Deadly Silence

by OMJ Ryan

  The man cleared his throat before speaking. ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been over thirty years since my last confession.’

  ‘In that case, I’m glad you’ve found your way back to the Lord, my son, for He is always with us. And what would you like to confess?’

  There was a short pause on the other side of the screen, then the man spoke. ‘Father, I have committed a mortal sin.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘In fact, I have committed many mortal sins.’

  Maguire’s tone was sympathetic. ‘Come on now. I’m sure you’ve not done anything that serious. Mortal sin does, after all, mean to take a life; to kill someone.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Maguire was taken aback. ‘I’m sorry. Are you saying you’ve taken a life?’

  ‘No, Father, you misunderstand. I haven’t taken a life. I’ve taken four.’

  Maguire was sure he must have misheard. ‘I beg your pardon. Did you just say you’ve killed four people?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  Maguire wasn’t sure if the man was joking or insane. Either way, he was keen to bring the confession to a close. ‘Well, my son, the good Lord forgives all our sins, no matter how grave. As long as we repent, there is a place for us in heaven—’

  ‘Did Father Donnelly repent?’

  ‘What did you say?’

  The voice from the other side deepened. ‘I asked you if Father Donnelly repented before he died?’

  Maguire was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the line of questioning. ‘I’m sure he did. He was a man of God, after all. I’m sorry; what does any of this have to do with your confession?’

  The man ignored his question. ‘If he did repent, then he must have confessed to molesting Matt Logan, Ricky Murray and Thomas Dempsey?’

  ‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’

  ‘It is sick, but I assure you it’s no joke, Father.’

  Maguire had had enough. ‘I’m afraid I’m not prepared to continue with this. I’m going to have to ask you to leave the confessional and the church.’ The man remained silent on the other side of the screen, though Maguire could hear him breathing. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? I would like you to leave.’

  ‘But you haven’t absolved me of my sins, Father. I can’t leave until I have repented and you have granted me forgiveness.’ The tone of the voice sent a shiver up Maguire’s spine.

  ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but this is completely inappropriate. I will not countenance such a conversation in the house of God. If you don’t leave, I shall be forced to call the pol—’

  ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,’ the man said, his strong, measured voice cutting Maguire off. ‘I confess to torturing and murdering Susan Gillespie, Deidre McNulty, Betty Clarke and Ricky Murray.’ He paused, his breathing the only sound in the deadly silence. ‘I ask you to grant me God’s forgiveness, for I am the angel of vengeance known as the Cheadle Killer, and I’m here to send you to hell.’

  Panic overcame Maguire as he heard the door to the confessional opposite him open. A shadowy figure stepped out, his slow, heavy footsteps echoing around the empty church. When they stopped outside his door, Maguire pinned himself back to the wall in a feeble attempt to get away.

  The door creaked open. ‘Hello Seamus. Remember me?’ The man’s hulking frame filled the doorway, his cold, dark eyes locked on Maguire, his fists clenched at his side as he stepped inside the confessional. ‘It’s time to repent, Father.’

  Maguire raised his arms to protect himself but it was no use as the large man smashed his fist into his face, over and over, until everything went black.

  53

  Thomas Dempsey dragged the priest’s bloodied body through the church, through the sanctuary and into the vestry. He secured him to a large mahogany chair in the centre of the room using a length of nylon twine he’d found in a toolbox in the church’s garage moments before entering the building.

  Father Maguire was out cold, and Dempsey was short on time. Looking at his watch, he reasoned Phillips and her team would arrive sooner rather than later. It didn’t matter, though. In fact, their presence would actually help him execute his plan in a way he couldn’t do alone. Still, he needed to get a few things done before they turned up, so he slapped Maguire’s face a couple of times to wake him up. It did the trick and the priest began to stir.

  ‘Welcome back, Seamus.’

  Maguire opened his eyes. Startled, he attempted to get off the chair before realising he was strapped in.

  Dempsey stood in front of him, smiling. ‘We have unfinished business, Seamus, so let’s get cracking, shall we.?

  He rubbed his hands, then strode across the room and retrieved the toolbox. He placed it on a nearby chest of drawers, opened it and began slowly removing the tools.

  ‘I planned to kill you the same way as the others, but the police have got all my gear now, so I’ll just have to improvise.’

  ‘W-what are you going to do?’

  ‘I told you, Seamus. I’m going to send you to hell.’

  ‘But, why? I don’t know you.’

  Dempsey turned to face him. ‘You don’t, do you? But maybe you remember me as a chubby, vulnerable little boy in Winnie the Pooh pyjamas? An eleven-year-old who you persuaded to follow you to Father Donnelly’s room on the trip to Lourdes, so he could rape me.’

  Maguire looked incredulous. ‘You’re Winnie? But you’re so big, and Thomas was so—’

  ‘Small?’ Dempsey nodded. ‘It’s amazing what you can do with steroids and time in the gym. When Father Donnelly finally got bored of me and moved on to his next victim, all I wanted to do was die. I couldn’t live with the shame, the self-loathing, the guilt. Guilt? Can you imagine I felt guilty for what he’d done to me? Like I’d somehow caused it. I planned to kill myself a couple of times, but in the end I couldn’t go through with it. I knew it would’ve broken my mum’s heart, but what actually stopped me was my fear that suicide was a mortal sin. Can you believe that? Even after all the abuse, I was still scared of going to hell if I killed myself. So, eventually, I decided that if I was stuck in a living hell, it would be my hell and I was going to take back control. To become someone no-one would ever victimise again. So I created this…’ He waved a hand up and down his body. ‘And do you know what, Seamus? Since then, nobody has.’

  ‘Please, Thomas, I beg you. Don’t hurt me. I didn’t know he was abusing you. I swear it.’

  Dempsey stood motionless, staring coldly at Maguire. ‘Like you didn’t know he was abusing Matt Logan and little Ricky Murray as well? You’re a liar, Seamus.’

  Maguire’s eyes oozed panic, his words coming out in double-time. ‘I was a young seminarian in training. Father Donnelly was a very powerful and influential man within the church. I promise you, I never knew what went on in his room. I just did as I was told.’

  ‘Cut the crap, Seamus. You knew exactly what he was doing. Not only did you let it happen – you helped him get away with it. Then, after a lifetime of abusing kids, he dies and gets off scot-free. That bastard even received a hero’s funeral. A monster who, at the very end, was lauded by you and the church, and the very same people who turned a blind eye to my abuse.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Oh, fuck off, Seamus. I was there. I saw it with my own eyes, for God’s sake.’

  ‘You were at Donnelly’s funeral? I didn’t see you.’

  Dempsey laughed loudly. ‘I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, Seamus, but I killed four people without leaving a trace. I think I can sneak in and out of a funeral without being seen. No, I was there, and I witnessed the abhorrent re-writing of history. Susan's eulogy, pontificating about what a wonderful servant of God he was: “Such a brilliant man”. Dee-Dee and Mrs Clarke saying bidding-prayers for his soul. And Ricky, crying like a baby at the back. I thought he was upset, but it turns out he was crying because Donnelly was finally dead.’

  Beads of sweat ran do
wn the side of Maguire’s face. ‘Father Donnelly had a weakness, but deep down he was a good man.’

  Dempsey pulled out a pair of pliers and pointed them at Maguire. ‘He was an evil predator who abused his power as a Catholic priest. He raped me, and God knows how many others, inside the grounds of this fucking church.’

  ‘He wouldn’t do that. Not in the house of God.’

  ‘He would and he did, and you were complicit in it.’

  ‘I wasn’t, Tom, as God is my witness.’

  ‘There you go again, bringing God into this. You just can't stop lying, can you?’

  ‘I’m not lying, Tom. I swear I’m not.’

  ‘Enough!’ Dempsey screamed, causing the priest to jump in the chair. He inspected the claw hammer in his hand before placing it on the chest of drawers. His voice was measured when he spoke next. ‘Do you know why I killed each of them in different parts of their houses?’

  Maguire shook his head, his eyes locked on the hammer.

  ‘Because that’s where he used to rape me. In the lounge, in the bedroom, in his car – even in the bath.’ He pointed towards the church house. ‘The same bath you probably use to this day.’

  Maguire opened his mouth to speak, but struggled to find the words.

  ‘Do you know where else he raped me, Seamus?’ Dempsey slowly pulled out a large screwdriver from the toolbox.

  ‘No.’ Maguire was barely audible.

  ‘Right here in this vestry, on that very seat you’re sitting on. The exact spot, Father Seamus Maguire…where you’re going to die.’

  54

  Phillips and Jones leapt out of their car and ran headlong up the slippery wet path towards St Patrick’s church. As they reached the main door, her phone rang. It was Brown.

  They stopped and stared at each other.

  ‘Well, are you going answer it?’

  Phillips let it ring out. A moment later, it rang again.

  ‘You better answer it, Guv. It’ll only make things worse if you ignore him.’

  ‘We really don’t have time for this. Dempsey could already be in there with Maguire.’

  ‘Seriously, Guv, I think you should answer it.’

  She knew Jones was right. ‘Sir?’ she said, reluctantly answering it on the fifth ring.

  On the line, Brown’s raging voice was almost incoherent. Wincing, she held the phone away and switched it to speaker so Jones could hear.

  ‘…furthermore, you will stand the fuck down and you will wait for the tactical firearms unit to arrive. Do you understand me, Inspector Phillips?’

  ‘How long will that be, sir?’

  ‘As long as it bloody well takes. If Dempsey is as dangerous as you claim, you and Jones are not equipped to take him on. Doing so may well endanger the life you’re trying to save, as well as your own.’

  ‘But sir, Dempsey knows we’re onto him. If he is inside, he won’t waste any time. We have to go in before he kills Father Maguire.’

  ‘No, you do not. What you have to do is follow fucking orders for once in your life!’

  Phillips looked at Jones, who silently gave Brown the ‘V’ sign and nodded towards the church. It was all she needed to know. He was with her.

  ‘Sorry, sir, what did you just say? You’re breaking up.’

  ‘Don’t pull that crap with me, Phillips.’

  ‘It’s a terrible line, sir. I can’t hear you.’

  ‘Stay exactly where you are, Phillips, and wait for TFU. Stand down. That’s an order.’

  ‘Nope, sorry, I’ve lost you.’ Phillips ended the call and put the phone on silent before pushing it deep into her coat pocket. ‘Looks like it’s just me and you, Jonesy.’

  Jones shrugged. ‘I never wanted a long career. Police pensions are overrated anyway.’

  ‘Are you sure? Brown’s beef is with me, not you.’

  Jones’s face became serious. ‘There is no you or me, Guv, just the team. That’s all that matters. Fuck Brown. He can do what he likes.’ Phillips smiled briefly, but Jones continued. ‘So how do you want to do this?’ He glanced at the church. ‘It’s a big building. He could be anywhere.’

  Phillips thought quickly. ‘You go round the back and through the house. I’ll check out the church. You see anything suspicious, holler.’

  ‘Got it!’ Jones turned and headed over to the other side of the building.

  A moment later, with her phone relentlessly vibrating in her pocket, Phillips opened the outer door to the church and stepped inside the large porch. Moving quietly through the inner doors, she entered the chapel. All was silent inside, and she stopped a moment to survey the cavernous space. She spotted something glistening on the wooden floor and bent down to take a closer look. She dabbed at it and inspected her finger. It was fresh blood, and there was a lot more leading towards the altar.

  The noise of the inner doors opening behind her made her jump. She spun around to see Entwistle stride towards her.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered.

  ‘Couldn’t let you and Jonesy take all the glory, now could I?’ Entwistle looked around the church. ‘So, what now?’

  She pointed ahead. ‘There’s a trail of blood running up the centre aisle towards the vestry. Let’s try that first. We can get access to the house that way too.’

  Phillips started walking towards the altar when a blood-curdling scream stopped her in her tracks.

  ‘It’s coming from the vestry, Guv.’ Entwistle ran past her, stopping a moment later and turning to face her. ‘Guv?’ He looked confused.

  Phillips was frozen to the spot. Narrowly surviving a point-blank shooting had been harrowing enough; the flashbacks, the nightmares, the panic. She’d learnt to live with them over the last six months. However, the attacks by Dempsey had left her with fresh, crippling wounds that ached inside and out. As much as she wanted to charge in and save Maguire, her feet would not move. She stood like a statue, her breathing shallow, her body weak.

  Another loud scream echoed around them.

  ‘Guv! We have to get in there.’

  ‘I-I can’t…’ she mumbled.

  Entwistle stared at her a moment longer, then sprinted towards the vestry. Reaching it, he kicked the door open and launched himself inside.

  Phillips heard shouting and what sounded like a scuffle, then two heavy thuds in close succession. The silence returned.

  Phillip’s heart beat like a manic bass drum, her mouth bone dry.

  ‘Inspector Phillips, so good of you to join us,’ Dempsey called out from within the vestry, his bellowing tones bouncing off the walls of the church. ‘I’m afraid your little friend has had an accident; overwhelmed by Christ, you might say.’ His laughter echoed around her.

  Next, Phillips heard Father Maguire’s terrified voice. ‘He’s killed the young lad! He’s says he’s going to kill me. Please…you’ve got to help me.’

  Phillips’s mind flashed back to Dempsey’s house. She could almost feel Dempsey’s thick arm wrapped around her neck. The fear, like a living thing, holding her in a vice – she couldn’t put herself in that position again. Brown was right; it was time to let the TFU run the show. She was finished.

  She took a step back but stopped suddenly, recalling Jones’s words from just a few moments ago. There’s no you or me, Guv, just the team. That’s all that matters. Repeating the phrase out loud, she turned around and headed for the vestry door. ‘Do it for the team,’ she repeated like a mantra.

  Stepping slowly inside, Phillips surveyed the scene. Entwistle was lying face forward in a heap on the floor, a pool of blood collecting under a deep gash on his temple. Above him stood Dempsey, a huge gold crucifix – bloodied at one end – in his hand. Behind him sat Maguire, his arms and legs secured with rope to a large chair. His two front teeth were missing, and blood seeped out of the side his mouth.

  Dempsey followed her gaze. ‘A tooth for a tooth, Inspector.’

  ‘Thomas, please stop this.’

  ‘I’ll stop when it�
��s over. And please, call me Tom.’

  ‘When will it ever be over, Tom?’

  Dempsey’s demeanour changed. ‘When this evil bastard atones for his sins.’ He pointed at Maguire, then threw the crucifix across the room, where it landed with a heavy thud on the thick green carpet.

  ‘Look, Tom, I know you were one of Donnelly’s victims, just like Logan. I know what he did to you. I can never take that pain away, but this isn’t the answer. Killing Father Maguire won’t make it right.’

  Dempsey’s chest heaved. ‘No, but it will make it fair. He helped Donnelly abuse me. I trusted Seamus, looked up to him like an older brother. And what did he do? Delivered me, an innocent little boy, to that monster’s bedroom. He’s as guilty as Donnelly.’ He picked up the claw hammer in his right hand.

  ‘You don’t want to use that, Tom.’

  Dempsey stared down at the rusting tool in his grip. ‘Do you like it? I think this used to be Donnelly’s. I have a vague recollection of him doing DIY about the place when I was little. I found it in the toolbox in the garage.’

  Phillips raised her palms gently. ‘Put the hammer down and I promise you, Tom, we can reopen the case against Donnelly. Show the world who he really was. And if Father Maguire had anything to do with abusing you or any other kids, I’ll make sure he goes to prison for a very long time.’

  ‘Prison’s too good for this scumbag.’ Dempsey pressed the top of the hammer against Maguire’s temple, causing him to flinch. ‘He needs to die, like the rest.’

  Phillips was doing everything she could to appear calm and in control when the exact opposite was true. ‘No Tom, he doesn’t. He needs to face justice and be held accountable for his actions.’

  Dempsey laughed. ‘A Catholic priest, accountable? That’s a joke. They’ve been covering up their crimes for centuries. They’re not about to change now.’

  ‘Maybe not, but the world is changing. More and more cases of historical abuse are coming to court and those abusers are going to prison. Think about it, Tom. If he dies, the lies, the deceit, the horrific abuse – it all dies with him. If you let him live and you help us put him on trial, the whole world will know what he and Donnelly did to you and Logan…and all the others.’