Justifiable

by Dianna Love

  “He was well liked at Philomena.” She might be committin’ the sin of procrastinating but this would be her only chance for answers. “How did he come by the cassock and oil?”

  “The tattered cassock he was wearing that night was not mine. Must have been stolen at another time. As for the oil, he probably took the key from your desk and opened mine and found where I hid the key to the chest.”

  Here was her opening to admit what she’d done but Monsignor continued, allowin’ her a few more minutes of reprieve.

  “I can tell myself that my .38 would have been just as accessible if I’d locked it up, but I was negligent in simply sticking the weapon on a high shelf in my closet.”

  She offered him what solace she could. “Children are never down here unsupervised, and we’ve never been robbed even when we operated in dangerous areas.”

  He waved that off with his hand. “Still my responsibility.”

  “I shudder to think how long he might have continued foolin’ everyone,” she murmured.

  “Unfortunately, the authorities suspect this isn’t the first time Baylor has adopted an identity. They believe he’s killed before. He was living in the halfway house that had stood on the slab where he’d hidden Enrique. A pyromaniac resident suspected of burning the building was found dead soon after the incident and they think Baylor may have killed him. He’d been beaten as a child by his father. The profiler said he had likely never measured up to his father’s expectations.”

  Margo wanted to feel sorry for Baylor, but that would take more prayin’ than she could handle right now with her world collapsing. “Baylor knew about Stan and Lucinda Myers. Lucinda spoke only to you in confession. How’d he find out so much on the victims?”

  “That’s the worst part, but at least everything Baylor heard died with him.” Monsignor rubbed his hands over his face and stood up, then walked to the window to look out. “When the police went through his office in the basement – ”

  “Yesterday?”

  “Yes.” Monsignor shifted around and leaned against the window frame, arms crossed. “The police found a camouflaged door to a room where he’d hidden notes and details on all the victims and their families. Baylor also used that area to listen to conversations held everywhere in this building. He was in the perfect position as handyman. He’d wired an audio transmitting system throughout the offices and the church. He could even tap into the system at different locations as well. Baylor was very bright and deeply disturbed.”

  Margo’s eyes strayed up to a vent cover on the wall above Monsignor’s head. “Could someone be hearin’ us now?”

  “Yes, if Baylor’s office was open, but I’m leaving it locked until the police finish processing evidence, then we’ll obviously have everything removed.”

  “We” had once included her, but she’d destroyed his faith in her. And she’d put off the moment long enough. Monsignor had always been there for her so Margo had to make this easy for him. “About what I did. I’ve proven I’m unworthy of your trust, so I’ll accept my penance and leave.”

  “Is that what you think your penance will be? To be relieved of duty?”

  Margo flashed a look at Monsignor before she could mask the hurt. What could possibly be worse? “I assumed as a minimum I’d be sent away.”

  “Then you’ll leave me in dire straits.”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” Could he be sayin’...

  “Father Ickerson will return, but not for another few weeks. He’ll be here for the pope’s visit, but he still needs to heal. Valdez thinks you raised Ickerson from the dead so he’s now willing to be your new intern until Ickerson is back.” Monsignor cocked his head to the side in that thoughtful look he struck when he wanted to impart some advice. “You committed no error in judgment. Your goal was honorable and your motivation pure. Sometimes we must risk much to do the right thing. I don’t believe you betrayed me, but supported me. I’ve made mistakes reaching this point in my life, but my father used to say you can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs. If you’re looking for forgiveness, you’ll have to discuss that with God, because I won’t fault you for your faith in me.”

  “Thank you.” And thank God. She wiped the tear that escaped down her cheek. “I promise to be the best chief of staff ever and won’t let you regret keepin’ me.” Thanks be to Mary, she was stayin’ and being given a second chance.

  Chapter 77

  His cell phone chimed, but Riley took his time reaching into his pocket for the electronic device that had turned his world inside out for over a week. “Walker here.”

  “Want to grab a beer and burger?” J. T. had been in touch over the last two days since finding Enrique and finishing up the investigation on Baylor, but not for anything social.

  “Can’t tonight. I’m on my way to the mayor’s reception for the business symposium.” Riley walked past a gilded ten-foot-tall mirror in the lobby of one of Philly’s more spectacular downtown hotels and paused long enough to decide he looked pretty damned good decked out in a suit and tie.

  “Ah, hell, that’s right. I forgot we sent extra men over on security for that. Never figured you for hanging around City Hall cronies.”

  “I don’t plan to stay long.” Riley eyed the subtle wall clock that showed quarter after seven and smiled. “Someone owes me a dinner.” Kirsten had agreed to a bona fide, no business meal if Riley got Dink to turn the lab work quickly and for free. He’d done both. She was supposed to arrive at this shindig by seven-thirty and he didn’t want to miss her.

  “That dinner’s not with a certain DA investigator, is it?”

  “If I told you, I might incriminate myself. Throw on a monkey suit and come on down if you want to scope out the ladies in the room. I’ll get you in.” At the elevator to the ballroom level, Riley stepped in along with another couple.

  J. T. laughed. “Nah, I don’t think so. I got a date with a few stiffs. Morgue must be running a special. Just got four bodies in over the last three hours from different areas.”

  “Oh?” The elevator rose carefully, so as not to disturb an eyelash on the elegant pair sharing Riley’s ride. “I can always use a good story.”

  “Don’t get excited. Sounds like someone jacked up some of the homeless. If there’s a story, you’re the only one interested. Catch you later.”

  Would there ever be an end to the killing? Riley could see how this great city came by its infamous nickname “Killadelphia,” but that didn’t reflect the heart and soul of Philly that Biddy had talked about. Biddy was right, too.

  This was a city a person could grow to love.

  Riley hung up and exited the elevator on a floor thick with money and prestige. He wove through clutches of Philadelphia’s elite dressed to the nines, mingling with glasses of champagne and mixed drinks. Inside the ballroom, tables decked out in black and white bore elegant centerpieces of candles and flowers. Philly’s notable citizens clustered near the cash bars that bookended linen-covered tables of food thirty feet long. More of the city’s glittery socialites meandered along an endless selection of hors d’oeuvres, fruit, exotic cheeses and a carved ice sculpture of City Hall with champagne pouring through a chute from the front entrance.

  He angled toward the bar boasting the fewest number of hovering patrons, a spot that also offered a decent vantage point for the whole room. He’d ordered a scotch on the rocks and turned around to find Stan Myers in a small group fifteen feet away.

  Stan noticed Riley at the same time and offered a polite smile to his associates then disengaged himself before walking over to extend his hand to Riley.

  When they shook, Riley asked, “How you doing?”

  Stan nodded the equivalent of a “not bad, not great” answer. His eyes were still haunted, but from what Riley had learned the man had good reason. His wife had mistakenly thought Stan had abused Kelsey, her daughter that he’d adopted when they married. When it all came out, Kelsey had been touched inappropriately by a man, but a temporary IT person at
her school had done the damage. Stan and his wife were both in counseling along with the little girl, who was now at a new school, some top dollar place Stan had found for her.

  Stan cleared his throat and lowered his business mask into place. “Wish you’d reconsider my offer.”

  “I appreciate it, but I’m happy where I’m at.” Riley couldn’t believe he’d said those words, but he and Biddy were back on at WNUZ. He wanted to show WNUZ how to build a successful station based on solid reporting. The board had met his and Biddy’s contract requirements, plus a bonus Riley negotiated so that Biddy and his wife could breathe easier.

  To tell the honest truth, now that Riley had been at both the top and the bottom of this business he wanted to take on an underdog to rebuild. WNUZ’s board wanted to see what he could do.

  “Just remember to call me if you ever change your mind.” Stan shook his hand again.

  “You may not still feel that way when we trounce you in the ratings next year.”

  Stan smiled. “Bring it on.” But he’d said that in the spirit of a fair challenge and walked away.

  Riley’s cell phone buzzed. He lifted it to find he had a text message and keyed the button. The brief message was from Baby G: Be here at 2 pm tomorrow. First game next week. A picture of the team in matching shirts and shorts and bright new mismatched shoes accompanied the message.

  Riley grinned, keyed a brief reply that he’d be there and stuck the phone back in his pocket.

  Several couples filled in the small gap of space between him and the food so Riley shifted over several feet until his gaze hit on DA Van Gogh. She wore a black cocktail dress like a second skin and obviously had to spend every day in the gym to maintain that zero-fat looking body.

  Van Gogh gave him one look, wrinkled her nose then turned to the mayor and two of his friends, and rewarded the trio with a brilliant smile.

  Geesh. Women.

  Riley listened to the crowd with half an ear. He’d spoken with Kirsten earlier to let her know the bullet from the body found in Boston when the monsignor and Cortese were there had not matched the ballistics on these killings. That cleared the powerful priest of any suspicions. Kirsten had thanked him in a breathless rush, saying she was on her way home to get dressed.

  A strip of neon red slashing diagonally through a midnight black dress stalled Riley’s gaze. There was Kirsten and, man, did she look like a million dollars he wanted to unwrap one dollar at a time. She smiled and the room faded away.

  He could stand for hours watching her walk toward him.

  When she reached him, he just drank in the vision of her wearing a dress that dared him to flirt with her. She smiled, probably because he was grinning like an idiot.

  “Hi, I – ” Her eyes slipped off him and to the right of his shoulder. Surprise flashed, darkening the green in her eyes. “What are you – ”

  Riley swung around to see who had caught her attention.

  A man who looked as though he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine photo shoot swept up to Kirsten. “Hi, babe.”

  Kirsten clearly knew this guy but her face was a picture of confusion.

  What the hell? Riley took in the guy who stood eye-level with him and wore a dark Italian suit. Custom job.

  The guy wrapped Kirsten in his arms. “Man, I’ve missed you.”

  Kirsten pulled back sounding breathless. “Landry.”

  Riley watched as though he’d stepped out of his body and observed from above. She was involved with this Landry guy?

  Riley couldn’t make sense of it, but his eyes didn’t lie.

  Landry beamed like the happiest guy on earth. He turned to Riley and stuck out his hand. “Sorry, but I haven’t seen my fiancé in too long.” He turned back to Kirsten who stared at Riley. Landry said, “Your dad called you, right? Told you he had a surprise.”

  Kirsten sputtered, “Yes, but – ”

  “Probably claimed credit, the old rascal.” Landry hugged Kirsten tight to him, lifting her up to her toes.

  Riley had envisioned doing that with her himself the whole time he’d dressed for this stupid party.

  When one of the food staff walked by with an empty tray, he deposited his glass on it.

  Landry finally put Kirsten back on her feet and grinned at Riley. “Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I’ve missed my girl.”

  Kirsten shook her head. “I need to talk to you, Riley.”

  “No apology needed, Landry.” Riley shoved a we’re-done-here look at Kirsten. “Have a nice time tonight, Investigator, and consider the lab invoice settled.”

  He left before his brain had to process any more unwanted images. Why hadn’t she told him she was engaged when he made the deal about dinner for the lab work?

  Riley paid the valet, climbed in his truck and yanked the tie off then sped over to the morgue.

  Might as well work on tomorrow’s story. No one reported homeless deaths.

  J. T.’s Explorer waited outside the morgue close to where Riley parked. He doubted staring at corpses would help him forget the look of Landry holding Kirsten, but maybe the beers he’d share with J. T. at the Race Street Café later would dull the memory. Maybe he’d even swing by Jasper’s place and take his dad a six-pack of beer and a pizza later. Now that Riley still had a job, he had a few things in mind that would make Jasper’s life a little easier.

  When Riley reached the morgue, he found J. T. frowning over a body covered from the waist down with a white sheet and stretched out on a rolling table. Four more bodies were laid out on double-stacked carts and another one alone on a table in the corner.

  “Thought you had hot plans,” J. T. said, looking up.

  “Nope. My date had a prior commitment.”

  J. T. studied him a minute then let it go, but muttered, “Kirsten’s not going to be too happy tomorrow.”

  “Why not?” And why the hell should I care? Riley needed to do a head adjustment about Kirsten real quick.

  “She’s been looking for a woman named Lucy for a while, some hooker a friend of hers is searching for.” J. T. nodded over his shoulder. “Found her.”

  Riley walked over to a gurney where two attendants were transferring an over-made-up woman who needed the cosmetics to a stainless steel table. She’d been a rough late twenties, maybe mid-thirtyish when she died. Short brown hair with black stripes and earrings all up one ear. The other ear looked like a dog had chewed it off.

  That probably hadn’t hurt as bad as getting her throat slit. “Damn.”

  J. T. moved around and stood next to Riley. “I’ve got bigger problems than a dead hooker.”

  Riley canted his head at J. T. “Thought this was a slow news night.”

  “Starting to wonder.” J. T. moved around as he spoke, studying each body. “My officers swept the area where all four of these bodies were found. The local homeless in each case said the victims were new to their area, just showed up a week ago. People living on the street are territorial so they know who’s from here and who’s not. And this last one? He doesn’t fit.”

  Riley pulled his gaze from the hooker and moved around to see what J. T. was talking about. “What doesn’t fit?”

  “This guy’s got expensive dental work.”

  When Riley leaned past J. T. to take a look, he did a double take. His stomach lurched. “That’s not a homeless man.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he’s won eighteen Emmys for award-winning reporting. Name’s Victor Sunderson. He goes undercover for months to get a story. Or he did.” Riley faced J. T. “But the kicker is that he doesn’t report here. He’s from Chicago. And he had enemies.”

  The End

  About the Authors

  Thank you for reading book one in our new Riley Walker series. We hope you enjoyed it and, if so, will post a review. Please visit our websites for information on book two. Wes and Dianna

  As a former award-winning journalist, NYT bestseller Wes Sarginson had a broadcasting career that spanned more th
an 33 years. He anchored for nine years in Tampa, Florida after having worked in Montgomery, Alabama then Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. When he settled in Atlanta, Georgia as co-anchor at another NBC affiliate, 11Alive News, Wes created the Wes Side Story that drew a loyal audience and has never been replicated since his recent retirement. In addition to publishing a NYT best selling nonfiction book on a famous bank robber, Wes has covered presidential campaigns, international events and has appeared in several movies. He will never run out of stories to tell, which is why he’s now co-writing the Riley Walker thriller series with NYT bestseller Dianna Love.

  http://www.WesSarginson.com

  New York Times bestseller Dianna Love once dangled over a hundred feet in the air to create unusual marketing projects for Fortune 500 companies. The first book she wrote won a RITA® Award and sold out in six weeks. She writes high-octane romantic thrillers, releasing three novels in the Slye Temp series during 2013. Dianna also co-authors an edgy thriller series on Riley Walker with NYT bestseller Wes Sarginson. When not in her writing cave spinning tales, Dianna tours the country on her BMW motorcycle, visiting readers and finding new story settings. She lives in the Atlanta, GA area with her husband, who is a long-distance motorcycle rider and safety instructor, and their tank full of unruly saltwater critters.

  http://www.AuthorDiannaLove.com

  ~ Next is a sneak peek at one of Dianna’s

  romantic thrillers ~

  LAST CHANCE TO RUN

  Chapter 1

  Lightning crackled nearby. Close, but not close enough.

  Escape tonight or ... there was no second option.

  “Come on, God, please.” Angel whispered the desperate prayer for the hundredth time since midnight. But lights still burned through Mason Lorde’s opulent compound where she’d been imprisoned for the last ten days.