Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (rooftoppers txt) 📕

one in the same. The man’s been left unmolested by the FBI for all these years for the simple reason that we’ve never seen him as much of a security threat. Especially given his choice to enter the priesthood. But now, who knows? It’s a hard thing for a soldier to completely forget who he used to be, and he’s now shown his willingness to take a life in what he believes is a just cause. What’s to stop him from doing it again? Would the community be safer if he were behind bars?”

That was too much for Maureen. “You can’t do that! Manny promised that he wouldn’t be prosecuted.”

“Since when does the word of a local detective take precedence over the FBI? So I’ll ask you, Maureen. What are we going to do about this situation of ours?”

“Oh, we’re on a first name basis now? Fine. What do you want from me, Howard?”

Agent Layton chuckled softly and shook his head. “You’re right, Ms. Allerton, I do want something, but it’s likely not what you think.” He closed the folder in front of him, put it back into his briefcase, and pulled out another folder. This one was a dark green color and held only two pages inside of it. He opened it and slid it across the table. “I can send you away for a decent clip with the sheet I’ve got on you for your identity and fraud crimes. And if I felt so inclined, I could drag our good Father Patrick before a federal prosecutor. And I’m friends with one, so if I really wanted to, I could get something to stick and ruin that old man’s life. But instead, I called her and got this little deal worked out. You sign that paper in front of you, agreeing to six months in a female, minimum-security federal prison plus three years’ probation, during which time the FBI can call you in to utilize your—let’s call them—less-than-conventional techniques, and your original statement becomes part of a closed file. Patrick Mullen can go on being Father McGill, undisturbed by law enforcement, and his involvement in this case will be kept out of the public record. So what do you say, do we have a deal?”

Maureen felt her stomach drop. “What do you mean by ‘less-than-conventional techniques’?”

Agent Layton’s eyebrows raised slightly. “I’m not usually a man who believes in anything but the physical evidence presented to me, Ms. Allerton. Nevertheless, I am familiar with certain FBI, shall we say, legends? And this past week has brought to mind one that apparently happened in Massachusetts, oh, a little more than twenty-five years ago. Apparently, there was a little girl whose dream led to the discovery of her murdered brother’s body. Darndest thing. It was the perfect crime, too. No apparent motive, all of the people closest to the family had tight alibis, no clear direction to move the investigation in, and then a thirty-second phone call, a child’s hysterical voice on the other end, and lo and behold, the body was found the next day. It really defies explanation!” Agent Layton tilted his head and gave Maureen a long, knowing look.

Maureen couldn’t hold his gaze for long. She simply looked down at her feet. “I didn’t ask to be like this,” she mumbled.

“I believe it,” said Agent Layton, his tone suddenly softening. “I can’t imagine anyone who would ask to be able to do what you seem to be able to do. I’m still not one hundred percent sure I believe it myself. But, I do know a useful resource when I see one. So, let’s just call your position a ‘consulting profiler’. It’s pretty simple, really. We find ourselves stumped on a case, we bring you in, you sleep a little for us and see if whatever you see in your dreams can give us the missing pieces. Doesn’t come with much in the way of monetary benefit, I’m afraid, but look at it this way, you’ll be able to balance the karmic scales a bit, and what’s more, you’ll be allowed to start fresh without all those warrants hanging over your head. And as for the prison time, judging from what I’ve seen in the paper trail of your various identities over the last decade or so, Waseca will be an improvement over quite a few of the places you’ve called home. So what do you say, do we have a deal?”

Maureen could see she had very little choice. The out that she was being given was probably more than she deserved. The prospect of being treated like a performing monkey for the FBI for three years was less than appealing, but she had six months to figure out how to wriggle off that hook. She raised her head and looked steadily into Agent Layton’s eyes. “Do you have a pen?”

Agent Layton got up as soon as she had signed the paper and quickly walked out of the room without saying another word to her. Maureen followed him with her eyes and watched intently, shifting her head so that she could again see through the blinds as he stopped in front of Manny. He got to his feet and stood in front of the agent for a few brief moments. Agent Layton was clearly doing the talking, and after he had finished, he reached into his pocket and handed Manny a small, white card before turning and heading for the exit. Manny stood in the hall for a moment before rushing in the opposite direction to come around to the door to the interrogation room. There was a look on his face that seemed to her to be equal parts confusion and elation.

“What was that all about?” she asked, not wanting him to have the first word. It would probably just have been something sappy.

“What? Oh, that? Agent Layton just congratulated me on a job well done and gave me his card. Seems there might be an opening in