Justifiable

by Dianna Love

  “It was actually a legitimate get.”

  “So does that mean the bullet was obtained through less-than-legal means?”

  “Let’s not get off on that just yet until we find out if ballistics has a match or not.” He rubbed his neck and blinked to stay awake. “This oil is a match, which means someone has been using the oils from St. Catherine’s.”

  “Not necessarily. It depends on where the oil came from originally. Could have been part of a larger batch that went to more than one church.”

  “That’s true but what is the possibility of matching a church that has three victims connected to it and all with children?”

  “Bruno and Lisa Parrick didn’t have kids,” she corrected.

  “I found out that Lisa is two months pregnant.”

  “Really?” Kirsten whispered in surprise.

  “She was in the hospital when she heard about Bruno and broke down in hysterics, telling one of the nurses she hadn’t even told Bruno yet. She said the priest had urged her to tell her husband, but she was afraid he wouldn’t be happy so she kept procrastinating.” Riley had gotten that on a text from Baby G while he was at Dink’s lab. No telling if Baby G had been up that late last night or had gotten up early this morning.

  “That makes four,” she said with glum resignation.

  He sat up so fast he almost spilled his coffee. “What’d you say?”

  “Four victims connected to St. Catherine’s. I’ll tell you about the fourth one only if you keep the hell away from that church while I work through due process.”

  If the gravity of what they discussed wasn’t so serious he’d kid her about cursing. Miss Manners not on her game early in the morning? “You act like I’d go busting in there demanding the killer turn himself in.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Come on, Kirsten, give me a little credit at this point.” But Riley made no promises about what he’d do if Enrique got hurt while waiting on due process. “What have you got?”

  “Turner’s detectives had a breakthrough. Vance Montoya was one of the electricians who wired the Philomena House. His mother remembered that he’d mentioned once that he’d talked to someone from St. Catherine’s about the problems with his drug-addict girlfriend when he wired the housing units, but didn’t say who.”

  Riley wanted to rail at her for keeping this from him yesterday, but she didn’t have to give it to him now. That she did made up for some of the things she’d done to cause him grief.

  Speaking of access to information, Monsignor was privy to everything on St. Catherine’s and Philomena House. Very few other people on his staff would know what, and who, he knew.

  Kirsten added, “Every resident of Philomena House was handpicked and screened by the same person who took confessions for Sally, Bruno and Clayton’s wife.”

  Still within Dornan’s access and the Monsignor took confessions. In fact, he’d been in confession the first time Riley stopped by St. Catherine’s offices.

  Riley’s only regret in all this was the fallout Margo would face once Dornan was arrested. The Monsignor had been some form of anchor for her after Margo’s brutal attack.

  But she was the kind of woman who had a steel core and would survive.

  The kind of woman who would not want to back a killer.

  He eased back on the sofa, ready to hear Kirsten finally admit the name of the person he’d suspected for three days.

  “Has to be Father Ickerson.”

  Chapter 63

  He froze when the small beam of light moved from the shadows between St. Catherine’s and the construction Dumpster. A familiar figure holding the flashlight emerged from the dark. Of all the people he’d been concerned might trip him up he hadn’t expected Ickerson to be the one to catch on.

  The tiny light jostled with each step Ickerson took. “Answer me.”

  “About what?”

  Ickerson stopped two steps away. “You know what I’m talking about. You come and go all hours of the day and night. Now the police and media are snooping around, asking questions at Philomena.”

  “You’re the one at fault for the problems there, not me.”

  He had no patience for this man’s insolence.

  “I’m disgusted. You’re quite an actor.”

  So the priest was smarter than he appeared.

  He now had two choices. Keep bluffing and hope this did not create a complication or deal with the problem straight on.

  Since his calling didn’t allow him to sift through problems to choose which ones he took and which ones he passed on, he accepted the only option. Deal with this problem now.

  “Snooping around was a mistake on your part, Father Ickerson.” He pulled the .38 out of his pocket and fired as the priest dove at him.

  Chapter 64

  “I understand how the weather has caused a delay in your schedule, but we really need the electrical wiring completed as soon as possible.” Yesterday, to be specific. Margo rubbed her gritty eyes and stretched the phone cord to reach her coffee mug on the file cabinet.

  She hadn’t slept so badly since leavin’ Boston eight years ago. That’s the only reason she was in the office at daylight.

  “Sorry, Ms. Cortese,” Gonzalez said, just as he’d said the day before and the day before that. “We do the best we can. I call you tomorrow. Maybe come then.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gonzalez.” Margo hung up and finished gathering the trash in her office. She went down the hall to Deacon Grizzle’s office since he was still out. Nothing had been cleaned in here. Why couldn’t Valdez help with this? She couldn’t decide if Valdez was really tryin’ to do a good job or just puttin’ on a good show for the monsignor. He came and went like the wind, answering only to Icky and preferrin’ to tinker with the audio system as if this were Carnegie Hall. If Icky expected Valdez to be an assistant of some sort he should tell the kid about how collecting garbage in the offices would be a good way to jump right in.

  She paused in mid-step. Admit the truth. Her foul mood had nothing to do with Valdez’s lack of help with the garbage. Worry over facin’ Monsignor had kept her up all night and worn her nerves down to the point everything bothered her.

  She’d do whatever was asked of her if he did not make her leave, but she had to tell him what she’d done. Had to unburden her soul.

  With one large black plastic bag in hand, Margo headed to the rear of the building where she’d stack the bags for Valdez when he showed up. She’d ask Valdez, nicely, to toss this and the other bags into the back of Baylor’s truck so he could haul them to the dump. The roll-off Dumpster was for construction debris only.

  What was the chance that company had picked up the Dumpster yet? Not one worth a decent wager if she were one to gamble. Just as she reached their small kitchen, the back door flew open ten feet in front of her.

  Baylor rushed in with Valdez right behind him. “It’s Ickerson. Looks bad.”

  “I think he’s dead!” Valdez shouted.

  Margo dropped the bag. “What happened? Where is he?”

  Baylor waved a hand toward the door. “Out there. Been shot. I’m calling 9-1-1.” The old guy took off at a run.

  Margo ran past Valdez and out the back door with the young boy on her heels. Icky lay on his back. Blood trickled down the side of his head. She looked closer. Not trickling. Already congealed.

  She checked for a pulse, but couldn’t find one. It might just be low.

  “Me and Baylor almost fell over him,” Valdez said, his words falling out in a ramble.

  “Help me get him inside so we can warm him up,” she told Valdez who didn’t look convinced she could revive Icky. Where was Grizzle when she needed someone with muscle?

  She hooked her arms under Icky’s upper body and grunted when she lifted. His shoulders were like ice sculptures. She didn’t care for the short-tempered guy, but she didn’t want him to die. They walked his limp body to the kitchen and lowered him to the floor. Margo sent Valdez to get blankets from the
storage room. She pressed two fingers against the bone-white skin on Icky’s neck. His skin was so cold it hurt to touch him.

  Still no pulse.

  Valdez rushed back in, panting, and his face almost as void of color as Icky’s. He threw blankets on the floor and started covering the priest.

  “Can you find me a small mirror?” she asked.

  The kid gave her a thousand-yard stare for a moment then nodded and ran out of the room as if a mirror could bring someone back from death.

  Where was that ambulance? Margo rubbed her palms together quickly then placed them against Icky’s cold face, tryin’ to bring blood back into his skin. How long had he been outside like that? What had he been doin’ outside so early?

  Valdez’s footsteps pounded toward the kitchen. He hooked the side of the door with his hand and swung into the room on a slide and handed a chunk of glass the size of a business card to Margo. “We broke an old mirror upstairs when we were taking it off the wall this week.”

  Margo took the mirror. Was the old wives tale true? Could this be the beginning of seven years of bad luck?

  Baylor rushed in. “I called. Everybody’s on the way.” The old guy was shaken, face so flushed Margo worried about his risk of heart attack.

  Monsignor would be here by eight, but she’d call him as soon as she knew Icky’s condition. Nodding at both of the men, Margo carefully moved the piece of mirror under the frozen priest’s nose to see if he was breathing.

  Chapter 65

  Lucinda drew a shaky breath and folded her hands on top of the metal table between her and the attorney Monsignor had found for her. Her handcuffs clanked when her wrists touched the metal. They sat in a small meeting room the jail allowed for client-attorney conferences.

  From what she could tell, the only requirements needed were a locked door, dull-white walls, a metal table and chairs in a space that smelled depressing.

  She couldn’t stop her knee from bouncing. “I’m sorry to ask you to wait, Mr. Urlich, but I’d really like the monsignor to be here when we talk.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll step outside and give him a call.” Mr. Urlich had a doughy mid-fifties body, but he dressed up well in a tailored suit and silk shirt. She’d shopped with Stan enough to recognize distinctive men’s clothing.

  “Thank you.” She needed to hear how Kelsey was doing more than how the attorney thought to get Lucinda out of jail. And she needed the Monsignor’s input to keep from making another bad decision.

  A few minutes after Urlich stepped out of the room, an officer stuck his head in. “Your husband wants to see you, Mrs. Myers.”

  She opened her mouth to refuse Stan when the officer added, “Said he has something to tell you about your daughter.”

  “Let him in.” She prepared herself for this to be some excuse to get past her attorney.

  The door opened and Stan burst in with an officer who stopped her husband from going further than a step inside the door.

  “What’d you do, Lucinda?” Stan’s normally soft-gray eyes teemed with dark anger...and disappointment.

  “I’m allowed to have an attorney.” She lifted her chin to let him know she wouldn’t be cowed.

  His eyebrows dropped over eyes that thinned to slits and his lips parted as if he didn’t comprehend what she said. “I don’t care how many attorneys you get. What’d you tell Janeen to do with Kelsey?”

  Lucinda rose to her feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What have you done with Kelsey? Don’t come in here trying to make me look guilty of something.”

  “You’ve done a better job than I ever could have.”

  “Where is she?” Lucinda yelled at him.

  Stan’s hands curled into fists. “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I figured you must have snapped from all the stress you’ve been under, but I would never have thought you could be like this. Stupid me, I still love you.”

  How could four words rip her heart even more?

  “I’m getting you out of here – ”

  Thank God.

  “ – as soon as they have a bed at the hospital, but you’re staying away from Kelsey until you get your head straightened out.”

  “You’re trying to have me committed?”

  He actually looked pained and hurt. What an actor. “I’m trying to figure out how to help you and take care of Kelsey. So tell me what Janeen did with her.”

  “You leave my baby alone!” she screamed. “Don’t you go near her!” She pounded her cuffed hands against the table.

  Her attorney rushed in. “What happened?”

  The officer explained that Stan had come to see Lucinda.

  The attorney snapped, “No one is to see her from here on unless I’m present.”

  When the officer made Stan leave the room, Lucinda sat down hard on the metal chair, dropped her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. What was Stan talking about? Where was Kelsey?

  Wait a minute.

  She’d begged the monsignor to help her. Told him Janeen would know what to do. Relief fingered through her, massaging the pain in Lucinda’s heart and soothing her worries.

  That’s why Monsignor was late. He had Kelsey tucked away somewhere safe.

  She lifted her face to Urlich who did a double take and frowned, asking, “Are you alright, Lucinda?”

  “I’m going to be fine.” She smiled and wiped her eyes. Monsignor chose this attorney and trusted him. Now that Kelsey was safe, she wouldn’t continue to delay the meeting. “Let’s get started.”

  Chapter 66

  What had happened to the ballistics report?

  Riley woke with a start on his sofa. He scrubbed a hand over his face, surprised to see daylight.

  No phone call? He’d left his cell phone on loud in case he fell asleep. But had the battery worn down without him realizing it?

  No, the monitor showed the time in bold – 9:37 AM – and that the phone had plenty of battery left.

  He flipped it open, dialed J. T. and got a voice mail, dammit. But J. T. had said he’d call.

  Riley ran through the shower and felt a little more human. The two hours of hard sleep would hold him for the rest of today. He’d just poured a cup of coffee when his cell phone chimed.

  “Walker, this is Turner. Got a match on that ballistics report.”

  Riley had expected this, but still couldn’t believe he’d really been right. Not exactly, since Kirsten was convinced Father Ickerson was their man.

  “Walker, you hear me?”

  “I heard you. Now you want to know where the bullet came from, right?”

  “No, I’m thinking about making a charm bracelet with these things, asshole. What do you think?”

  Riley lifted the phone away to spare his eardrums. Not the day to screw with J. T. He pulled the phone back. “I have to call Kirsten first. I made a deal with her.”

  He had to pull the phone away again. J. T.’s curses bruised the airwaves. When Riley could get a word in, he said, “I’m calling her now. She’ll call you next.” He hung up before the conversation turned any more vile.

  Kirsten answered on the second ring.

  “J. T. got a match on the bullet I dropped off.” Riley just realized he hadn’t told Kirsten something. “The gun belongs to Monsignor. He’s a crack shot. Ask anyone at the PD shooting range.”

  “Monsignor Dornan?”

  “The same. I know how you feel about shaking up the church, but you’ve got all the evidence you need to act.”

  “I’m still going with Ickerson as my suspect, but I’m not picking up anyone yet until I walk the mayor and the DA through all of this.”

  “Dammit, Kirsten – ”

  “Listen to me, Riley. We don’t know that he’ll give us Enrique back for sure. I need to make this iron clad so no one will overrule me if I bust a priest. The last thing we want is the suspect to walk because we have nothing to hold over him.”

  He didn’t want to admit she was right, but
that didn’t change the fact that she was. “Call me when you know what you’re doing, okay?”

  “I will if I can. I’ve already shared more on this case with you than I should have, but I did so with Enrique’s best interest in mind and to find justice for the victims.”

  “I understand. You know where to reach me.” He hung up and called Biddy who had taken his wife home from the hospital last night. All was okay with her and the baby for now. Riley caught Biddy up on everything. Biddy had located much of the same information on his list of suspects.

  “Hot damn, that nails him,” Biddy said, indicating Monsignor.

  “Not yet. Kirsten is convinced it’s the other priest, Ickerson.”

  “Ah, man. She’s going to let the big fish slip through her fingers. What if the killer makes his move while she’s processing paperwork?” Biddy scowled and muttered something under his breath about red tape.

  “I’ve thought about that. I’ll just deal with whatever he throws at me. Do me a favor – ” Riley took a breath. He’d spent part of last night doing more than shagging evidence. “If anything happens to me, there’s a file in my nightstand for my foster dad. Has his address in it. Would you get those papers to him?”

  “Sure.” Biddy was silent a minute then said, “Only if you meet me at Pete’s.”

  He hung up before Riley could tell him he didn’t have time to eat or drink.

  In fact, he didn’t think Pete even opened until eleven so what was Biddy up to?

  Chapter 67

  He ended the call to Stan Myers’s television station and dialed the cell number the executive’s nice assistant had shared.

  His plan had gone into motion sooner than expected at six this morning when Stan’s housekeeper had arrived at the Myers’s home. She’d stayed fifteen minutes then driven away alone.

  Following the housekeeper had been a brilliant move and proved to be a stroke of luck. He’d originally thought the only benefit would be pulling information out of the woman that would help him find Kelsey.