“For the next three years, I kept out of the way of the priests and nuns as much as possible. When it became obvious to the adults that I was a lost cause, they started putting me on medication to numb me up and keep me quiet, figuring I was never going to be well enough to leave the compound ever again. I began stashing the pills. Some of the girls came from wealthy families and had a good amount of money with them, so I started selling them my drugs. By the time I was seventeen, I had enough cash to hit the road. I broke out, caught a bus down to Connecticut, and hid out in a little college town for a while. I got a waitressing job, and eventually I got connected with the right people who taught me to make fake IDs and such.
“From there I just kept moving. I never stayed in one place for too long. The nightmares always followed me. It never took more than a few months for them to catch up, but there were some periods of peace, I suppose. I tried to keep out of the way of the law, but it didn’t always work out. I got arrested in Ohio when I got pulled over and had a half an ounce of weed on me. I spent three nights in jail since I didn’t have enough money for bail, and I had to ditch my car. I knew I’d never be able to pay the fine, so I invented a new identity and split town.”
“So Maureen Allen isn’t your real name?”
“Closest I’ve used in a while,” Maureen said, taking the opportunity to take another sip from her glass. “My birth name, if it makes any difference, is Maureen Allerton.”
“What about your family?”
“My mom’s from Ireland, married my dad after they met while he was on a business trip. They were in the process of divorcing when my brother died. I haven’t seen my dad since. I’m pretty sure he married his secretary. Ma wasn’t very shy about making it known that they were humping while he was still married to her. Mom came up to the school a few times for the first few years I was there, but they were short visits and were never pleasant, to say the least. I thought about dropping in on her after I busted out, but I decided there would be no point.”
“Maybe one day,” the priest said.
“I doubt it,” she scoffed. “But, sure, maybe. Anyway, there’s not much else to say, I suppose. I’ve seen most of this country in the last seventeen years. And seen too much in my dreams. But I deal with it.”
“How?”
Maureen held up her glass. “This helps. Blacking out makes sure you don’t dream, you know? I got numb to just the booze though, so in recent years, I’ve needed the help of pain killers every now and then.”
“You don’t buy them from dealers on the street or something like that, I hope.”
“It’s pretty amazing what you can do when you make the right contacts and learn how to forge prescription pads.”
“Can’t say I approve of that. I’m sure there are better ways.”
“Yeah, but in this case, I prefer easy to better.”
“So tell me, then,” Father Patrick said, “have you ever taken the hard way and used this ability of yours to help others since you left the school?”
“I don’t like cops.”
“That wasn’t the question,” he said with a sternness that surprised her.
“A few years ago, I was in Chicago, living in a pretty shitty slum. It was a real shady building, you know? Cash only rents, no background checks or leases, and I’m pretty sure if anyone were to call the city inspector, the whole place would end up condemned. It was a perfect place for me, though. I got a couple of evictions on my record along with the other stuff, and even though I was using a different name, it was nice not to risk anything. Anyway, one night I was asleep, and I had one of my nightmares. I saw a young, black kid tied to a chair, his face was covered in blood, and I felt the shock run through my hand and arm as whoever I was seeing through punched him. Then I saw the hands hold a pillow up to the kid’s head, press a gun to it, and pull the trigger. Poor kid’s brains were all over the wall behind him.
“I looked on as the killer stalked out of the apartment and walked through the halls. The conscious part of my brain, the part that was me, recognized the doors of the apartment building as the one I was living in. The guy was on the second floor. He walked up the back staircase one floor and went into apartment 309. That was across the hall from me. That’s when I woke up. I didn’t really think, I just grabbed my things, left the key to the apartment behind, and got out. I stopped off at a pay phone, called the cops, and left them the tip. Then I took the L to the bus station and got out of town.”
“And did they catch the man?”
“I don’t know. I made a clean break, and I wasn’t going to look back. I made the choice to get involved, but it cost me in the long run. That apartment may have been a stink hole, but I was making some of the best money I’d made in my life in the big city. Why does it matter anyway?”
“It might not,” he said quietly, “but I believe that God is calling you to something. And it may be, that He will continue to send you these dreams until you accept your role and use this power to help your fellow man.”
Maureen actually laughed at his assertion. She finished her drink and slammed her glass down on the table so hard that one of the ice cubes nearly jumped out.
“That’s a good one, Father,” she said. “What about that makes any sense?”
“Faith doesn’t always make sense,” he said, holding eye contact. “I don’t presume to understand the mysteries of God, but I do know it is important to answer when called. And I do believe the old proverb that He never sets anything before someone that they can’t handle. You’ve had something very great placed on your shoulders, so He must know that you can handle it. It’s a profound thing to be offered an opportunity to change lives. You shouldn’t take it lightly.”
“You think I’m some sort of saint?” she scoffed. “How would me catching this guy change anything?”
“It’ll give two grieving families closure. One can never discount how large of an impact a small thing can make. And perhaps more importantly, it just might change you. It just might be, that it’s here where you find a true path to tread and leave behind your years of wandering.”
“Well, I still think He could do better,” Maureen said. The scotch was beginning to go to her head, and she was getting tired and didn’t feel in the mood to fight his interpretation of her situation any further. “Maybe find someone who actually believes in Him.”
“He found Paul on the road to Damascus.” His smile returned. “Look at what that ‘non-believer’ accomplished.”
“Well, we’ll have to see, won’t we?” she said, pushing herself up out of the chair. “Personally, no matter what happens here, I’m pretty sure my immediate future includes a nice stretch behind bars.”
“Saint Paul, again,” he answered, smiling wider.
“Whatever. Thank you for the meal, Father. It was delicious. Really. But if I’m going to go forth and conquer in the name of your God, I’m going to need some sleep first.”
“Are you going to call your detective friend to pick you up?”
“Yeah, I’ll call him from the street. Probably meet him up by Main Street.”
“I’d feel better if you’d wait here,” he said. “You’ve had quite a bit to drink.”
“I can handle my liquor, Father,” she scoffed.
Father Patrick looked intently at her. His stare made her feel like a child.
“Fine, I’ll wait on the stoop. Alone.”
Her answer seemed good enough for Father Patrick. He accompanied her to the door and opened it for her. Maureen stood on the front stoop, breathing in the night air. The smell of fresh-cut grass and the flowers in the gardens filled her nostrils, and she closed her eyes for a moment, briefly imagining an alternate life where she could actually live in a quiet neighborhood like this.
“Maureen.” Father Patrick’s voice made her turn around. “Thank you for allowing me to understand you. And I want
you to remember that you don’t have to let your past define who you are.”
Maureen opened her mouth but found no words. She simply nodded at him as he closed the door. Then she turned away and sank down to sit on the cement, slipping her hand in her pocket to remove Manny’s phone. She found his work phone number in the contacts list and hit the dial button.
“Hey, it’s me,” she said after he’d answered. “You can pick me up. All right, bye.”
She continued to stare out into the night. Her eyelids felt heavy, and the world swayed on the edges of her vision. She couldn’t wait to lie down. Hopefully she’d managed to drink enough for her night’s sleep to be uninterrupted. What she had said to Father Patrick as they parted wasn’t entirely in jest. She wasn’t sure that bringing this child killer to justice would purge the nightmares from her life, but nothing else she’d ever done had worked either. So, if there was a chance that the old priest was right, then she’d have to play the role that she had been given.
THIRTY
Manny sat on a bench in the hallway of the Sheriff’s Department, leaning his elbows on his knees and tenting his fingers to his lips. His eyes were fixed on a single tile on the floor in front of him, his vision occasionally broken by a pair of feet going by. He should have been thinking about his purpose for being there. Instead, he was thinking of Maureen. She seemed different ever since her dinner with the priest—more serious, determined. He told himself to let it go for the time being. The continual mystery of that woman needed to wait.
Manny jerked his head up at the sound of a slamming door across the hall. Agent Layton stood opposite him as if he had materialized out of thin air. The older man looked at him for a moment before stepping over and taking a seat next to him.
“Sandra Locke broke pretty quickly,” he said. “We only needed to sweat her for about half an hour. It was just like we figured. She helped doctor the books and got the payoff to clear her mortgage. Unfortunately, she wasn’t involved so far as to know who was behind the laundering. The LLC that purchased the building is routed through a couple dozen shell companies and bank accounts, and it’s nearly impossible even for our forensic accountants to unravel it. So we need to get Tom Lowes to roll on his business partners. You ready?”
Manny let out a sigh and slowly rose to his feet. He straightened his tie and buttoned the top button of his jacket.
“Let’s go,” he said as he began to start up the hallway.
“Hang on, kid,” the agent said, holding his arm in front of Manny. “Slow yourself. You can’t go head-on at Lowes and expect him to just give it all up.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“Not ‘we’,” the agent said. “You.”
“Come again?”
“I’ve read all your notes on the case,” Layton replied. “I was particularly drawn to your early ones, where you detailed how you decided to follow our good Ms. Allen the night you caught her at the Lowes house. You caught a small throwaway comment from a bartender, who you had never met, and you followed your instincts. So follow your instincts now. How would you suggest we go about handling our situation here?”
Manny thought for a moment, pacing the hall. Suddenly he realized that he hadn’t seen anyone come out of the interview room since the agent’s exit. A smile came to his face.
“Does Tom Lowes know that Sandra is here right now?” he asked Layton.
“He does not,” the agent replied, grinning.
“And Tom is still out in the waiting room, correct?”
Layton nodded.
“Then I think I have an idea. We’re going to take her out, right past him, and make him paranoid about what she might have told us.”
“Bravo,” said the agent.
A few minutes later, Manny and Agent Layton were silently escorting Sandra Locke through the halls toward the waiting room. The agent had made sure that the woman’s hands were not cuffed and remained visible in front of her. After all, they could only charge her as an accessory to fraud, and she was technically a free woman. Whether the county courts wanted to charge her, was their business.
They rounded the last corner and came into the waiting room. Tom Lowes was sitting in a chair next to his wife, an uneasy look threatening to break through on his face. Manny and Layton slowed their pace, making sure that the broker had ample time to see Mrs. Locke with them. Sandra’s eyes remained cast down at the floor, but as they neared, Manny saw them raise the slightest bit and find Tom. He saw that the man had caught her look and was now making a concerted effort not to continue looking in their direction.
Gotcha.
Manny turned his head to hide his satisfied look and led Sandra to the front doors and then mimed a quick conversation with the agent. Layton headed in the opposite direction, and Manny waived over one of the deputies and asked him to escort Mr. Lowes to interview room three.
Following the plan that he and Agent Layton had formed, Manny went to the break room for a cup of coffee and waited a good twenty minutes before he headed over to the interview room himself. He made sure he was carrying a manila folder with several papers inside. Several blank papers. He entered the room where Tom Lowes sat, leafed through the folder without looking at him, then excused himself, stating that he had the wrong file. He exited, marched around to the viewing area and exchanged his manila folder with a forest green one that the deputy was holding. In a few moments, Layton came around the corner and stood by the window. He nodded at Manny.
That was Manny’s cue to enter. The agent was going to watch from behind the glass, and he would conduct the interview. Between the strategy that they had mapped out and Tom Lowes’ guilty conscience, they would get what they needed.
“Mr. Lowes,” he said as he walked into the room and took a seat at the table opposite the broker, “you’re not under arrest, but I would appreciate it if you would answer my questions.”
“Must I? I mean, I’ve heard that you’re no longer with the investigation.”
“That is technically true,” Manny replied turning and nodding toward the mirror, “but would you rather have me or a federal agent sitting across the table from you right now? Sandra already talked. You might as well help us out. Help yourself out. And if not for you, for the memory of your son.”
“You don’t understand,” Lowes said, looking down at the table. “I can’t. More lives will get destroyed.”
“Only if you don’t talk,” Manny said, allowing his voice to build to a crescendo. He and Layton had worked out his act: first he’d play on the emotions of a father, then he’d bring the thunder.
“That deal you did for the county building,” he continued. “We took a hard look at the numbers. Over a hundred fifty grand for work that should cost no more than thirty? Awfully suspicious. And then there’s the seventy-five thousand dollar payoff to Sandra to go along with it. Tell me how it is, Tom. You got in bed with some shady businessmen, laundered money for them, and then decided that, hey, why not get yourself and Sandra some profit, too? Problem is, when you steal from these people, they tend to retaliate in violent ways. Your son is dead because of what you did!” Manny felt a pang of guilt for coming down so hard as the man buried his head in his hands.
“My wife, Kristin, has a brother, Darren,” Tom finally began. “He owns a construction business outside St. Louis and about a year ago, he got into some financial trouble and was going to lose his company. One of the drug cartels came to him and offered to invest, and in exchange they used his business to help in their money laundering. He came to me when I put the Glenbrook buildings on the market and told me that he would pay above list price for it. I knew what he—they—wanted it for, but it was a cash deal, quick close. All we had to do was agree to the work they wanted to do and get the county treasurer to go along with the billing.
“It wasn’t easy to convince her, but when the bank began foreclosure procedure, one
of their lenders called me for a valuation of the property. I knew that was my in, so I got him to let me know how much she needed in order to keep her house. I promised her the money in exchange for going along with the plan. I filtered the money out of the project up front. I wasn’t thinking, though. I figured the bosses would never notice it since they make so much, but they did, right away. I panicked and made a deal. I said I’d pay them back double what I took. I figured I could do it within two months. But, we didn’t make our sales goals and I was short.
“Darren was the go-between. He told me that I had to either give them my brokerage, or something bad would happen to me. Darren begged me to give up my company to them, but I couldn’t do something like that to my employees. I told him to tell them I’d pay quadruple, and they’d have their money in sixty days. He told me guys like this don’t mess around, that I was being stupid, and to punish both of us, they might make him do something. But, I paid the money on time, and I never heard anything from them since. I thought that was it. And now . . .”
Tom’s voice wavered, and he bit into his clenched fist, stifling a whimper. No father deserved what Lowes had been through, but he reminded himself that it was of the man’s own making. And now he had a suspect.
“I’m going to have someone come in,” he told Lowes, standing up from the table, “and have you make a written statement. And we’ll need your brother-in-law’s address.” Manny strode out of the room. It was a terrible story that he had just confirmed, and he couldn’t help but feel for all involved. However, he was about as satisfied as he could be.
“What do you think?” Agent Layton said as Manny came into view.
Unholy Shepherd Page 22
