In the Name of the Father

by Gerri Hill

  “Well, this has got to be a first,” Rita said, “you two beating me to a scene.”

  “Yeah, well, we came here hoping to find him alive, not dead,” Tori said. “And why did they send you again?”

  “Jackson’s started the post on your priest.” Rita bent down, then shook her head. “He’s been moved.” She looked up sharply. “Who the hell moved my body?”

  “I would guess his mother,” Tori said. “Or any of the other nine people who were in here.”

  “Why do you guys have this one, anyway? The priest not enough for you?”

  “Meet Juan Hidalgo. Our only suspect in Father Michael’s murder.”

  “Damn, Hunter. What are the chances of that?”

  “I would have guessed none.” She turned to Sam, who was busy talking on her cell again. Her animated expression told Tori she was describing the scene.

  She looked up, meeting Tori’s eyes as she disconnected. “Lieutenant says he wants Ramirez and Sikes on this one, not us.”

  “Why not us?”

  Sam folded her phone and slipped it into her jacket pocket. “Well, the Spanish, for one thing. And we already have two open cases.”

  Tori pointed at Juan Hidalgo. “This case and the priest are linked. This is not a fucking coincidence,” she snapped.

  Sam shrugged. “Feel free to call him. I’m just passing on his orders.”

  Tori shook her head. “Sorry,” she said quietly, her eyes darting from Sam to Rita. Orders. “Okay, Spencer. We’re out of here. The guys will be in touch.”

  “Can’t wait,” Rita murmured absently, her camera already going to work.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Shower first or dinner?”

  “Shower,” Tori said, already pulling her sweater over her head.

  “Share?” Sam asked quietly, her voice low—inviting.

  Tori stopped and turned, meeting Sam’s gentle gaze. The smoldering desire she saw there never failed to amaze her. She nodded. “Yeah. Share.”

  She tossed her sweater on the bed and kicked off her shoes, watching as Sam did the same. Her breath caught as Sam pulled her undershirt off. There was no bra to distract her. Going slowly to Sam, she pulled her own black sports bra off and tossed it on the floor without looking.

  “You’re so beautiful, Sam,” Tori whispered, reaching out to cup Sam’s small breasts.

  Sam moved into Tori’s touch, pulling Tori close as her mouth found Tori’s. “Shower,” she murmured.

  Tori knew it was one of her most favorite things—showering together. There would be no words, only the quiet touching, stroking, as they stood under the warm water. Sam lowered the zipper on Tori’s jeans with practiced ease. Her hands slipped around Tori’s hips, squeezing the firm buttocks, until Tori moaned.

  “I swear, I’ll never tire of this.”

  Tori smiled against her lips, then pulled away. “Come on. Shower,” she reminded her. She led Sam into the bathroom, releasing her long enough for them both to shed their remaining clothes.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Wait a minute. A consultant? What the hell for?”

  Malone sighed. “In case you don’t already know this, the chief doesn’t have to offer an explanation, Hunter. I only know she flew in from Boston last night and she’s from some hotshot public relations firm.”

  Tori paced in front of his desk while Sam looked on silently. Tori finally stopped, the frustration evident on her face as she rested her hands on her hips. “How the hell are we supposed to do our job with a goddammed public relations consultant following us around? Talk about a circus, well this is it.”

  “She won’t be following you around. She’ll be dealing with the media, mainly. She’ll issue formal statements for the diocese and deal with questions. And if we have questions for the diocese, we’ll go through her. But she won’t have any bearing on our investigation, Hunter.” He stared at her. “Now sit down, please.”

  “How long will we be able to sit on the M.E.’s report?” Sam asked. “The press is going to want some information.”

  “Well, that’s the beauty of this, Kennedy. We don’t have to sit on anything. All media reports will come directly from the chief’s office.”

  Tori stared at him. “I didn’t realize the Catholic Church wielded that much power over us, Lieutenant.”

  “I believe Bishop Lewis and the mayor are quite close, Hunter. Not that it’s our concern.”

  She shrugged. “That’s fine. I just hate when politics play a part in one of our investigations.”

  They all turned at the light knocking on the door.

  Malone motioned for Sikes and Ramirez to come in and said, “We’re going to have a group effort on this case, Hunter. Obviously we can’t look at Juan Hidalgo’s death as a coincidence, so we’ll assume it’s linked to Father Michael. Tony, I want you and John on that one.” He paused. “Hunter, you and Kennedy get the priest. I know you’ve already done some interviews, but we’ll need to go deeper. Find out his routine, find out who visited the rectory the most.”

  “Saint Mary’s is a large church with several priests,” Sam said. “Any idea how Father Michael came to live at the rectory and none of the others did? I wouldn’t think seniority, considering how young he was.”

  Malone shook his head. “I’m not what you’d call a regular churchgoer. I knew Father Michael from the handful of times I went there. But I have no idea about their living arrangements.”

  “It looked like it was several bedrooms. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who lived there. Could have had roommates,” Sam suggested.

  But Tori shook her head. “We both talked to the housekeeper. She never once gave any indication that someone else lived there. The other two bedrooms were too impersonal. Nothing more than guest rooms.”

  “From your notes, Hunter, Juan Hidalgo worked there for several years,” Sikes said. “But why would they keep him on? He’s been in and out of jail for the last seven years. Did time for armed robbery. Was in most recently in June of last year for possession of marijuana.”

  “They’re a church. I would assume they’re in the business of reforming and rehabilitating,” Tori said. “Why else?”

  “Maybe they didn’t know,” Tony said. “I mean, if he’s a parishioner and needed work, I doubt they’d do a background check.”

  “And his was the only print on the belt?” Malone asked.

  “His and Father Michael’s.”

  Tori stood and started pacing the room. “So Hidalgo walks in on Father Michael and someone having sex. He freaks out. Trashes the room. Scares off the other guy.” She stopped pacing. “Or woman. We’re just assuming here.” She turned, her arms outstretched. “Takes the belt, strangles the priest. Then panics. Grabs his pajamas and the belt, and runs.”

  “If he’s going to go to the trouble of grabbing the belt, why drop it in the shrubs where anyone is bound to find it?” Sam asked.

  “And I don’t want to assume a sexual partner, Hunter,” Malone said. “Lab report is not back and Jackson has not given us the results of the post,” he reminded her.

  “I saw the body. I talked to Spencer. There was evidence of sexual activity and it did not appear to be forced.”

  “Well, we’re trying to find out who killed him, not whether he was having sex or not,” Malone said sharply. “Keep that in mind.”

  “Well, unless the post tells us something we’re not expecting, then all we have is circumstantial evidence linking Hidalgo. A print on the overturned lamp and a print on the belt. There has to be a motive. And there was nothing of value missing, so not robbery.”

  “What if Father Michael found out about Hidalgo, found out he’d been in jail? Hidalgo could have been afraid he would lose his job. Could be motive,” Sikes said.

  “But Hidalgo took a bullet to the head at point-blank range,” Sam reminded them. “So if we’re considering the two murders are linked, whoever killed Juan Hidalgo knew about Father Michael.”

  “Knew what?” Tor
i asked. “Knew he was killed? Knew he was having sex? What?”

  “So maybe Hidalgo’s death is revenge for killing Father Michael,” Sikes suggested.

  Tori nodded. “Which means there’s a third party.”

  “Okay, back to the beginning,” Malone said. “Father Michael was killed between five and six a.m., based on Spencer’s preliminary findings. We’re at the scene before one yesterday afternoon. By three, we’re notified of the print on the belt. And before four o’clock, Hidalgo is shot and killed. Ten hours.”

  Sam leaned forward, tapping lightly on Malone’s desk. “It seems obvious, doesn’t it?”

  He looked at her. “What?”

  “Whoever was with Father Michael, whoever Hidalgo walked in on, he—or she—would know Hidalgo was the one who killed the priest. He hears on the news that Father Michael has been killed. He knows who walked in on them. So, to protect himself and to protect Father Michael’s name, he kills Hidalgo.”

  Malone shrugged. “It’s a theory, Kennedy. Thin at best.”

  Tori nodded. “And we’re all basing this on the assumption Hidalgo is our killer. What if he found Father Michael dead, he touches him, then gets scared. Maybe he took the belt and pajamas, maybe they were just lying beside the body. Maybe he took them to protect the priest. But once outside, the real killer is still there. So Juan tosses the belt and pajamas and takes off running. His print is on the belt. His boot print is on the ground. But he’s not the killer.” She shrugged. “Circumstantial evidence.”

  “There’s just one thing,” Ramirez said. “Why was Juan Hidalgo at the rectory at five in the morning?”

  “And I think we’re overlooking one other scenario,” Sikes said. “No one has mentioned the possibility of Hidalgo being the sexual partner. Maybe that’s why he was there at five.”

  “Oh, come on, man. Hidalgo was a lowlife,” Ramirez said. “No way.”

  “Why not?” Sikes shot back. “They have sex. Hidalgo freaks out for whatever reason, then kills Father Michael. Takes the belt and pajamas, thinking it may have DNA.”

  Tori laughed. “John, do you really think Hidalgo was meticulous enough to even consider DNA evidence left behind?”

  “I have to agree,” Sam said. “We saw Hidalgo. We saw where he lived. He didn’t have a TV. His family didn’t speak English. I seriously doubt he knows the procedures of a crime lab and how evidence is obtained.” Sam shrugged. “Besides, he didn’t take the evidence with him, or hide it. It was carelessly tossed in the bushes, as if he wanted it to be found.”

  “Which brings us back to the possibility that he was startled by someone. Startled, so he dumped the clothes and belt, and then took off.”

  “Which again leaves us with a third party,” Sikes said.

  Tori sighed. “And still no closer to a motive or a suspect.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sam tossed her purse on her desk and strode purposely toward the coffee. “Tori wouldn’t let me stop for real coffee.” She stared at the pot. “How bad is it this morning?” she asked John.

  “Define bad.”

  Sam crinkled up her nose as she poured, wondering why she didn’t just switch to herbal tea or something.

  “Where’s Tori?”

  “She walked over to the lab. Jackson said he had the report ready.”

  John looked past Sam, motioning across the squad room as an impeccably dressed woman walked through. “Nice.”

  “Our consultant?” Sam whispered.

  “Kinda ironic, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you know, the Catholic Church’s stance on homosexuality isn’t real friendly to your kind. I’m surprised they have a lesbian working for them.”

  Sam turned and frowned. “A lesbian?” She looked back at the attractive young woman who stood talking to Malone. Her black business suit hugged her slim hips, dark blond hair, long and straight, tucked behind her ears, her makeup applied to perfection. A diamond on her ring flashed as she talked and Sam shook her head. “She’s not gay, John.”

  John laughed. “I swear, your gaydar still doesn’t work, does it?” He leaned closer, his voice low. “Didn’t you see her walk? She’s got that cocky walk like Hunter has. And I bet you ten bucks her handshake will crack your fingers.”

  “I’m sure Tori will appreciate you saying her walk is cocky. I happen to think it’s sexy as hell.”

  He nudged her. “So? Ten bucks?”

  “You’re on. Because no way she’s gay.”

  John cleared his throat. “We’re about to find out.”

  Malone, a smile on his face, ushered the attractive woman over. Sam doubted he’d be smiling if Tori were here, knowing Tori’s feeling about the consultant.

  “Kennedy, Sikes, I want you to meet Marissa Goodard. She’s the consultant I told you about.”

  “Actually, it’s Goddard, Lieutenant.” The woman smiled at Sam. “Kennedy or Sikes?”

  Sam glanced at the lieutenant, noticing his slightly flushed face. She knew he wasn’t used to being dismissed so easily. “Samantha Kennedy.”

  “Nice to meet you, Samantha.”

  Sam took her hand, nearly cringing as the strong fingers gripped her own and squeezed tightly. She watched as the woman reached for John’s hand.

  “John Sikes. A pleasure, Ms. Goddard.” His smile was pronounced as he looked at Sam. “Ten bucks,” he mouthed at her.

  “Where’s Hunter?”

  “She’s at the lab, Lieutenant.”

  “They got reports for us?”

  “Spencer did the post on Hidalgo. Everything’s back but toxicology. Jackson was going to meet with her,” Sam explained.

  “Find out when she’ll be back. I want us to meet with Ms. Goddard here. She’ll have some questions before she meets with the press this afternoon.”

  “I understand the mayor has set up a press conference for this afternoon,” Ms. Goddard said. “Who will be issuing a statement on behalf of the police department?”

  “The mayor’s office is handling that as well.”

  She smiled. “I see. Well, I understand it’s a delicate situation. We wouldn’t want one of your officers to say something out of line.”

  “We’re well aware that it’s delicate, Ms. Goddard,” Sam said with just a hint of irritation. “It’s also highly unusual for the mayor’s office to oversee a murder investigation.”

  “Believe me, Samantha, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of reporters’ questions regarding a murdered priest. It’s a potential scandal waiting to break and they can be ruthless.” She smiled again. “And please call me Marissa.”

  “Of course.”

  “And this Hunter person,” she said, tapping impatiently at her gold wristwatch. “I have appointments set up. I don’t have time for a delay.” She looked pointedly at Sam. “We’re not going to have a problem with punctuality with her, are we?”

  Sam opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. She glanced at Malone before forcing a smile to her face. “Let me call her.” She grasped John’s arm and led him toward the door. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” she whispered.

  Tori sat patiently as she watched Jackson unwrap a piece of gum and methodically fold it into thirds before placing it into his mouth. It was a habit that both irritated her and fascinated her. But she’d learned that Jackson was never ready to proceed until after the gum ritual.

  Now, he put his reading glasses on and opened the file, his brows drawn together.

  Tori finally leaned forward and said, “You’re testing my good mood, Jackson. What do you have?”

  “Sorry, Hunter. I hadn’t had a chance to read Spencer’s report on Mr. Hidalgo.” He looked up. “Not much, actually. Single GSW to the right temporal lobe. Thirty-eight caliber. Full tox reports aren’t back yet, but his blood alcohol content was point oh-nine.”

  “Damn. Drunk on his ass,” she said.

  Jackson nodded and handed her a file. “Here’s Mac’s initial report.
I understand the scene was contaminated.”

  “Yeah. We were there.” Tori flipped through it, scanning the words, noting nothing unusual. She closed it and looked up. “The priest?”

  He shook his head. “Not much on him either. Cause of death was strangulation. No unusual bruising other than around the neck. Rectal bleeding appears to be from recent intercourse. No fluids. There was no trauma to indicate assault. But that doesn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t. It just means there was no bruising. Toxicology will be back on him this afternoon, but prelim blood work was clean.” He leaned back. “The belt found in the bushes matches the ligature marks on the neck.”

  “Thanks, Jackson. Do you mind e-mailing Sikes your final report on Hidalgo?”

  “No problem.”

  “What about Mac’s report on the priest? Do you have it yet?”

  He shook his head. “He was still working on it. They had a lot more to process there.”

  “Okay. I’ll go bug him. Thanks.”

  Tori was at the door when he called to her.

  “Hunter, what’s this I hear about a public relations firm?”

  “We don’t know much more. Mayor’s office agreed to it. Some hotshot firm from Boston. Malone said they handled the abuse scandal the Church had up there several years ago.”

  “It’s highly unusual to try to handle the press this way. It may end up pissing them off and cause them to dig deeper, not go away.”

  “This case has scandal written all over it. Yeah, the press will be hard to fend off, consultant or not.”

  He folded his case file neatly, then tossed it on the corner of his desk. “Well, perhaps Mac found something useful for you.”

  But Tori found he hadn’t. Not really.

  “No fluids,” Mac said when she caught up with him at the crime lab. “But we’ve got epithelia from two sources in the master bedroom.”

  Tori raised her eyebrows. Tissue samples would help, but still circumstantial. “Bed?”

  “On the sheets.” He nodded. “One is a match for your dead priest. The other is unknown.”