Something Calling (A Lauren Lamb FBI Thriller—Book Two) E-Book

Kate Bold

• Herausgeber: Lukeman Literary Management
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: A Lauren Lamb FBI Thriller
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 262

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Former FBI agent Lauren Lamb, teamed with an exorcist and helping the Vatican solve inexplicable murders and separate truth from fiction, is dispatched when a community is shaken by the inexplicable death of a priest. With no signs of a murder method, Lauren must wonder: is something greater at work? "This is an excellent book… When you start reading, be sure you don't have to wake up early!" —Reader review for The Killing Game This is book #2 in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Kate Bold, whose bestsellers have received over 1,500 five star ratings and reviews. A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured FBI agent, the series is a riveting mystery, packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll, and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love. Future books in the series are now available. "This book moved very fast and every page was exciting. Plenty of dialogue, you absolutely love the characters, and you were rooting for the good guy throughout the whole story… I look forward to reading the next in the series." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Kate did an amazing job on this book and I was hooked from the first chapter!" —Reader review for The Killing Game "I really enjoyed this book. The characters were authentic, and I see the bad guys as something we hear about daily on the news... Looking forward to book 2." —Reader review for The Killing Game "This was a really good book. The main characters were real, flawed and human. The story went along quickly and wasn't mired in too many unnecessary details. I really enjoyed it." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Alexa Chase is headstrong, impatient, but most of all brave with a capital B. She never, repeat never, backs down until the bad guys are put where they belong. Clearly five stars!" —Reader review for The Killing Game "Captivating and riveting serial murder with a twist of the macabre… Very well done." —Reader review for The Killing Game "WOW what a great read! Talk about a diabolical killer! Really enjoyed this book. Looking forward to reading others by this author as well." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Page turner for sure. Great characters and relationships. I got into the middle of this story and couldn't put it down. Looking forward to more from Kate Bold." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Hard to put down. It has an excellent plot and has the right amount of suspense. I really enjoyed this book." —Reader review for The Killing Game "Extremely well written, and well worth buying and reading. I can't wait to read book two!" —Reader review for The Killing Game

Leseprobe

S O M E T H I N G

C A L L I N G

(A Lauren Lamb Mystery—Book 2)

K a t e   B o l d

Kate Bold

Bestselling author Kate Bold is author of the ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); the CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising eight books (and counting); the HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising seven books (and counting); the KAYLIE BROOKS PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting); the EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising six books (and counting); and the LAUREN LAMB FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Kate loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.kateboldauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

BOOKS BY KATE BOLD

LAUREN LAMB SUSPENSE THRILLER

SOMETHING KNOCKING (Book #1)

SOMETHING CALLING (Book #2)

SOMETHING WRONG (Book #3)

SOMETHING DARK (Book #4)

SOMETHING TO HIDE (Book #5)

ALEXA CHASE SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE KILLING GAME (Book #1)

THE KILLING TIDE (Book #2)

THE KILLING HOUR (Book #3)

THE KILLING POINT (Book #4)

THE KILLING FOG (Book #5)

THE KILLING PLACE (Book #6)

ASHLEY HOPE SUSPENSE THRILLER

LET ME GO (Book #1)

LET ME OUT (Book #2)

LET ME LIVE (Book #3)

LET ME BREATHE (Book #4)

LET ME FORGET (Book #5)

LET ME ESCAPE (Book #6)

CAMILLE GRACE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT ME (Book #1)

NOT NOW (Book #2)

NOT WELL (Book #3)

NOT HER (Book #4)

NOT NORMAL (Book #5)

NOT AGAIN (Book #6)

NOT SAFE (Book #7)

NOT TODAY (Book #8)

HARLEY COLE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOWHERE SAFE (Book #1)

NOWHERE LEFT (Book #2)

NOWHERE TO RUN (Book #3)

NOWHERE LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOWHERE GIRL (Book #5)

NOWHERE TO HIDE (Book #6)

NOWHERE CERTAIN (Book #7)

KAYLIE BROOKS PYSCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

LAST BREATH (Book #1)

LAST CHANCE (Book #2)

LAST WISH (Book #3)

LAST SHOT (Book #4)

LAST MISTAKE (Book #5)

EVE HOPE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

IN HIS BLOOD (Book #1)

IN HIS SIGHTS (Book #2)

IN HIS REACH (Book #3)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

PROLOGUE

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

There was a slight rustling from the other side of the confession booth, but otherwise, Jeremy heard no sound. Well, that was all right. Father Frederic was a man of few words, and it wasn’t out of the question for him to keep silent unless asked a direct question. Jeremy knew the response anyway, and as long as he trusted that God would help him to know his sins and trust in His mercy, then there was no need for the priest to reply out loud.

He took a deep breath and began.

“Well, it’s the usual. Less money this time than before, but I still lied to my wife about it, and I still missed my son’s baseball game. It’s the only one I’ve missed so far this season, but… well, I know it’s a bad sign.”

He paused, but there was still no response from the other side. He glanced through the grate and saw the priest’s outline, so he was definitely there, but he remained silent.

Jeremy took a breath and continued. “The crazy thing is that it’s not even about the money. I mean, I could win a dollar or a thousand dollars, and the rush I get is the same.” He chuckled. “I mean, I was only out a fifty this time. That’s nothing. That doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I make in an hour.”

He glanced guiltily at the grate and softened his voice. “Sorry. I’m not trying to brag. I’m only saying that it’s not the money that motivates me. It’s winning. It’s beating the house. Even when the house is just a buddy from work. It’s knowing that I’m smarter than…” He gestured around. “Well, everyone.” He chuckled. “I guess you know that, right?”

He glanced back at the grate where he could just make out Father Frederic’s face. “That’s scary, right? I mean, pride is a mortal sin. A haughty spirit goes before a fall, right? I’m afraid that I’m… I don’t know, opening a door? What do you think? Am I crazy?”

He fell silent, but once more, there was no response from the priest. He frowned. Now that was unusual. Father Frederic might be slow to answer, but he wasn’t mute. He genuinely cared about his flock. He was the biggest reason Jeremy had been coming to mass semi-regularly since moving to New York. Well, it wasn’t his spiritual care that Jeremy valued. No, there was something else about Father Frederic that drew Jeremy to him as inexorably as a moth to a flame.

He cleared his throat and said, “Father—Fred—do you ever think about… us?”

There was no answer.

Jeremy took a deep breath and blew it out in a sigh. “I know that I promised I wouldn’t bring this up again, but… Frederic, I have to know. Is there any chance for us again?”

No answer.

Jeremy felt a rush of almost panicked desperation and calmed himself before saying, “I know what the Bible says, Fred, but… can it really be wrong? I mean, we’re both adults. It’s not like you coerced me into anything. Actually I…” He blushed. “I kind of hoped you would make a move on me the first time. That’s why I wore that cologne. I… Look, Fred, I know I’m saying a lot of things right now, but… I love you. I still do. I can’t believe that it’s over, I just can’t. Please tell me there’s a chance for us. I know that we can never go public, but I’m okay with that.” He smiled lasciviously. “I don’t mind being your dirty little secret. That’s more than you can say about him.”

Still no answer. Jeremy frowned, and the first seed of real concern entered his mind.

“Father? Frederic? You there?”

There was no response, but Jeremy heard a soft rustling noise again. There was a soft thump, then with no warning, the wall to the priest’s compartment in the confession booth splintered open and Father Frederic fell over onto Jeremy.

Jeremy jumped as the priest’s head landed in his lap. “Frederic?” he exclaimed. “Fred, are you…”

He didn’t finish the question. He didn’t need to. Father Frederic’s eyes looked up toward him, wide and staring and sightless.

Jeremy wasn’t the type to scream, but his shriek was loud enough that it echoed throughout the entire church.

CHAPTER ONE

Lauren screamed as Fiero’s hammer shattered three of her vertebrae. She collapsed to the floor, gasping and shrieking as more pain than she ever thought possible coursed through her body.

The massive killer towered over her, his face a mask of rage and hate. He pulled his lips back in a snarl, and with a growl, lifted his hammer high over his head. Lauren lifted her hands in a futile attempt to shield herself, but she knew it was too late. This was how she was going to die.

Fiero roared and brought the hammer down. She had just enough time to see the blood and gore caked on its surface before—

Lauren awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright. Her alarm clock blared, an irritating coarse drone that most closely resembled a foghorn like the ones she would hear from the lighthouse near her grandparents’ country house in Maine.

She had chosen the alarm clock intentionally for its harsh drone. Lately, she slept more deeply than usual, and her nightmares were far more vivid. When she began to sleep through the far more gentle alarm her cell phone offered, often forced to endure the nightmare to its conclusion, she drove to the mall near the airport and bought the most annoying alarm she could find.

She sighed and wiped sweat from her forehead with a trembling hand, then reached with her other, shaking hand to turn off the alarm. It stopped immediately, and she breathed a sigh of relief, then got out of bed and headed for the shower.

She kept the water just this side of icy, and the frigid jets shook the last of the cobwebs from her mind and, more importantly, banished the vividness of her nightmare. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it allowed her to keep her sanity while she was plagued by the memory of Fiero and the damage he had done to her and the man she loved.

A passing thought of Enrico, her handsome neighbor, crossed her mind, and she pushed it away guiltily. She was still grieving Kevin, and she wasn’t ready to move on, even casually. She finished her shower and dressed comfortably in culottes, a pullover blouse, and sandals. She made a quick breakfast of castagnaccio and smoked trout and washed it down with a glass of coffee, then headed outside for a walk.

One of the most wonderful things about living in Tuscany was the weather. Though it rained an average of once or twice a week year-round in Arezzo, the rain was typically very light and calm. Even the thunderstorms were relatively mild compared to the black squalls and tornadoes that plagued Houston whenever it wasn’t buried by one of the massive hurricanes that came every few years.

During the summer, the rain came less often, and the days were sunny and warm, but without the stifling humidity that Houston “enjoyed” whenever they weren’t being flooded. Lauren loved the sweet air of the Tuscan countryside, and she loved the seamless blend of modernity and timeless antiquity that the city proper offered. These morning walks were her favorite part of living here.

And they quelled the demons that even now wrestled for control over her.

She immediately regretted the way she phrased that thought. Just over a month ago, while assisting the Vatican with a string of murders in the Pescara region, she had visited the home of a woman allegedly possessed by a demon. She didn’t believe the woman was actually possessed, of course, but the way the woman had smiled and the eerie tone in her voice when she spoke to Lauren had lingered. Sometimes when she dreamed of Fiero, it was the woman’s face she would see—her hideous, distended grin and not Fiero’s furious snarl.

She thought of her partner in that investigation, Father Emilio Carbone. He was an exorcist, apparently a very well-known and well-regarded one, although that was relative, since the Church rarely officially acknowledged the existence of exorcists.

He was an interesting man, Father Emilio. He was one of the few priests Lauren had met who seemed to genuinely care about others and didn’t see his calling as somehow placing him above them. He was gregarious and fatherly when she first met him, but at times during their investigation, he had been cold and gruff, even surly.

Despite this, they had formed a close bond, and though she still hadn’t answered his proposal to be his official partner as a Vatican investigator, she saw him at least once a week when they had dinner together after Mass. She didn’t enjoy his constant attempts to persuade her back to the Church, but they didn’t annoy her enough to make her want to be free of his company. In many ways, he had become another father figure for her after the death of her real father.

That didn’t mean she wanted to work with him again. After their first case had ended with the capture of a serial killer of nuns, she had felt the pull to use her talents for good again, but that incident with the supposedly possessed kept Lauren from making the leap.

She thought back to her time as a nun at the Convent of Our Immaculate Lady in Houston. This was fifteen years ago now, and she was a far younger and more impressionable woman then. At the time, she believed wholeheartedly in God, the Church, Satan, demons, and her own calling to combat the work of Satan by being a minister of God’s light to the world.

Then her mother had taken ill, and she had prayed desperately for God to heal her. She had begged Him on her knees every day to rescue her mother from her illness, to show her this one favor, this one sign that He truly cared for her.

And of course, He hadn’t. Her mother had died the way everyone with stage four cancer dies. Her Mother Superior had coolly told her it was God’s will. But as far as Lauren was concerned, God, if He existed, hadn’t bothered to so much as reply.

Lauren decided shortly after that God must not exist, and if He did, He wasn’t the sort of God Lauren would like to follow. She hadn’t told Father Emilio all of this when he asked. She had only said that she would have to think about it, a response the priest seemed to have anticipated and one he took with perfect grace.

That was a month ago. She didn’t intend for it to take so long to give her answer, but the answer turned out to be far more difficult to arrive at than she anticipated.

She really didn’t want to return to the Church. Father Emilio’s offer—or rather, the Vatican’s offer—wasn’t contingent on that, but Lauren knew that the father wouldn’t cease his attempts to sway her.

It wasn’t just the pressure to have faith that caused her to hesitate, though.

She came to Italy to escape her old life. She had lost everyone she’d ever loved. Both of her parents were dead. Her mom died ten years ago, and her father died alone here in the house where she now lived.

In the ten years between her mother’s death and her father’s death, Lauren had worked for the FBI, eventually rising to the rank of Supervisory Special Agent and leading the investigation against Fiero. They had managed to drive the hammer-wielding murderer out of Houston, but in the process, he had broken Lauren’s back and left her in the hospital unable to see her father on his deathbed. If that weren’t enough, he had beaten Lauren’s fiancé, Kevin, to death before fleeing Houston.

Lauren had left the FBI the day of Kevin’s funeral. She couldn’t accept that she could have all of the training and resources she had and still be utterly helpless to protect the ones she loved. She didn’t want to become an investigator again, fall in love again, find her father again, and then risk losing all of that again and once more being left with nothing.

But when she solved the case in Pescara and put another serial killer behind bars, she could for a moment believe she was capable of making a difference again. Maybe she didn’t have to live the rest of her life in exile. She had been beaten, but maybe she wasn’t yet broken.

Still, she was torn. She wouldn’t survive another event like Fiero. She wouldn’t make it if she tried once more to make a difference only to be again reminded that evil will exist and often prevail regardless of the efforts of the good.

And besides, she was healing. Little by little, she was overcoming her grief and enjoying her life. She had a beautiful home. She had enough money to live comfortably, if modestly, for the rest of her life. She had a handsome neighbor who, in time, and if she did eventually move on from Kevin, might be the man who could make her happy.

She wasn’t sure if she was willing to risk all of that.

In the end, though, she knew deep in her heart that she couldn’t sit idle. Eventually, she would grow restless and want to do something that made a difference. She couldn’t change that part of herself any more than she could change the fact that she was five-foot-seven or that her eyes were blue and her hair dark brown.

And Father Emilio knew that. He hadn’t said so explicitly, but the twinkle in his eye and the sly smile he wore every time they talked told Lauren that he knew before Lauren herself knew that she would accept the Vatican’s offer and join him. If she were honest, she would have to admit that part of her hesitation was motivated by irritation that he could so easily see through her reluctance.

These thoughts absorbed her as she walked, and it wasn’t until she stood in front of the parish church in Arezzo that she realized her steps had carried her there without conscious will on her part.

That had happened once before, shortly after she moved here. She was grieving her father and her fiancé, even flirting with the idea of taking her own life, and she had walked aimlessly as she had today. Like today, she had ended up at the church.

She walked inside to pray and was met by Father Emilio, at the time the parish priest. The rest, so far at least, was history.

Fate—or God—had a sense of humor, it seemed. Here she was again, having just decided to accept Father Emilio’s offer, and where would she find herself but the very church where she met the man in the first place.

Sighing in resignation, she walked inside.

CHAPTER TWO

Father Emilio knelt at the altar, praying. Mass wouldn’t begin for another two hours, and he was the only one in the building. When he heard her footsteps approach, he looked up. Instantly, his mouth widened in a huge grin.

“Lauren!” he cried, leaping to his feet with the age-defying spryness which had become one of his signature attributes in Lauren’s mind. “It’s so wonderful to see you!”

She returned his smile, grateful to see the man who had fast become her closest friend. “It’s good to see you too, Father. How have you been?”

“Blessed, Lauren, blessed,” he said, wrapping her in a brief but tender embrace. “I’m so glad you made it in time. Have you packed yet?”

She blinked in surprise. “Packed?”

“Of course!” he said. “Our plane leaves in three hours!”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. “Plane?”

“Yes!” he repeated. “For the United States! We have a case!”

“A case?” Lauren’s head was reeling. “But how… what… how did you know…”

Father Emilio smiled in an almost… well, fatherly way. “My child, I have prayed every day that God would soften your heart and lead you to join me. It was only a matter of time before you told me that you agreed to be a part of my investigative team.”

“Team?” she said, still confused.

“Well, it’s just you and me right now, but Cardinal Bertolli and I have ambitions. How long will it take you to pack?”

“Um…” Lauren shook her head.

It irritated her a little that Father Emilio had assumed that she would say yes. While his confidence that she would join him was partly coincidence and partly his own shrewdness when it came to human nature, he would no doubt see it as an example of God’s will being done and God’s Spirit speaking to him.

Well, she could deal with that annoyance. To be honest, the moment he mentioned the case, Lauren felt the old pull. She was going to catch a bad guy and keep innocent people safe.

She knew now without a doubt that this was what she lived for.

“I can be ready in an hour,” she replied. “Sooner, if you have a car that can get me home.”

Father Emilio’s grin widened. He looked over Lauren’s shoulder and called, “Fernando! Pull the sedan around, please!”

Lauren turned to see the smiling face of Fernando, the young Vatican driver assigned to shuttle her and Father Emilio to the initial meeting with Cardinal Bertolli for their first case together. He bowed to her and then walked crisply out the door, turning left toward what Lauren assumed was the lot where their car was parked.

She turned to Father Emilio, who grinned triumphantly at her. She chuckled and said, “I can see you plan to be just as incorrigible as ever.”

“But of course!” he said. “What else could I be?”

***

It wasn’t until the private jet lifted off and began the long flight to New York that it hit Lauren that she was returning to the United States. Old emotions hit her, and she felt a shiver run through her. Father Emilio looked up and frowned. “Are you cold? Shall I ask the flight attendant to raise the cabin temperature?”

“No,” she said, “I’m fine. It’s just…”

Her voice trailed off, but Father Emilio picked up on her concern. “You have misgivings about returning to the United States.”

She nodded, deciding there was no point in hiding it from him. Still, she wasn’t in the mood to dive into her reasons, so she quickly said, “But we’re going to New York, and I was based in Houston, so it’s okay. We won’t run into anyone I know.”

“You don’t want to spend any time visiting old friends?” he asked. “Of course, we’ll solve the case first, but I’m sure the Vatican won’t mind allowing you a few days to see loved ones.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a forced smile. “Tell me about this case.”

Father Emilio regarded her a moment longer, but wisely chose not to press her for details. “It was brought directly to my attention by an old friend of mine, Father Damian Waterson.”

Lauren lifted an eyebrow. “The Cardinal isn’t aware of it?”

“He’s aware. I called him after I finished talking with Damian.”

Lauren nodded acknowledgment and Father Emilio continued. “It seems an old companion of ours was killed about a week ago.”

“Oh,” Lauren said, “I’m so sorry.”

Father Emilio smiled sadly, but his tone was sanguine when he replied. “For the true believer, death is only a door. I will see Brother Fiero again. The only sadness is that he cannot return to me. I must go to him.”

At the name Fiero, Lauren started visibly. Father Emilio frowned slightly when he noticed, but Lauren quickly replied, “Nevertheless, I’m sorry.”

He bowed slightly and said, “What makes this a case and not simply personal news is the fact that two days ago, someone else was killed in the same way. Father Frederic Carlsson.”

“How were they killed?”

Father Emilio placed his briefcase onto the table that sat between them and pulled out a sheaf of papers.

He closed the briefcase and set the files on top. Lauren leaned forward so she could look more closely.

The top photos showed the victims. Both appeared in their early sixties, around Father Emilio’s age. One had wavy, silver hair and was clean shaven. He wore a priest’s robe and lay sprawled halfway out of a confessional booth. The other had a thick beard that reached halfway down his chest. The top of his head was shaved, and he wore a plain gray tunic with a rope belt and simple leather thong sandals. Despite his archaic outfit, he appeared to be sitting in a gas station bathroom. In any case, with the unnatural way he slumped forward, it was clear that he was dead.

Of course, the pools of blood that surrounded both victims made that clear enough.

“The priest is Father Carlsson,” Father Emilio explained. “I don’t know him, but Father Damian spoke highly of him. He was the pastor of the Church of Our Risen Savior in Staten Island. By all accounts a kindhearted and dedicated leader, though possessed of a rather gruff demeanor. The other is my friend, Brother Fiero.”

Lauren didn’t realize until she saw the image that she half-expected Brother Fiero to be the same Fiero who broke her spine. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and in the back of her mind, she worried that her PTSD might become an issue on this case. For the first time, she wondered if she made the right choice agreeing to partner with Father Emilio.

“Was he a monk?” Lauren asked.

“He was. A Carmelite hermit, to be precise.”

“Carmelite? I’m somewhat familiar with that order.”

“Yes, they’re not so well-known as the Franciscans or Jesuits,” Father Emilio explained. “They are less active in the outside world than those and most other orders. They follow the rule of Albert Avogadro and take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. They take no vow of silence, but much of their time is spent in meditation and contemplation, so they are silent for most of the day regardless. If you do see a Carmelite monk, it’s usually when they’re tending to their garden or performing some volunteer labor. The Carmelites believe in manual labor as a tool to humble and purify the soul. Not all of them are hermits, but many are.”

“So how did the two of you meet?”

Father Emilio smiled. “Well, Brother Fiero was not always a monk. When I met him, he was a sergeant with the Swiss Guards. He and I became friends when I trained with the guards early in my career with my own order. We remained in contact after I completed my training, and it was five or so years later that he left the Guard and took his vows. He wandered the world for some time after that. In fact, he didn’t cease his wanderings until ten years ago when he left the order inexplicably and started working at a gas station. Evidently,” he said, gesturing at the robed figure in the photo, “he didn’t quit the order but simply no longer wandered.”

His smile faded. “We’ve spoken little since then. Brother Fiero became very reclusive after arriving in the United States. I received one letter a year from him until three years ago. I wished to visit him, but I never did. I knew that he valued his privacy.”

He fell silent and Lauren laid a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

He took a breath and smiled at her. “Well, as I said, I will see him again one day, and where we’re meeting, there will be no need for silence or hermitage.”

She offered a brief smile but privately, her thoughts pained her. She no longer believed in a Heaven where old friends could reunite. Or lovers.

She took her hand back and said, “So what do we know about the case?”

Father Emilio’s smile faded, and he adopted the sober expression Lauren recognized as his way of concealing fear. When he answered her question, she understood the reason for his fear. “According to Father Damian, both Brother Fiero and Father Frederic received anonymous death threats from an individual who signed his letters with the Horns of Asmodeus.”

He removed the photos of the victims from the top and revealed a third photograph with an image of a letter. At the bottom of the letter was a hexagram formed of intertwined lines. A demonic symbol. Clearly, whoever this killer was, he or she was masking their actions under the veneer of occult activity. Father Emilio, being a long-time exorcist, had reason to fear potential spiritual activity. Lauren didn’t.

No sooner had she thought that than she recalled the peasant woman in Cepagatti who had threatened her in Latin.

“Novi te, perfide.”

Lauren shivered and pushed the photograph away. “Wasn’t Asmodeus the demon of lust?”

“In many traditions, yes,” Father Emilio replied, deftly hiding the photo underneath the rest of the file. “He is considered by others to be the prince of revenge.”

“Revenge?” Lauren’s brow furrowed. “Are these suspected to be killings of vengeance?”

“At the moment, they aren’t suspected to be anything. Father Damian tells me the police are considering the possibility that this could be a religious killing, but beyond that, they’re not sure.”

“Were these letters present at the crime scene?” Lauren asked.

“That’s the strange part,” Father Emilio replied. “They weren’t. Both victims received the letters twenty-four hours before they died. Precisely twenty-four hours. To the minute.”

Lauren frowned. “How can they know that?”

“The United States Postal Service tracks every piece of mail sent through their agency. The letters were delivered at exactly three-forty-one in the afternoon to Brother Fiero and five-twenty-two in the afternoon to Father Frederic. Time of death is confirmed within an hour of that timeframe the very next day in both cases.”

He looked at Lauren, his eyes communicating his clear belief that this was evidence of a supernatural element. To Lauren, it only meant that their murderer had thought long and hard about how he or she intended to take their victims.

“Has the coroner report come in yet?”

“Not yet,” Father Emilio replied. “I imagine the coroner’s office will be one of our first stops.”

“Yes,” Lauren agreed. “It will be.” A thought struck her, and she frowned. “How did Father Damian know about the murders?”

“His brother Derek is a captain in the New York Police Department,” Father Emilio replied. “He reached out to Damian when they discovered a possible occult connection. He knows that Father Damian knows me and that I’m a member of a Vatican order that investigates such cases.”

“So NYPD asked for our help?” Lauren wasn’t sure she believed that.

“No,” Father Emilio admitted. “But the Church exerted its influence and convinced the department to include official Vatican investigators.” He smiled at Lauren. “You and me.”

Lauren pressed her lips together and nodded curtly. She had mixed feelings about the ability of the Catholic Church to pressure a professional police department to allow outside investigators. It was bad enough that the FBI could essentially take over an investigation regardless of the desires of local law enforcement, but for an organized religion to carry enough weight to essentially override the separation of church and state?

Then again, the separation of church and state was the exception and not the norm. The Vatican operated as both a church and a state, and since all Catholics were considered citizens—or subjects—of the Holy See, the Vatican could claim legal precedent in this case.

Knowing that didn’t make her feel better.