experienced investigator who knew that the things people kept on their shelves sometimes said important things about them. The books she noticed included The Pagan Christ by Tom Harpur, The Living Goddesses by Marija Gimbutas, Joseph Campbell’s Transformations of Myth Through Time , Liberating the Gospels by John Shelby Spong and How Jesus Became Christian by Barrie Wilson.
“Where’s your Stephen King and Dan Brown ?” she quipped.
Brother Charles smiled at her faintly. “In my room.”
They took him downstairs and Branham guided him into the back seat of the cruiser. No one spoke as they rolled down the driveway and turned onto the highway .
Karen glanced over her shoulder and saw that Brother Charles was looking out the window, his face impassive. She turned back and pursed her lips, rolling it around in her mind. Another guy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was he a w acko nut job? A s exual predator? A psycho who arrange s to meet married women in secret and strangle s the life out of them?
Time to find out.
9
Hank was wonder ing what had happened to lunch when the metal door opened and Officer Grimes came down to his cell.
“ Let’s go . ” Grimes unlock ed the door and motion ed him out.
Hank followed him down the corridor and through the metal door into the office . Karen was sitting in a visitor’s chair at Detective Hall’s desk while Hall was slumped over another desk in the corner watching a video display and listening to the audio feed through a headset. Branham was in his office, on the telephone. The civilian dispatcher was typing . Officer Grimes dropped into his chair and stared at his computer monitor with undisguised boredom .
H ank walked over to Karen. “What’s happen ing ?”
“They’re letting you go, Lou. Found a better suspect. Tall guy with a beard. Ring a bell?”
“Christ.”
“Guy name of Brother Charles Baker. Runs a monastery outfit not far from here. Their little shrimp eyewitness sat right here in this chair while Askew marched Baker past him in to the interview room.” She pointed at a closed door on the far wall . “ Made a positive ID .”
“It’s too late for a show-up. Hell, it was too late when he looked at me before . What do they have against lineups around here? ”
“ Whatever. It got you out of that fucking cell.”
T he front door opened and two men walked into the station. One was a tall, fortyish man with short, straight white hair and an expensive navy blue suit. His ears were huge and his nose was long and pointed . H e carried himself with the unmistakable self - assurance that comes with success in public life. The other man was just as tall but stockier, with trim brown hair and a ruddy complexion. He wore brown trousers and a white long -sleeved shirt and brown tie. The shirt bore large gold and black shoulder patches emblazoned with the words TAZEWELL CO UNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE , a gold badge , and a black name tag that said Steele in gold letters . They walked through the cattle door at the end of the counter as though they owned the place and looked into Chief Askew’s office.
“Where is he?” the white-haired man in the navy suit asked Branham , who was walking out of his office .
“Interrogation,” Branham replied, offering his hand. “How are you, Mr. Hatfield?” They shook hands and Branham turned to shake hands with the other man. “Sheriff . ”
“Call him out, will you, Neil?” Hatfield asked. “I understand there’s been a development.”
“That’s right. We’ve found the individual seen by the witness going behind the bar. The Chief’s interrogating him right now.”
“Who’s this, then?” Hatfield look ed at Hank over Branham’s shoulder.
“Homicide Lieutenant Hank Donaghue and Detective Karen Stainer, from Glendale, Maryland ,” Branham said, making the introductions . “ This is Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney Donald Hatfield and Tazewell County Sheriff Isham
“Where’s your Stephen King and Dan Brown ?” she quipped.
Brother Charles smiled at her faintly. “In my room.”
They took him downstairs and Branham guided him into the back seat of the cruiser. No one spoke as they rolled down the driveway and turned onto the highway .
Karen glanced over her shoulder and saw that Brother Charles was looking out the window, his face impassive. She turned back and pursed her lips, rolling it around in her mind. Another guy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or was he a w acko nut job? A s exual predator? A psycho who arrange s to meet married women in secret and strangle s the life out of them?
Time to find out.
9
Hank was wonder ing what had happened to lunch when the metal door opened and Officer Grimes came down to his cell.
“ Let’s go . ” Grimes unlock ed the door and motion ed him out.
Hank followed him down the corridor and through the metal door into the office . Karen was sitting in a visitor’s chair at Detective Hall’s desk while Hall was slumped over another desk in the corner watching a video display and listening to the audio feed through a headset. Branham was in his office, on the telephone. The civilian dispatcher was typing . Officer Grimes dropped into his chair and stared at his computer monitor with undisguised boredom .
H ank walked over to Karen. “What’s happen ing ?”
“They’re letting you go, Lou. Found a better suspect. Tall guy with a beard. Ring a bell?”
“Christ.”
“Guy name of Brother Charles Baker. Runs a monastery outfit not far from here. Their little shrimp eyewitness sat right here in this chair while Askew marched Baker past him in to the interview room.” She pointed at a closed door on the far wall . “ Made a positive ID .”
“It’s too late for a show-up. Hell, it was too late when he looked at me before . What do they have against lineups around here? ”
“ Whatever. It got you out of that fucking cell.”
T he front door opened and two men walked into the station. One was a tall, fortyish man with short, straight white hair and an expensive navy blue suit. His ears were huge and his nose was long and pointed . H e carried himself with the unmistakable self - assurance that comes with success in public life. The other man was just as tall but stockier, with trim brown hair and a ruddy complexion. He wore brown trousers and a white long -sleeved shirt and brown tie. The shirt bore large gold and black shoulder patches emblazoned with the words TAZEWELL CO UNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE , a gold badge , and a black name tag that said Steele in gold letters . They walked through the cattle door at the end of the counter as though they owned the place and looked into Chief Askew’s office.
“Where is he?” the white-haired man in the navy suit asked Branham , who was walking out of his office .
“Interrogation,” Branham replied, offering his hand. “How are you, Mr. Hatfield?” They shook hands and Branham turned to shake hands with the other man. “Sheriff . ”
“Call him out, will you, Neil?” Hatfield asked. “I understand there’s been a development.”
“That’s right. We’ve found the individual seen by the witness going behind the bar. The Chief’s interrogating him right now.”
“Who’s this, then?” Hatfield look ed at Hank over Branham’s shoulder.
“Homicide Lieutenant Hank Donaghue and Detective Karen Stainer, from Glendale, Maryland ,” Branham said, making the introductions . “ This is Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney Donald Hatfield and Tazewell County Sheriff Isham
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