Deadly Sins (31 page)

Jerry huffed out a breath. “Enemies. No, I wouldn’t know about that. We don’t worry about enemies in the church, at least not in the way you mean. Our fight is against sin and the presence of evil.”

“Which takes a very human shape,” Adam noted from his position in the corner of the room.

The priest nodded his agreement. “Of course. And one can’t discount the prevalence of mental illness that can make people unpredictable. But I don’t know of anyone who has ever posed a physical threat to Cardinal Cote. And I don’t have a close enough relationship with him to have been privy to any problems that might have presented themselves.”

“What sort of relationship did you have with him?”

Jerry made a show of avoiding Adam’s gaze while he answered Shepherd’s question. “I would describe it as strained, especially recently.”

Adam noted that the words had the agent straightening in his chair, his interest evident. Adam quelled the urge to jump in. Smooth the waters. This was why he’d arranged to come here today. Sometimes getting things on the record early paid off in the long run. The trick here was circumspect candor.

“You and the cardinal had a problem?”

The priest waved a hand at the wall of photos. “I’ve always believed in taking an active stance where I see social injustice. The cardinal didn’t agree with my involvement, although he wasn’t my spiritual leader during those years.”

“So what was there to object to recently?” Shepherd asked.

“The amount of time I spent engaged in activities not directly related to my parish. I sit on several nonprofit boards. I have an interest in fund-raising for several causes. We had differences in opinion over the issue.”

When he left it at that, Adam felt a little of the tension ease from his muscles. Of course, if the details of Jerry’s financial transgression came to light, it would be reason for closer scrutiny of his friend. Which would be a waste of time. The man was a liberal bleeding-heart do-gooder. His most dangerous quality might be his ability to talk someone unconscious, but that hardly elevated him to suspect material.

“So you didn’t hear of any threats against him.” Shepherd lacked his perpetual smile. “But given your long history with him, perhaps you have heard of a reason someone would hold a grudge against the cardinal. An accusation that might have been brought against him and then dismissed, maybe. Or one that wasn’t given a hearing at all.”

“I have no personal knowledge of any facts relating to something like that.”

His careful wording was like gasoline to a fire. Adam watched both agents respond to it. Jaid leaned forward, her voice growing more urgent. “We aren’t interested in destroying the man’s reputation. But for the purposes of our investigation, if you know of any talk that might have followed the man over the years, we need to check it out. It may well be pertinent to our investigation into his death.”

“I’m not going to deal in rumor and innuendo.” Adam recognized the implacable tone of his friend’s voice. “A man is dead. Nothing will be served by dredging up every vicious word that might have been uttered against him. He devoted his life to the church for more than a generation. I certainly wouldn’t want gossip to be my final legacy when I’m gone, would you?”

“Jerry.” Adam couldn’t remain silent any longer. “Now would be the time to share anything you might know with the agents. Almost none of the details relating to this investigation are being released to the public. You can be assured that anything you tell us would be handled just as discreetly.”

The priest avoided Adam’s gaze, but his face was mutinous. And being quite familiar with that particular expression, Adam clenched his jaw. “As I said, I have no facts to share, and I won’t deal in anything less. The man was savaged brutally in death. I won’t follow that up by savaging his good name.”

“No offense, Adam, but your friend didn’t tell us all that he knows.” Shepherd was driving northwest on 267 toward Purcellville. It was only about fifty miles from DC, but commutes in the area were measured in minutes rather than miles for good reason. The agent had been largely silent since they left the rectory. Adam didn’t consider that a good sign.

“He’s a priest. Gossip is probably considered a sin of some sort. If he’d had any solid knowledge about any scandal regarding the cardinal, he would have told us.” He said the words with more certainty than he was feeling. The man knew about something in the cardinal’s past. But Adam wasn’t surprised that Jerry refused to share it, even if he’d been tempted to shake the information from the priest earlier.

The guilt Jerry felt over his last meeting with the cardinal was surely the cause of his reticence.

“I can’t help but believe we’re going to meet the same sort of wall no matter who we talk to in the church about it.” Jaid looked up from the phone she’d been bent over. “Our best bet would be to find some longtime churchgoers.”

“Parishioners,” Shepherd corrected.

“Parishioners, then. Find out what church Cote was at as a priest, monsignor, whatever. Check out the old people. They’ll remember, I’ll bet.”

It wasn’t, Adam thought, a half-bad way to get the information. “Priests don’t stay at one church forever,” he cautioned. “After a few years they’re often moved to a different one.”

“Why?”

Baffled, he merely looked at her for a moment. “I don’t know. I’m not Catholic, remember?”

She lifted a shoulder, her expression amused. “A fact God gives thanks for daily, I’m sure.” When he merely looked at her, she added, “Where’s that famed Raiker sense of humor?”

“Absent until I hear something funny.” He nodded toward her phone. “You still shopping or is that work?”

“Work.” She held up the phone so he could see the screen. “Vale’s records. Donald Vale is married to one Sarah Matthews Vale, nine years and counting. They own a car and a pickup, both older models, and a five-acre farm. Even outside DC as far as it is, it didn’t come cheap, which makes me wonder how Mr. Vale makes his living these days.”

Adam should have been wondering the same thing. Instead of observing again that it didn’t look as though she’d gotten much sleep the night before. He had enough experience with women, and Jaid in particular, to refrain from pointing out that fact.

Shepherd said, “Jaid’s idea about talking to the parishioners is a good one. But I’m betting Hedgelin would frown on any pointed questioning like that, particularly if it pertains to the cardinal’s past.”

“Most people are only too glad to offer up dirt with very little urging. But you’re right, Hedgelin is likely to object.” They’d have to strike out trying alternate ways to get the information before the assistant director was likely to consider pursuing that avenue.

Adam’s thoughts turned to Lambert. He’d vehemently denied any further involvement. But that didn’t necessarily mean the killer planned to stop. Or that he could even if he wanted to.

Vale’s place was accessed by taking a series of twisting gravel roads that had dust kicking up in the wake of the vehicle. When Shepherd, Jaid, and Adam drove down the drive next to the mailbox emblazoned with Vale’s name, Adam studied the ramshackle structures on the property ahead. Whatever else Vale spent his time doing, sprucing up the place obviously wasn’t high on his priority list.

A large dog of indeterminate breed chased alongside the vehicle until Shepherd pulled to a stop near the house. Then the animal stood barking a loud alarm for the owners inside the place, announcing the presence of visitors.

But no one came to the door.

“Who wants to distract the canine while I knock at the door?” Jaid asked, not moving to get out of the vehicle. She was watching the animal with a distrustful expression. Adam had the fleeting memory that she’d never been allowed a pet when she was a child. It was one of the few things, outside of work, that they’d discovered they had in common.

“He looks friendly,” he said blandly.

“Then you get out first.”

With a mental shrug he opened the door. Shepherd followed suit a moment later. The dog didn’t stop its incessant racket, but it didn’t come nearer, either.

Jaid got out and strode up to the sagging porch, keeping a wary eye on the dog. The screen door shook when she pounded on it. But no one answered.

Shepherd went to peer through one dusty window in the door of the attached garage. “Pickup is here. Car is gone.”

Adam stilled. Cocked his head. “Did you hear that?”

“I’m deaf from all that barking. Do dogs come with off switches?” But Jaid stopped. Listened.

It sounded again. A shot. And somewhere in the vicinity.

They looked at each other. “Hunters?” Adam suggested.

“Maybe. Which means when we check it out, keep to cover as much as possible.” Shepherd was already striding in the direction the shot had sounded from. Jaid followed.

And Adam fell in behind them. This time he wasn’t sitting in the car.

The distance was farther than he’d suspected. At first the land was lightly wooded, but the trees thinned a half mile or so from the house. There was another shot. Louder this time. They were headed in the right direction.

Jaid and Shepherd were slightly ahead of him. Once Adam stepped into the clearing, he caught up with them because they stood there, unmoving.

There was no one in sight. Barbed wire delineated the property line ahead. The trees got heavier where they bordered the edge of the boundary.

Another shot sounded. Still in the distance.

But this time it was followed by the slow fall of a body out of a huge evergreen.

Jaid and Shepherd raced across the field, weapons drawn. They took cover where they could, but in order to get to the person lying motionless at the base of the fir, they were going to have to cross the clearing in plain sight of the shooter.

“Separate,” she muttered, and Shepherd split off silently. They each approached the unmoving person from opposite directions.

The air was still. Quiet. The type of stillness that was only found in the country and always got on her nerves. There were no traffic noises. Nothing but the sounds of the birds that arrowed out of trees when she ran by.

Jaid distrusted the quiet almost as much as she had the dog. In some ways the scene was even creepier than the alley they’d chased Sanchez into.

But as she got closer, she realized she’d been wrong on a couple counts. The person on the ground wasn’t a man. And she wasn’t dead.

Reaching the woman’s side first, Jaid knelt, her gaze skimming over the camouflage coveralls, looking for blood. “Where are you hurt?” Shepherd remained standing above them, scanning the area for the shooter.

“Shit.” The woman’s face was stark white beneath the hunter’s cap. “I think I broke my leg.”

“Are you shot?”

“Hell no, I’m not shot. Might be dumb enough to fall out of the damn tree, but not quite dumb enough to shoot myself doing it.”

Jaid re-holstered her weapon. “You mean you were hunting?”

The woman propped herself up on her elbows, pain twisting her face. Strands of long red hair had worked free of the cap. “Place is lousy with wild turkeys. Bagged a couple of them and started down the tree to go grab them. Missed my footing and . . . well, I’m guessing you saw the rest.”

Gently Jaid ran her hands over the woman’s leg, pausing when she winced. Several inches above the ankle, likely a break to the tibia. “Agent Shepherd and I will get you upright. Keep the weight off the leg. We’ll help you back to the house.”

The woman’s gaze narrowed. “Agents?”

Silently Jaid reached into her coat pocket and flipped open her credentials.

“Feds.” She all but spat the word. “Don isn’t going to like this at all.”

“Maybe you’d like us to leave, and you can wait until Don comes back and finds you.” Jaid tucked the ID away. “Are you Mrs. Vale?”

“Sarah.” Indecision warred on the woman’s face before her expression changed. Her eyes widened and fixed on something over Jaid’s shoulder. She realized Adam must be approaching.