The Church of the Holy Child

by Patricia Hale

  “Look, Allie’s good about answering when I call her and if she wasn’t coming home or going to practice, she’d let me know.”

  “What about her friends?” Rhyder asked.

  “I’m calling them now,” I said. In the corner of John’s office I ran down the list of names Griff had given me. “So far it’s the same. She said she was skipping practice and calling Griff for a ride home. Nobody saw her after that except one boy who told us she was on the school steps and twenty minutes later she was gone. No one saw her leave school grounds, alone or with anyone else.

  “She’s too smart to get into a car with anyone,” John said.

  “She’d do what she had to if she thought she could help her mother.” Griff shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What if someone’s helping Seton? What if they picked up Allie?”

  “Highly unlikely,” Rhyder said.

  “What if it’s not Seton?” I asked.

  Everyone looked at me, but no one answered my question.

  “I want to talk to him, now.” Griff ran his hand through his hair and I noticed an accumulation of gray that hadn’t been there last time I looked.

  “If Allie’s disappearance is connected, she won’t be hurt,” Rhyder said.

  That brought Griff’s head up. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the note? It’s about the children. This guy doesn’t hurt kids. He hurts their mothers.”

  Griff’s cheek twitched.

  “Sorry,” Rhyder said.

  Griff held up his hand. “This is about finding Allie. I don’t give a shit what we have to say or do to make that happen. I’m going downstairs to talk to him.” Griff walked out of the room.

  “Is this going to interfere with an FBI investigation?” John asked. “A PI questioning your prime suspect? I don’t want repercussions later.”

  “Let him go,” Rhyder said. “Hey Cole,” he called after him. “Give me a picture of Allie. Her face is going on the seven o’clock news.”

  I looked at the clock. It was six-fifteen.

  “You got time?” I asked.

  “I’m FBI. They damn well better make time for a missing kid.”

  “What if she’s out with a friend?”

  “Then she’ll sure as hell get her ass back home in a hurry won’t she?”

  Griff drew his lips into a fine line with the barest hint of a smile. “Thanks, Rhyder,” he said and pulled a picture of Allie from his wallet.

  Redemption.

  I followed Griff down the hallway and opened the door to the observation room beside interrogation. I turned on the speaker and took a deep breath.

  Griff stepped into the sparse room and closed the door behind him. His movements were slow and measured. He approached the table where Seton shifted position in a grey metal chair. Instead of taking the seat across from him Griff stood looking down. The clenching and unclenching of his fists was the only indication of his rage. “Where are they?”

  His voice was so soft I barely heard him.

  “They?” Seton drummed his fingers on the table. Now you’re holding me responsible for someone else too? Not just your ex?”

  “Allie’s missing.”

  “Jesus.” Neil said. “Look Cole, I’m telling you, I don’t know anything. If they’re both gone they must be together.”

  “Eliza was supposed to be on your boat. Where is she?”

  “I’ve told everyone over and over again that she was never on the boat with me. Don’t you guys talk to each other?”

  “Don’t fuck with me Seton or it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

  Neil ran his palm over his chin then held up his hand. “Okay, okay. After we dropped off Allie with you, I left Eliza at her house to finish packing. She was supposed to meet me at the marina. She never showed up and we left without her. My crew confirmed that.”

  “Yeah, how much did you pay them?”

  Neil started to stand. Griff leaned across the table and pushed him back into his seat. The cop in the corner took a step forward.

  “This is ridiculous. I don’t know where your wife is or your daughter and I’m going to sue your ass off for this when I get out of here.”

  “You can’t sue the police for doing their job.”

  “You’re not a cop, Cole. And has it occurred to you that I’m concerned about them too? They’re probably together somewhere. Eliza was uncomfortable about leaving Allie, maybe she just couldn’t do it when it came right down to it. Regardless, you can’t hold me responsible for the whereabouts of your ex-wife and daughter.”

  “Like hell I can’t.” Griff kicked the leg of the metal chair in front of him. It flipped backwards and clanged onto the cement floor. He leaned across the table and grabbed Seton by the collar.

  The cop that had been standing beside the door was on him in seconds. “Cole,” he said grabbing Griff from behind. “Let him go.”

  My phone rang. It was John. “You and Cole get up here fast. There’s somebody here whose been talking with our killer.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Father Francis Xavier from the Church of the Holy Child. It seems our serial killer has been going to confession.”

  “And the priest is talking about it?”

  “Mouth’s running like a faucet.”

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  “My thoughts exactly,” John answered and the line went dead.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  I left observation and opened the interrogation room door. “Griff,” I said. “John’s office, now.”

  He looked from me back to Seton and then to me.

  “Now,” I said again. “Right now.”

  “Don’t think we’re done here, Seton,” Griff said pulling his arm from the cop’s grip.

  When we walked into the office John was sitting behind his desk. Rhyder was half sitting on one corner and a priest was in a chair facing them both. John nodded to Griff when we came in.

  “Father Francis, this is Griff Cole and his partner, Britt Callahan. Eliza is Griff’s ex-wife and the child you’re talking about is his daughter, Allie.” He stopped and looked at Griff. “Father Francis is the one who left the letter in the lobby mailbox,” John said. “It seems that our killer has come to his confessional after each of the murders.

  The priest turned to Griff. “I’m so sorry for what you must be going through. I’ve been agonizing over the situation, but I’m bound by the Sacramental Seal to uphold secrecy in the confessional. I left the letter because I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to do something…all those women…and now, a child…I…”

  Griff grabbed him by his white collar and dragged him out of the chair. Before any of us could react, he had him against the wall by the throat.

  “I don’t give a shit about the rules of your church. Those women are dead because of you and your goddamn secrets,” he roared. “How does God feel about that? You think He’s pleased with you?”

  Rhyder tried to pry his arm off of the priest’s neck, but Griff wasn’t letting go.

  “And now what? He’s gonna kill my child so you finally found your voice? Where the hell have you been, you piece of shit?”

  “Griff.” John rounded his desk and together with Rhyder pulled them apart. John took Griff by the shoulders and held him back. “Griff, the guys a priest, for chrissake.”

  “I don’t care if he’s Jesus Christ himself. You know how many women are dead? And Eliza’s next…and if he has Allie…” Griff wiped out a coffee cup and a stack of files on John’s desk with one sweep of his arm.

  John ignored it. “He’s here now, that’s what matters. Listen to him. He’s going to help.”

  “I don’t blame you Mr. Cole,” Father Francis said. “I’d feel the same way. I do feel the same way. And under these circumstances I think God will forgive me. It was when the child got mixed up in it…”

  “The child?” Griff shook John’s hand off his arm and
stood in front of the priest.

  “He has Allie,” Rhyder said.

  “He?” Father Francis turned to Rhyder. “What do you mean, he? It’s a woman that’s been coming to my confessional.”

  No one spoke. All eyes were on Father Francis as though he’d just rattled off the secret of immortality.

  I was the first to find my voice, “What?” Not very profound, but it was the best I could come up with at the moment.

  “She,” Father Francis said. “Your killer is a woman.”

  “Jesus,” Rhyder sat on the edge of John’s desk and let out a sigh. “That never crossed my mind.”

  “You’re sure about this?” Griff asked, disbelieving. “A woman?”

  It’s definitely a woman’s voice in the confessional,” the priest said. “And she has them both.” Father Francis looked at Griff. “She’s using your daughter to torture her mother. She wants Eliza to see what her own father did when Eliza advised her mother to leave her behind.”

  “And what exactly did his, I mean her, father do?” Rhyder asked.

  John stepped between them and held up a hand. “We don’t need the details. We just need to find them, fast.”

  “She told me she’d come back to the confessional one more time after… ”

  “After what?” Griff stepped toward him and John put a hand on his shoulder.

  “She said she was going to bring me a picture, a mother/daughter snapshot of the consequences of secrecy.” Father Francis lowered his head.

  “We’ll stake out the church,” Rhyder said.

  The priest looked from one man to the other. “I’ve never seen her face. I can’t point her out.”

  I was sitting in a chair behind Griff afraid to move. Afraid I’d scramble the images in my head as it all began to take shape and fall into place. As soon as Father Francis had said it was a woman’s voice the pieces began to fit. I opened my purse and pulled out the picture of the missing girl I’d torn from Katie’s magazine. Until now, I’d forgotten I had it. I opened the folded paper and stared at the face.

  “I can,” I said. “I can identify her.”

  They all turned and looked at me. I handed the picture to Griff. “That’s Rosa, Sandra’s daughter. She’s been missing from Missouri for four years. Today, while you were in North Carolina, I went to talk to Sandra. Her receptionist said she’d called in sick so I went to the apartment near Barlow’s. It’s been cleaned out.”

  “Who’s Sandra?” Father Francis asked.

  “She’s the director of the women’s shelter,” I told him.

  “And you’re the Callahan and Cole she told me about,” Father Francis said pointing from Griff to me. “She told me you’ve been discussing the investigation with her.”

  “Oh my God.” I covered my face with my hands.

  “We’ll wait until she goes into the confessional,” Rhyder said and then we take her.” He looked at Griff. “You and Britt can’t be inside. If she sees you, she’ll bolt. As soon as we have her we’ll get the address of where Allie and Eliza are.”

  “And if she won’t give it to us?” I asked.

  Rhyder looked displeased that I’d brought up the obvious glitch in his plan.

  “She will.”

  “Damn right she will,” Griff said.

  Rhyder glanced at Griff. “We’re playing this by the book.”

  Griff returned his gaze. “You and I play by a different set of rules.”

  “Don’t screw this up, Cole.”

  Griff turned and headed for the door. “Not planning to,” he said over his shoulder.

  THIRTY-NINE

  On Saturday afternoon Father Francis sat in his confessional for what would be his last time. He’d met with the apostolic administrator of the diocese of Portland immediately after leaving the police station where he’d explained the situation and been told that, breaking the silence of the confessional was deemed by the church as an unpardonable offense, his case would be reviewed by the cardinal and a judgment would be handed down. For placing lives above the Sacramental Seal he stood to be excused from his lifelong calling. To me, it screamed of religious hypocrisy, to Father Francis, it was his penance.

  Griff and I sat in his black SUV on a side street that ran parallel to the Church of the Holy Child. Two cruisers waited a block away. Rhyder and John were inside the church in the upstairs choir box and had a view of the entire layout. Two uniformed officers waited in the sacristy. Confessions were heard Thursday through Saturday from three o’clock until six. We’d all been in position for the last two days, but Sandra hadn’t shown. Today was our last shot for the week. I didn’t think Griff could last another five days if she didn’t make her appearance this afternoon. I didn’t think Eliza and Allie could either.

  Griff sipped cold coffee, his knee bouncing like a jackhammer beneath the steering wheel.

  I reached over and took his hand. “We’re gonna get her.”

  “I know. It’s the wait that’s intolerable.”

  “Well it looks like you’ve got pull with someone,” I said. “There she is.”

  Sandra was crossing the street about a half a block in front of us. She stepped onto the sidewalk and disappeared from view, hidden by the evergreens that lined the front of the church.

  Griff rolled down his window and what was left of his coffee splashed onto the asphalt below. He tossed the empty Styrofoam cup into the back seat and rubbed his palm on his thighs then slipped a Glock from his shoulder holster and checked the clip. He opened his door and looked at me.

  “You coming?”

  “The plan is for us to wait here. If she sees us, she’ll run and we’re screwed.”

  “She’s not going to see us. And I’m sure as hell not sitting here while she’s this close. I want her now.”

  I hesitated, but only for a second then slipped onto the sidewalk and closed the car door behind me.

  We stepped into the vestibule of the church. Griff drew his gun and held it against his thigh. Two nuns came toward us in black dresses and shoulder length black veils. They held rosaries in their hands, beads circling their fingers like vines. Griff reached for my arm. I looked at him and he nodded toward the nave. Sandra was stepping into Father Francis’ confessional.

  As soon as she was inside, John and Rhyder appeared on the stairway to our right, coming down from the choir box.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” Rhyder looked at the two of us.

  “I’m not missing this party,” Griff said. “Let’s go.”

  He led the way down the side aisle toward the confessional, gun drawn. John signaled the uniforms in the sacristy to reposition into the center aisle blocking the main entrance. I was pretty sure Sandra wouldn’t get that far. She didn’t have a prayer of getting past Griff even if she and Griff were the only ones in the church.

  Rhyder gave him the nod and Griff wrapped his hand around the gold knob. He turned it to the right without a sound and pulled the door wide revealing Sandra on her knees. She turned slowly as though irritated by the intrusion and offering the perpetrator a moment to run. Seeing the four of us standing there, she grinned, but a flit of her eyes betrayed the effort to appear un-fazed.

  “Why Griff, how nice to see you again,” she rose and reached out a hand. “Britt,” she nodded.

  “Sandra, I can’t…what…”

  The moment Father Francis said that the voice he’d heard was a woman’s I’d known and within seconds connected the face of the missing child in my purse to Rosa. But for the life of me I couldn’t connect the woman I saw in front of me now, the Director of the Women’s Shelter and someone I’d called my friend, with the beating deaths of all those women. Women whose lives she’d said meant everything to her. And now I knew they did, just not in the way I’d thought. My reaction fell somewhere between betrayal (hers) and stupidity (mine).

  “You son of a bitch.” Griff shoved her against the stucco wall beside the confessional and held her there, his hand around her throat
. Above them hung a painting of Jesus being nailed to the cross. “Where are they?” A drop of spit landed on her cheek.

  Rhyder stepped forward and grabbed Griff’s arm. “It’s not going down like this, Cole,” he said.

  John slapped a handcuff around one of Sandra’s wrists, twisted her arm behind her back and secured the other. “Sandra Carlisle, you are under arrest for the murders of Shirley Trudeau, Karen Westcott, Peggy Taunton and Rochelle Davis.”

  Sandra smiled at Griff. “That list is a little short.”

  “You son of a…”

  Rhyder grabbed Griff’s arm. “Cole, knock it off or I’ll haul your ass in too. We’re doing this my way. She’s coming in for questioning.” Then he looked at Sandra. “And if you don’t want to fry, you’ll tell us where Eliza and Allie are.”

  “They don’t fry women in Maine,” she said.

  “No but they gas them in Missouri if the crime is “wantonly vile.” Rhyder took her by the elbow.

  Father Francis stood outside the confessional watching the arrest, his cheeks wet with tears.

  “Only one’s gonna get gassed around here is you,” Sandra said to him. “I hope you like it hot Father ‘cause you’re going to hell right along with me. You’re nothing but a lightweight hiding behind your religion. Now you won’t even have that to protect you.”

  “You were only right about one thing,” Father Francis said stepping forward. “God wasn’t doing his job. I helped Him and I believe I’ll be forgiven, but you never will be.”

  John nodded to the uniforms. They sidestepped through a pew and each took one of Sandra’s arms. They led her out to the waiting cruiser.

  “We’ll meet you at the station,” Rhyder said. He looked at Griff. “And this is happening my way.”

  “She’s not going to tell you what you want just by asking nice,” Griff said.

  “I know how to handle it. I’ve done this before.”

  “And if it was your ex and daughter? How nice would you be then?”

  “Cole, I get it. I know what’s at stake. But that doesn’t change the rules.”

  “Like hell it doesn’t,” Griff said and walked toward the door of the church.