The Last Amen

by C. C. Jameson

  “And?” Kate asked.

  Rosebud shrugged. “That’s it. That’s all it says.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Kate said. “Who does that? No decent human being would take a photo of someone they love right after finding them dead. They’d call for an ambulance, they’d call the police. They wouldn’t take a photo—”

  “Hold on. Do you remember when we were talking with Father Coffedy, and he said something about Candidate Anderson taking a year off for something personal? The death of his sister adds up, right? If I were in his shoes, losing my only sibling could mess me up a tad. Enough to want to put my seminary studies on hold.”

  “So, receiving that photo, learning of his sister’s suicide, made him flip a switch in his mind? He kind of went crazy?”

  “Don’t know about going crazy. The childhood neighbor did say he was always a bit odd. Perhaps he couldn’t hold it in anymore after that.”

  “But why did the boyfriend send the photo to her brother?” Suddenly, without thinking, Kate’s gloved hand reached for her partner’s forearm. “Rosebud, I get it!”

  He turned to face her, then looked down at his arm. She peeled her fingers off of it. “It’s not ‘Trixie’ I heard on that anonymous call. It was ‘Pixie!’ The sister’s not dead! This was all staged.” She waved the photo as though it was a poor man’s fan. “The boyfriend took that photo and mailed it off to her brother so they could get rid of his judgmental crap. Fucker! But now we’ve got all the evidence and motive we need to lock him up for life. Lori, Jessica, Mariana, and that teacher. That’s four murders to his name. I need to call Fuller and get an update on whether he’s been found anywhere. Maybe Chainey or Wang found and arrested him at one of the churches.”

  Kate pulled her phone out of her pocket and noticed a missed call and a voicemail. She ignored it for now. They could wait. She had to wrap this case up. They were so close to their finish line.

  While Kate waited for Fuller to pick up, Rosebud moved his attention to the newspaper clippings. He moved closer, as though trying to read the caption below the newspaper photo. “Shit! Murphy, you’re not going to like this.”

  “What?”

  “He’s gotten personal.” He handed her the clipping. The caption read, Detective Kate Murphy is leading up the serial killer case, and Murphy’s name had been underlined.

  Kate’s chest tightened, her heartbeat increased. Ever since she joined the force, she’d become aware of the risks associated with the job. But this here was different. It had gotten personal indeed. While she was fairly confident in her ability to defend herself, she wasn’t sure if she’d just endangered those she loved. Would Luke be in danger? Or Mrs. O’Brien?

  Fuller finally picked up, just as she realized something bad could be happening to either of them right now.

  “Better have some good news for me, Murphy.”

  “Rosebud will call you right back.”

  Hanging up on her boss like that wasn’t the smartest move, but Kate didn’t care. Her boyfriend’s and his mother’s lives could be on the line. Rosebud nodded and took out his phone while she reached for her radio to request that squads immediately head to her house. But no matter how many times she pressed the button and turned it off and then on, her radio wasn’t coming back to life. She’d checked it earlier. Technical failure at the worst of times.

  “We’re heading to my place,” Kate ordered. “Explain it to Fuller as I drive. Fuck, I need to call them.”

  She dialed Luke’s number and waited but the rings went unanswered. Five. Six. Seven. “Fuck!” She ended the call then tapped her screen to listen to Luke’s voicemail. It came in nearly thirty minutes ago.

  “Hi, Katie. Hope you’re making progress with the case. Just calling to say I love you. Oh, and heads-up. I just called Mom and that wannabe priest guy just showed up unannounced. Knowing my mom, she’ll likely invite him to stay for dinner. Better get ready for some serious pre-meal blessing. Love you!”

  “Fuck!” Kate yelled once more, this time anger making her want to toss her phone away, but she resisted the urge. “He’s at my place!”

  “Who?” Rosebud asked, moving his phone away from his mouth for a second.

  “Anderson is at my place right now. Let’s go!”

  Rosebud nodded.

  As horrible scenarios flooded Kate’s mind, she heard bits and pieces of what Rosebud was relaying to Fuller. “He’s got an altar with pics of the victims. And Murphy. All signs point to her being his next target. We’re heading there. Yep. We’re just minutes away.”

  Kate turned to Rosebud, who lagged behind her on the stairs. “Radio in for a couple of squads, but no lights, no sirens. We don’t want to alert the killer.”

  She overheard him relay her request, then she dashed toward her car. She had to get there in time. She just had to.

  “Rosebud! Hurry the fuck up!” she yelled as she opened the driver’s door. She started the engine, watching her chubby partner do his best to reach the car. “Finally!” she said as he sat down.

  Kate hit the gas before he even had time to close the door. “Keep redialing Luke’s number and put it on speakerphone,” she ordered, tossing her phone at him.

  As she sped her way past the few intersections that separated her from Luke’s home, the cabin of the car made her feel claustrophobic. With each unanswered ring that echoed out of her device, the air became more and more infused with her biggest fear.

  “Hang up,” she said.

  Was she too late already?

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  “Mom, I’m home!” Luke closed the front door. Something smelled good, as usual. Onion with a hint of garlic, poultry, gravy… Turkey?

  He took off his shoes, noting the extra pair. The priesthood candidate was still here. Good thing he had warned Kate. She was so going to dislike dinner tonight if he stuck around.

  Oh shit. Turkey. I wonder if she will be okay with it now… Considering…

  But at least it would be tasty, that he was sure of.

  He and Kate could always eat out if turkey was a no-go. He’d deal with the wrath of his mom later. Nah. She’d understand.

  Luke walked into the living room and spotted his mom lying on the couch, seemingly sleeping. “Mom?” With a few long strides, he crossed the room and knelt next to her, shaking her shoulder. Something was off.

  Why would she nap with company over? Her body was warm. Bringing his index and middle finger to her neck, he felt for a pulse. It was present but weak.

  Where was that priest dude? Had he gone out for help?

  Luke knew he had to call an ambulance. Digging into his pant pocket, he retrieved his phone and dialed 9-1, but the device started ringing before he could press the last 1.

  Caller ID read Kate.

  He was about to swipe and answer when something smashed against the back of his head.

  Darkness enveloped him as the ringtone faded away.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Rosebud and Kate arrived at the scene at the same time as a patrol car parked a few houses down. Kate exited the vehicle and darted to meet the two officers that had just gotten out of theirs. Digging into her jacket’s inner pocket, she pulled out the sketch that Rosebud had shared with her.

  “That’s our suspect.” She pointed to her house. “That’s my home. My boyfriend and his mom are possibly inside with him. I’m going in the front, as though I was just coming home. Rosebud”—she turned to see him arrive, out of breath—“there’s an entrance around the back. I’ll disarm the alarm on the backdoor. Depending on where he is, I may not be able to unlock the backdoor without him seeing me, but there’s a spare key hidden in the bucket that holds the clothespins.” She turned to the patrol officers. “You’ll follow me through the front door. I don’t expect him to be armed. He uses an unknown drug or poison on his victims. If there’s an antidote, he’s the only one who knows, so do not kill him. Getting him to talk may be the only way to save the other people in the h
ouse.”

  The other people. The ones I care most about in the whole world.

  “And let’s stay silent to keep the element of surprise,” Kate added.

  Inhaling deeply, Kate motioned for Rosebud to head around the back of the house, and she climbed up the front stairs, the two officers in tow, her heart threatening to burst in her chest. She couldn’t lose them. Not Luke or his mom. No. She simply couldn’t let that happen.

  She unlocked the front door, drew her weapon, and stepped into the home, doing her best to push aside the dread. Something really nice reached her nostrils. Mrs. O’Brien had once again cooked them a feast. Here was hoping everyone would live to enjoy it. She had to act swiftly.

  The clutter of shoes at her feet included an unknown pair. Black. Men’s shoes that weren’t Luke’s. The killer was still here. All Kate could do was hope he hadn’t taken action yet. And keep her shoes on, ready to outrun the guy or kick him where it hurt.

  “Luke? Mrs. O’Brien?” she called out, pretending to act normally, but she didn’t lock the door. She motioned for the officers to head upstairs.

  Beeps echoed in the entrance hall as she turned off the alarm they kept activated on the backdoor.

  Nobody had replied to her greeting. While expected, it didn’t make the dread any easier to take. How bad was it? The killer couldn’t have already…

  She didn’t dare finish her thought.

  The officers upstairs had two bedrooms and two bathrooms to clear so Kate left the entrance hall and entered the living room, checking everything around her.

  Nobody was here.

  She continued advancing through the room, checking Luke’s office door as she passed it. It had been left open.

  Clear.

  That left the kitchen and the downstairs’ half bath. She could continue moving across the room and reach the kitchen that way, or she could backtrack to the entrance, go down the hall, check the half-bath and then enter the kitchen from the back, next to the backdoor entrance. There was no way for her to unlock that backdoor without being seen by the killer if he was in the kitchen.

  She still didn’t know if the killer acted alone. Rosebud would eventually find his way in, even though the key was hard to find among the clothespins. Plus the other officers would join her downstairs if they hadn’t found him or an unknown accomplice upstairs. They would check that half-bath.

  So, with a deep inhalation, she stepped forward and turned to face the opening to their kitchen and dining room.

  But as she peeked into the kitchen, her fears became real.

  Mrs. O’Brien and Luke had both been tied to kitchen chairs, their limp bodies held up with duct tape. On the table in front of them rested a turkey, a carving knife next to it.

  Luke’s head was tilted backward, and so was his mom’s. Kate had to blink for a second as flashes from her parents’ kitchen came back. Between blinks, she saw blood on the walls. The turkey. The knife. The duct tape. Everything reminded her of that fateful day. The multiple knife wounds her parents had suffered in their sudden demise. Twenty-three years suddenly disappeared, merging with her present.

  But she blinked her hallucinations away as her heart boomed in her chest. Her current reality didn’t show any evidence of blood. At least not yet.

  Between Luke and Mrs. O’Brien stood Anderson, a wide grin on his face.

  “And our third sinner finally joins us,” he said.

  Both of his arms were extended in a way that reminded Kate of the preaching position. Elbows lowered but hands up and facing away from his body. The troublesome part was what he held in each of his hands.

  Two vials—their lids gone—hovered threateningly just above Luke and Mrs. O’Brien’s gaping mouths.

  “Put those vials away,” Kate said, her gun aimed at him.

  “I won’t.”

  Kate’s instincts and training told her to end the threat, to shoot for the center of the target, but she refrained from firing. While she wasn’t worried about her marksmanship, she didn’t want to risk having those vials spill their contents into her loved ones’ mouths as Anderson fell to the ground. Not knowing what he had in those vials changed everything. Would an ambulance get here in time? Would the doctors even know how to counteract whatever the vials contained?

  “What did you do to them?” she asked, doing her best to notice any movement with Luke’s and Mrs. O’Brien’s chests.

  “Gun down, then we’ll talk.”

  Kate didn’t obey; she changed topics instead. “So, no broken arm?”

  He squinted and frowned. “I broke it years ago. I kept the cast as a souvenir. Came in handy these past few weeks.”

  Her weapon still aimed squarely at him, Kate glanced at the table once more. Beside the damn turkey lay the pieces of his discarded cast. Each half showed a straight edge, where a saw had been used to cut the cast, then two smaller latches had been added. A tiny part of her admired his ingenuity. With the brace holding the cast in place over his shoulder, none of that had been visible. The X-rays he’d so proudly shown to Rosebud had probably been old ones, of which he’d taken new photos, so they’d appear in his recent timeline.

  “Gun down, Detective,” he repeated.

  Kate knew she wasn’t in any imminent physical danger herself, but she feared for what he’d already given Luke and Mrs. O’Brien. She needed to learn more about the drug or poison he used.

  “Not until you prove to me that they are both still alive.”

  “They’re alive. Not for long, but for now.” An evil smile grew on his lips.

  “What did you do to them?”

  “I gave her some of my cleansing medicine. He came in a little too soon, so I had to hit him on the head.”

  Although Kate couldn’t be sure, she figured he’d brought three vials, one for each of them. “Why are you doing this?”

  “In general or this here?” he asked.

  Anderson was testing her patience. Her finger feeling the trigger, she hoped he’d move his vials just a bit so she could shoot him.

  “Here,” Kate said. “Lori. Jessica. Mariana. All of it!”

  “This, here, is for you. You are misrepresenting my work. You need to learn my real purpose. To understand it. If you won’t lower your gun, then please join me for a toast.”

  The arrogance in the man’s voice made his distorted sense of grandeur palpable.

  She had to get Anderson to move those vials. She couldn’t believe he was still holding them. His elbows being bent probably made it a less strenuous a posture to maintain than if his arms had been held out straight.

  “But why Lori? Why Jessica? Mariana?”

  “All sinners. I know firsthand what happens when corruption and sin enter a person’s soul. It’s a slippery slope that ends nowhere but Hell.”

  “Was it why you also targeted Amanda? What was her sin?”

  He flinched at the mention of her name.

  “What had she done that was so bad?”

  He shook his head and something unsettling and deeply unnerving shone in his eyes. “I am simply a servant of the Lord saving fragile souls before it’s too late. They start off with the sin of the flesh, then drugs and alcohol, then…”

  “Then suicide? Like Penelope?”

  One of his eyebrows rose. “What? How do you know about her?”

  “That’s my job. You think your sister, Penelope, or Pixie, is rotting in Hell?”

  His voice descended nearly an octave as rage flashed in his eyes. “She is, unfortunately. That is what happens when people commit suicide. I’m her twin. I know. I can feel the flicker of the burning flames against my skin when I think of her. I’ve seen where her despair took her, and I want to save other souls before they reach that point.”

  “Because suicide is bad, and the worst possible thing anyone could ever do?”

  “Yes!”

  “Worse than murder?”

  His crazed eyes looked up. “The Lord has been speaking to me.” His hands—and the dan
gerous vials he’d been holding—reached toward the ceiling, so Kate took her opportunity.

  She fired a single shot. His body fell backward and the vials he’d been holding crashed onto the tiled floor.

  Kate walked toward the man, still aiming her gun at him. His face contorted as his hands reached toward his shoulder. Blood seeped from the wound she’d inflicted, rapidly staining the area around his left collarbone.

  Rosebud and the other two officers joined her in the kitchen and she heard other people rushing into her home, shouting their BPD identity as they stormed in.

  Kate met Anderson’s eyes and shook her head at the deranged man lying at her feet. “The Lord—”

  “Don’t you dare speak his name in vain,” he said, his voice tainted with agony. “You ingraaaate!”

  One of the patrol officers got to the floor and began attending to Anderson’s wounds now that he was no longer a threat to others.

  Radios crackled around her as Rosebud reported the situation to Fuller who had nearly arrived at the scene. The other officer radioed for medical assistance.

  Kate turned her attention to Luke and his mom. Kate checked Luke’s pulse first, then his head. A bump was already growing. He could have a concussion.

  She checked Mrs. O’Brien next. Her pulse was weak, but present.

  She allowed relief to wash over her. They’d soon be in good hands. The threat to her family was gone. She looked at Anderson again as the officer continued applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding.

  “Just so you know, your sister isn’t rotting in Hell,” Kate told Anderson. “She’s in California. Maybe those L.A. sun rays hitting her skin are the flickering flames you’ve been feeling.”

  “No!” he winced. “Impossible. The photo—"

  “Enough of this. Anderson Carson,” Kate announced with a booming voice, “you’re under arrest for the murders of Eliah Thompson, Lori Davis, Jessica Stephenson, Mariana Gomez Alvarez, and attempted murders of Amanda McCutcheon, Luke O’Brien, and Mrs.—” Kate corrected herself upon hearing her words aloud, “and Marjorie O’Brien.”