In the Name of the Father

by Gerri Hill

  “If you’re insinuating that Father Michael behaved inappropriately, Detective, you are very wrong. Father Michael has an impeccable record and there has never been even a hint of improper behavior.”

  “Then what scandal are you trying to avoid?” Sam asked.

  “When the press reports that a priest was found naked and that there was evidence of sexual activity, do you think the words raped or assaulted will be included in the text? No. They will assume sexual misconduct. And we simply can’t have that.”

  “Monsignor, how do you know what evidence was found? There have been no official statements.”

  He smiled but shook his head. “I won’t bore you with the chain of information, Detectives. What we want, in your official statement to the press, is for you to report that he was sexually assaulted and not leave it up to the reporters to use their own words.”

  Tori said, “I’m sorry. I can’t do that. I don’t know if he was sexually assaulted or not. I won’t know until the medical examiner issues his report.” Her cell rang and she unclipped it from her belt. “Excuse me,” she murmured as she moved back into the kitchen.

  “Hunter, I just got a call from CIU.”

  Tori rolled her eyes. CIU—Criminal Investigative Unit—thought they were the damn FBI. “And?”

  “We’re not to talk to the press on this one. They’re going to handle it. I think they’re sending someone over now.”

  Tori sighed. “Great, Lieutenant. Are they going to handle the goddammed investigation, too?”

  “Look, I told you this was sensitive. Apparently, the bishop contacted the mayor and the mayor himself called the chief. The church is concerned about—”

  “They’re concerned about a sex scandal. They don’t appear too concerned about their dead priest, only how it’s going to look in the papers.”

  “Well, as much as you hate dealing with the press, I thought you’d love this.” Malone paused. “Now did you find anything at the scene?”

  “They found pajamas and a belt under some shrubs. The belt could likely be the murder weapon. Multiple prints in the house. We got nothing at this point, really.”

  “Well, we need to find something.”

  “No shit,” Tori murmured after she’d disconnected. Sam and the monsignor were still talking in the hallway, his bulk nearly dwarfing Sam. Tori said to him, “Well, your prayers have been answered, it seems. They’re sending someone over to handle the press.”

  “Thank you, Detective.”

  “I assure you, I had nothing to do with it. Now, if you’ll excuse us,” she said, brushing past him and motioning for Sam to follow.

  “Who’s coming over?” Sam asked when they stepped outside.

  “CIU.”

  “CIU? Are they taking over the case?”

  “I wish.” Tori stopped and looked to the sky, wondering how long before the downpour hit. “Let’s find out if anyone saw anything this morning.”

  “Starting where?”

  “I don’t know. Grab a nun.”

  Sam smiled. “Grab a nun?”

  Their eyes met and Tori allowed herself a brief smile. “Maybe I should take the nuns. You have more of a history with priests.”

  “My brother doesn’t count. But maybe you’re right. I think you’re less likely to piss off the nuns.”

  “Funny, Detective,” Tori said as she moved away, finding a group of four nuns watching them.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Hunter, I hear you got close to a church today and lightning didn’t strike!” John Sikes said with a laugh.

  “Good one, Sikes. I can always count on you for humor in the midst of death,” Tori said as she picked up her coffee cup. Eyeing the dark liquid—which she assumed was several hours old—she opted for a water bottle instead, grabbing one from the small fridge tucked in the corner.

  “Heard about the priest, but what about your homeless guy?”

  “Finally got a witness who picked out Stewart’s picture. But—”

  “But it’s another homeless guy?”

  “Exactly. A defense attorney would have him for lunch.” Tori pulled her chair out with her foot before sitting down. “Saturday night was fun. Thanks for asking us.”

  “Oh, sure. We usually get together at least once a month to play. Sorry you two had to come separately.”

  Tori shrugged. “Better to be safe.”

  “I had no idea Sam could play poker.”

  “I’d been teaching her all last week. She picked it up pretty quickly.”

  “She looked like she had a great time.” He leaned on the corner of her desk. “And Ronnie’s an asshole,” John said quietly. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sam can handle herself. No big deal.”

  “Yeah, but it was you I was worried about. You should have seen the look on your face when he tried to kiss her.”

  Tori smiled. “He doesn’t know how close he was to having a gun shoved up his ass.”

  John laughed and stood, slipping his hands into his pockets. “So, what’s with the priest?”

  “Don’t know yet. He was found naked, strangled. Spencer found rectal bleeding, but we don’t know if it was assault or consensual. Jackson was going to do the post.”

  “Oh, man. You better hope the M.E. states it as assault. It’ll be a regular circus otherwise.”

  “It’s already a circus. CIU’s pulled rank. They’re handling the media. I guess they’re afraid I might say something off-color.”

  “Now where would they get that idea? But shouldn’t Special Victims take this one? I mean, isn’t that why they formed that unit? To take this kind of crap off our hands?”

  Sam watched from across the squad room, smiling as Tori and John laughed together. Last year, the two could hardly tolerate each other’s presence. Now, they were buddies. And Tori needed a buddy. She needed someone other than Sam in her life, someone else to let her know that she was a good person, worthy of friendship. Oh, she could still be a total bitch, especially when things didn’t go the way she wanted. But finally, she was dropping the shield around her and letting everyone else see the person who Sam had fallen in love with. And John Sikes was not immune to Tori’s charms, Sam knew. John had joined them often on the boat at Eagle Mountain Lake, his love of fishing nearly matching that of Tori’s.

  Tori must have felt her presence, turning to look at her, her face gentling. Here in their own squad room, they didn’t have to be so careful. It was unspoken, but everyone knew about their relationship. Even Gary Walker, Donaldson’s new partner, acknowledged it. It went without saying that it remain in-house. As far as the other detectives were concerned, if Lieutenant Malone didn’t have a problem with it, they didn’t have a problem with it.

  “Trying to sneak up on us?”

  “And someday I just might.” She squeezed John’s arm as she passed. “Hey, Sikes. Where were you this morning?”

  “Ramirez wanted to check out a hunch. We spent half the night and all this morning staking out a neighborhood bar in Oak Cliff.”

  Sam wrinkled her nose. She hated stakeouts. “Sorry. Any luck?”

  “Of course not.” He shoved off the corner of Tori’s desk. “Catch you two later.”

  Sam leaned across her desk, watching Tori. “Any luck with your nuns?”

  “No. What about you? Enjoy your ride over in the patrol car?”

  “No. He wouldn’t let me play with anything.” Sam picked up the file, knowing Tori had already typed up her notes. She glanced through them quickly, seeing the few comments Tori had added after speaking to the nuns. “Father Michael was very popular.”

  “Apparently so.”

  Sam leaned her elbows on her desk, watching Tori. “Who in their right mind would kill a priest?”

  Tori leaned back, twisting a pen between her fingers. “People kill for revenge. People kill out of anger. People kill for spite. People kill for fun.” She raised her eyebrows. “You kill a priest, which of those would be a good reason?”

&
nbsp; “Revenge.” Sam shrugged, thinking for a moment. “Or anger.”

  “Why would you be angry at a priest?”

  Sam’s eyes widened. “I would be angry at a priest if he molested me.”

  Tori nodded. “So, our killer could be a former altar boy, perhaps, taking out his anger now? Or maybe exacting revenge?”

  “But Monsignor Bernard said that Father Michael had no complaints, not even a hint of inappropriate behavior,” Sam reminded her.

  “Just because he said it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  Sam bit her lower lip, then smiled. She was raised Catholic, and her brother was a priest, so it never occurred to her that the monsignor could be lying. “That just wouldn’t be right.”

  “Sam, just because he’s a priest, don’t assume anything. Don’t assume they’re not withholding something from us. Don’t assume Father Michael didn’t have consensual sex. And don’t assume, because they’re priests, that they’re not human.”

  Sam agreed. “You’re right. I have this skewed opinion, I know.”

  “And I’m too cynical about it all,” Tori admitted. “So we need to find a common ground. Maybe we should—”

  “Hunter? Crime lab’s on line two,” Fisk bellowed from the front desk.

  “That was quick,” she said before punching the speakerphone button. “Hunter. What do you have?”

  “We got a good print off the belt, Hunter. It matched a partial that was found on the lamp.”

  “Got a name?”

  “Juan Hidalgo. He’s been in and out. Assault, armed robbery, possession.”

  “Can you e-mail me the specifics?”

  “Already done.”

  “Thanks.” She looked at Sam. “Juan Hidalgo? I think one of the nuns mentioned his name.”

  Sam looked at her notes, flipping through the pages. “Here he is. Handyman. He works three or four days a week.”

  Tori opened her e-mail, scanning it briefly before printing it. “Got an address. Little Mexico.”

  “Of course it’d be Little Mexico.” Sam looked around, hoping Tony was at his desk. They’d found from experience that it helped to have a Spanish-speaking officer with them. But Ramirez and Sikes had disappeared.

  “Let’s tell Malone,” Tori said, hurrying into the lieutenant’s office.

  Sam waited at the stairs, keys dangling from her fingers.

  Tori grinned when she saw them. “Got the Lexus?”

  “Only the best for you, Hunter,” Sam said in a sultry voice.

  They paused at the door, gazing at each other, a smile playing across Tori’s face. Tori’s gaze dropped to Sam’s lips for only a second, but it was enough. Sam took a breath, saw Tori’s eyes darken.

  “How can you do that to me with just a look?” Sam whispered.

  Tori only smiled, lightly touching Sam’s back as they went down the stairs.

  Tori drove as Sam looked at the e-mail again, then their street finder on the laptop. “It’s a housing project. Should be the next block.”

  “Damn, but this is run-down,” Tori muttered, wondering if Juan Hidalgo lived with his family or alone. “It looks worse than my building.”

  “Oh, I’d say they’re about the same, sweetheart.”

  Tori laughed. “Three hundred dollars a month rent. You can’t beat it.”

  “Especially when you don’t actually live there.”

  “You’re ready for me to give it up?”

  “Tori, you’ve not set foot in the apartment since May.”

  “Has it been that long?”

  Sam reached over and squeezed Tori’s thigh. “Keep it as long as you want.”

  Tori parked along the curb and cut the engine. “I don’t really feel the need to keep it anymore. It’s just, well, I haven’t had time to think about moving my stuff out. Besides, what would I do with it all?”

  “Just stop paying rent. They’ll give your furniture away to someone who needs it.”

  Tori looked up at the three-story building, then went with Sam toward the front doors. One of the doors was propped open, letting in the chill from the cold January day. “I think I’ve got a bottle of Scotch,” Tori murmured.

  “What?”

  “At my apartment. And some old files and stuff.”

  Not waiting for a response, which she didn’t expect anyway, Tori headed on up the stairs. Files. Files of her family’s murder. She realized she hadn’t mentioned her family since the night she’d told Sam about their murder, but she’d kept copies of all the old case files.

  “Then why don’t you bring them to our place?” Sam said.

  Tori paused in mid-step. Our place. How she loved those words. After Internal Affairs finished their investigation last year, Sam gave up her apartment and the two of them moved into an older complex hidden away near White Rock Lake. It was a small lake compared to the expanse of Eagle Mountain, where they kept their boat. But here, they were only two blocks from the city lake, and Tori often went there in the evenings to fish and to satisfy her need for solitude. Sam understood she needed her quiet time—her alone time—and she never questioned it. And Tori knew it also gave Sam some time alone to catch up with friends, mainly Amy.

  But get rid of her old apartment? Well, she was throwing away three hundred bucks a month just to keep it. “Okay,” she finally said, glancing back at Sam.

  Sam frowned. “Okay what?”

  “Maybe this weekend we could go to my apartment and pack up a few things.”

  Smiling, Sam seemed surprised. “Oh. Okay. Sure.”

  Tori stopped at the second-floor landing, looking up into the dark stairwell. “He would have to be on the third floor, wouldn’t he?”

  “Does it smell in here to you?”

  “Yeah. I told you it was worse than my building.”

  Before Sam could reply, running footsteps below made them both stop and look back. Two uniformed police officers were running up the stairs.

  “Stand back, ladies!” one of them shouted as they ran past them.

  Tori and Sam pressed against the wall, out of their way, Tori glaring at their retreating backs. “Idiots,” she muttered.

  “What are the chances they’re going to the same apartment we are?”

  “With our luck, they’ll chase our guy off.” Tori started toward the third floor, quickening her pace. “Come on.”

  They were both out of breath as they raced up the steps, looking in the direction of the commotion down the hallway. Loud voices, all in Spanish, called out, trying to talk over the others.

  “What room are we?” Tori asking, gasping.

  “Three twelve.”

  “Well, this is just fucking great,” Tori muttered as she caught her breath. “They’re in room three twelve.”

  Tori stood in the doorway, noting the chaos inside, watching as the two officers tried in vain to usher the crowd away from a body on the floor.

  One of the officers looked up and saw her, motioning for her to stop. “You cannot come in here, ma’am. You need to go back into the hallway. This is a crime scene.”

  “And I see you’re doing a wonderful job of securing it.” She held up her badge. “Detectives Hunter and Kennedy. Homicide.”

  “Damn, that was quick. Usually takes you guys an hour to show up.”

  Tori looked around. “Who are all these people and why the hell are they contaminating this crime scene?”

  The voices grew louder, the quickly spoken Spanish bouncing around Tori.

  She finally threw her arms up, yelling. “Shut up! Everyone shut up!” When the room was quiet, except for the wailing sobs of an older woman, she continued, “Can anyone here speak English? Por favor? English?”

  Silence ensued as their gazes followed her around the room.

  She tried again. “English? Anyone?”

  One man finally stepped forward. “Si. Un poco.”

  Tori gritted her teeth, wondering why in the hell she’d never learned to speak Spanish. “Como te llamas?”

>   The man nodded. “Hector Ybarra.”

  Tori pointed at the man on the floor. “Who is he?”

  “Juan. Juan Hidalgo.”

  At the man’s words, the older woman started wailing again. Tori and Sam locked eyes, Sam nodding as she moved into the hallway, already dialing her cell.

  “The mother?” Tori asked Hector.

  “Si, es la mama.”

  “Okay. Ask everyone to leave this apartment, please.”

  The man frowned.

  Tori rubbed her head, trying to control her temper. “Leave. Go. Out,” she said, shooing them toward the door.

  “Si.”

  Tori grabbed his arm. “Not you.” She watched as the others were led from the room, the two officers having to forcibly remove the crying woman. “Nine-one-one?”

  “I call.”

  She made her hand into a gun and pointed it at Juan. “You see?”

  “No, no.” He pointed to his ear. “Oye.”

  She motioned out the door. “Did mama see? Did she live with him?”

  “No, no. Next door.”

  “Okay. Gracias.” She motioned to the door. “Go.” She turned, staring at the body of their only suspect. “Well, this sucks the big one.”

  “How bad is it?” Sam asked from behind her.

  “It’s totally contaminated. They moved the body, for one thing. Looks like they flipped him over. Someone got blood on their shoes,” she said, pointing to the prints.

  “Window is open. Cold day like today, I doubt he had it open for air. Especially now. It’s nearly dark outside.”

  Tori circled the body, careful not to touch anything. “Fire escape right outside.”

  “Is it down?”

  Tori went to the window and sighed. “Yep.” She looked back to the door. “But no forced entry. Could have known the shooter.”

  There was a rustling in the hallway, then Mac stuck his head inside. “Ladies, we meet again.”

  “Sorry, Mac, but there were probably ten people in this room when we got here,” Sam said. “Don’t know if you’re going to find much.”

  “We’ll sift through it.” He looked at their body. “Damn, who walked in my blood pool?”

  Sam shrugged. “They also don’t speak English.” Sam stepped aside as Rita Spencer walked in, medical bag on one shoulder, camera on the other.