Sara Caine had dropped off Caitlyn Rogers and Sam right after bringing Father Luken back to the parish and, when she got herself home, it was well past five in the morning and the day was already starting. She was too wired to even think of sleeping and instead decided to make coffee. She worried their story was too farfetched for the cops to believe and wished they had decided on the anonymous phone call. It wouldn't have been a foolproof plan either though.
They would have to use gloves not to leave prints and wearing gloves would look weird in Los Angeles. Not to mention, the only payphones she knew of were on the stretch of Santa Monica Boulevard where the transvestites setup shop after midnight.
Surely, someone would have seen them. Then they'd be found out anyway, she reasoned. Father Luken took all the risk onto himself by calling the police with the story they'd concocted. Who wouldn't believe a priest, she thought and then remembered all the child abuse scandals that rocked the church in the last year and realized the church's reputation wasn't what it once was. She made herself a cup of coffee and was about to turn on the TV when the phone rang.
A chill ran through her when she saw Father Luken's number in the window. Dread filled her.
"Father Luken, what's wrong? What happened?" she said. She listened for a moment and then nodded. "Of course, I'll go there right away...Hollywood Division, I'm sure I can find it," she said and hung up, frowning. This wasn't good. It wasn't good at all.
* * *
Sara banged on the door of the rectory for about five minutes before Betty, Father Luken's housekeeper, answered the door in her housecoat.
"I'm so sorry that I woke you up. Father Luken is in trouble and asked me to come here," Sara said and Betty shooed her inside.
"What's he done this time? Call me Betty, everyone does. You must be Sara Caine?" she inquired.
Sara nodded.
"He's talked about you before," she added and Sara smiled at that.
"From what I can make out, he's been arrested or is under arrest for something he definitely didn't do and needs us to check his records for the time around January 13, 1995," Sara said.
"He's always kept good records and I've been with him since 1993. Do you want some tea?" she inquired as she bustled to Father Luken's study.
"Thank you, I'm fine. I just gulped down two cups of coffee on my way over here and am nicely buzzing." When Betty gave her an inquiring look, Sara turned away. "I've been up all night and figured I'd need to have all my faculties for this task."
"So you're involved in this as well then." Betty didn't miss a thing, Sara thought.
"Something like that," Sara mumbled. They entered his study, and Betty headed over to the filing cabinets.
"If I remember correctly, the files for the years between 1993-1995 are in the lowermost drawer."
Sara plunked herself down in front of it and opened it up. Sure enough, folders marked with the month and year spanning June 1993 to December 1995 filled the file drawer. Sara plucked out folders for December 1994, January 1995, and February 1995, and opened the January folder first since that was when Jimmy was killed. Sure enough, she found receipts for various restaurants, taxis, planes, and trains in Rome, Venice, and Milan. Johan had been in Italy all January. When she checked December, she found him in Germany and in France all of February. She sighed in relief.
"I think he'll be just fine," Sara remarked as she waved the files at Betty. "He has an alibi," she said. Her smile faded when she saw the look on Betty's face. "What's wrong?"
"He might be fine with the LAPD but he most certainly won't be fine with the Archdiocese. He is on probation. If what you say is true and he's mixed up in some murder or, even worse, arrested for it." She clucked and shook her head. "His time as a priest is over. I don't think he can survive this one."
"I didn't know he was in trouble," Sara said and bit her lip, remembering what Father Luken had told her. The way he had spoken about it, she had assumed it was his own decision, not that he was getting kicked out of the priesthood. Her face paled. "He hasn't been mixed up with...kids." Her face reddened at thinking such a horrible thought.
Betty waved off her fear. "Never that. Johan Luken is a good man and a damn fine priest. But his insistence on the existence of demons and the need for training in exorcisms has made him a pariah in the church. He never backs down from a fight, as you well know, and he's pushed the wrong people. He will be out for sure." She sighed heavily at that. "Such a loss to this parish."
"I had no idea," Sara said.
Betty clucked and got up. "You need to get him out of jail first and clear his name. We can only hope for the best in this situation," she said and gave Sara a quick hug. "You will drive carefully, won't you?"
Sara nodded, clutching the files to her chest.
14
Interrogation
Father Johan Luken shifted in one of the most uncomfortable chairs he'd had the displeasure to sit in, and took a sip of the metallic tasting water that Detective Gomez brought him over an hour ago. That was also the last time he'd seen her. Having watched documentaries on interrogation techniques, he understood that she was using anticipation and endless waiting to stress him enough to talk. He knew he was their main suspect.
He checked the time and hoped that Sara had found his alibi. He closed his eyes and took a deep ragged breath. He was jumpy as hell and very nervous. The interrogation technique worked.
The door finally opened, and Detective Gomez came in with a file. She sat down across from him and pressed a button.
"Detective Jennifer Gomez entered room at 9:15 am, September 25, 2000 to question Father Johan Luken on the death of James Martin Morris." She looked up at him. "Are you ready to proceed Father Luken?"
"Yes," Johan said.
"You called at three thirty this morning to report the body of James Morris. Why did you call me specifically?"
"I knew you were a parishioner at St. Mary's on Beverly Boulevard here in Los Angeles. I didn't know who else to call."
"You reported finding the victim's body in a suitcase?" Detective Gomez's tone turned friendlier. Johan wondered if the bad cop would come in and give him a thrashing.
"That's correct," was all he said.
"How did you come across this information?"
"Like I told you, I took the confession of one of my other parishioners who wanted to unburden themselves of an incident they witnessed in January of 1995. Specifically the murder and subsequent disposal of James Morris' body."
"What is the parishioner's name?" Detective Gomez asked.
"I can't divulge that information because of the sanctity of the confessional. I shouldn't have called in the body in the first place, but I felt the family needed to know what happened to the poor man."
"Have you ever thought that this parishioner was responsible for the murder," Detective Gomez asked without looking up.
"That's not possible," Johan said.
"Why not, Father?"
"The parishioner was a youth at the time and would not have had the ability to commit such a crime," Johan improvised and hoped he hadn't made another grave mistake. Detective Gomez scrutinized him for a minute before she started with the next question.
"How did this youth then follow the guilty parties to the site of the burial?"
She had caught him. Damn, Johan thought. He should have stuck with the original story.
"I have no idea, Detective Gomez. The information I have told you is what I, myself, have been told."
"You do understand the problem we are having with this story, don't you? Without being able to question your witness we aren't getting a clear first hand narrative of the events in question." Detective Gomez shook her head in disappointment, "You're making our job very difficult by not giving us their name."
"You're a practicing Catholic, Detective Gomez. You understand the sanctity of the confessional," he said and watched as she grimaced.
"But you've already broken the confessional, Father Luken."
"What about this theory." She paused. "You committed the murder and had a stroke of conscience. Or someone was onto you about where you hid the body, and you came up with this cockamamie story to get yourself out of a bind."
"No offense, Detective, but you don't have any proof of that. I didn't kill this man. I didn't know him. But, I do think it's the right thing to do to bring his killer to justice. I broke the confessional to bring this to you. That's on me. But finding this man's killer, that's your job. I'm not your guy. Have you checked the angle on the lottery ticket? Did his family declare him missing? Surely, the dates I gave you match up?"
"We only found the body hours ago, Father Luken, and you are our only suspect."
"Why am I your suspect? Because I showed you where the body was? That's too convenient. You also don't have any evidence to hold me. Are you going to charge me?" he asked. He'd had enough. He was pretty sure he wasn't in the country when this man was killed, and his passport would surely prove that. "Is it time for me to ask for a lawyer?"
"Are you asking for a lawyer?" Detective Gomez sat motionlessly across from him.
"I have nothing more to say. I want to go home. It's been an incredibly long night. If you plan on keeping me here any longer, then yes I want a lawyer," he said and leaned back, hoping she wouldn't call his bluff.
"Your car has been impounded. You can go pick it up at this address," Detective Gomez said and slid a card across the table to him. Figures, he thought. They couldn't get him for murder, but they'd get five hundred dollars out of him anyway.
"I thought you said that the Officer would drive my car here. I could have driven it myself. I wasn't going to run. I'm a priest, for chrissakes," he said. Detective Gomez merely shrugged.
"Interview ending at 9:45 am. Detective Gomez conducting interview with Father Johan Luken." She pressed the button again and got up.
"You're free to go, Father Luken, but please don't leave town. I'm sure we will need to speak with you again."
Johan nodded and got up, every muscle in his body screaming in pain. He left the room without saying another word. As he stepped out of the precinct, he saw Sara pull up and grab the files he had asked her to bring. He fought the urge to hug her on the spot.
"Did you find them?" he asked as she got out of the car, files in hand.
"I did, and I made photocopies of them so we can leave them for the cops. I'm sure they will want to do their due diligence, and I didn't want to give them the originals. These are the copies," she said and handed him the three manila folders.
"Wait right here. I'm going to bring these to the Detective," he said and ran back inside the precinct. Triumphant, he skipped up to the desk sergeant on duty.
"I need to speak with Detective Jennifer Gomez. I just left her," he said. The officer dialed and turned away from him so Johan couldn't hear what was said. He turned back soon after with a curt nod.
"She'll be up here in a second," he said and turned back to the file he was reading. The waiting area provided no seats and Johan paced back and forth until he heard the inner door open.
Detective Gomez stepped out, "You ready to give me a name?" she asked, no friendliness in her voice. Johan handed her the manila folders. "What are these?"
"Proof I wasn't in the country for the months of December 1994, January 1995, and February 1995. These are photocopies of my travel itineraries, flights, train receipts. I'm sure you can check with the passport office to see I was nowhere near Los Angeles when this murder happened." They stood staring at each other in a stare off until Detective Gomez broke away.
"We will verify these," she said.
"Please do. I'm not your man, and I want to help in any way I can," he said and when he saw her eyebrow shoot up, he amended his statement. "Except for the name. I can't do that."
"Don't leave town, Father Luken," she said her tone a bit warmer.
"I won't. Thank you, Detective Gomez." He had no idea why he was thanking her, but couldn't think of another way to finish the conversation. He left her standing there and got out of there fast. His body didn't relax until he got into the car, and Sara pulled away from the curb.
"That was a big mistake," he said.
"No kidding. I can't believe they thought it was you," she said.
"Have you had breakfast?"
"Just coffee, I'm pretty up right now," Sara said and Johan noticed her hands shaking on the steering wheel.
"Wanna get breakfast? My nerves are shot as well and there's no way I will get to sleep. Food sounds perfect.
"I know just the place," Sara said and turned right onto Sunset Boulevard.
* * *
Sara finished the last of her omelet and turned her face to catch the warm, morning light. The eggs helped temper her jitters, and she almost felt at peace. She glanced over to Father Luken and saw his face was upturned to the sun as well. Women must throw themselves at him when he wasn't in his priest getup. High cheekbones, those electric blue eyes, his dark coloring, and his surfer's body, long and lean with wide shoulders, made him stunning to look at. He turned back to her and smiled.
"The sun feels amazing, doesn't it? It's like all the darkness got pushed out of the way, and the warmth and light took over," he said.
"That's very poetic of you, Father Luken," she said and had the sudden urge to ask him about what Betty had shared with her this morning. She plunged ahead, her heart thumping in her chest.
"Father, I don't mean to pry but when I went to the rectory to get your files, Betty mentioned that your troubles wouldn't end with the police." They sat in silence, and Sara worried she overstepped her bounds.
"She told you that, did she?"
"Yea. I don't mean to get her in trouble, I think she was just worried about you," she said. Way to ruin a perfect moment, Sara, she thought.
"Betty is a worrier, that's true, but I'm more worried about her. I hope she'll land on her feet and not have the stigma of having a boss like me cause her problems finding new employment."
"What do you mean?" Sara asked as her heart skipped a beat.
"I'm leaving the Church. I decided that today as I waited for Detective Gomez to interrogate me. Betty was right to be worried about me. There are people that I've seriously pissed off in the church, and they are just going to use this against me. Maybe that's why I went in with such a seriously flawed plan. I wanted some way out, and Detective Gomez handed it to me." He sighed and closed his eyes. "It's hard to be brave when you turn your back on something you've worked so hard at. But it's time for me to go. I'm no longer a priest. I haven't had the Faith for a while now but couldn't admit it to myself. I realized what kind of hypocrite I was when I was urging you to follow your destiny while ignoring mine."
He would not be a priest anymore, Sara thought and wanted to shout it out in glee.
"What's your destiny?" she managed to get out without too much joy in her voice. He turned his face back to the sun.
"To find and destroy Luther," he said so quietly that Sara had to lean in to hear him over the traffic around them.
"Who's Luther?" Sara asked as the light dimmed, the sun obscured by a cloud.
15
The Arrest
Caitlyn Rogers felt like the luckiest mom in Los Angeles. Ever since Sam had led them to Jimmy's body, he'd reverted to being a sweet, young boy who slept through the night with a smile on his face. The nightmares had disappeared, and he hadn't had a seizure in four weeks. She only caught that adult intelligence in his eyes twice over the weeks, and it seemed as if Jimmy had faded into the background leaving a curious, intelligent six-year-old child.
Cait pinched herself every morning, not fully believing the changes in their lives. Her coworkers at the Emergency Clinic had noticed as well and remarked daily on her cheery mood. Sandra Morris, however, had taken on a haunte
d look and barely spoken with anyone.
Cait had read the article in the LA Times about the body in the suitcase found in Griffith Park and she imagined Sandra waiting for the police to come for her. Today appeared to be the day, she thought as a man and woman walked into the clinic, LAPD badges at their waists.
"Good morning, welcome to Lincoln Emergency Care clinic, may I help you?" Cait said in her new sing song voice.
"We're with the LAPD. Does a Sandra Morris work here?" the woman detective asked as she flashed her badge at Cait.
"Yes, she does. Let me call her up for you," she said and dialed the intercom.
"Sandra Morris, please come to reception. Sandra Morris to reception," her voice announced over the intercom. Sandra appeared in the hallway almost immediately and when she saw the two detectives, paled to the color of the wall behind her.
"I'm Sandra Morris, can I help you." She directed her attention to the male detective but the woman was not having any of that. She stepped up to her.
"Sandra Morris, you are under arrest for the murder of James Martin Morris." She took the handcuffs out and placed them on her wrists as Sandra began to shake. "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say may be used against you in..." The two detectives led a crying Sandra out of the clinic and Cait sighed in relief.
They had done it. They found Jimmy's killer, and Father Luken had managed to keep her and Sam out of it. She had no idea how he'd managed that feat, but she would be eternally grateful to him and Sara Caine. She picked up the phone and dialed the number to the rectory.
"Hello, St. Mary's Rectory," a woman's voice answered. It had to be Father Luken's housekeeper Betty.
"May I please speak with Father Luken? This is Mrs. Rogers."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Rogers but Father Luken is no longer with the parish."
"He isn't?" Cait asked in surprise.
"No, he's no longer a priest, Ma'am. You're the mom with the little boy, Sam, aren't you?" Betty asked.
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