Transylvania. You and I are gonna sanitize that file. He's only gonna see what we want him to see. It's still our case."
"Glad to hear you say that, partner." She grinned and tapped her fist to the top of her gray-splattered Crown Vic. "Now let's see what the priest has to say."
On the stoop, Raven pushed the doorbell, hearing the buzzer muffled behind the door. Father Antonio answered the chime. Eyes puffy from lack of sleep, the young priest looked older.
"Thank you for coming so quickly. Can I get you any hot tea or coffee? It's such a chilly day."
"I could use some coffee if it's made," Raven replied. Tony followed them, letting her establish rapport with the priest once again. A practiced maneuver. "You didn't get much sleep, huh?"
A fleeting smile flashed across the cleric's face. "No, not much. But it helped to pray. I didn't feel alone."
Knitting her brow, Raven wondered if it would be that easy. Could she erase the images of death with prayer? Or would her petition fall on deaf ears? A part of her didn't want to know the answer to that question.
"I brought the file from my room. It's on the table," he offered. He gestured around the small kitchen and break room. "Please, fix whatever you would like."
Raven quickly filled a mug with black coffee, forgoing her usual cream. She couldn't take her eyes from the manila folder on the table. Once at the table, she pulled out a chair and sat near the priest.
"So, tell me about what you saw last night, Father."
"When I was on my way to the chapel, I saw him at his family's gravesite. He comes here often."
"You said before that the man didn't follow the pattern. What did you mean by that?" she asked.
"I think he saw me watching him. That's probably why he didn't stay. The man's eyes. I have to admit it. He scares me." Father Antonio met her gaze, then clarified, "He usually goes to the cemetery, then comes into the smaller chapel. He never talks to anyone, just sits in the back pew. But last night, he—"
"He what, Father?" Tony edged closer. "What did he do?"
"He just—vanished."
Tony tilted his head, then smiled. "People don't just vanish, Father. With all due respect, were you nipping at the sacred chalice?" Humor —the great equalizer in Tony's book.
Father Antonio chuckled. "No, I can assure you I was not imbibing in wine, Detective. But the man didn't come into the chapel. He just left, I suppose. Like I said, the chapel was dark when I got there. Someone turned the lights out. All I know is that I saw this man in the cemetery before I found—"
Raven's gaze dropped to the manila folder placed before her. "And you said you know who this man is? You did research on him?"
"Yes. I hate to even admit it now, but I was curious about him. He was always so reticent to speak to me, so I..." His voice faded. Pushing the folder toward her, the priest added, "Take a look for yourself."
Raven opened the folder, finding countless newspaper clippings and other documents in the file. But one name she recognized.
"Are you sure about this, Father?" After Father Antonio nodded, she looked across at her partner. "You're not gonna believe this, Tony."
----
CHAPTER 3
Raven pulled at the collar of her coat to fend off the chill. She still held the file Father Antonio had given her. With Tony at her side, she stood within the wrought-iron gates of St. Sebastian's cemetery—her eyes upon the headstone marked Delacorte. Roses wilted by the freeze lay abandoned at the base of the stone jutting from the ground. And the floral offering eclipsed a marker for a child. A tribute of a weathered cloth doll lay against the monument. Christian Delacorte's parents and younger sister had been killed on the same date, according to the headstone.
And the newspaper clippings in Father Antonio's file told little of how a ten-year-old boy had escaped the same fate.
"You know how I feel about coincidences, Raven." Tony's voice drew her back. "Delacorte was here last night."
"Not to
"Glad to hear you say that, partner." She grinned and tapped her fist to the top of her gray-splattered Crown Vic. "Now let's see what the priest has to say."
On the stoop, Raven pushed the doorbell, hearing the buzzer muffled behind the door. Father Antonio answered the chime. Eyes puffy from lack of sleep, the young priest looked older.
"Thank you for coming so quickly. Can I get you any hot tea or coffee? It's such a chilly day."
"I could use some coffee if it's made," Raven replied. Tony followed them, letting her establish rapport with the priest once again. A practiced maneuver. "You didn't get much sleep, huh?"
A fleeting smile flashed across the cleric's face. "No, not much. But it helped to pray. I didn't feel alone."
Knitting her brow, Raven wondered if it would be that easy. Could she erase the images of death with prayer? Or would her petition fall on deaf ears? A part of her didn't want to know the answer to that question.
"I brought the file from my room. It's on the table," he offered. He gestured around the small kitchen and break room. "Please, fix whatever you would like."
Raven quickly filled a mug with black coffee, forgoing her usual cream. She couldn't take her eyes from the manila folder on the table. Once at the table, she pulled out a chair and sat near the priest.
"So, tell me about what you saw last night, Father."
"When I was on my way to the chapel, I saw him at his family's gravesite. He comes here often."
"You said before that the man didn't follow the pattern. What did you mean by that?" she asked.
"I think he saw me watching him. That's probably why he didn't stay. The man's eyes. I have to admit it. He scares me." Father Antonio met her gaze, then clarified, "He usually goes to the cemetery, then comes into the smaller chapel. He never talks to anyone, just sits in the back pew. But last night, he—"
"He what, Father?" Tony edged closer. "What did he do?"
"He just—vanished."
Tony tilted his head, then smiled. "People don't just vanish, Father. With all due respect, were you nipping at the sacred chalice?" Humor —the great equalizer in Tony's book.
Father Antonio chuckled. "No, I can assure you I was not imbibing in wine, Detective. But the man didn't come into the chapel. He just left, I suppose. Like I said, the chapel was dark when I got there. Someone turned the lights out. All I know is that I saw this man in the cemetery before I found—"
Raven's gaze dropped to the manila folder placed before her. "And you said you know who this man is? You did research on him?"
"Yes. I hate to even admit it now, but I was curious about him. He was always so reticent to speak to me, so I..." His voice faded. Pushing the folder toward her, the priest added, "Take a look for yourself."
Raven opened the folder, finding countless newspaper clippings and other documents in the file. But one name she recognized.
"Are you sure about this, Father?" After Father Antonio nodded, she looked across at her partner. "You're not gonna believe this, Tony."
----
CHAPTER 3
Raven pulled at the collar of her coat to fend off the chill. She still held the file Father Antonio had given her. With Tony at her side, she stood within the wrought-iron gates of St. Sebastian's cemetery—her eyes upon the headstone marked Delacorte. Roses wilted by the freeze lay abandoned at the base of the stone jutting from the ground. And the floral offering eclipsed a marker for a child. A tribute of a weathered cloth doll lay against the monument. Christian Delacorte's parents and younger sister had been killed on the same date, according to the headstone.
And the newspaper clippings in Father Antonio's file told little of how a ten-year-old boy had escaped the same fate.
"You know how I feel about coincidences, Raven." Tony's voice drew her back. "Delacorte was here last night."
"Not to
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