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- Herausgeber: C.C. Jameson
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Is there a serial killer in the Catholic Church?
When a young woman is found dead on her bed, dressed in an old-fashioned nightgown with her hands clasped in a prayer position, Detective Kate Murphy is called to investigate her murder.
Before Kate and her colleagues can find the killer, another woman is found dead in the same position. Other than being Catholic, having blonde hair, and living in Boston, the women have very little in common. But one thing is clear: the serial killer has some twisted religious beliefs.
What is his motive? Who is he? And, most importantly, can Kate stop the murderer before he strikes again?
If you like adrenaline-pumping suspense and nail-biting drama, then you’ll enjoy this page-turning mystery.
Buy your copy today!
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
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THE LAST AMEN
A CONTEMPORARY FEMALE DETECTIVE CRIME THRILLER
C.C. JAMESON
CONTENTS
The Last Amen
About the Series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Excerpt from The Last Hope
Thank You
Author’s Notes
About the Author
Book Club
THE LAST AMEN
When he acts in the name of God, his victims’ faith could be their demise.
When a young woman is found dead on her bed, dressed in an old-fashioned nightgown with her hands clasped in a prayer position, Detective Kate Murphy is called to investigate her murder.
Before Kate and her colleagues can find the killer, another woman is found dead in the same position. Other than being Catholic, having blonde hair, and living in Boston, the women have very little in common. But one thing is clear: the serial killer has some twisted religious beliefs.
What is his motive? Who is he? And, most importantly, can Kate stop the murderer before he strikes again?
If you like serial killer thrillers, adrenaline-pumping suspense, and nail-biting drama, then you’ll enjoy this page-turning mystery.
ABOUT THE SERIES
“If you are looking for a fast paced crime thriller,
this is it!”
“…the book is hard to put down. A truly enjoyable read that I highly recommend.”
“If I could give this book more than five stars I would.”
“I have not enjoyed a book like this in such a long time.”
“The story is engaging, the plot suspenseful, and the characters likable.”
“If you like a book that you don’t want to put down, a story that mesmerizes you, and good writing, then read this book! You won’t be sorry!”
“This book is a winner. From the start it grabs your interest and keeps you questioning who the killer is.”
“Another CC Jameson unpredictable page turner!”
“OH WOW! So entertaining and captured me from the first chapter.”
“Amazing! A must read for mystery buffs!”
“This book will keep you on the edge of your seat. It’s filled with many interesting things about police procedures and religion. I would recommend this book to all mystery/crime addicts.”
“The Last Amen is another incredible crime thriller from a master storyteller.”
“Unbelievable suspense. Had me gripped until the end to find out what happens. Don’t miss out.”
“C.C. Jameson weaves a detailed and intricate plot, you’re guaranteed to be hooked from page one.”
“Move over, Rizzoli & Isles, there’s a new badass female cop in town!”
CHAPTERONE
Boston, Massachusetts
Sunday, June 3rd, 2018
The pop of the cork echoed in the dining room as he opened the 2011 bottle of Terre Rouge Tête-à-Tête. If one type of alcohol made his life easier, it was red wine. It pleased his taste buds and suited his profession. The blood of Christ.
Whether early priests had begun drinking it due to alcoholism, epicurism, or simple lack of clean drinking water was debatable, but one thing was certain: blends were better for his budget than expensive dry wines. And they offered the perfect cover for the first step of his cleansing process.
She sat cross-legged at a proper distance from him, with her Sunday best on. Her manicured hands rested together on one of her knees, but he knew she hadn’t kept her distance from other men before… At least she had the decency to keep her filthy digits away from him.
For a second, he reconsidered whether he should proceed with his plan.
“Your parents have been out of town, you said. Are they back?” he asked, his eyes scanning the rest of the dining room decor, which was adorned with family photos. In the neatly tiled frames, she and her parents beamed in various settings: by the harbor, at graduation, at the beach. Her blonde hair ran in the family.
When she started speaking, he returned his eyes to her. A hint of pink had reached her cheeks.
“They’re away on a cruise. They’ve been gone for a week already, but they should be back in two weeks.”
Her reply returned him to his senses. If he let her be, she’d only worsen her situation. She’d have too much time to continue sinning. If he waited any longer, she’d forever be damned and stuck in Hell, rotting with…
He couldn’t even bring himself to think about her name anymore.
A soul could only stand so much staining before the gates of paradise would forever seal shut, preventing trespassing by those who didn’t deserve entry.
He moved the empty wine glasses closer, away from the pen and pad of paper she’d placed on the table minutes earlier.
As he poured an inch of red liquid into the first glass, he spoke. “You said your parents had a special Bible they liked to read from, as a family. Could you please get it? I’d love to see it.”
“Of course.” She grinned, got up from her chair, and headed into the adjacent living room, her footsteps fading away as she walked out of sight.
He knew she could be back any second. A practicing family like hers had to have Bibles nearby at all times. After retrieving the tiny vial he’d hidden, his fingers swiftly dumped its contents into the empty glass. By the time the creaks of her footsteps got closer, he’d already poured wine over it, hiding his special ingredient.
“Here it is,” she said, handing the worn-out, leather-bound book to him and beaming as though it was an Olympic medal she’d just earned.
“Ah, the Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition. Is this one of the original printings?”
She nodded. “Daddy says so. He’s had it since he was a child.”
“Very nice. Please join me.” He indicated to the chair she’d previously occupied next to him.
“You are so… fun.” She sat and grabbed her pen and paper. “You’re right. It will be much easier to work on the social calendar here, away from the screaming children waiting for their parents to be done socializing. And while drinking wine? You’re the coolest!”
Such a lovely young woman, but so easily tempted.
Her soul deserved to rest in peace. Unlike the one whose name he dared not think about anymore, he had time to save this young woman’s soul, if he acted now.
“Shall I bless this wine before we get started?”
CHAPTERTWO
Friday, June 15th, 2018
Detective Kate Murphy stepped out of Detective Lieutenant Mark Fuller’s office, her heart pounding in her chest, her fists still clenched. She stood still in the middle of the vacant hallway for a second before finally stretching out her fingers. Her nails—while kept short compared to most women’s—had left deep, white grooves in her palms. But she hadn’t drawn blood, and—most importantly—she hadn’t lost her temper in front of both her partner and Fuller.
At least no one was sitting right here in the hall to overhear all of that screaming, she thought, a detail that brightened her mood, however slightly.
Concentrating on her breathing, she inhaled, counted to four, then exhaled slowly.
Snap out of it, Kate!
Then the muffled voices behind the door turned into deep, guttural laughter, and Detective Malvin Rosebud joined her in the hall a few minutes later. It seemed that, without Kate around, their conversation had lightened.
“Walk with me, Murphy,” he said, tapping her on the shoulder.
Kate shook her head but nonetheless caught up to her partner as he headed toward the lunchroom.
“How did you get him out of his pissy mood?”
“Trade secret.”
“Come on! You know I work my ass off. I don’t deserve to be treated that way.”
“Fuller’s old school. He likes his detectives burly and stubborn—”
“Come on—”
“Wait, before you call him a misogynist prick—which I could agree with—you qualify as both those things in his head.”
“What?” Kate looked down at her body, suddenly worried that her fairly recent lack of running had morphed her athletic body into a blob.
“If tiny burly existed, that is. You and I both know you’d kick my ass.”
“Then why is he so upset at me?”
“The part that he didn’t say while you were in there—something I discovered a few hours ago myself—is the reason why he was away two days ago. Remember?”
“Yeah, but what could that possibly have to do with my performance at work?”
He headed toward the vending machine, shaking his head, his wallet in hand. “You missed the entire point of the conversation.”
Kate avoided the sugar-laden treats and went directly for the coffee dispenser. She pressed the button and waited for her large serving of Colombian blend as Rosebud droned on.
“He wasn’t giving you hell for not doing your job; he was upset at you for putting in too many hours.”
“What does he care if I choose to spend my personal time on open cases? I’m helping make Boston safer.” She grabbed her drink out of the machine and dared to dip her lips into the boiling hot liquid. There was nothing like the lunchroom’s tar-like substance to jolt her out of her crappy mood. No other coffee she’d ever tasted had been quite as potent (and foul-tasting), yet she went back to it once or twice daily, like a true addict.
“The job will kill you if you don’t balance it out with happy things.”
“Oh, please…” Kate stirred her coffee in an effort to cool it off a tad.
“Murphy, I’m not joking. Fuller attended a funeral a few days ago. His old partner from back in the day. The man ate his gun.”
“Oh…” Kate walked over to the garbage to toss her stick.
“I reassured him. Told him I’d convince you to have a kid so you can have something to occupy your free time. That’s when he started laughing. He told me he’d be willing to bet on you never having a baby.” Rosebud tossed two snacks on one of the tables: a blueberry muffin and a packet of Skittles. “His comment was weird, but then I remembered your uncle’s murder case. He’d adopted you, right? Did you lose more than your parents back then?”
Rosebud sat and stayed quiet, as though expecting Kate to answer. “Come on, Murphy! If we’re going to keep working together, you gotta tell me what could make your head spin. I can’t protect your back if I don’t know your weaknesses.”
Kate leaned against the counter and looked at her partner, trying to gauge if she should or not. The last thing she wanted was for her own partner to think of her as the weakest link in their team. “What’s your Achilles’ heel?”
“Look at me!” He leaned back on his chair, making his rounded gut stick out more than it normally did. “Sugar. Fat. Bad eating habits. But I know you’ve got my back. You can outrun anyone I know. Not that I’ve had to run after many suspects since becoming a homicide detective, but that’s my number one weakness. Speaking of which, I should really make use of that stupid gym.” He ripped the top off his muffin and broke it in half before stuffing it in his mouth. His closed eyes and growing smile made it obvious he was enjoying his calorie-dense treat. But he reopened his eyes and his expression turned stern.
“So, are you ever going to invite me to your house for drinks? Maybe I can talk your lab guy into picking you up early every evening from now on.”
Kate rolled her eyes at him. “Please don’t.”
“So, what’s your story?”
“Like I told Fuller before. I promise it won’t affect my work. I’ll focus. I’ll set aside my emotions.”
“Stop feeding me bullshit. I’m not Fuller. What is it?”
“Okay,” she said before taking a seat in front of him. “I’ll give you the CliffsNotes, but I don’t want everyone in the department to know about it. It’s gotta stay between us. The last thing I need is some stupid prank played on me again.”
“Deal.”
Kate sat at the table and inhaled deeply, preparing herself to discuss a part of her past she preferred to keep hidden.
* * *
When Kate unlocked the door and walked into Luke’s house, a delightful aroma of garlic and tomato reached her nostrils.
“Luke? Mrs. O’Brien? I’m home.”
“I’m in the kitchen, Kate,” Mrs. O’Brien yelled. “Luke’s not home yet.”
Kate locked the door behind her, hung her jacket on the coatrack, and unlocked the safe in the back of the closet before securing her firearm for the night. Every time she pressed the buttons on it—their high-pitch beeps echoing through the entire house—her heart filled with gratitude for having Luke in her life. He was the one who’d insisted on having the safe installed right in his vestibule since his mother had wanted nothing to do with guns in their house.
Mrs. O’Brien had already pushed aside her Irish Catholic values and reluctantly agreed to let Kate move in and share Luke’s bedroom (it was his house after all). Sure, the installation of a safe wasn’t a particularly romantic gesture, but that was Luke’s perfect solution to keep everyone happy and enjoy a secure home where they wouldn’t have to worry about intruders coming in to rob them… Or worse.
She shook her head as though the movement could prevent her recent conversation with Rosebud from returning to the forefront of her mind, where it threatened to fill her eyes with tears. She was definitely going to have nightmares again tonight.
And as she pressed one more button to lock the safe, the clink of a key in the lock made her turn her head just in time to see Luke come in.
“Hey, baby!” She bridged the gap between them to wrap her arms around his tall frame. Their lips met for a brief kiss, interrupted by Mrs. O’Brien yelling from the kitchen.
“Luke? Is that you?”
He pulled away from Kate, rolled his eyes, then yelled back toward the kitchen. “Yes, Mom. Who else are you expecting?” He turned to Kate again and smiled. “I had a great idea at work today. After dinner, remind me to tell you about it, okay?”
“Why don’t you tell me now?”
He took off his jacket and added it to the other side of the coatrack. “Because I know you, Katie. And I know my mom. It will lead to a topic that isn’t suitable for dinner conversation.”
“Ah!” Kate said, stealing another kiss from Luke. “Now I’ll just keep imagining all sorts of stuff.” She stood on her tippy-toes to whisper in his ears, “Or is it something you want to do to me? Or me to do to you?”
She bit his earlobe before returning her heels to the floor, realizing she’d forgotten to take off her shoes, again.
“Shoot! It’s like my mind doesn’t want to get with the program.” Kate took off her shoes and replaced them with a pair of Mrs. O’Brien’s hand-knitted slippers.
“My mom is just trying her best to domesticate you. Careful, she may try to teach you how to knit them next.”
“Argh! Don’t you dare suggest that to her. It’s bad enough I have to behave myself all the time because she lives with you, I don’t want to turn into a housewife!”
“Are you complaining about my mom?” he asked, a twisted smile on his lips.
Kate knew it was slippery territory, but she also understood the value of family. Especially since the only relatives she had left were distant cousins who lived in Ireland. “You know I love your mom. She’s fantastic. You’re lucky to still have her.”
“Well, remember that thought for when we talk later,” he said, kissing her and heading toward the kitchen.
Kate followed, grinning.
What had she done to deserve him? Luke reappearing in her life a few years prior had been nothing short of miraculous. Well, save for the fact that she didn’t believe in miracles.
“Mom, how was your day?” Luke asked before walking over to the chubby woman in the apron who was retrieving a dish from the oven.
“Wonderful, as usual. But careful, this is really hot.” She turned around and walked over to the kitchen table to rest the steamy lasagna on top of the pot holder in the middle of the table. “Now, dear. I’ll take my hug.”
Luke smiled and wrapped his arms around his mother before kissing her forehead.
Every time Kate saw him do it, it pinched a little part of her heart. It wasn’t jealousy. More like her own faint memories of simpler times pinging in her chest, trying to resurface. The pleasures and comforts of having a mother had long ago disappeared from Kate’s life, so joining Luke and his mom in their home made her nothing but joyful and grateful.
“Come on, Kate. You know the rules. I make you guys dinner, but you pay me back in hugs. Pay up, Kate!”
The daily charade was cheesy, but it was what they did. She hugged the woman who’d raised the man she loved.
“And you have to stop calling me Mrs. O’Brien!” After the hug ended, she turned to her son. “Luke, please make her call me Marjorie. She won’t listen to me.”
Luke raised his palms in the air before taking a seat at the table. “That’s between the two of you, I’m afraid.”
“I promise I’ll work on it! It’s just that I’ve known you as Mrs. O’Brien since I was a kid! It’s a little weird,” Kate said as she opened the cupboard where they stored the alcohol. “Who wants red wine?”
Her dinner cohorts replied in the affirmative, so she grabbed the bottle, along with three glasses, and brought it all to the table.
“Do you mind grabbing the salad from the fridge, Katie?” Mrs. O’Brien asked.
“Not at all.”
A minute later, with a decadent dinner spread in front of them, Mrs. O’Brien reached to grab Luke’s and Kate’s hands, then lowered her head.
“Dear Lord, thank you for bringing my Luke and his Katie home safely. I know they both work hard to make this world a better place. Thank you for providing us with the means to feed ourselves and live in such a wonderful, safe home. Thank you to the farmers who grew this food and to the merchants who brought it to us. Bless us, Lord, and bless the food we are about to receive. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”
“Amen,” Luke said while Kate stared at her food, her mind wandering.
He kicked her under the table.
“Ouch!” Kate said, her eyes sending daggers toward her boyfriend. But she’d understood the message. “Amen!” she said before smiling at Mrs. O’Brien. “Let’s dig in! I’m starving.”
CHAPTERTHREE
Luke O’Brien was sitting in bed with his computer on his lap when the en-suite bathroom door opened. Surrounded by a mist of steam, the woman he loved walked out wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her petite frame and another tied around her head.
“All yours,” she said as she undid her turban and let her wet blonde hair dangle down to her shoulders.
While the bigger part of him wanted nothing more than to make love to her, he talked himself out of it. At least for a few minutes until he could discuss his idea with her.
He closed his laptop and set it aside while she traded her wet towel for one of his large T-shirts. Seconds later, she’d hopped onto the bed.
“Do you think you can be really quiet? I think your mom’s still awake.”
“Kate…” He bit his lip, then exhaled loudly, closing his eyes to muster some courage.
“What’s up? You’re acting all weird.”
He reopened his eyes and moved to sit in front of her. He rubbed his hands against her shoulders, as though trying to protect her from what he was about to say. Or possibly to protect himself from her reaction. He didn’t know which of the two he feared the most.
“Luko, you’re starting to freak me out.”
She’d used his childhood nickname, which eased him into finally talking.
“Okay. Please promise you won’t get upset at me for what I’m about to suggest.”
“Why would I get upset? Is this about me tuning out while your mom was saying grace? I’m sorry about that. I was just thinking about something else. I respect her. I promise I’ll pay attention next time.” She extended her leg. “I think I’ll get a bruise out of your kick, though. Not cool, mister!”
“Come on, Kate. I didn’t kick you that hard. You know it.”
“Just kidding.” She brushed his lips with a kiss. “What do you want to tell me?”
He exhaled loudly. “Well, two things, actually.”
“Okay. Bad news, good news? Start with the bad.”
“No, no.” He shook his head, even though the movement didn’t ease what he was about to do. Good thing he spent most of his time in a lab, avoiding the social interactions some people enjoyed so much, for whatever reason. “Here goes. You know the nightmares you keep having?”
As though his words had deflated her body, she shriveled away from him and leaned back against the headboard. “Yeah. Hard to forget about them.” She scrunched up her nose. “Do you have problems sleeping because of me having nightmares next to you? ’Cause if it’s bothering you, I can go back to living in my own place.”
“No, Katie. That’s not where I’m going with this. I love you sleeping next to me. I love waking up next to you. I don’t want to change that.”
She lifted her shoulders and frowned. “Then what’s your point?”
“Well, first, a colleague of mine recommended a hypnotherapist—”
“What? You talked about my nightmares to your colleagues at work?” Kate’s volume had raised a notch, and Luke moved closer to her.
“No, don’t worry. I know how you feel about it. Totally random how it came up. This guy, Frank, he’s been trying to quit smoking for years. Decades, even. I can’t remember him without a cigarette in his mouth. Anyway, he mentioned how he’s been smoke-free for nearly a month now. And without cravings.”
“So? It’s not like I can will myself to stop dreaming, no matter how good this therapist is.”
Luke nodded. “I know, I know. But turns out a big part of this lady’s process involves taking her patients back through their past and identifying the trigger that started their smoking in the first place.”
“Okay. Still not following.”
“She’s really good at helping people work through the past.”
“And…” Kate squinted as though she knew where Luke was headed.
“While it would not be pleasant—far from it—I just thought that, with proper guidance from this hypnotherapist, you might be able to remember details that you may have pushed away in the dark corners of your mind.”
She brought her hands up to her face, hiding her eyes while she shook her head. When she finally peeled them off, her eyes were red. “Why do that? Do you know how hard I worked at forgetting that day?”
“I know, baby.” He repositioned himself so he could hug and rock her in his arms.
“Fifteen years of therapy it took, and the memories still haunt me.”
He pressed her body closer to his. “But—bear with me for just a few more minutes—if you could identify one little clue—one tiny detail—you could potentially find the person who killed your parents and your baby brother. Wouldn’t putting that man in prison end your nightmares for good?”
He continued rocking her, as though the motion could remove the pain he knew he’d inflicted just by talking about it.
She inhaled deeply, then asked, “What’s the second thing you wanted to tell me?”
“Oh, I probably should have started with it… But every summer, the staff at our DNA lab have a big party. It’s not something we invite people to. We just celebrate the advances that have been made in our field with free food and drinks. I mean, DNA profiling began in 1984. Your parents died in 1995. That’s more than two decades of improvements in technology. If we were to reanalyze the evidence, perhaps there’s something new we could discover.”
“Luke… I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. But whatever DNA existed has probably deteriorated beyond use. They’ve already tested what they had.”
“But—and that’s a big but—if you were to see that hypnotherapist, perhaps we could uncover new leads, new evidence, or run new tests on the old evidence based on new memories that you’d bring back to the surface. You’re the one who discovered them, first at the scene. You were just thirteen then, but now you’re a detective. And a smart one. If you could relive that day with your current expertise, don’t you think you could uncover new clues or new leads?”
CHAPTERFOUR
Kate tried to sleep, but images of her dead baby brother haunted her every time she closed her eyes. Her chat with Rosebud combined with Luke’s far-fetched idea, and a glance at the bright digits of her alarm clock—2:32 a.m.—made it clear she wasn’t going to sleep tonight.
Rolling quietly out of bed, she donned a pair of jeans and a sweater, left a note on the kitchen counter for Luke, then drove away to her uncle’s old place.
Might as well put her insomnia to good use.
After Kenny’s death, she’d waded through all the red tape associated with his will, but finally his house had become hers. While there was sentimental value to it, it was a crumbling mess. She’d talked it over with Luke. Turning it into a rental property would require so much work. She didn’t have the skills or time to do it herself, and Luke wasn’t the type of guy to make good use of power tools. He was a nerd through and through, and she loved him for that. She dealt with enough machismo from some of her colleagues at work.
As she unlocked the door to the house where so many happy and sad memories had been shared, she realized she had to deal with it as quickly as possible. Rip off the Band-Aid, strip away the memories worth saving, and then put it up for sale.
Whatever cash would come out of it would be a bonus.
So she picked up a garbage bag and one of the boxes she had brought over during a previous visit. She unfolded the box, taped the bottom shut, and carried it with her to the living room to see what was worth salvaging and what needed tossing.
She could get a lot of things sorted while the rest of the neighborhood still rested in darkness and silence.
CHAPTERFIVE
Saturday, June 16th, 2018
After opening the panels of the antique toaster on the kitchen counter, Luke put a slice of sprouted-grain bread into each then closed them up.
How he loved that old toaster!
It was a serious fire hazard, but every time he used it, he thought of his dad, hoping the man was resting in peace. And he got to enjoy perfectly toasted bread. Every time.
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
She sat at the kitchen table, sipping on her orange juice, her hair still in rollers from the previous night. As she put her drink down, she nodded. “Sure, dear.”
Luke checked if his toast was ready then returned his attention to his mom. “Kate and I have been seeing each other for a while now. We’re coming up on an anniversary of sorts. I was thinking of doing something special for her. What do you think about me getting her a dog?”
“A dog?” Her fork cut into the soft yolk that rested on top of her bread, making the yellow liquid ooze out into the toast.
Luke peered into the antique appliance again. Not ready yet.
“Well, she’s already living here. I know she doesn’t want children. At least not until she gets over those nightmares. Wouldn’t a dog be a great stepping stone?”
“You realize I’d be the one taking care of it. Walking it. Training it. Cleaning up after it…”
Luke opened the panels and flipped his bread to expose the soft sides to the central element.
“Yeah… You’re probably right.” His mom was getting up there in years, and that was something that had begun to worry him a little. He definitely didn’t want to burden her with anything. “I don’t know what to get her.”
His mom’s fingers fidgeted with the silver cross that hung around her neck. “You know what would make me the happiest person on earth?”
“What?”
“Make an honest woman out of her!”
Luke moved toward the table. “Come on, Mom! Kate’s not religious. And I can’t blame her for losing whatever faith she may have had after her family got killed.” He reached for the cup of coffee he’d left on the table minutes earlier. “No, I can’t do that.” He poured in some sugar then stirred.
Mrs. O’Brien shook her head, looked up to the sky, then back down to Luke as she exhaled. “Well, if you don’t want to make it official under the eyes of God, then at least make it official at City Hall.”
“But don’t you think it’s a little too fast—”
“Luke Stewart O’Brien, you’ve known and loved this woman for over twenty-five years! Sure, she wasn’t in your life for a solid twenty of those years, but I know you never stopped loving her. She’s special. She gets you, and you get her. Don’t you dare—”
The smoke detector shrilled over the rest of her words as smoke escaped the toaster behind Luke.
“Shit!” he muttered, rushing to unplug the machine and flip the panels open.
Two blackened squares stared back at him. Well… Perfect toast 99.9% of the time.
Following the annoying sound, he stepped into the living room and waved a newspaper under the detector, hoping to make the damn thing shut up.
A long minute later, he was finally rewarded by silence. He walked back into the kitchen just as his mother was closing the window, the smoke now cleared.
Luke tossed his failed toast into the compost bin, reloaded the toaster, and plugged it back in.
“You know my birthday’s coming up,” she said to Luke as she returned to her seat to finish her breakfast.
“Yes, of course. But same as last year, I don’t know what to get you.”
“I half-expected as much, so I thought of something I’d like you to do for me. For my birthday.”
“What?” he said, heading toward the table.
“Better stay back there, son. That alarm was bad enough the first time.”
Luke shrugged but nonetheless obeyed. “What do you want?”
“The church is arranging a fundraiser to support the community. I’d like you to accompany me.”
“What?” Luke asked as he flipped his toast. When he returned his glance her way, she was finishing the last bite on her plate. “What kind of fundraiser? When?”
“Tomorrow evening. It’ll be from six to nine.”
“Why?”
“Luke, be a good Christian and accompany your mom. It’s for the good of the community. I’ll be selling my baked goods.”
“It will be packed with people,” Luke said, his face shriveling.
“We certainly hope so!”
After checking that the bread was toasted enough—although not perfectly—he unplugged the device, loaded his slices onto a plate, then joined his mom at the table.
Her wide eyes were hopeful, her smile genuine. “You could ask Kate to join us, if you want.”
Luke’s eyes inadvertently widened. “I’m pretty sure she’s not going to be interested in that.”
His mom’s brows descended as she frowned. She got up from her chair and carried her dirty dishes to the sink.
Luke began spreading peanut butter on his toast while considering her request. His extreme introverted nature wouldn’t enjoy it at all, but he couldn’t disappoint his mom. That would just be selfish of him. “Okay, Mom. I’ll go with you.”
She walked back to the table to squeeze his hand, a large smile on her increasingly wrinkled face as he himself forced a grin to last long enough to please her.
Suck it up, Luke. She’s the only mother you have. If spending a ridiculous number of hours surrounded by way too many people is going to make her happy, then so be it.
CHAPTERSIX
Sunday, June 17th, 2018
In front of him, the congregation stood, dressed to the nines, their booming voices joining the choir to chant:
“Lord, my savior,
Lord, my liberator,
Guide me toward your light,
Together our souls will unite.
Your spirit calls, through the dark times it beckons,
With open arms, you’ll greet me in the heavens.
Glorious is your name,
Glorious is your flame.
Lord, while I walk with shame,
My sins you forgive the same,
I look up to you and your name I’ll forever proclaim.”
As he and the crowd repeated the last five lines of his favorite hymn—words he’d memorized decades ago—he relished his most recent success, rubbing the beads of his wooden rosary between his right thumb and forefinger.
It had been two weeks already and nobody had come and spoken to him. He hadn’t heard anything on the news either, but he knew that it’d be just a matter of time.
The cleansing ceremony had gone off without a hitch. He’d had time to clean up everything. He’d been cautious not to leave fingerprints on anything he’d touched. Not the Bible, not the kitchen table, not the door handle on his way out. Not a thing.
The minute after she’d passed out, he’d donned his gloves and covered his head with a surgeon’s cap to avoid leaving any hair behind. He’d cleaned everything, including the wine glasses from which they’d drank. He’d thought about placing them in the dishwasher and letting the hot steam remove both his prints and the chemicals from his homemade brew, but the appliance had been empty. He’d hand washed them instead and stored them away.
Everything had been left as it was before he’d arrived. Nobody had heard a thing, and nobody had seen him leave the house in broad daylight with the rest of his wine bottle in hand.
Well, almost everything had been left as it had been. The family’s precious Bible now rested on Mary Magdalene’s breathless chest in her bedroom.
The hymn ended, and creaking noises echoed in the nave of the church as everyone took a seat in front of him.
He inhaled deeply, soaking in his pride. Her soul now rested in Heaven. No more would she sin. No more would she bring shame upon herself, her family, and her community.
While everyone else turned their attention to the visiting bishop, he scanned the crowd for his next sinner.
Who else deserves a seat at God’s side?
CHAPTERSEVEN
Kate swore under her breath as she kicked off her shoes while holding a large brown box. “Stupid no-shoe rule.”
Seconds later, she walked into the living room in her socks. “Hey, babe,” she said to Luke.
“What’s that?” he asked as she dropped the heavy box near the TV he was watching. The news was on, by the sounds of it.
She walked over to the couch. “Well, I made a lot of progress at Kenny’s house yesterday and today. I dumped a bunch of old, useless stuff and I packed a few boxes’ worth of items I want to go through. Photo albums, tax papers, letters, trinkets…”
“You have more?”
Kate nodded. “Lots more.” She left the room and put on her shoes again.
“I’ll help you,” he said as he joined her in the entrance.
Ten minutes later, the two of them stared at the mini wall they’d built between the TV and the couch.
“Can’t believe you managed to cram all of these in your Subaru. Good packing! But you should have called me. I’d have helped you load your car.”
“Nah. I needed some alone time. It was good.” Kate looked around, surprised that Mrs. O’Brien hadn’t once appeared to check that Kate was adhering to her no-shoe rule. “Where’s your mom?”
“She’s still at church.”
“Ah! I’ve been getting up so early I didn’t realize what time it was.” She eyed the room, then Luke. “She’s not going to like seeing these boxes here, right? Where can I put them?”
Luke’s lips twisted as he brought a finger to scratch the growing stubble on his chin. “My office?”
“You won’t mind the clutter?”
He shrugged. “I don’t spend that much time in there.”
“I promise I’ll go through them as fast as I can. I won’t keep all of it. I just wanted to clear Kenny’s house so I can list it and start showing it.”
He wrapped his arms around Kate and rested his chin on top of her head. “I know.” He inhaled deeply as he squeezed her closer to his chest. “Since Mom isn’t around, what do you say we move those boxes fast, then make the most of our alone time? We have…” Luke checked his watch. “Thirty minutes?”
Kate moved out of his embrace to look him in the eyes. “And we wouldn’t have to worry about being quiet?”
“We can be as loud as we want,” Luke said, his eyebrows bouncing up and down as he grinned.
Kate got on her toes to kiss him but her phone brought a swift end to their embrace. It was the ringtone she’d assigned to Detective Lieutenant Fuller. She could not ignore it.
“Sorry, babe. We’re understaffed right now.” She rushed to the entryway and brought the device to her ear. “Detective Murphy.”
“We’ve got a body. Young woman, no obvious signs of a struggle at the scene, but the death is very suspicious. Most likely a homicide.”
“I’m on my way. What’s the address?”
CHAPTEREIGHT
Detective Malvin Rosebud took in the renovated house’s decor and furnishing: earth tones, leather and solid wood furniture, plush carpeting, hardwood floors, expensive television and stereo system. To date, other than the police tape surrounding the property, one broken glass panel on the front door, and the BPD, medical examiner, and crime lab technicians on scene, nothing seemed wrong in the middle-class family home.
Well, save for the stench. That was horribly wrong.
Decomposition had a certain pungency that couldn’t be ignored, even by those fighting the nastiest of head colds. But, chewing on three sticks of mint gum with his mouth open behind his face mask, he did his best to ignore it.
After asking a crime scene tech to document the broken glass in the entrance and getting another to dust the front door for prints, Rosebud inspected the main floor instead of joining the rest of the crew upstairs. He liked to soak in as wide an area around the crime scene as possible. As he pondered on the family’s CD and DVD collection, he remembered a handful of instances where little details like those, just outside the area where the victim had been left, had lost their meaning once he’d stared at the dead body.
But, most importantly today, he wasn’t quite sure his burrito was going to stay put once he approached the origin of the stench. Testing that new food truck no longer seemed like the smartest idea.
“Hey, Rosebud. What do we have?” Murphy asked a few feet away from where he stood in the living room.
He turned to face her. “The vic’s upstairs. I haven’t seen her yet. I just got here myself.”
She adjusted her right glove then looked back at him. “Fuller?”
“Upstairs, with the medical examiner.”
“Wang? Chainey?”
“Don’t know.”
“I’m heading up.”
He continued looking at the walls: picture after picture of a family of three blonds, and a large crucifix right above the fireplace.
Rosebud continued his inspection of the ground floor, moving into the dining room, paying attention to where his bootie-covered feet stepped, carefully avoiding touching any potential evidence. The department’s photographer had already placed numbers around various footprints that had been left on the carpet, some bigger and some smaller than his. He suddenly realized that he wasn’t sweating as much as he normally did under the one-use coveralls he’d donned minutes earlier. A glance at the thermometer on the wall explained why: the air conditioning was on, and the temperature had been set to 65 degrees.
He thanked his lucky stars. The stench could have been much, much worse. The family’s electric bill would probably be huge, though. Then he realized the killer may have played with the thermostat to mess with their estimated time of death.
After getting a tech to pull fingerprints from it, Rosebud moved along to the next room.
Just like the living room, the dining room was clean and orderly. Absolutely no signs of a struggle anywhere on this floor. Or at least not anywhere he’d seen. He bent sideways to inspect the table’s glass surface and noticed how immaculate the top was. A light dusting of particles had landed on the surface, but not one smear was in sight.
He frowned and headed into the kitchen.
The stainless steel fridge grabbed his attention next. Not a single fingerprint there either.
“Really? How?” With his gloved hand, he opened the cupboard under the sink, curious as to what brand of cleaners the family used. A pair of yellow rubber gloves, a sponge, a dish rack and tray, a spray can of oven cleaner, and a bottle of dishwashing liquid occupied the space. The family’s miracle product couldn’t be any of those, so he closed the cupboard, disappointed that he hadn’t magically stumbled upon the solution for the unsightly smears on his own stainless steel appliances.
Do they use a maid service that carries their own products?
“Rosebud, get up here!” Fuller yelled from upstairs.
