Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (rooftoppers txt) 📕

bottle of pills. She pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed and tossed the items in before hoisting it onto her shoulder.

“Uh, no,” the detective said.

“What?”

“I’m thinking you should leave the bag and just take some clothes and whatever toiletries you need,” he said. “You can just carry them loose.”

“And why would I do a stupid thing like that?”

“Having all of your things in a bag ready to go makes it easier for you to run,” he said.

Jackass. Maureen selected two pairs of jeans, one pair of cut-off shorts, three tank tops, a bra, and four pairs of panties. She removed a pillowcase from one of her pillows and tossed them in along with the toothbrush and pill bottle. She decided to leave her cash where it was. The detective could pay for everything.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be able to do wash if things take longer than you think, will I?”

“We can come back if you need fresh stuff.”

Maureen gritted her teeth and slung her makeshift pack over her shoulder. Detective Benitez grinned at her. Maureen kicked her duffel bag back under the bed and stomped out of the room. She would make him pay for every snarky look he gave her.

NINETEEN

“So, what exactly are we looking for?” Maureen said, shuffling through a stack of papers in front of her.

“Anything that could indicate a link between Tom Lowes and Sandra Locke,” Manny said, exasperated that he had to keep reminding her.

The brown box was sitting on the front stoop of his house when he and Maureen had pulled up, just like Agent Layton had promised him it would be. Also as promised, the inside was neatly piled with photocopies of the notes that he had taken and all of the personal information that he’d received from the county that morning. There was also a full workup of each of their financials added in. The documents, however, were merely sorted into two piles, one for the Lowes family and one for Sandra Locke. His moo shoo pork had gone cold before Manny had managed to further categorize each document. More than a dozen piles now lay on his coffee table, and each one needed to be scrutinized. It was going to be a long night.

“I didn’t think you’d be making me do busy work for you,” Maureen grumbled, carelessly tossing the piece of paper she was holding onto the table and grabbing another egg roll. “I don’t know how to do any of this. I thought I was going to help you catch a killer.”

“Most detective work is done just like this,” he replied, trying to keep his patience. “In homicides like these that have the hallmarks of a serial killer, there’s usually a reason that victims are chosen. Now in this case, both of the victims were small children. As far as I’m concerned, there’s only two reasons to kill a child. The first reason is rooted in some kind of sexual desire. And that’s not the case here, right?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“Then we’re most likely looking at someone who wants to hurt the parents by hurting their children,” he said, picking up another paper from the Lowes’ financial pile and holding it up. “Hence why we’re looking for connections between the parents. So make yourself useful.”

“I’ve already told you what the knife looks like. What else do you want?”

Manny sighed and massaged his temples. In the truck, she had described a knife with a twelve-inch, curved blade and dark wooden handle with some odd symbols carved into it. But she couldn’t describe those symbols as anything except “not English” and said she could recognize it if she saw it again. She then handed him a piece of newspaper and told him that the words and numbers written on it were from another dream. It was a clue, but wouldn’t be much help if they didn’t have a perpetrator to search. Manny got up out of his armchair and went to the spare room that he used as an office. He picked up a yellow legal pad and pen from his desk, came back into the living room, and tossed them on Maureen’s lap.

“Here,” he said, sitting back down, “why don’t you help me by writing down what I say. We’ll make a chart of where these two families intersect.”

“Don’t detectives usually do this sort of thing on a big board or something?”

“Sure, we could,” Manny shrugged back, “but I’m not exactly welcome at the precinct. So we’ll just have to go low tech, okay?”

“Fine,” she said, picking up the take-out box that held the egg rolls. There were only two left of the original order of eight, and he hadn’t yet had one. Maureen grabbed both of the remaining rolls without looking in his direction and plopped them onto her plate.

“You’re not even going to offer me one?” he teased, pointing at her plate.

“Why, do you want one?” Her mouth was full, and little flecks of pork and cabbage flew out as she talked.

He couldn’t help but laugh and wave his hand in indication that she could eat the rest. Judging by the spartan nature of her apartment, he surmised that she didn’t keep a lot of food around, and therefore it made sense that she was taking advantage of the big meal she had in front of her. He grabbed a napkin from the bag next to his feet and tossed it at her. She gave him a sour look as she snatched it off her lap and wiped her lips.

“Okay,” he said, trying to get back to business. “Let’s turn the pad on its side lengthwise and put Tom Lowes’ name at the top of one side and Sandra Locke on the other. Locke’s spelled with an ‘e’. Okay, now for some common things. The kids went to the same school. They both went to St. Mary’s Catholic Church.”

“Where Father Patrick is,” she said. The statement seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Uh,