The Last Amen

Home > Other > The Last Amen > Page 1
The Last Amen Page 1

by C. C. Jameson




  Also by C.C. Jameson

  Detective Kate Murphy Mystery

  The Last Amen

  Kate Murphy Mystery

  The Last Lies (Kate’s Story: A Police Procedural with a Dark Secret)

  The Last Hope: A Technothriller

  The Last Amen

  A Contemporary female detective crime thriller

  C.C. Jameson

  Contents

  The Last Amen

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Excerpt from The Last Hope

  To be continued...

  Thank You

  Author’s Notes

  About the Author

  Book Club

  The Last Amen

  When he acts in the name of God, his victims’ faith could be their demise.

  When a young woman is found dead on her bed, dressed in an old-fashioned nightgown with her hands clasped in a prayer position, Detective Kate Murphy is called to investigate her murder.

  Before Kate and her colleagues can find the killer, another woman is found dead in the same position. Other than being Catholic, having blonde hair, and living in Boston, the women have very little in common. But one thing is clear: the serial killer has some twisted religious beliefs.

  What is his motive? Who is he? And, most importantly, can Kate stop the murderer before he strikes again?

  If you like serial killer thrillers, adrenaline-pumping suspense, and nail-biting drama, then you’ll enjoy this page-turning mystery.

  Chapter One

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Sunday, June 3rd, 2018

  The pop of the cork echoed in the dining room as he opened the 2011 bottle of Terre Rouge Tête-à-Tête. If one type of alcohol made his life easier, it was red wine. It pleased his taste buds and suited his profession. The blood of Christ.

  Whether early priests had begun drinking it due to alcoholism, epicurism, or simple lack of clean drinking water was debatable, but one thing was certain: blends were better for his budget than expensive dry wines. And they offered the perfect cover for the first step of his cleansing process.

  She sat cross-legged at a proper distance from him, with her Sunday best on. Her manicured hands rested together on one of her knees, but he knew she hadn’t kept her distance from other men before… At least she had the decency to keep her filthy digits away from him.

  For a second, he reconsidered whether he should proceed with his plan.

  “Your parents have been out of town, you said. Are they back?” he asked, his eyes scanning the rest of the dining room decor, which was adorned with family photos. In the neatly tiled frames, she and her parents beamed in various settings: by the harbor, at graduation, at the beach. Her blonde hair ran in the family.

  When she started speaking, he returned his eyes to her. A hint of pink had reached her cheeks.

  “They’re away on a cruise. They’ve been gone for a week already, but they should be back in two weeks.”

  Her reply returned him to his senses. If he let her be, she’d only worsen her situation. She’d have too much time to continue sinning. If he waited any longer, she’d forever be damned and stuck in Hell, rotting with…

  He couldn’t even bring himself to think about her name anymore.

  A soul could only stand so much staining before the gates of paradise would forever seal shut, preventing trespassing by those who didn’t deserve entry.

  He moved the empty wine glasses closer, away from the pen and pad of paper she’d placed on the table minutes earlier.

  As he poured an inch of red liquid into the first glass, he spoke. “You said your parents had a special Bible they liked to read from, as a family. Could you please get it? I’d love to see it.”

  “Of course.” She grinned, got up from her chair, and headed into the adjacent living room, her footsteps fading away as she walked out of sight.

  He knew she could be back any second. A practicing family like hers had to have Bibles nearby at all times. After retrieving the tiny vial he’d hidden, his fingers swiftly dumped its contents into the empty glass. By the time the creaks of her footsteps got closer, he’d already poured wine over it, hiding his special ingredient.

  “Here it is,” she said, handing the worn-out, leather-bound book to him and beaming as though it was an Olympic medal she’d just earned.

  “Ah, the Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition. Is this one of the original printings?”

  She nodded. “Daddy says so. He’s had it since he was a child.”

  “Very nice. Please join me.” He indicated to the chair she’d previously occupied next to him.

  “You are so… fun.” She sat and grabbed her pen and paper. “You’re right. It will be much easier to work on the social calendar here, away from the screaming children waiting for their parents to be done socializing. And while drinking wine? You’re the coolest!”

  Such a lovely young woman, but so easily tempted.

  Her soul deserved to rest in peace. Unlike the one whose name he dared not think about anymore, he had time to save this young woman’s soul, if he acted now.

  “Shall I bless this wine before we get started?”

  Chapter Two

  Friday, June 15th, 2018

  Detective Kate Murphy stepped out of Detective Lieutenant Mark Fuller’s office, her heart pounding in her chest, her fists still clenched. She stood still in the middle of the vacant hallway for a second before finally stretching out her fingers. Her nails—while kept short compared to most women’s—had left deep, white grooves in her palms. But she hadn’t drawn blood, and—most importantly—she hadn’t lost her temper in front of both her partner and Fuller.

  At least no on
e was sitting right here in the hall to overhear all of that screaming, she thought, a detail that brightened her mood, however slightly.

  Concentrating on her breathing, she inhaled, counted to four, then exhaled slowly.

  Snap out of it, Kate!

  Then the muffled voices behind the door turned into deep, guttural laughter, and Detective Malvin Rosebud joined her in the hall a few minutes later. It seemed that, without Kate around, their conversation had lightened.

  “Walk with me, Murphy,” he said, tapping her on the shoulder.

  Kate shook her head but nonetheless caught up to her partner as he headed toward the lunchroom.

  “How did you get him out of his pissy mood?”

  “Trade secret.”

  “Come on! You know I work my ass off. I don’t deserve to be treated that way.”

  “Fuller’s old school. He likes his detectives burly and stubborn—”

  “Come on—”

  “Wait, before you call him a misogynist prick—which I could agree with—you qualify as both those things in his head.”

  “What?” Kate looked down at her body, suddenly worried that her fairly recent lack of running had morphed her athletic body into a blob.

  “If tiny burly existed, that is. You and I both know you’d kick my ass.”

  “Then why is he so fucking upset at me?”

  “The part that he didn’t say while you were in there—something I discovered a few hours ago myself—is the reason why he was away two days ago. Remember?”

  “Yeah, but what could that possibly have to do with my performance at work?”

  He headed toward the vending machine, shaking his head, his wallet in hand. “You missed the entire point of the conversation.”

  Kate avoided the sugar-laden treats and went directly for the coffee dispenser. She pressed the button and waited for her large serving of Colombian blend as Rosebud droned on.

  “He wasn’t giving you hell for not doing your job; he was upset at you for putting in too many hours.”

  “What does he care if I choose to spend my personal time on open cases? I’m helping make Boston safer.” She grabbed her drink out of the machine and dared to dip her lips into the boiling hot liquid. There was nothing like the lunchroom’s tar-like substance to jolt her out of her crappy mood. No other coffee she’d ever tasted had been quite as potent (and foul-tasting), and she went back to it once or twice daily, like a true addict.

  “The job will kill you if you don’t balance it out with happy things.”

  “Oh, please…” Kate stirred her coffee in an effort to cool it off a tad.

  “Murphy, I’m not joking. Fuller attended a funeral a few days ago. His old partner from back in the day. The man ate his gun.”

  “Oh…” Kate walked over to the garbage to toss her stick.

  “I reassured him. Told him I’d convince you to have a kid so you can have something to occupy your free time. That’s when he started laughing. He told me he’d be willing to bet on you never having a baby.” Rosebud tossed two snacks on one of the tables: a blueberry muffin and a packet of Skittles. “His comment was weird, but then I remembered your uncle’s murder case. He’d adopted you, right? Did you lose more than your parents back then?”

  Rosebud sat and stayed quiet, as though expecting Kate to answer. “Come on, Murphy! If we’re going to keep working together, you gotta tell me what could make your head spin. I can’t protect your back if I don’t know your weakness.”

  Kate leaned against the counter and looked at her partner, trying to gauge if she should or not. The last thing she wanted was for her own partner to think of her as the weakest link in their team. “What’s your Achilles’ heel?”

  “Look at me!” He leaned back on his chair, making his rounded gut stick out more than it normally did. “Sugar. Fat. Bad eating habits. But I know you’ve got my back. You can fucking outrun anyone I know. Not that I’ve had to run after many suspects since becoming a homicide detective, but that’s my number one weakness. Speaking of which, I should really make use of that stupid gym.” He ripped the top off his muffin and broke it in half before stuffing it in his mouth. His closed eyes and growing smile made it obvious he was enjoying his calorie-dense treat. But he reopened his eyes and his expression turned stern.

  “So, are you ever going to invite me to your house for drinks? Maybe I can talk your lab guy into picking you up early every evening from now on.”

  Kate rolled her eyes at him. “Please don’t.”

  “So, what’s your story?”

  “Like I told Fuller before. I promise it won’t affect my work. I’ll focus. I’ll set aside my emotions.”

  “Stop feeding me bullshit. I’m not Fuller. What is it?”

  “Okay,” she said before taking a seat in front of him. “I’ll give you the CliffsNotes, but I don’t want everyone in the department to know about it. It’s gotta stay between us. The last thing I need is some stupid prank played on me again.”

  “Deal.”

  Kate sat at the table and inhaled deeply, preparing herself to discuss a part of her past she preferred to keep hidden.

  When Kate unlocked the door and walked into Luke’s house, a delightful aroma of garlic and tomato reached her nostrils.

  “Luke? Mrs. O’Brien? I’m home.”

  “I’m in the kitchen, Kate,” Mrs. O’Brien yelled. “Luke’s not home yet.”

  Kate locked the door behind her, hung her jacket on the coatrack, and unlocked the safe in the back of the closet before securing her firearm for the night. Every time she pressed the buttons on it—their high-pitch beeps echoing through the entire house—her heart filled with gratitude for having Luke in her life. He was the one who’d insisted on having the safe installed right in his vestibule since his mother had wanted nothing to do with guns in their house.

  Mrs. O’Brien had already pushed aside her Irish Catholic values and reluctantly agreed to let Kate move in and share Luke’s bedroom (it was his house after all). Sure, the installation of a safe wasn’t a particularly romantic gesture, but that was Luke’s perfect solution to keep everyone happy and enjoy a secure home where they wouldn’t have to worry about intruders coming in to rob them… Or worse.

  She shook her head as though the movement could prevent her recent conversation with Rosebud from returning to the forefront of her mind, where it threatened to fill her eyes with tears. She was definitely going to have nightmares again tonight.

  And as she pressed one more button to lock the safe, the clink of a key through the lock made her turn her head just in time to see Luke come in.

  “Hey, baby!” She bridged the gap between them to wrap her arms around his tall frame. Their lips met for a brief kiss, interrupted by Mrs. O’Brien yelling from the kitchen.

  “Luke? Is that you?”

  He pulled away from Kate, rolled his eyes, then yelled back toward the kitchen. “Yes, Mom. Who else are you expecting?” He turned to Kate again and smiled. “I had a great idea at work today. After dinner, remind me to tell you about it, okay?”

  “Why don’t you tell me now?”

  He took off his jacket and added it to the other side of the coatrack. “Because I know you, Katie. And I know my mom. It will lead to a topic that isn’t suitable for dinner conversation.”

  “Ah!” Kate said, stealing another kiss from Luke. “Now I’ll just keep imagining all sorts of stuff.” She stood on her tippy-toes to whisper in his ears, “Or is it something you want to do to me? Or me to do to you?”

  She bit his earlobe before returning her heels to the floor, realizing she’d forgotten to take off her shoes, again.

  “Shoot! It’s like my mind doesn’t want to get with the program.” Kate took off her shoes and replaced them with a pair of Mrs. O’Brien’s hand-knitted slippers.

  “My mom is just trying her best to domesticate you. Careful, she may try to teach you how to knit them next.”

  “Argh! Don’t you dare suggest that to her. It�
��s bad enough I have to behave myself all the time because she lives with you, I don’t want to turn into a housewife!”

  “Are you complaining about my mom?” he asked, a twisted smile on his lips.

  Kate knew it was slippery territory, but she also understood the value of family. Especially since the only relatives she had left were distant cousins who lived in Ireland. “You know I love your mom. She’s fantastic. You’re lucky to still have her.”

  “Well, remember that thought for when we talk later,” he said, kissing her and heading toward the kitchen.

  Kate followed, grinning.

  What had she done to deserve him? Luke reappearing in her life a few years prior had been nothing short of miraculous. Well, save for the fact that she didn’t believe in miracles.

  “Mom, how was your day?” Luke asked before walking over to the chubby woman in the apron who was retrieving a dish from the oven.

 

‹ Prev