SUICIDAL SUSPICIONS: A Kate Huntington Mystery (The Kate Huntington Mystery Series Book 8) (23 page)

“I think she’s unofficially looking into it,” she said to Rob, “but she said she couldn’t reopen the case. And she couldn’t tell me why.”

“Hmm,” Rob said, then fell silent for a beat. “Somebody from above is pulling strings.”

Something clicked in her brain. “That fits. I don’t have any real evidence of this, but priests and nuns are lying to me right and left, so–”

“So the logical conclusion is that the Church is hiding something. They definitely have the power in this state to pull strings.”

“The question is who are they protecting?” Kate’s chest hurt again at the thought that Father Sam might be a child abuser. The guy with the scraggly beard, Jones, might very well be part of it, but the Catholic Church wouldn’t go to such lengths to protect a janitor. The clergy had to be involved.

“So you’re going to keep investigating?” Rob asked.

She wanted to let it go. She’d proven that it wasn’t suicide, which should be easing her guilt and helping Josie’s parents feel better. “Wait! What if the influence to squelch the case is coming from the Hartins? Maybe Mr. Hartin did something they’re trying to hide.”

A sigh from the other end of the line. “I guess that answers my question. Maybe they want the records to make sure Josie didn’t say anything that would incriminate them.”

“Yeah, but don’t they realize that forcing me to give the file to them means it might be read in court?”

“I don’t think they’re going to take it all the way to court,” Rob said. “They’re trying to pressure you into turning over the records, to make the case go away.”

If she was being honest with herself, she really didn’t think the Hartins were trying to cover anything up. If they were worried about something in her records, they wouldn’t be drawing attention to them by trying to get them from her. No, they wanted answers.

She was on the right track. Josie’s death had something to do with St. Bart’s. “Yes, I need to keep investigating, but I’ve got Manny’s help and protection now. That will make it easier.”

Manny smiled beside her, his eyes still on the Towson traffic.

“There’s more at stake here,” she continued. “If the Church is covering for a sexual abuser, then he’s still out there abusing children.”

“Good point,” Rob said. “Be careful, sweetheart.”

“I will. And thanks for not being mad about me missing lunch.”

A slight pause. “Just don’t do that to me again.” His tone was a bit sharp. “Last time you didn’t show for lunch, you’d been attacked by a killer.”

“Oh my God! You didn’t think–”

“I didn’t know what to think. I was just scared out of my wits.”

Kate’s eyes stung with tears. She swallowed the sob threatening to escape her throat. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe, so no harm done.”

“I promise I’ll never stand you up again.”

They signed off, and Kate put her phone away. She stared at the chicken sandwich on her lap, then wrapped it back up. Maybe her stomach would settle down enough before her next client that she could eat at least a few bites to get her through the afternoon.

She should feel relieved that Rob hadn’t yelled at her, but guilt was the dominant feeling. Just because she’d dodged the bullet of his wrath didn’t mean she hadn’t screwed up.

She was beginning to feel like she had bipolar disorder herself. She needed to get a grip, and soon.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A text was waiting on Kate’s cell phone at the end of the day. Liz had located a current address for the janitor and the priest, and a phone number for the latter. If the janitor had a phone, it was a cell.

She hadn’t had any luck with the mysterious phone number from Josie’s phone that Kate had sent to her earlier.

Not a landline. Checked major cell phone providers,
the text read.
No luck. I can check other providers, but might be a throwaway cell. If so, untraceable. Sorry.

Kate blew out air.

Damn! A dead end!

She texted back thanking Liz and telling her not to bother continuing the search. If the phone was traceable, the police lab would find its owner.

Kate sagged in her desk chair. She had a bad feeling that Liz was right. And she’d had such high hopes that the phone number would lead them to whoever Josie was “checking something out” with that day.

Sighing, she picked up the older journal. She’d read in it for a few minutes before going home.

She was about to call it a day when she turned the page.

December 12th

I had a dream last night, a different one. This one was that dude with the scraggly beard. He was yelling in my face stuff like “Now look what you’ve done” and “You’ve ruined everything.” When I strain to remember what this might be about, I get a vague sense of opening a door–I’m real small–and someone yells, “No! No lights!”

And I’m just as anxious when I think about this dream as the other one. I think I’m going to call my doctor and see if he can give me something for the anxiety, and maybe something to knock me out at night.

Kate skimmed through the next twenty or so pages, but there was nothing more about Scraggly Beard, or the dreams.

.

At home, she opted to get it over with quickly. Once she had greeted Maria and the kids, she led Skip out of the kitchen. “I’ve gotta tell you something,” she said in a low voice so the kids wouldn’t hear her. She gestured toward the study.

After they had settled in the room with the door closed, she took a deep breath. “It happened yesterday afternoon, but I didn’t want to upset you before your presentation, or after for that matter when you seemed to need to decompress.”

Skip was silent, his eyes slightly narrowed.

“And before I tell you, I want you to know that I’ve already done some things to deal with it, so that I’m safe.” She cleared her throat. “I got a threatening note yesterday afternoon. That’s why I called Manny to guard me.”

His jaw tightened. Not a good sign.

“I took the note to Judith,” Kate quickly added, “during my lunch break today.”

He clenched his fists. “What did the note say?”

She repeated the threatening words.

He sucked air through gritted teeth. “Manny’s sticking with you like glue until Judith finds the murderer.”

“I agree with the Manny and glue idea, but Judith isn’t investigating. Not officially at least.”

His mouth fell open. “What?”

“Yeah, that was my reaction. She wouldn’t say why but apparently she’s being pressured to keep the case closed.”

He stood up and paced a few steps in the small room. “You’re leaving this alone. The agency will take over from here.”

Kate measured her words carefully. “I would appreciate any help you all can give, but I need to be involved. As I’ve said before, I’m the one who knew Josie, who will realize what some things mean. Things that others may dismiss as irrelevant.”

He paced back toward her. “Okay, but you’re strictly consultant status. We do the footwork.”

She pulled in air and blew it out softly. She was glad that Skip hadn’t yelled at her for not telling him about the note sooner, but she wasn’t going to be shut out of the investigation, or be put on the shelf as a “consultant.”

“I can’t agree with that. I need to see people’s faces and body language as they’re interviewed.”

Skip’s fists clenched again. She could hear his teeth grinding.

She pushed the desk chair back a bit so she could look up at him more readily. Her throat tight, she prayed that he would understand how important this was to her. “There’s more to this than just Josie’s death, or even my safety.” She told him about her suspicions that abuse had occurred at St. Bartholomew’s back in the nineties, and had been covered up. “If I’m right, then the abuser or abusers are still out there, hurting more children. I can’t ignore that.”

He stared down at her. “You keep Manny with you at all times when you aren’t home here with me.”

“Not a problem. I have no desire to get hurt. Actually, could I have the use of a second bodyguard? So I can sometimes send Manny out to investigate some things.”

“I thought you just said you had to be there.”

“Most of the time I will, but there might be some stuff he can track down for me.”

Skip huffed out air, then threw his hands in the air. “I should know better than to try to buck you when you’ve got the bit in your mouth like this.”

Kate smiled at him. “I believe you are mixing your horse metaphors there, sweetheart.”

He shook his head, then extended his hand to her. “After the kids are in bed, let’s go over what you have so far, so I can see how the pieces fit together.”

“Or don’t,” she said as she let him pull her to a stand. “So far, only a few of the pieces are fitting together.”

.

While Skip did story time with the kids, Kate started sorting out what she already knew. Thinking of her favorite fictional detective, she pulled a pad out of a kitchen drawer and sat down at the table.

She didn’t have any index cards, like Kinsey Milhone used, but she could list what she knew or suspected. She bypassed the reasons why she believed Josie hadn’t committed suicide and went straight to clues as to who might have murdered her.

1. J had recurring dreams. Something happened in the dark. She was terrified of even talking about the dreams.

2. She left a message about some kind of breakthrough the day she was murdered.

3. Her gut feeling was that the dreams were related to earlier flashbacks of an angry man’s face, with a scraggly beard. An earlier journal entry gave more specifics: man said she had done something wrong, had ruined something.

4.  Scraggly Beard may very well be the janitor at St. Bart’s back in 1980s to 90s.

5. J asked Fr. Sam why her mother pulled her from St. Bart’s school. I asked same question. Felt like Fr. Sam might be lying.

Kate looked at the
might be
and then scratched it out. She was kidding herself, not wanting to admit that Father Sam might be involved somehow. She inserted
was
above the word
lying
.

Okay, what else?

She thought for a moment, then put pen to paper.

6. One of prescriptions for drugs found in her system was for clonazepam. Doctor on label says he didn’t write it. Both doctor and pharmacy now claim no knowledge that the prescription ever existed.

She tapped the pen against her lips.

7. Last journal entry indicates she was checking out something related to another hunch.

8.  She made or received three phone calls morning of her death from a certain number. Liz can’t trace number. Probably a throwaway cell phone. (Judith checking this.)

9. Father William

Kate couldn’t remember his last name off the top of her head.

9. Father William Something (see St. Bart’s Archives) was also at St. Bart’s at the time Josie was in the school there.

10. Liz checked on Fr. Bill and the janitor. (Have address for both, phone # for Fr. Bill; janitor has no land line.)

11. Did Josie know Fr. Bill as a teenager? If so, where?

12. Sister Michelina also seemed to be lying when I asked her about Josie. She mentioned Fr. Bill was youth pastor, but he didn’t work with the younger children. Was that last comment of hers relevant?

Had her tired brain forgotten anything? She chewed on the end of her pen.

A hand descended on her shoulder. She jumped.

Skip squeezed the shoulder, then sat down at the table next to her. “Who’s Sister Michelina?”

Kate told him, then explained anything else in her notes that didn’t make sense to him.

“You’ve made good progress,” he said when she’d finished.

The knots in her stomach relaxed some. She was perversely pleased with the compliment.

“Is that everything?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Give me a minute.” She read over the list again, then added next to #3:
She dreamed once about this man. That dream also made her nervous.

Skip took the list from her and read it over again. “We should add the threatening note.”

Kate handed him the pen.

He scribbled a #12 about the note on the page. Then he stood up. “I’m going to scan this on the computer and email it to Liz, Manny and Rose. That way we’ll all be on the same page.”

“Sounds good.”

“Then,” he paused, the gold flecks dancing in his hazel eyes, “it’s time for bed.”

She grinned at him, her knotted stomach and muscles relaxing some more. “
That
sounds good too.”

~~~~~~~~

Her mother was yelling about the broken vase on the dining room floor. Kate knew her brother Jack had knocked it off the sideboard, but she was trying not to be a tattletale. Her mother’s anger scared her, made her feel guilty even though she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Bridget O’Donnell planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you be protectin’ your siblings now, Katie. Who broke it?”

Skip was suddenly there, telling his mother-in-law that Kate shouldn’t be involved in the investigation. It was too dangerous.

“Harumph,” her mother said. Then she turned on her heel and marched away, bellowing Jack’s name.

Kate’s insides tightened. She felt like she might throw up. She hadn’t said his name. She hadn’t told.

Kate jerked up in bed. The dream had been so real it took a moment for her to orient herself.

The guilt remained, free-floating.

I didn’t tell on Jack.

In real life, she had. The incident had really happened and fear of her mother had trumped filial loyalty. She had squeaked out Jack’s name, and then her mother had turned and marched off in search of him.

Her body shivered, but the room wasn’t cold. Somehow she knew her unconscious mind was trying to tell her something.

That’s it! Josie’s anxiety.

She’d been threatened into silence, maybe even told to forget whatever had happened.