the only female detective in the unit, felt she had to prove herself worthy over and over. Despite her long hours and diligent work and dedication, there were plenty hoping to see her fall. There was no room for personal relationships, and in particular gay relationships. Despite the evolution in the rest of the country, “don’t ask, don’t tell” was alive and well in the department. She had not only herself to think of, but her father.
“Nope, not touching Elizabeth Campbell with a ten-foot pole,” she mumbled and decided cool and aloof was the best approach, should there be future encounters. With her plan set, she turned to her computer to input her case notes.
Chapter Eight
Experienced in the protocol, Elizabeth passed through the security at the prison in half the time. She followed her armed escort down the passageways, keeping her eyes fixed to the floor. It was just easier that way. She was escorted to the same room and took her familiar seat.
While waiting for Raymond’s arrival, she opened the file and sorted through the documents. “What am I missing here?” She reread the transcript of his confession. “Why, Raymond? Why did you confess?”
The door opened, and the officer uncuffed Raymond and led him to his seat. This guard was even less talkative than the last and didn’t even advise her to ring the bell when her meeting was complete.
“Hi, Raymond, do you remember me? I’m Elizabeth Campbell.”
He nodded, and she was pleased that he remembered her.
“Good, Raymond. Do you remember last time we were talking about this case?” She tapped the open file.
He nodded again. Encouraged by his responsiveness, she ventured on. “Raymond, I’m trying to figure a few things out. There was another killing. The man was also a priest.” She lifted the photos of the first victim from her file. “He was killed the same way too. He even had this carving of the circle with the triangles on his stomach.”
He sat silently and didn’t look at the photos she held in her hands.
“Raymond, you didn’t kill him.” She shook her head as she spoke.
“He was supposed to die. It’s what God wanted. Pappy is happy.”
“Raymond, who told you that?”
He looked down at his clasped hands.
“Raymond, please talk to me. I’m here to help you. You confessed to killing this man, and I don’t know why. Please help me understand.”
He pulled his clasped hands to rest on top of the table but did not answer.
“Raymond, talk to me.”
His silence stretched on.
“Damn it, Raymond.” Elizabeth slammed her fist on the table, causing it to precariously tilt toward her before it settled itself again.
He jumped and then pulled his knees up tightly against his chest and buried his head.
“Raymond, I’m sorry,” she said soothingly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Despite her pleadings, he remained in his cocoon and refused to speak. Although he declined to help her, Elizabeth knew what she had to do. She gathered the documents in the file, shoved it in her bag, and headed for the door. After ringing the bell, she turned. “Raymond, we are going to see each other again.”
As she handed over her plastic visitor’s badge to the officer at the front desk, she turned and saw Father Parker enter through the double doors.
“Father, how are you?”
Clearly surprised to see Elizabeth, he stopped momentarily as though trying to place her. “Ms. Campbell, I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“I could say the same,” she said with a smile.
“I try to come here as often as I can to offer spiritual guidance to these men. They’re often forgotten and are reaching out for forgiveness and redemption.”
“That’s very noble of you, Father.”
He blushed slightly, which she found endearing. “It’s God’s work, and I’m happy to do it.”
“How are Rosa and Hector?” Elizabeth asked, changing the topic.
“They seem to be doing well. Rosa has been an invaluable help around the church, and Hector is a very pleasant young man. Smart too.”
“That’s a relief. I’ll be stopping by the church tomorrow morning to go over Rosa’s case.”
“Well then, I shall see you tomorrow.” The father bowed his head slightly, and Elizabeth bid him farewell.
Chapter Nine
Elizabeth parked her Roadster next to the same blue Camry and made her way to the front of the church. Mary was standing in the vestibule arranging pamphlets on a table by the door. After exchanging pleasantries, Mary said, “Rosa is in the office. She’s helping out with the filing.”
Elizabeth strode through the church, admiring the kaleidoscope of colors that were cast on the pews and walls by the stained glass windows. In the office, she found Rosa stooping in front of an open drawer of a filing cabinet.
“Morning, Rosa.”
Rosa jumped slightly.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, that’s okay. I was just so, what is the word, enthralled in my work.”
“Sí, Father Parker is teaching me.”
Elizabeth smiled at her. Rosa truly seemed happy.
“So how are you doing?”
“Very well considering.”
“Do you have a few minutes to talk about your case?”
Rosa started fretting with the edges of the file she held in her hands, a nervous habit Elizabeth began to recognize. Elizabeth moved to one of the guest chairs and gestured for her to sit, and Rosa sat at the edge of the seat with the file clutched to her chest.
Elizabeth explained her plan to file a motion with the immigration court to reopen her asylum. “No promises, but I think we have a chance. We’ll need to work together to prepare an affidavit. It will be your chance to tell the court your side of what happened.”
“I like that,” Rosa said hopefully.
“How about you come to my office tomorrow morning?”
A concerned look crossed Rosa’s face, and Elizabeth realized that Rosa hadn’t left the church since Immigration came to her apartment looking for her. She guessed that either Mary or the father saw Hector to school.
“You know what? How about I bring my laptop and we do it here? It’s much quieter than my office.”
“If you are sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Father Parker walked into the office as they finalized their plans. Rosa greeted the father and exited the office with the file still clutched to her body.
“Good morning, Ms. Campbell. It’s good to see you again.”
“Morning, Father. I was wondering if you had a few minutes.”
The father took Rosa’s vacated seat. “How may I help you?”
“Well, it’s a case I am looking into. The man lived in this neighborhood. When I spoke with his mother, I noticed that she wore a gold cross. I thought maybe they came to this church?”
“What’s this family’s name?”
“The mother is Delores Miller. Her son is Raymond Miller.”
His face remained neutral, and Elizabeth couldn’t read whether either of the names registered with him.
“I don’t know them well. I believe I’ve seen the mother in church a few times. The son is at the state prison where we met yesterday. I’ve met him a few times.”
She sat up straight. “You have? What did he say?”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but he doesn’t say much of anything. I’ve prayed with him, but he remains silent through the visit for the most part.”
“Did he ever discuss why he’s there?”
“No, I never discuss their cases. I’m not there to judge.”
She sank back into her chair. “I appreciate your time, Father.”
*
Dan snatched up the phone while keeping his eyes trained on the documents in front of him. “This is Dan Hastings.”
“You disappoint me,” the caller growled.
Dan sat back in his chair and felt his pulse quicken. “What’s this about?”
“You ridicule me? You received your generous donation,” the caller spat out. “What do I get?”
Dan remained confused and hoped the caller’s point would become clear.
“Your attorney filed a motion to vacate the guilty plea of Raymond Miller.”
Dan took in an audible breath. “I-I didn’t know that,” he stuttered out.
“You-you didn’t know,” the caller mocked him. “What kind of poor excuse of a legal clinic do you run?”
“Elizabeth, Ms. Campbell, was supposed to close the case. I didn’t know,” Dan repeated in his defense.
“Now we know who has the balls in your clinic. This is not over.”
The caller disconnected, leaving him in a stunned silence.
*
“What am I missing?” Elizabeth asked herself as she laid her head on top of the file and gently banged it a few times. She had spent most of the afternoon poring over the Raymond Miller case, and the photos were spread across her desk. She had stared at the photos long enough to become desensitized to the depravity of them, and she analyzed them like a seasoned investigator. The body hung like a gory scarecrow, and the iron gate that served as its prop displayed an artfully crafted cross and words forming a circle surrounded the cross. She couldn’t read the lettering as the body partially obscured the view, but she guessed it was Latin.
Perhaps it was nothing more than a religious hate crime like the psychological profile suggested. She didn’t know why, but she doubted that.
Elizabeth was startled out of her thoughts when Dan stormed into her office. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
She stared at him, waiting for the punch line.
“Who the fuck told you to file a motion to vacate in the Miller case? Who?” he demanded.
“Why are you so upset?”
“We agreed that the case was closed.”
“We didn’t agree. I said I was going to close it, but that was before there was another murder. What’s the deal, Dan?”
“You’re wasting the clinic’s resources. Don’t ever go rogue on me! I’m in charge, not you. You don’t file anything without my knowledge. Now give me the goddamn file.”
She held out her hand with the brown file, and he snatched it and exited, slamming Elizabeth’s door on the way out. She opened the file drawer in her desk and pulled out a manila-colored file containing a copy of all the documents in the Miller case. She anticipated that someone would demand the file after she filed the motion, but she expected it to be from the government side, not Dan.
*
After a long and uncomfortable afternoon avoiding Dan, Elizabeth pulled into her driveway. She grabbed her bag on the passenger’s seat and made her way up the walkway to her door. The exterior light didn’t illuminate. She stumbled off the path into the flower bed, and the heel of her shoe imbedded itself into the soil.
“Damn it.” She bent to pull her shoe out of the dirt, and the bag slipped from her shoulder, falling to the ground and spilling some of the contents. She bent to retrieve the rebellious bag and started shoving items back inside. She stumbled up the porch step in front of her door and addressed more curse words to the defective light.
Elizabeth fumbled with her keys, trying to make it fit into the keyhole. She pushed open the door, kicked off her shoes, and dropped her bag and keys inside, now not caring where the contents fled. She could hear the keys miss their mark on the table and clatter to the ground. She closed the door and switched on the entryway light, but the room remained dark. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she realized Charlie hadn’t come to greet her. She softly called out his name, but was greeted by silence, painfully quiet silence.
She crept forward, trying to make her footsteps as light as possible, and strained to look through the dark room while she debated her options. She knew it felt wrong. She knew she should turn and walk out the door, but instead she stood frozen, listening to absolute silence. She called out Charlie’s name with more volume, and when she was greeted with only more silence, she turned and grabbed at the entry table for her keys. After remembering the clattering sound of the keys from moments earlier, she dropped to her knees and ran her hands along the floor. She came up with a tube of lipstick, an eyeliner, and her wallet, all escapees from her purse, but no keys. As Elizabeth ducked her head under the entryway table to search deeper, she heard a faint sound and lifted her head in response, slamming it against the underside of the table. She ignored the pain that radiated across the top of her head and pulled herself up, keeping her eyes and ears trained in the direction of the sound. Elizabeth cursed the beating of her heart, as she could hear it thumping in her ears.
There it was again. It was a definite sound coming from the direction of the hallway. Against her better judgment, she moved forward, drawn by the noise. She made stealth-like progress until she hit the one protesting floorboard in the house that squeaked in dissent at the weight put upon it. S
he flinched at what seemed to be a deafening sound in the stillness of the house.
Elizabeth held still, afraid to shift her weight, as it might bring a cascade of more squeaking protests, and waited for a reaction, any reaction, from inside the house. There was only more quiet. Emboldened by the lack of response to the cranky floorboard, she ventured on and reached the middle of the hallway when the sound came again, only louder and clearer. She was getting closer to the source. After turning to her bedroom and crossing the threshold, she settled her feet into the plush carpet, glad to be rid of the floorboards. She waited, and after several interminable moments, it sounded again. The closet. Elizabeth looked around for a weapon and looked down at her hands. She still clutched a lipstick tube and an eyeliner. Oh great, I can give out beauty tips.
She tossed the makeup on her bed and grabbed at the lamp on her bed stand, but it refused to come with her since it was still plugged in. Seriously? She set down the lamp and grabbed a heavy framed picture of her parents that rested next to the lamp. She looked at her mother in the photograph, who had a poised smile that told all that this was a woman in charge, and stripes were in fashion. Maybe she’ll scare them away. It works on me.
Elizabeth’s heart thundered in her ears as she raised the photo frame above her head and yanked open the closet door. Nothing. There was no boogeyman to be found. She lowered the picture frame and leaned against the closet door, waiting for the adrenaline rush to subside.
There it was again, the noise, this time right in front of her. Elizabeth peered into the closet, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Wait. At the bottom of the closet sat a cardboard box. That was new. She crouched in front of it and set the photo on the ground. She ripped off the tape that sealed the top and pulled it open. Charlie reeled up, startling her and knocking her backward. She quickly sat up, reached into the box, and pulled him out. He was bound with masking tape, his legs held together and his mouth taped over.
Sins of Our Fathers Page 7