Deadly Sins (20 page)

Adam Raiker was proving to be a problem.

The man who’d hired Ferrell sat before his bank of computers. But the numbers on the screen showing his overseas bank accounts failed to satisfy as they normally did.

It was unlikely Raiker was going to be removed from the case, despite the carefully orchestrated diversions thrown his way. As much as that knowledge burned, it had to be faced. His involvement was threatening all the careful strategy that had gone into this plan.

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Every problem had a solution, so he’d simply find a way to make this work with Raiker dropped right down in the middle of it. His presence didn’t have to change anything. Things might have to be done a bit differently, but the outcome could be the same. The details just needed tweaking.

A germ of an idea occurred. A slow smile crossed his face. Yes, there was a way around Raiker’s presence. It could even take the stakes up a notch. How much more satisfying would it be if the great Adam Raiker continued to investigate but was outwitted at every turn?

He examined the idea from all angles. Didn’t see a downside. There were far worse fates for Raiker than death. The man was counting on it.

And very soon Adam Raiker would discover that for himself.

Somehow, without really planning it, Adam found himself parked outside Jerry’s rectory for the second time that week. He hesitated there for a minute, debated going in. He could use a little relaxed conversation with someone outside the investigation. But more importantly, he owed it to the man to give him at least a sanitized version of what had gone down last night. It’d likely be in the papers tomorrow. If Jerry found out that way, there’d be hell to pay.

There were only a few people whose reactions Adam cared anything about, but Jerry was the closest person to a father figure Adam had ever had. And the fact was, he owed the man. Big-time. Adam got out of the car, locked it with the remote, and headed toward the front walk. If nothing else, once the priest had gotten his concern out of the way, Adam might just score some dinner. Lucia, the housekeeper at the rectory, was a helluva cook.

But when he knocked, no one came to the door. Adam backed up, squinted at the building again. One light showing, at least, but that could be for security purposes only, despite the cardinal’s attitude about the utility bill. Jerry kept a crammed schedule with his duties for the parish coupled with his myriad do-gooder activities. He was probably out.

Adam knocked once more and half turned, expecting to head back to his car. But then he stopped. Cocked his head. There were voices sounding inside. Loud enough to have drowned out his knock.

Certain of his welcome, he opened the outer door, checked the inner one. With a grimace he noted it was unlocked. Despite his frequent lectures, Jerry was lax about security. Churches and members of the clergy weren’t immune from crime.

Adam eased open the door, stepped inside. Immediately realized his mistake. Jerry was obviously there. One of the voices was his, and he was engaged in a high-volume argument with someone who also remained out of sight.

“I’m sick of the constant micromanaging of every single detail of my life. I don’t need a keeper. And you of all people are in no position to preach to me about vices. At least I’ve never tried to hide mine behind the shield of the church. Your hypocrisy is a bit much to swallow.”

“You’ll keep a civil tongue in your head and remember whom you’re addressing.” The response was made in venomous tones. “I am your spiritual leader. Do you know how close you’ve come to being sanctioned for some of your stunts? Former cardinal White, God rest his soul, should have squelched your disobedience early on, instead of . . .”

It was high time to announce his presence. “Jerry, you here?” Adam called loudly. The voices broke off abruptly to be followed a moment later with the sound of footsteps.

“Adam.” His friend’s smile looked forced. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I should have called first.” Although it was the first time he’d ever had that feeling, it was clearly bad timing on his part. “Call me later. We can talk then.”

Another man stepped into the hallway, pulling a long wool coat over his dark clothes. The scarlett zucchetto he wore gave away his identity better than a nametag.

“Cardinal Cote.” Although the two men’s conversation had halted, the undercurrents were unmistakable. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Adam Raiker.” He was wishing more than ever that he’d driven home rather than stopping. After an awkward moment, he extended his hand.

The cardinal returned his handshake. “I’ve heard of you, Mr. Raiker, and not just from Monsignor Benton.” The cardinal was tall and spare, with close-cut gray hair and somber brown eyes. Right now there was a tinge of irritation in his expression that the pleasantries didn’t quite mask. “Don’t bother leaving. The monsignor and I are done here.”

“Quite done,” muttered Jerry. Cote sent him one last long look before stepping by Adam to let himself out the door.

Rarely had he felt so uncomfortable. The church had often had that affect on him growing up. “Damn. My timing is usually better.”

A bit of tension eased from the priest’s shoulders. “Any time I see you still standing is a good time. And actually, we were done here. It was all over but the shouting, literally. Come in.” He turned to head back into his office. After a brief hesitation Adam followed him inside.

“Take your coat off. Get comfortable. Need a Scotch? Because I don’t mind telling you, I could sure use one myself.”

“Not for me but go ahead.” Folding his coat over the back of the leather couch, Adam sat, while Jerry seated himself in the matching chair.

“I’ll forgo. I have it on good authority that my vices are already numerous enough without adding to them.”

Adam eyed Jerry carefully. Although he had never met Cardinal Cote before, he’d heard enough about him. When it came to Jerry’s activist causes, the former cardinal of the diocese had been much more . . . understanding would be a stretch. But certainly less judgmental than Cote. Adam understood what it was like to chafe under authority. He and Jerry had something in common there.

“I didn’t want you to hear it on the news,” Adam said abruptly. The tension that had recently eased from the other man’s expression returned. “There was another attempt on my life last night. The suspect is in custody.” He’d ensured that the police report made its way to Hedgelin in a timely manner as a matter of self-interest. He couldn’t be accused of trying to withhold the information, and there would have been no point once it hit the papers. But his reasons for sharing it with Jerry . . . they were personal. Although it had taken him years to fully accept it, the man worried about him like he would a son.

Jerry rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Details.”

After a brief sanitized version of events, the priest was silent, his expression pensive. “You know I wait for the day when I pick up the papers and discover you’re dead. I’ve actually thought about it. It’s the only way I’d have of hearing the news, the same way millions of Americans will over their breakfast cereal.”

“Paulie has directions to contact you in that event.”

Jerry nodded. “Thank you for that. I’m not in the habit of begging for favors, but I’m asking you to lay low for a while, Adam. Can’t imagine you sitting on a beach somewhere, but surely there’s a place you’d enjoy visiting. Go away somewhere long enough for them to catch whoever is set on killing you.”

Adam looked away. Contrary to Jerry’s words, the man nagged Adam unmercifully for “favors” when it came to his pet causes. Those requests were casually made, easily refused. But this . . . it came from the heart. And Adam’s response had remorse stabbing deep. “I can’t.”

Silence stretched during which he couldn’t meet the other man’s gaze. “All right then.” The priest’s voice sounded old. Tired. “You were always a stubborn one, even at nine. Since I can’t interest you in self-preservation, how about some sustenance?”

Grateful for the man’s deliberate attempt to lighten the mood, Adam said, “I wouldn’t say no to some of Lucia’s leftovers.”

“Homemade enchiladas with her special sauce.”

“Works for me.”

“Good.” Jerry heaved himself out his chair. “Then you won’t mind doing the dishes afterward.”

The morning sunlight struggling through Hedgelin’s blinds was weak and capricious. There one moment. Gone the next. The weather forecast called for snow flurries tonight. The sudden drop in temperatures reminded Adam that the case could grow cold just as quickly.

The assistant director looked up from the profile he’d been reading, a slight frown on his face. “You’re saying you don’t think the unknown subject is motivated by religion? Despite the notes?”

“Based on what we have right now, not primarily.” He lifted a shoulder, aware that Shepherd and Jaid were as intent on his words as was the man on the other side of the desk. “That could change as more information comes to light. Basically the more connections we find between the deaths, the less likely it is that the killer is acting purely out a religious compulsion, and the more probable that we’ll discover old-fashioned greed or revenge at the heart of the crimes. I’d expect a religious fanatic to be driven by a need to punish and expose. He wouldn’t even necessarily have to personally know the victims. He could draw his opinions from the media, given how high-profile the victims are.”

“Then why the note cards?” asked Shepherd from his seat next to Jaid. Each of them had been given copies of the profile as well. “Why bother?”

“Maybe to throw us off, make us waste time looking in another direction.” Jaid responded before Adam could. She wore her hair back today in a severe style that delineated her delicate jawline and stubborn chin. “Or maybe he accomplishes two goals at once. Could be he’s motivated by revenge and is a Jesus freak to boot. Uses the notes to rationalize his actions.”

“The profile is an evolving document.” Adam looked at Hedgelin. “There’s not enough information at this time to nail down motive, despite the note cards. But the basic descriptor of the type of person we’re looking for is solid. A loner or an individual adept at compartmentalizing his life. Highly intelligent and organized. These hits took planning. And he has substantial financial resources, because I don’t think whoever is behind them did his own killing.”

Stunned silence filled the room. “How can you possibly know that?” demanded the assistant director. There was no sign of the acrimony with which they had parted last night. Adam knew better than to believe it was gone. Only buried for the moment.

“A profile isn’t about pretending to know anything.” He shifted his cane out of the way to make room to stretch out his leg. “It’s part psychology, part logical guesswork. If the killer does turn out to be acting out a sort of religious retribution, we’ll discover he committed the murders himself. He’d have to, to get the full satisfaction from the acts, because they would stem from a more personal place. But if he’s merely using the deadly sins to cover his tracks rather than to justify them, then we’re talking about someone who will be more removed. He won’t care how they’re carried out, because the final goal is the deaths themselves. His detachment allows him to continue to strike without fear of detection.”

“Well.” The assistant director deliberately set the document aside. “If we need more facts to solidify the profile, you’d better get to work gathering them.”

“I’d like to talk to Saeed Harandi.”

The silence in the room following Jaid’s words was deafening. Adam watched Hedgelin, but the man was guarding his thoughts closely. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I think it is, sir.” Her voice remained firm. Adam felt a tug of approval. “His was Oliver Patterson’s last appointment on the day he was killed.”

“He was interviewed shortly after the death.” The assistant director’s voice was dismissive. “There’s nothing more to be gained from going over it again. And since no mention of him was made in the official agency report you have access to, you’ll tell me where you came up with his name.”