Simon Says... Forgive, page 1
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Books in This Series
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About Simon Says… Swim
Excerpt from Simon Says… Swim
Author’s Note
About the Author
Copyright Page
Books in This Series
The Kate Morgan Series
Simon Says… Hide, Book 1
Simon Says… Jump, Book 2
Simon Says… Ride, Book 3
Simon Says… Scream, Book 4
Simon Says… Run, Book 5
Simon Says… Walk, Book 6
Simon Says… Forgive, Book 7
Simon Says… Swim, Book 8
About This Book
Introducing a new thriller series that keeps you guessing and on your toes through every twist and unexpected turn….
USA Today Best-Selling Author Dale Mayer does it again in this mind-blowing thriller series.
The unlikely team of Detective Kate Morgan and Simon St. Laurant, an unwilling psychic, marries all the unpredictable and passionate elements of Mayer’s work that readers have come to love and crave.
Some cases stay with you longer than others. This is one of them for Detective Kate Morgan. That poor child was the worst part. Plus it’s one thing to desecrate a church, but it’s quite another to commit murder in one—particularly in this manner. Confused, but knowing she must understand the psychology of this killer before she can understand where his next killing ground will take place, Kate buries herself in the case.
Simon is trying to be there to support Kate, but his own world shifts when he’s asked to step in to analyze issues in a poker buddy’s company, only to have the guy commit suicide soon afterward. Or did he? Between his buddy’s issues and the horrific nightmares Simon’s dealing with—surrounding Kate and her latest investigation—Simon’s life is slowing unravelling too.
Finding the killer is paramount. … Finding him before he annihilates another family? Well, that’s a much harder job. Kate has no choice. … She must stop him before he kills yet again …
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Chapter 1
Second Week of October
Kate walked into the office one week later. Sergeant Colby barked at her, “Meeting in five minutes in the conference room.”
She nodded, grabbed a coffee, and headed into the conference room. “What’s going on?”
“We have three ritualistic murders that we caught today,” he stated, with a somber tone.
Her eyes widened. “Three, now, all at once?”
“Three,” he emphasized. “Three bodies, one scene, all last night. Bodies were found at 6:00 a.m. this morning inside a church.”
“Inside a church?” she repeated, her gaze widening.
“Yes, exactly,” he confirmed.
“Do we know who the victims are?”
“They’re all members of a polygamous group, that has a self-professed leader,” Colby related, with a disgusted tone to his voice.
“So a cult,” she said.
“I don’t think they consider themselves a cult,” he murmured, “although you and I probably would. A large group of them used to be in California. They moved up to BC a good ten, twelve years ago. They’ve been relatively harmless. We’ve never had any issues with them, until now.”
“Do we know whether the issue is with them or they’re having issues with somebody else?”
He gave her a proud nod. “And that is a very good question, Detective, and you will get a chance to find out for yourself soon.”
“In what way?”
“Well, first off, these three bodies have been put on crosses.” Colby brought up the images that had been prepped for the meeting.
She winced when she saw two bodies, arms spread and nailed, crucified style, to a cross. “Jesus Christ,” she whispered, staring at it. “How is it people have time for this shit?”
“It’s not even about time. It’s all about motivation, and these are the first two.” He took a moment, and then he said a bit crossly, “And this next one will get you.” And there, in front, was a child. “The only thing I can say about the child is that he appears to have died first and was crucified afterward.”
Kate’s heart sank, as she stared at the young boy spread-eagled on a cross. He was still in his Mickey Mouse pajamas. Under her breath, she whispered, “Fuck. These people are animals.”
“As I said, he was killed first, crucified later. Unfortunately for the parents, … I don’t think they were given that mercy.”
“What church were they found in?” Owen asked.
She looked over at him and nodded. “Yeah, and what location?”
“Inside the Catholic church of the Kerrisdale neighborhood in the city of Vancouver.”
“Interesting,” she murmured.
“Yeah, also what’s interesting was the carving on their bodies.”
And, with that, the next image flashed on the screen. Forgive was written on the chest of each of the three victims.
Kate sat back, shook her head, and recapped, “Three people dead, left in a church, and a message to forgive,” she murmured. “Christ, this one doesn’t sound like fun.”
Rodney looked over at her, and his lips quirked. “They aren’t supposed to be. Remember that.”
She rolled her eyes, nodded, and said, “Let’s get to work, partner.”
Chapter 2
Kate Morgan slammed the car door shut, then turned to look at Rodney, who’d driven her vehicle. Probably wise, considering all the emotions going through Kate right now. They both turned as one to stare at the massive church in front of them. Her frown was instinctive. She’d never spent any time in a church, either good or bad. It just hadn’t been part of her upbringing, and it certainly hadn’t been part of her adulthood.
Given her profession, maybe her views of good and evil, right and wrong, heaven and hell, all might have taken a slightly tainted turn. But, given Simon’s gift, which she didn’t think resided in the scientific realm and which she still struggled with, her whole vision of how religion worked was completely skewed.
She didn’t have any answers and didn’t think anybody in the church did either. She was still willing to be open enough to see just what would come.
It was a cold blustery day, and thankfully she had on a jacket. Pulling up the collar, she shoved her hands in her pockets.
When Rodney approached, she asked in a lowered tone, “Are you ready for this?”
He gave her half a smile. “Hey, it’ll look bad, but we’ve got to get on this one.”
“Oh, we’ll get on it all right,” she declared, as she strolled toward the massive stairs, shaking her head. “I’m not impressed with anybody who would take out an entire family.”
“The good news is it looks like the boy died from natural causes,” he pointed out.
“Natural causes, my ass, as in he was beaten to a pulp,” she muttered in a blistering tone. No matter how hard she tried, it was all too close to her heart.
“Sure, okay, I’ll give you that. He died not from natural causes but likely from previous beatings. The point is, he wasn’t killed by this murderer.”
“So why did the little boy have ‘forgive’ carved on his chest then?” she asked, turning to her partner. “Better yet, why was he put on a cross, like the other two? Are we assuming that the other two were done in by beatings?”
“We’re not assuming anything at this point in time,” Rodney stated firmly, as he pulled open one of the massive front doors.
For a church to normally be a place of peace and reverence, today was the exact opposite. At least a dozen white-suited forensic staff, as well as several policemen, were scattered throughout the space. A trio of members of the clergy stood in a tight huddle off to one side. Kate knew she would need to speak to them as well, and soon. She eyed them, then turned her gaze back to the victims.
As always, her job was the victims. They took and always would take precedence, and all else be damned.
As she strolled forward, Dr. Smidge looked up and glared at her, and she glared right back. He relented a bit as he always did, with her and only her. “What the hell are you doing about this?” he barked.
Several of the other forensics staff gave her a quick glance before sliding away to continue working elsewhere.
Kate answered him just as strongly as he had called her out. “Everything I can.”
And, with that, he glared at her for a moment longer, then his shoulders slumped. “Let’s hope it’s enough.” He gave an exhausted headshake, as he pointed to the boy. “This is child abuse, long-term sustained child abuse. … I don’t even need to do a full autopsy to see that. Stunted growth, broken bones. Look at that.” He pointed to part of the little boy’s arm that l ooked askew and fingers that were the same.
“Damn,” she murmured, in quiet sympathy for the child who could no longer hear her. As she stared down at the boy, her heart ached.
Dr. Smidge groaned. “It breaks my heart to see this.”
“Mine too,” she whispered, as she looked at the other two bodies on the crosses. “Anybody ID these three yet?”
“Roger and Mary Brown,” he snapped, “at least that’s what the IDs on the bodies said.”
“And the little boy?”
“He apparently is Daniel Woodward, or so his ID said.”
“What ID was on the kid?”
“That would be his school card.” The coroner pointed out the evidence bag on the side. “You’ll have to see if he was in foster care, adopted, or something else. Who knows in a screwed-up mess like this.” Smidge waved her off. “Now get out of my way. I’ve got work to do.”
But she didn’t move, neither did she talk to him again, and yet she made sure to keep out of his way. A case involving a child always hurt. But for Kate? … Remembering her younger brother was personal, how he’d been about this age when he’d disappeared. It was devastating, even all these years later.
Kate shook her head to clear those painful memories. She could still learn a lot about this case by just standing here and surveying what had been done to the bodies. So she let Smidge be and just continued her own observations.
None of the crosses were mounted to the wall. The father, or the male victim anyway, wasn’t tiny, but he wasn’t a big man either. She would have put his height about five seven or eight maybe, slim build, approximately 120 pounds. His face looked a little bit punched up, as if he’d had a tough time growing up somewhere along the line. The female victim was smaller. Her face was pristine though, not a bruise visible on her.
Kate walked closer and stared down at the woman who had been pierced with a stake through each palm, into the cross constructed with 2x4s that she’d been placed upon. Again, her body lying flat, and no blood was anywhere. That meant she hadn’t been staked here, at least not while she had been alive. And, with that noted, chances were, they’d been killed elsewhere and had been brought in along with the crosses, and then crucified on site.
She faced Rodney and asked him, “How the hell do you get two large crosses inside this place?” She turned back to the crosses again. “What are they, six feet by four or so?”
He nodded. “Approximately that, yes, but really they’re just two-by-fours, so they’re more symbolic than functional crosses.”
“Thank God for that,” Kate murmured in a heartfelt whisper. “Imagine if these were intended to be functional.” As she looked around the church, she was aware of other people all around, yet noted the quiet hush. The shock that something like this could happen at a place like this. The blasphemy of it. “I wonder if he expected the crosses to work upright, only to get here and realize that there really wasn’t a wall where he could hang them.”
“Not to mention,” Rodney pointed out, “with their body weights, he would need something quite substantial to get them hoisted up and to keep them fastened to the crosses. Bodies are heavy, and their weight alone would have torn their flesh from the wood as they collapsed.”
“So, what then? Chains to hoist them?” she asked.
“Maybe, but how do you throw a chain around something in here?” He pointed to the massive beams that held the cross beams up. “Not possible.”
“Which is the problem,” she agreed, with a nod. “Maybe lying them down in the church was enough.” She stared at the dead woman. “She’s also small-framed, like the man, but not a bruise on her face,” she muttered.
“You’re thinking bruises are somewhere else?” Smidge asked, stepping beside them.
She nodded slowly. “We only saw the upper chest of each victim, with the word Forgive cut in each. So, yeah, I wonder what the rest of her body looks like. If the little boy was abused,” she suggested, shaking her head, an expression of deep sorrow on her face, “what are the chances that she was abused as well?”
“I mean,” Smidge began, “it’s not unheard of for a mother to abuse her child, though it’s rarer. But for husband and father to abuse both? That is common.”
“Unfortunately,” Kate added. “However, from our preliminary findings, this couple was part of a polygamous group. So multiple sex partners could be involved.” She eyed the clergy again, who were solemn but huddled together, as if trying to keep the sins of man away from them, keeping them untouched by the evil that had entered their holy space. She looked over at Dr. Smidge. “Anybody talked to them yet?”
He snorted. “I’m not,” he declared, pointing at her. “You’ve got to be good for something.” And, with that, he went back to his work.
She looked at Rodney and nodded toward the clergy, but he shook his head.
“This will need a woman’s touch.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “I’m pretty sure you’re Catholic.”
“Exactly,” he agreed quietly. “Also why I’m not the person to be talking to them.” When she looked at him in surprise, he shrugged. “It would be hard for me to go against a lifetime of upbringing about how to deal with these priests,” he explained in a businesslike tone. “I can’t not talk to them in a certain way or even be objective about it. You, on the other hand, won’t be encumbered by my beliefs and can interview them with zero reverence or respect.”
She stared at him in shock. “I’ll respect them,” she stated in protest. “Why would you even think that?”
He shrugged. “You’ll treat them with respect as people, but you won’t necessarily respect their position in the church or feel that they should be kept untouched by all this.”
She gave a hoarse laugh at that. “You’ve got to wonder why the hell their church was targeted.” And, with that, she turned and strolled toward the three robed men. As she approached, she identified herself and held up her badge, but they didn’t even look at it. They stared at her, each holding something in their hands.
The one in the middle had a Bible, and she thought the other two held a rosary, but she couldn’t be sure. “I’m sorry that this crime has entered your house of worship,” she noted calmly. “However, I do have some questions that I need to ask.”
The priest with the Bible nodded his head. “Ask your questions, and the sooner you can remove these poor souls from our church, the sooner we can go about cleaning up the vestiges of evil having walked our hallways.”
With that, she understood what Rodney meant about how to talk to them. “I can do my part in that,” she replied briskly. “However, the forensic team will likely be here for several hours, if not longer. Don’t expect to have this place back anytime today.”
At that blunt end of her tongue, the priests looked visibly shocked.
She nodded. “If you have any services or events planned for the rest of the day, you’ll need to cancel them.”
“Impossible,” the same priest noted in a strident voice. “We have choir practice and, of course, our evening service.”
She looked back at the forensic techs, then shook her head. “They’ll be at least six if not ten hours,” she shared. “I don’t know exactly how much time, but there will be no curtailing of the time they need to properly do their jobs,” she stated, her voice firm.
That tone of voice earned her myriad protests from her onlookers.
“I’m sure, as caretakers of this beautiful space, you also want to ensure that these poor souls are taken care of and that whoever did this to them is also caught and held accountable.”
The man holding the Bible nodded. “Absolutely we want him caught,” he replied, “but we are not about revenge or retribution. Whoever did this is another poor soul.”
“Maybe so,” she agreed, “but there was a reason for anyone to do this. I also need to ask you if the word forgive carved in the chests of these poor victims means anything to you.” When they looked at her in surprise, she shrugged. “Is it a part of your holy message or some ritual? Some word this killer would feel as if he needed to remind us of … in order to send his victims to heaven or something?”
“Ah,” said the priest on the left. “You’re a nonbeliever.”
She looked at him with a calculated gaze. “Can you answer my question, please?”
