For You, page 7
“Okay,” he said. “Here’s what you need to know about our priest friend Andy Feeney. Like I said at the precinct, he was excommunicated from the church around the time you were arrested for the murders. And just last week, the excommunication was overturned, and he returned to his position at the same church as our fourth victim attended. He’s the perfect suspect, Morgan.”
“Why was he excommunicated?”
“The only thing I could find was ‘differing theological opinions.’ You have to keep in mind, the only reason he’s in the Seven Signs Killer files at all is because of his link to the fourth victim, Sandra Berryhill. So all we have is the eerie timeline and his connection to Berryhill.”
“In other words, if he has a solid alibi for the past week or so, he’s not our guy.”
“Right. But we have to rule him out first.”
He tried to gauge her mood, trying to determine if she, too, thought Feeney was a likely suspect. But her face was a blank slate, as it had been every time he’d visited her in prison and the few occasions he’d seen her since she’d returned home. He couldn’t read her anymore, and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
“Do me a favor,” she said out of the blue.
“Maybe. What’s the favor?”
“Tell me about your most exciting case while I was in prison.”
He gave her a puzzled look and asked, “Are you sure? I don’t want to seem like I’m bragging.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I need to know everyone else’s lives went on as usual while I was away.”
He sighed and thought back through his past decade. There were plenty of cases to choose from, but the eight-month job regarding a hidden drug ring in the basement of a daycare was the big exclamation point. And as he told her the details, he realized he enjoyed sharing them with her. He told her every detail as if he might be telling a kid a bedtime story.
“So I was part of this massive drug bust…where we found a huge drug ring operating out of the basement of a daycare center.”
“Oh my God. How did that go?”
“It was a huge mess,” Derik recalled with a smile. “We had to get the kids upstairs out as quickly as possible and then we were sorting through drugs and paraphernalia for hours in their playroom. It was insane.
“We had to use undercover agents to infiltrate the operation, and we found out there were kids being used as drug mules. We had to be incredibly careful because we didn’t want the kids to get hurt in the takedown.”
Morgan’s eyes widened, the first spark of enthusiasm Derik had seen in a while. “That’s crazy. You guys were able to take everyone down without anyone getting hurt?”
“Well, there were a few close calls, but we managed to get everyone out safely. And the satisfaction of shutting down that operation. It ended up with about twenty kids needing a new daycare, of course.”
Morgan smiled weakly. “That does sound exciting.”
“But don’t forget,” Derik added, “we’re working on a pretty exciting case now too. And remember, you’re not alone. We’re in this together.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Still, she thought of all the cases she’d missed with him…of the setback her career had suffered because of her absence.
She continued to dwell silently on this until they reached the church eight minutes later. Engram Catholic Church was a small, unremarkable building, made of brick and surrounded by a small patch of struggling grass. Derik looked over at Morgan, who was staring at the building with a look of intense concentration.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded and opened the passenger side door, anxious to get back on track. “Let’s go.”
Derik waited just a moment, watching her as she got out. He was beginning to understand just how big of a mistake Mueller and his little team had made by inviting her into this case so quickly after her release from prison. This was not the same Morgan Cross who had kicked so much ass ten years ago. More than that, this very different, plodding Morgan was wrestling with things none of them could possibly begin to understand.
They crossed a small sidewalk and entered the church. The doors opened up into what looked like a large foyer, adorned with an oak desk, a coat rack, and a small statue of a religious icon Derik wasn’t familiar with. A set of double doors ahead of them stood open, revealing the simple yet quite beautiful nave. Peering in as they passed through the doors, Derik saw two men speaking near the front of the room, just in front of the pulpit. They were both older men, dressed in priestly garb. They noticed the agents entering the room at once.
The one closest to them, a man of about sixty or so and quite tall, took a single step toward them. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” Derik said. “We’re looking for a priest by the name of Andy Feeney.”
The tall man frowned slightly and looked over at the second priest. That priest, about six inches shorter than the other and maybe five or ten years younger, gave a small, guilty-looking wave. “That’s me. And…well, who are you?”
Derik gave Morgan the opportunity to show her badge, but she remained quiet and unmoving. She seemed, at the moment, to be completely checked out.
Derik showed his ID. “Agents Greene and Cross. We’d like to ask you some questions.”
Feeney looked absolutely aghast but began to nod. “Okay…can I ask what this is about?”
“Yes. But is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
“Yes, of course.”
Feeney looked both guilty and embarrassed as he stepped away from the other priest and led them to a small room off to the side of the nave. It was a tiny office, just as nice and polished-looking as the rest of the church. The room was sparse, with just a table and a few chairs. Feeney closed the door behind them as Derik and Morgan sat down in matching chairs. Feeney remained standing.
“What can I help you with?” Feeney asked, his voice shaking slightly.
“We’re investigating a series of murders that have taken place in the area,” Derik said. “And we have reason to believe that you may be able to help us with our investigation.”
Feeney’s eyes widened. “Me? How so?”
“We understand that you were excommunicated from the church around the same time as the murders began ten years ago. And that you just recently returned to your position at this church, correct?”
“Yes…”
“Well, these murders…they started a little over ten years ago and then stopped. But then they started up several days ago…right around the same time you returned to the church. The timeline fits your excommunication journey perfectly, just as the murders started up again.”
Feeney looked like he was going to faint, a look of utter confusion coming across his face. “I…I see. But I assure you, I had nothing to do with any murders.”
“We’re not accusing you of anything,” Derik said. “We just need to rule you out as a suspect.”
Feeney nodded quickly. “Yes, but…why even suspect me at all?”
“The fourth victim attended this church ten years ago,” Morgan said, speaking for the first time since entering the church. “A woman named Sandra Berryhill.”
Feeney’s eyes widened in surprise. “Sandra…I knew her, yes. She was a parishioner here for a while. And I do remember her being murdered…it was a terrible time. But I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Mr. Feeney, what did you do for the ten years you weren’t with the church?”
“I…I moved out to Arizona for a bit to be with my mother in her last months. She died of cancer eight years ago. I stayed out there with family for a bit and then spent some time in London. I came back to the States about two years ago and have been living here ever since.”
“And why did you return to the church?”
Feeney looked taken aback by the question, but quickly composed himself. “Well, after my mother passed, I spent my time reflecting on my faith and my beliefs. I traveled, as I said. I did some volunteer work, and I even wrote a book.”
“A book?” Derik raised an eyebrow. “What kind of book?”
“It was a theological work, exploring some of the more controversial aspects of the Catholic faith.”
“Mm-hmm.” Derik leaned back in his chair. “And why were you excommunicated in the first place?”
Feeney shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Differences in opinions on baptism and communion methods. I know it sounds small and silly, but in the Catholic church, it’s a pretty big deal. I was angry when I left…thought I’d never come back. Thought they’d never let me back. I had quite a few arguments on my way out, and I was very outspoken.”
Derik nodded, knowing that getting these stories backed up would be very easy. Just a few conversations with other priests and clergymen within the church.
“Mr. Feeney, do you know anyone by the name of Samson? Even if it’s just a nickname?”
He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I don’t believe I do.”
“Can you provide alibis for your whereabouts over the past week?” Morgan asked.
Derik was glad to hear her speaking. Her voice seemed softer now, something he’d come to expect in interrogations and interviews. When they’d worked closely together in the past, this was more or less a tell for her…a sign that she was pretty sure the person they were speaking to wasn’t the person they were looking for.
“Yes. I…I have a second job. I put my notice in when I knew I was coming back to the church, but I was asked to finish out the month.”
“And where is that job?”
That embarrassed look came to his face again. “Stocking shelves at a supermarket. It’s the night shift, from eleven to five. It’s what I did for two years since moving back to the States.”
“And you’ve done it every night this week?”
“Yes. And I’m here during the days. I’m only getting about four hours of sleep a day, but it’s okay. I’ve taken a week off once the month at the supermarket is up. I’ll catch up on my rest then.”
Derik looked over to Morgan. She met his gaze and nodded. She stood up quickly and gave Feeney a little nod. “Please make sure you don’t leave town for a while. We may need to call on you with additional questions.”
“No worries there,” Feeney said, relieved. “With my work schedule for the next two weeks, there’s no way I could leave town at all.”
Morgan left the small office without saying a word. Derik got up to go after her, giving Feeney a quick “Thank you” on his way out.
He caught up to Morgan just as she reached the sidewalk outside. He nearly held a hand out to stop her but thought better of it. She was far too unpredictable.
“Morgan. Jesus, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re angry about something.”
“You’re right,” she said. They were at the car now, and she stopped at the trunk to glare at him. “I’m mad and frustrated. I…I didn’t even want to get back into this and now I feel like I’m failing all over again. I feel like I stepped right back into this case without any sort of time to myself after prison. I came right back and now…now I’m failing all over again.”
“But Morgan…you can’t—”
“No. You asked, and I told you. That’s it. We can maybe talk it out later, but not right now. Right now, all I want to do is find this asshole. I have to close this, Derik. And I…I want to go home for a bit. Just to sit, to think.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” What he thought, but didn’t say, was: Maybe that’s where you should have stayed all along. It was madness to bring you back into this so soon.
When she turned away, Derik was pretty sure he’d seen the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He stood motionless as Morgan got into the car and slammed the door. Then, after taking a slow, calming breath, Derik also got into the car. And when he started the engine and pulled back out into the road, he let Morgan have her silence.
As he glanced over at her, he saw that the hints of tears were gone. There was now a steely look in her eyes…another sign he had come to know well. Sometimes she’d get a look in her eyes that made it seem like she was staring way off into the distance.
She was doing it now and Derik smiled when he saw the ghost of his former partner lurking behind her eyes.
What that expression meant was that she was locked in. She was focusing hard, putting the pieces together.
It was a very small step, but he dared to think that her outbursts throughout the day had paid off. Maybe, just maybe, he was on the verge of getting his old partner back.
CHAPTER TEN
Morgan Cross was officially back and on the case. This pleased and surprised him. He figured it would take at least a few weeks for the bureau to get back into the thick of things. But they’d wasted no time and had pulled her in right away.
He wondered idly if he should be nervous about this. Had Morgan sat in prison for those ten long years, fixating only on the case…on his work? Had she been released from prison like a rodeo bull from its gate, charging toward anything that dared to flash red in front of her?
He rather hoped so. He was down to just one sign remaining. It would have to be a good one. If it was the sign he was to go out on, it really needed to be something special. And in a strange way, a small part of him almost hoped Morgan was able to catch him. She’d been so dedicated to catching him a decade ago, her every waking moment spent trying to hunt him down.
In a way, this seventh sign was as much hers as it was his. That’s how he liked to see it, anyway.
It had been torture to wait for her to get out of prison. He’d more or less designed the chain of events that had put her there, but he’d never in his wildest dreams imagined that the idiot courts and judicial system would put her away for ten years.
Maybe it was because of those ten years that he was working so quickly. The drowning victims, the blind man, and now the seventh sign. His eleventh victim. He’d do it tonight, meaning he would have taken six lives in less than a week. Ten years ago, he’d staggered them out. He’d gone a full two weeks between the third and fourth signs.
On a few occasions, he’d almost started up again while Morgan had been away. But he’d fought the urge both times, feeling deep in his soul that she was to be a part of this…that she needed to be there with him at the end.
When the urges came, they were hard to battle. But when they weren’t there, life had been pretty easy. He’d kept himself busy with his job and his hobbies. The job was nothing special, just running simple coding for a few backend developers for a small banking system.
His hobbies, on the other hand, had gotten quite interesting and kept his mind active. They were hobbies he never thought he’d enjoy, things he thought he might go to his grave not sharing with anyone.
He had spent six years perfecting the art of knot-tying. He found it to be very therapeutic and would get excited when there was a new one to learn. He’d followed some videos on the internet but really enjoyed checking books out from the library and following along. From modern-day, simple knots all the way back to the knots they’d used on fishing vessels during the Roman Empire, he knew them all now. He loved the way the ropes felt in his hands, how his fingers could mold and control their shapes.
He had also become deeply fascinated with the art of taxidermy. He enjoyed the way he could create something beautiful and preserve it forever. To him, it was like creating a new creature. He had a few examples in his basement at home, but only a few. After a while, the taxidermy had reminded him of what he really wanted to be doing. So he’d put a stop to it before too much interest had been expelled.
But that was then, while he’d been waiting. Now, things were moving right along. Morgan was back and his work was back on track.
He already had a victim in mind and was forcing himself to wait it out. For now, he sat a block away from the apartment building of the dead blind man. He’d watched the hectic flow of cops in and out of the building. He’d even spotted Morgan and her partner. When he spotted her, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for her. She was determined, focused, and relentless in her pursuit of justice. It was these qualities that had made her his ultimate nemesis all those years ago. And now she was back and fully invested in the case. He’d always known she was a tenacious one, but to see her back in action after ten years was impressive.
He’d been very confused about how he felt upon seeing Morgan. He supposed he needed to fully understand it before he killed tonight…before he finished his work. While he knew it was impossible, he wished he could see her up close and in action before he took this eleventh life. Ten years…surely it could change someone. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was the same person she had been before. Had the ten years in prison changed her? Had it dulled her senses or weakened her resolve?
Did she still understand the weight and importance of what he was doing? Did she still want to stop him as a means of justice and what she thought was right, or was it just revenge?
With a sigh, he stood up from the bench and took one last look at the apartment.
He’d know soon enough.
More than that, he’d see her up close and personal before the day was done. He felt certain of that. And he also felt certain it would mean the death of one of them.
He wasn’t sure about Morgan Cross, but as for him…well, he wasn’t nearly ready to die.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Skunk greeted Morgan warmly as she walked through the front door. She made a fuss over him for a moment, petting him and calling him a good boy, before allowing him outside to do his business. As he set about this, Morgan stood in the doorway of her father’s house, peering inside and wondering if it would ever truly feel like home again.
She wasn’t a big believer in the supernatural, but she wondered if she might find it easier to accept the place as her own if her father haunted the place. If there were such things as ghosts, her father would certainly be the sort to take up residence in his home just to screw with people.
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