Rake: Wolfes of Manhattan Four

by HELEN HARDT

  Once this murder was solved, he and I would never cross paths again.

  I kept to myself, despite having four roommates. I was closer to Mo than the other two, but though Mo shared some deep stuff with me, I’d never reciprocated. I was happy to be there for her, but I never felt the need to divulge anything.

  I didn’t have a lot to share, other than my story, and until now, I’d never shared that with anyone. Not even my therapist. She didn’t know the whole truth.

  I needed to share now, though, and with someone other than this detective.

  I wanted to vent.

  To explode.

  But who could I trust?

  When I was younger, I talked to a pastor sometimes. My mother and I weren’t overly religious, and after my first communion at St. Andrew’s in Manhattan we never went to that parish again. I went to a protestant church with a neighbor every now and then and talked to the pastor there. He used to say the Lord’s Prayer with me. I got into the habit of saying it nightly, until I prayed it that fateful day…and then stopped praying altogether.

  A pastor would be trustworthy. A pastor should be trustworthy.

  But one of my hunters had been a priest. A priest who mocked his collar by wearing it while tormenting another human being.

  The priest who gave an innocent little girl her first communion, and ten years later, hunted her.

  Nope. No pastor or priest.

  Unless…

  St. Andrew’s. I was stronger now. I grabbed my phone and did a search.

  Father James Wilkins. St. Andrew’s. I had a credit card with a small line. I could take a cab…

  I could confront my demons.

  Once and for all.

  I dressed quickly. Now what? Reid had my number. He’d call when they needed me, and I’d come back. After all, I hadn’t told him I wouldn’t leave the building.

  It was time.

  Time to take back my life in more ways than one.

  32

  Reid

  I sat in my office while Hank Morgan questioned Rock. I was next, but in the meantime, I wanted to check in with my man on the inside.

  I looked up when someone knocked on the door.

  “Yeah. Come on in.”

  A young man entered.

  “Speak of the devil,” I said. “I was just going to call you. Have a seat.”

  Leif Ramsey, a former Navy SEAL who’d been discharged due to a hip injury in the line of duty, sat down to face me. I’d hired him a few years ago as a kind of in-house spy. He was on the company’s payroll as an administrative assistant, but he was also on my personal payroll.

  “Anything new?” I asked.

  “I’ve asked around as well as I can without raising suspicion. No one remembers seeing your father access your office that day, but it was weeks ago and no one would really think twice if he went into your office.”

  “Right. Why would they?”

  “But there’s one thing that doesn’t quite jibe.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What’s that?”

  “Your assistant. Terrence.”

  Terrence? He’d been with me a while and did an incredible job. The guy got things done that no one else would be able to. He got me those great seats at Zee’s show in the middle of the night. He had contacts.

  I inhaled deeply. “Spill it.”

  Leif cleared his throat. “Terrence claims he doesn’t remember seeing anyone access your office on the day in question, but his calendar tells a different tale.”

  “How so?”

  “Luckily, I hacked into several personal calendars before I started questioning. I wanted to see if anything stood out before I asked questions. Otherwise, they might do some deleting. Not that I couldn’t recover deletions, but it would take time and energy that we don’t really have right now.”

  “Got it. Go on.”

  “His calendar indicates, or at least it indicated, that he was out of the office that day.”

  “Where?”

  “It didn’t say. Just said he took a personal day. So I figured when I questioned him, that’s what he’d tell me. But he didn’t. He said he didn’t remember seeing anyone access your office that day.”

  Hmm. Strange. I wrinkled my forehead.

  “Does Terrence take a lot of personal days?” Leif asked.

  “No more than anyone else.” I opened my phone to my own calendar, pulling up the date of the phone call. “Strange. If he’d taken a personal day, I’d have had to approve it, and it would show on my calendar.”

  “Do you always approve his personal days?”

  “I can’t think of a time I haven’t,” I said. “Like I said, he doesn’t abuse the privilege.”

  “This could mean nothing,” Leif said, “but it stood out to me. Seems like a red flag.”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  Terrence. Really? I paid him handsomely, but like most others in the world, if he saw dollar signs elsewhere…

  “Also,” Leif continued, “remember that your father was still head of the company at that time, so if he asked Terrence to do something—”

  “He trumped me.” I nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Something about that stinks. Did you ask Terrence about what his calendar indicated?”

  “I didn’t, because he appeared to pull up his calendar when I talked to him. So he would have seen that he wasn’t in, and he would have said so.”

  “So one would think.”

  “Yeah. Red flag.”

  “All right. What’s Terrence’s calendar say now?”

  “As I suspected, it no longer shows a personal day that day.”

  “Did you screenshot the original, showing the personal day?”

  Leif smiled. “Of course I did.”

  “All right. It’s possible that he meant to take a personal day and then decided not to but forgot to delete the entry in his calendar.”

  “It’s possible,” Leif agreed.

  “Still…”

  “How long has Terrence been working for you?”

  “A few years. I hired him—”

  I stopped with an abruptness that surprised me.

  I did hire Terrence. He had impeccable qualifications and his references gave him glowing reviews. He fit right in and even started a bromance with my father’s assistant, Jarrod, who now worked for Rock.

  But…I hadn’t found him myself.

  Oh, God.

  I remembered clearly now.

  My father had brought his resume to me.

  Sure, I’d been looking for a new executive assistant, as my former one had moved to Hawaii after her husband got transferred. Him handing me a resume hadn’t seemed odd.

  Until now.

  Still, it could all mean nothing.

  “Anything else?” I asked Leif.

  “That’s all I’ve got for now. It’s small, but it could be significant.”

  “Yeah, it could be.” I twisted my lips as my mind raced. “Thanks, Leif. Keep looking.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  “And stop calling me boss.”

  He laughed as he stood. “Okay, commander.”

  Still a SEAL to his core.

  Leif was a good guy. Someone I’d brought in myself. I’d thought I trusted him, but I realized something important after our conversation.

  I could no longer trust anyone but myself.

  33

  Zee

  St. Andrew’s was a beautiful old building of gray stone. I almost felt like I was visiting an ancient cathedral in Europe. Not that I’d ever gone to Europe, but situated in the heart of the city, the church made me feel like time was flowing backward. Funny, I hadn’t noticed any of this when I was a kid and my mother brought me here. It was just church.

  I walked up the stone steps and through the ornate doors into the narthex attached to the sanctuary. One wall held a bulletin board with notices of events, times for mass, and charitable drives.

  I opened the door to the sanctuary and walked in. The noonda
y sun cast flickers of color through the stained glass windows. A lone woman knelt at the altar holding a candle.

  I walked slowly toward the altar, mesmerized by the beauty of the golden crucifix standing there.

  I gasped when someone touched my arm.

  “May I help you with something?”

  A young priest stood next to me, clad in black with his white collar. “Are you…” My nerves fluttered and my stomach churned. “Father Jim?” I knew well he wasn’t, but my mouth ran off on its own.

  “No, I’m Father Amos Baca. I’m interning here.”

  Father Amos dark skinned and handsome, and he had a very kind face. He seemed a little old to be an intern, though. He had laugh wrinkles around his brown eyes.

  “What’s that woman doing?” I asked.

  “She’s lighting a candle for a loved one.”

  “Oh. Of course.”

  “Parishioners come in and out during the week. To light a candle. To pray. To attend confession.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been to church,” I said truthfully.

  “Indeed,” he said. “Then may I ask why you’re here?”

  Why was I here? I’d been thinking about how I used to talk to a pastor. Thinking I wanted to take my life back. Then here I was. The parish where one of my hunters worked.

  “I’m not sure I know,” I replied.

  “Do you want to talk about anything?”

  I sighed. Such a loaded question. “I don’t have a good past. With priests, I mean.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He smiled. “We’re not all bad.”

  His smile was genuine, but still, I panicked.

  Cold fear welled up in me, and I turned swiftly.

  “Miss?” the priest said.

  I didn’t turn around. “I have to go. I’m… I’m sorry.” My steps quickened until I was outside the sanctuary.

  Sanctuary. This was supposed to be a place of sanctuary.

  I sped through the narthex and out the door until I was completely outside the church.

  No longer did I adore its beauty.

  Now it was a hostile place. A place that made me feel the way I’d felt all those years ago.

  My breathing came rapidly. Too rapidly. My legs turned to jelly, and my vision blurred.

  No. No. No. Not now. Not here.

  What had I been thinking, coming here? Take back my life? I could do that without facing the priest who tormented me.

  “Miss?”

  I stumbled, and strong arms caught me.

  The intern priest. Father Amos Baca.

  “Are you all right? Should I call someone for you?”

  I willed my body to work. “No. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. Let’s go back in. I’ll get you some water. Or some herb tea.”

  “No. Please. Just let me go.” I shrugged him away.

  He dropped his hands from me. “Of course.”

  “You should…”

  “I should what?” he asked.

  “You should get rid of Father Jim,” I said. “He’s not who you think he is.”

  Then I ran.

  I ran until I was somewhere behind the church, in a rose garden. The roses were in bloom, and their scent infused the air. I breathed in deeply. Rose was supposed to calm, but it did anything but. I stared at the ground. A piece of white paper lay between the bushes. I knelt down and absently grabbed it, not knowing why. I crushed it in my fist and tried to stand.

  I breathed in again, but the air forced itself outward as quickly as I could get it into my lungs. Panic. Sheer panic.

  I fell to the ground. Among the leaves and thorns. Help Help Help.

  Then bells ringing.

  Bells. A church bell?

  I shifted back to reality. It was a phone. My phone.

  I breathed in hard and grabbed the phone out of my purse, not bothering to look at who was calling. “Hello?” I said breathlessly.

  “Zee.”

  Reid’s voice. Reid’s soothing voice.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying not to stammer. “I’m okay. Now.”

  34

  Reid

  “You don’t sound okay.”

  Worry for Zee edged through me. She sounded out of breath. Maybe she was working out. But I knew that wasn’t the issue. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did.

  “I’m fine.”

  I didn’t believe her, but I’d called for a reason. Morgan was done with me—just a bunch of badgering about things I’d already told him—and I had to prepare Zee. “I’m going to send someone up to the apartment to get you. The detective will be ready for you in about an hour, and our attorneys need to prep you.

  “I… Okay.”

  “Lydia will answer the door and come get you. Are you still in my bedroom?”

  “Oh. No, I’m not.”

  “In the home gym, then?”

  “Uh…no. Why would you think that?”

  “You’re out of breath. I thought you might be working out.”

  “No. I’m… I’m not at your place.”

  Ice gripped the back of my neck. “Where are you, then?”

  “At a church. St. Andrew’s.”

  “Fuck,” I said under my breath. “Why are you there?”

  “I wanted… I don’t know what I wanted.”

  “Are you okay? Did anyone…” What was I going to say? Did anyone hurt you? Why would she intentionally go to Father Jim’s parish?

  “I’m okay. I’m in the rose garden.”

  “Listen to me, Zee,” I said. “Leave the rose garden. Go back to the street and find a café. Do it now while we’re on the phone together.”

  “Yes. All right.”

  Rustling met my ears. She was leaving the rose garden. It would take her a few minutes to get off church property and back to the street. There was a Starbucks nearby. She could go there.

  “Do you see the Starbucks?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Go there. Have a seat inside. The driver will be there as soon as possible. Stay on the phone.”

  “I am.”

  I left the office quickly, yelled at Terrence to make sure Wayne was waiting for me downstairs, and pounded on the elevator button until the doors split before me.

  “Reid?”

  “I’m here, Zee. Just stay at the Starbucks.”

  “Okay.” Her voice didn’t tremble as much now. Good.

  As soon as the elevator doors opened, I ran out through the lobby to the waiting car. “The Starbucks by St. Andrew’s,” I said to Wayne. “Hurry.”

  Hurry. Yeah, in Manhattan traffic.

  “You still okay?” I asked Zee.

  “Yeah.”

  “Get yourself some tea or something.”

  “I’m fine. I don’t want anything. Especially not tea.”

  “Oh?”

  “The priest. He offered me tea.”

  “The priest?” Damn. Had she actually talked to Father Jim?

  “Yes, he was nice, but he scared me.”

  “Father Jim?” I demanded.

  “No. The other one.”

  There was another one? How would I know? I wasn’t exactly a churchgoer, and I’d never set foot in St. Andrew’s again, now that I knew what Father Jim was all about. Sitting through my father’s memorial and listening to the priest sing his praises had been about all I could handle.

  “You’re safe now,” I said, trying to sound soothing when my nerves were a fucking mess.

  “I know.” Her voice was monotone.

  Hurry, Wayne. For God’s sake, hurry!

  Twenty minutes to go a couple blocks. Fucking crazy shit. I should have walked. In fact—

  “Stop,” I said. “I’m getting out. Meet me at the Starbucks.”

  Wayne nodded as I wrenched open the car door and sprinted the last block to Starbucks.

  Zee sat at a table outside, her phone still glued to her ear, her left hand clenched in a fist. Sh
e gasped when she saw me.

  “Are you all right?” I panted.

  “Yeah. I am now. When you stopped talking, I…”

  “Never mind. I’m here now. Wayne will be here in a few minutes and we’ll drive back to the office.” I sat down next to her. “Zee, why did you go to St. Andrew’s?”

  She stuffed her phone into her purse. “I’m not really sure.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I was thinking about when I was younger. You know, before…everything.”

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  “There was a pastor at home I used to talk to sometimes. He always made me feel better.”

  A pastor? Did she know there were dozens of other churches around? Churches that weren’t St. Andrew’s? “Why that church?”

  “It was the only one I knew.”

  “Zee…”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “I wanted to be strong. I thought if I could go there, it would be like taking my life back.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, sweetheart.”

  “Stupid, I know. But you have to understand. I thought I’d put all that to bed, but now it’s all come back to me in vivid color.”

  Because of me.

  “When you’ve been through something so terrible,” she went on, “something you think you might never get over, sometimes you’re willing to do just about anything to merely survive.”

  “I do understand. And I promise you. You will take your life back, Zee, but St. Andrew’s isn’t the place to do it. Telling your story is. Owning it. Going public so we can take Father Jim and any other tyrants still out there down. So we can show the world who my father truly was.”

  “And talking to the detective is the first step.”

  “Yeah. It is.” I cupped her cheek and looked up as the black car weaved through traffic to stop in front of the Starbucks. “Here’s Wayne now. Let’s go.”

  She stood, and I took her left hand. It was still clenched into a fist.

  “Hey,” I said. “Relax.”

  She released her hand. A small piece of white card stock was crumpled in her palm.

  “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must. You’re holding it.”