Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (rooftoppers txt) 📕

had never killed before. I didn’t see much of the report on the second crime scene, but I’m assuming that the CI team didn’t find any vomit in the field?”

“No, they didn’t,” the agent answered.

“That says to me that he’s starting to get more comfortable with killing. And in just the space of a couple days? It could indicate extreme sociopathic tendencies, though I don’t know if you could call him a true psychopath, due to the initial physical reaction to the first murder. All we can say is that he’s learned to suppress his empathetic side.”

“Not bad, Detective,” Agent Layton said, staring steadily at him and nodding his head. “Not too bad at all.”

The agent turned back around and faced out of the windshield again. Several awkward minutes passed. Manny looked at Maureen as they drove along. She had her legs drawn up to her chest with her feet on the car seat, staring out at the passing buildings of the town. Her face was flushed and tense, and he could see her pulse thumping in her neck.

“Lorenzo, pull over,” Agent Layton said.

As the car rolled to a stop, Manny saw that they had returned to Main Street, no less than twenty feet from where they had been picked up. Agent Layton opened his door and stepped out onto the curb. Manny took it as a cue and did the same. Maureen followed suit. The three stood on the sidewalk, with Maureen a few paces away from the two men. Agent Layton, for the first time, seemed to ignore Manny and concentrate on her.

“Ms. Allen,” he said, “could you excuse us for just a moment?”

She said nothing and looked at Manny.

He pulled his keys out of his pocket and handed them to her. “Why don’t you turn on the radio. I’ll be there in a second.”

Maureen took the keys from him and slowly backed away, turning her eyes back to the agent. Manny watched as she crossed the street and hopped into the passenger’s seat of his truck and sat, watching the two men. He tried to push her gaze away and focus on the agent, curious on what he wanted to talk about that would necessitate sending Maureen out of hearing.

“So, I’m told you and Ms. Allen shook down the lab assistant at the County Coroner’s Office yesterday,” Agent Layton said, pulling a pack of gum out of his pocket and offering Manny a stick.

“Who told you that?” Manny asked, turning down the gum.

“Dr. Winherst,” the agent said casually.

Of course. “Am I in trouble now?” Manny asked. He was ready if that was the case.

“Not at all,” the agent replied, chewing his gum. “I told you to investigate. I’m just curious what made you come to that church this morning.”

Manny looked down the block at St. Mary’s. “You’ve been following us,” he smiled, certain that his guess was correct.

“Only this morning,” the agent replied. “I was willing to give you your space. But I was curious to find out what made you go to the lab last night, so I put a detail on you today.”

“I wanted to find out what the accelerant was,” Manny told him.

“And?”

“It was balsam and olive oil,” he said. “It’s what they use to make holy oil. I decided to talk to Father Patrick at St. Mary’s and discuss their supply of holy oil and the two families.”

“Why St. Mary’s?”

“Both Tom Lowes and Sandra Locke are devout Catholics and members of St. Mary’s. I was just running down a connection.”

“What did you find?”

“Father Patrick’s junior priest took me into the sacristy and we went over their inventory books. Everything is in order. Somehow, I still think the killer is connected to St. Mary’s, though.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The crime scenes are staged like an Old Testament sacrificial altar. We think the killer is also uber-religious, in a twisted kind of way.”

“It’s ‘we’ now? Detective, I think you need to be careful about your association with Ms. Allen. I have some serious reservations about her having inside access to your investigation.”

“You should know that holy oil isn’t the only thing I discovered at the lab. Her DNA doesn’t match that found at the crime scene, which proves she’s innocent.”

“Innocent in this case, maybe,” Agent Layton said. “Look, I’m just saying that you should be careful with her. Maureen Allen might not be exactly who you think she is.”

Before Manny could ask him what he meant by that, the agent turned away and got back into the black sedan. Manny watched as the car drove away before heading across the street and getting into his truck. His keys were already in the ignition, and the radio was playing quietly. Manny started the truck.

“What was that all about?” Maureen asked.

“The agent just wanted to ask some follow up questions. No big deal.” He looked over at her and smiled.

She returned it with her own small grin, laid her head on the window, and closed her eyes. The sun shone off her hair and created a halo of light around her. She looked beautiful. Manny pulled away from the curb and headed back to his place. He hadn’t figured out their next move yet, but he did know one thing.

No matter what the agent said, he knew exactly who Maureen was.

TWENTY-SIX

Slowly, the candlelit room came into focus. She felt the knees on a hard surface. It might have been stone. In front of her was a miniature altar, covered in linen, with a small ornate crucifix. Wherever she was, she felt a certain sense of enclosure, as though the walls on either side were very close. The familiar sound of a low voice droning from the throat hit her ears. The language was unknown to her, and yet somehow, she seemed to understand exactly what was being said.

“We pray thee, Oh Christ,” it intoned, “be now our guide as we strive to shape the world in your holy image. Grant us strength as soldiers