Harlequin Intrigue May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  “What?”

  She handed him a letter still in an envelope. The return address was the rectory at St. Stephen’s Catholic Church. Jack unfolded the letter and attempted to decipher the spidery handwriting. It was addressed to “Dear Colleen” and signed “Father Ambrose.”

  It wasn’t only the handwriting that had Jack struggling to understand the body of the letter. Father Ambrose wrote in a way Colleen presumably would have understood, but wouldn’t give away any secrets if one of her parents had read the letter.

  He regretted that he’d had no chance to speak to Colleen privately. As she might know, he had been transferred and would be moving away. He hoped for assurance that she was doing well, and that the measures he’d taken had sufficed to allow her to live with confidence and peace of heart. He encouraged her to call if there was anything at all he could do for her, but he had complete faith in his successor, Father Paul, whom she had already met. He closed by saying, “Go with God, child.”

  Jack reread the letter. What “measures” had a Catholic priest taken to protect a teenage girl in his parish?

  Gabby made an awful sound. Jack turned his head to see shock on her face. She thrust a manila envelope at him, the flap open.

  Jack dropped the letter and took the envelope. There was no mistaking a pair of flower-print bikini panties of another era. This time, he took a moment to don a plastic glove before he gingerly lifted out the panties. The fabric in the crotch was starting to break down from whatever had stained it in addition to a nickel-sized rusty splotch that had to be old blood. Jack would have bet anything Colleen had gotten home, rushed to her room and torn these off. She might have shoved them out of sight for a while, or had had the presence of mind to decide immediately to preserve them. Even in shock and sickened, she’d have known about DNA tracing. This had to be semen, and the blood from her having lost her virginity.

  What his father had overheard came to Jack, word for word.

  If you keep bothering me, you should know I kept evidence. I won’t hesitate to take it to the police.

  The panties on their own wouldn’t be conclusive; the sex act could have been consensual. But if she’d told anyone that she’d been raped... Oh, yeah, that could definitely ruin a guy’s life.

  His gaze turned back to the letter that lay on his lap. For whatever reason, she had told someone: her priest.

  And he’d taken measures.

  * * *

  GABBY HAD HERSELF tied in knots by Monday morning. The idea of letting herself be hypnotized freaked her out. To lose control of her own mind...why had she agreed to this?

  And then there were the appalling discoveries she had made in a box of her mother’s mementos. If only Dad had looked through them instead of just packing up everything, he might have been able to help the police find Mom’s murderer. It would have been a lot easier to track down Father Ambrose twenty-five years ago.

  Dad couldn’t possibly have known she’d been raped as a teenager, or he’d have told one of the detectives. Why, why, had Mom pretended it never happened? Kept proof that it had, but not reported the crime? Did she blame herself, as so many women did? Believed she’d given implicit permission just because she’d sneaked out to meet up with her rapist? Worn clothing her mother had called suggestive?

  If she really had sneaked out, versus gone on an approved date, the lie to her parents might explain why she didn’t dare tell them. Since Gabby hadn’t known her grandparents, she had no way of knowing how strict they’d been, how they’d have reacted to their daughter’s rape.

  Gabby felt sick just thinking what her mother had gone through.

  Ric, at least, was doing well. Gabby and Jack had spent several hours with him at the hospital yesterday. Well, really, she’d spent time with her brother while Jack had sat in a corner hunched over his laptop, fingers flying. Occasionally he’d made phone calls, speaking just quietly enough she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  But she knew he was trying to track down Father Ambrose, the priest who’d been transferred to another parish something like forty years ago. From what Jack said, Father Ambrose would probably be in his late sixties or older by now. Would he be retired, or did priests typically continue holding worship and counseling their parishioners until they were physically unable?

  Now, Jack said, “We’re here.” He turned into the parking lot beside a medical building.

  She wanted to say, I can’t do this, but knew she wouldn’t. Besides visiting Ric, yesterday Gabby had spent hours poring over her mother’s photo albums, yearbooks, letters from friends and even the diary she’d kept in middle school and into her freshman year in high school. Gabby had believed she’d lost all chance to really know her mother, but she’d been wrong. And by God, she’d do anything in the world now to see the man who’d raped her mother and then, years later, murdered her arrested and imprisoned. That fury would see her through with this.

  Jack held her hand as they walked into the building and took the elevator to the second floor. Before the doors slid open, he looked at her. “Are you okay with this?”

  Gabby gave a sharp nod, and he kissed her, briefly, gently, and then he walked her into the psychologist’s office.

  * * *

  DR. JOSEPHINE ADAMS spoke first to Jack while Gabby waited in another room. He told the woman everything he knew Gabby had seen, and suggested details that might well be buried in her mind. Then she allowed him to join her once she had successfully hypnotized Gabby, but cautioned him to stay out of sight and not say a word unless it was absolutely essential.

  Gabby lay comfortably on an upholstered chaise lounge. He’d seen fleeting instances before of her regressing to the child who’d been watching her mother be butchered, but she had immediately swung back to being the adult Gabby. The woman he loved. This time, even her expressions were childlike, her voice slightly too high.

  The pivotal moment came when the killer had passed closest to where Gabby had been hiding in the utility room. In the telling Gabby rushed past it, just as she had when she’d told Jack what she’d seen. But this time, Dr. Adams said calmly, “You know how to pause a video tape, don’t you, Gabby?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Stop what you’re seeing right here.”

  Gabby nodded obediently.

  “Now let’s rewind, just a little bit, until you first see him walking into sight. He’s dressed in dark blue, carrying a garbage bag. What color is the bag?”

  “It’s black.”

  “And is it full?”

  Gabby’s forehead crinkled. “Not really full, but there’s stuff in it.”

  “All right. He takes a step or two and turns his head to look your way. Let’s pause there again.”

  “He sees me,” she said in panic. “He has to see me. He’s looking right at me!”

  “He’s looking at the pile of dirty clothes,” Dr. Adams said calmly. “He doesn’t know you’re hiding there.”

  Gabby took a deep breath.

  “You said he’s wearing a hat.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What does the hat look like?”

  “It’s blue. The part that sticks out over his face is shiny.”

  Jack’s jaw was so tight, he expected a molar to crack. Damn, damn.

  “Who wears hats like that, Gabby?”

  “Daddy was in the navy.” Her tone suggested she wasn’t quite sure what that was. “There’s a picture on the mantel of him in his uniform. He wore a hat like that, ’cept it was white.”

  “Anyone else you can think of?”

  “A police officer who came to talk to Ric’s class did. Mommy and I took treats that day and got to hear him.”

  “Very good,” Dr. Adams said warmly. “While the man is frozen in front of you, can you see his face?”

  “Only the bottom part. A little bit of his nose and...” She li
fted a hand to indicate her jaw.

  “Even after men shave, you can usually see what color the stubble is.”

  “Uh-huh. Daddy’s is practically black.”

  “What about this man?”

  “It’s hard to see. He must’ve shaved this morning.” She frowned. “It’s brown, not gold like Sarah’s daddy’s.”

  Jack let out a long breath. Dr. Adams gave him a warning look. She asked a few more questions, about the day the car jumped up on the sidewalk and almost ran Gabby down, but then she cycled back instead to the blood spraying each time the man thrust his hand down. After a minute, the psychologist said, “All right, Gabby. I’m going to count down, and you’ll wake up. Five, four, three, two, one.”

  Gabby blinked a few times, and her expression changed, becoming wholly adult. “Are we done?”

  Dr. Adams smiled. “We’re done. You did splendidly, Gabby.”

  Gabby sat up and swung her feet to the floor. That’s when she saw Jack. She’d never looked more vulnerable than she did when she said, “Can we go home?”

  To his house. He had to clear his throat before he could say, “You bet.”

  He thanked the doctor, and he and Gabby held hands all the way out to the car, neither saying a word.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jack’s tension had to be infecting her. From the minute he left her at his house, she jumped at every sound from the street and inside the house. The furnace startled her every time it came on, which was frequent given the cold weather. Having the windows covered so that nobody could see inside should have been comforting, but if anything, it had the reverse effect. She desperately wanted to peek between the blinds or around the edge of a curtain, but what if he was outside and saw? The words dead giveaway popped into her mind, making her shiver.

  Not a soul knew she was staying at Jack’s house, which made the likelihood of an attack here next to nonexistent, but logic didn’t help.

  At least Jack had left her with something useful to do this afternoon.

  After the hypnosis session, the two of them had stopped to see Ric at the hospital, then ate lunch at a Greek restaurant Jack liked. She could tell he hated to leave her alone, but he’d decided he really needed to go into the station.

  “I haven’t even begun the paperwork on the shooting at your brother’s house,” Jack grumbled. “And you never know, our crime scene people might have magically found something.”

  Gabby shooed him out the door. If she hadn’t, well, she was deeply afraid they’d have ended up in bed together. It was still possible they would tonight, but at least she’d have a little while to weigh the pros and cons. Number one on the “con” list being the anger and sense of betrayal that still simmered somewhere deep inside.

  She wrinkled her nose. She was afraid not even the anger would help once Jack kissed her. Because on the “plus” side, he had come running when she called, bared his deep fear for her and given her everything she needed since.

  Walling off her tangle of emotions, she made herself focus. The task he’d left with her was to continue the hunt for the priest.

  Jack had found Father Ambrose’s second posting, at St. Florian’s in Detroit, but after ten years he’d been moved again. Nobody currently there had known him. Given that yesterday was Sunday, he hadn’t been in contact with the archdiocese till this morning. That person had trouble accessing the records, but determined Father Ambrose had gone to a church in Haverhill, Massachusetts.

  Taking up where he’d left off, she worked her laptop and phone, making call after call. Father Ambrose, Gabby finally learned, had retired just a year ago from his fifth church, this one in Boston. The man who gave her the information believed Father Ambrose had inherited a house somewhere in New England from his parents, but he would have to do further research to get contact information. Gabby wondered if he had to obtain permission from above before handing out contact info. That would make sense. She didn’t believe for a minute that the archdiocese would lose track of their priests the minute they retired.

  She mulled over possibilities. The priest presumably hadn’t been named Ambrose at birth. Would he have returned to his birth name, or held on to Ambrose? She couldn’t quite imagine him having a Facebook page, and doubted priests used LinkedIn to communicate with their fellow priests. Still, she did a search for an Ambrose Kearney in Massachusetts, then some neighboring states.

  Nada.

  She pulled up white pages, got nowhere. Maybe Jack would have better resources.

  Astonishingly, at four thirty her time, her phone rang. Father Ambrose now lived in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, and still filled in for services in the St. Mary’s Parish. Gabby had an address and phone number.

  When Jack came in the door after six o’clock, looking tired, she said triumphantly, “I have a phone number.”

  Some of the weariness on his face eased. “Seriously? Did you talk to him?”

  He followed her to the kitchen, where she put the leftover chili on the stove to heat and popped the corn bread in the microwave while explaining that she’d left a message with Father Ambrose. Jack disappeared to change from slacks, dress shirt and tie to jeans and a faded Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt.

  When they sat down to eat, she asked about his afternoon, and got a grimace. “Pretty worthless.”

  She buttered her corn bread. “What if he doesn’t remember Mom? It’s been an awful lot of years.”

  “I’d like to say that’s the kind of thing that sticks in your memory, but priests must constantly deal with troubled teenagers, the aftereffects of suicide, dysfunctional families...” He sighed. “We can only hope. Did you leave my name and number as well as yours?”

  Gabby nodded.

  Conversation lagged as they’d finished eating.

  Jack’s phone rang. “My father,” he said briefly. “Leave the cleanup to me...”

  “Don’t be silly. It won’t take five minutes.”

  “Thanks.” He stood, kissed her cheek and answered the phone. “Dad?”

  Although he wandered into the living room, she could still hear his side of the conversation.

  “Gabby’s father had boxed up all of Colleen’s stuff and stuck it up in the attic,” he said. “We found enough to believe she was raped in high school. I think it has to be connected. She knew and dreaded seeing the man who killed her.”

  Gabby missed some of what Jack said when she ran hot water to wash the pan and rinse off their bowls and plates before putting them in the dishwasher.

  “There’s no question she’s being targeted.” He sounded grim now. “Friday, this guy walked onto the porch at the house where Ric Ortiz still lives and shot through the front window. Missed Gabby by inches but badly injured her brother. He’s going to be okay but had emergency surgery and was just moved out of the ICU yesterday.”

  A couple of grunts followed. Then, “What am I doing to protect her? What do you think? She’s staying here with me, of course.” After a moment, “No, of course that’s not usual practice—”

  Done in the kitchen, Gabby hovered just outside the living room, not wanting to interrupt but assuming he didn’t care that she could hear what he was saying, or he’d have gone to his bedroom. Even though he had his back to her, Jack turned as if he sensed her presence. The way those blue eyes locked on to her got to her as much as it had in the restaurant that first night.

  “You’re right,” he said into the phone. “It is sort of ironic, isn’t it?” He listened to his father for another minute, then said, “Listen, I’ve got to go.” Pause. “Yeah, you, too.”

  Seeing him shove the phone in his hip pocket, Gabby said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I could hear you from the kitchen anyway.”

  “We didn’t say anything private.” Jack gave a crooked smile. “Dad was just accusing me of getting involved with you. He pointed out that I’ve nev
er brought anyone involved with one of my investigations home with me before.”

  “Were any of them being hunted the way I am?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe a gang member or two.”

  Gabby moistened her lips. “Did you try to defend yourself?”

  “From Dad? No, why would I? He was right. I’m falling for you.” His mouth twisted. “Have fallen.”

  Her chest cramped. “I’m still mad at you.”

  “I know.” His throat worked. “I don’t blame you. I had...tunnel vision. It made me stupid.”

  She nodded acknowledgment, struggling with contradictory emotions. It was hard to overcome feeling betrayed, but...she’d fallen for him, too. Wouldn’t she be the stupid one if she held on to her grudge and threw away any chance at a future with the only man she’d ever felt this way about?

  Yes.

  “You won’t lie to me again?”

  “No. God, no.”

  Gabby didn’t even see him move, yet suddenly she was in his arms, holding him as tightly as he held her.

  “This has been hell. Trying to keep you safe and knowing—” Jack broke off, his jaw muscles knotted.

  “Knowing?” Her own eyes burned.

  “You’d leave and I’d never see you again.”

  “I do have to find a job,” she mumbled into his chest.

  “There are a lot of colleges in commuting distance.”

  “I know.” New confidence allowed her to lift her head and meet his eyes. “I’ve done some research.”

  He didn’t blink for a long time as he studied her face. Then he groaned, closed his eyes and bent forward to rest his forehead against hers. “Thank you.”

  “No, I’m the one who should be saying thank you, after you’ve come running to my rescue time after time.”

  He nuzzled her. “Let’s call it good. No debts between us.”

  “No debts.” She pushed up on tiptoe to press her mouth to his.

  He took control of the kiss, which turned passionate and so urgent, Gabby wouldn’t have minded if he’d laid her down on the hardwood floor and stripped her right now. But he didn’t.