The shouting match started all over again.
Ten minutes later the three of them came lumbering inside. Tommy was mopping his brow with the edge of his shirt, but Nick and Noah hadn’t even broken a sweat. They were all laughing as they headed for the kitchen to get something to drink.
Laurant stepped back into the living room to get out of their way, shifting the heavy laundry basket she was holding to her other hip.
"I can’t believe you offered those kids beers," Tommy chided.
"It’s hot out," Noah defended. "I figured they’d want one."
"They’re underage," Tommy pointed out in exasperation. "And it’s not even noon yet."
Nick winked at her as he passed her again, carrying a six-pack of Coke. Noah told Tommy to stay inside while he and Nick talked to the boys on the porch.
"What was that all about?" she asked her brother.
"One of the boys told Monsignor he might have seen the car the guy was driving Saturday, so Nick is talking to him."
"Did the boy tell the police?"
"No, none of the kids talk to the police," he explained. "But they all heard what happened, and as Frankie-he’s the leader of the pack-so eloquently put it, ‘Nobody’s gonna come in our ‘f’ing parish and mess with one of our ‘f’ing priests.’"
Laurant’s eyes widened. Tommy nodded. "Frankie’s a good kid," he said. "But he has to keep up appearances. Being tough is important to all of them. Anyway, they started talking to their friends. They all hang out on the street, day and night, and one did remember seeing a strange van parked on Thirteenth Street, next to that empty lot. Nick’s hoping he can get a description of the guy driving. Keep your fingers crossed," he added. Then, switching the subject, he asked, "What are you doing with the laundry basket?"
"I can’t stand waiting. I have to keep busy, so I asked Monsignor if I could help with anything."
Tommy opened the door to the basement, turned on the light, and watched her go down the wooden steps.
Dr. Morganstern arrived five minutes later. She could hear him talking when she came up the stairs. The men were standing together in the front hall. His agents were a full head taller, and so was Tommy, but they were all deferentially "siring" him to death.
Laurant was nervous and apprehensive about meeting the doctor, and she hoped it didn’t show when Nick pulled her forward to introduce her.
He shook her hand, insisted she call him Pete, and then said, "Why don’t we go sit down and figure out what we’re going to do."
Instinctively she looked at Nick. He gave her a quick nod, and she followed Tommy into the living room. Morganstern stayed behind to speak to his agents. He spoke to Nick first, but in such a low voice, Laurant couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then he turned to Noah, and whatever he said to him so startled the agent he suddenly burst into laughter.
"God will strike me dead, sir."
"And lose one of his trusted soldiers? I think not," Pete responded as he led the two men into the living room. "Besides, I’m fully convinced God has a sense of humor."
Pete placed his briefcase on the table and flipped open the latches. Nick dropped down on the sofa next to Laurant, and Noah stood behind his superior, acting like a sentry, with his arms folded across his chest.
"I was wondering, sir, if you’d found out anything significant from that profiler you assigned to the case," Noah said. "What was his name, Nick?"
The doctor answered the question. "His name is George Walker, and yes, he does have a few ideas that can help us. Nothing concrete unfortunately."
"Don’t profilers figure things out from crime scenes?" Tommy asked. "I read somewhere that that’s how they get their information."
"Yes, that’s true," Pete agreed. "However, there are other ways too."
"Like the tape?"
"Yes."
"Tommy, will you please stop pacing around and sit down," Laurant said.
Her brother motioned for her to move closer to Nick and then sat down on her other side. He didn’t know quite how to phrase the question he wanted to ask, and so he decided to be blunt.
"Exactly why are you here, Pete?"
"We’re very happy that you’re here," Laurant interjected so that the doctor wouldn’t think her brother was as rude as he sounded. "Isn’t that right, Tommy?" she added as she nudged him in the side.
"Yes, of course," he agreed. "Pete knows I appreciate his help. We go way back, don’t we?" he asked the psychiatrist.
Pete nodded. Tommy turned to Laurant to explain. "I called Pete a couple of years ago about a troubled kid I was trying to help. It was out of my league, and Pete helped get him into a treatment center. That was the first time I used my connection through Nick, but since then, Pete’s come through for me with three other difficult cases. You never say no to me, do you?"
"I try not to," Pete answered. "I came here today to sit down with you, Tom. I wanted to review what happened in the confessional."
"You’ve heard the tape," Tommy reminded him.
"Yes, I have, and it’s been very helpful with the investigation. However, it doesn’t tell me what you were thinking while our unsub was talking. I’d like to take you through it again."
"I’ve told Nick everything I remember. I’ve gone over it at least ten times."
"Yeah, but Pete will be asking different questions," Nick said.
"Okay. If you think it will help, I’ll go through it again."
Pete smiled. "Noah, why don’t you and Laurant wait in the other room. Nick, I’d like you to stay."
Laurant followed Noah to the door then turned back just as Pete was opening his briefcase. "Pete? When you’re finished, may I have a word in private with you?"
"Certainly."
Noah pulled the French doors closed behind them. Monsignor was coming down the steps from the second floor with a basket of dirty linens. Without a word Laurant took the basket from him and headed down to the basement again. She could hear her brother’s laughter and assumed the questioning hadn’t begun yet.
Pete acted as though he had all the time in the world. He started by asking Tommy if he missed playing football. Tommy was sitting on the edge of his seat, obviously tense and worried. Pete eased him into the discussion about the confession, and by the time their talk had ended, they had two more little bits of information that might prove helpful. The unsub had been wearing Calvin Klein’s Obsession. Tommy had forgotten about that. And, until now, he’d also forgotten about a click he had heard. He had assumed the man was snapping his fingers to get his attention. Pete suggested that the click was actually the recorder being turned on.
Pete ended the conference when he stood. "When you return to Holy Oaks, I would rather you didn’t hear confession for a while."
"How long is a while?"
"Until we’ve devised a trap to snare him."
Tommy glanced at Nick and then back to Pete again. "You don’t think he’s going to come back to confession, do you?"
"I certainly think he’ll try," Pete said.
Tommy shook his head. "I don’t see that happening. It’s too risky for him."
Nick, who had been unusually silent until now, spoke up. "He’ll see it as a challenge. He thinks he’s vastly superior to all the rest of us, remember? He’s going to want to prove it."
"Tom, like it or not, he’s established a relationship with you, and I believe he’s going to want to keep you apprised of what he’s been up to," Pete said. "One thing I know for certain now," he continued. "This unsub is going to go to any lengths necessary to talk to you again. He wants your admiration, but he also wants your loathing and fear."
"In many ways, you’re the perfect partner in his plan," Nick told him.
"How do you figure that?"
"He wants someone to appreciate how smart he is."
Tommy said, "I know you think I’m being stubborn about this, but I gotta tell you I still think you’re wrong about this guy. It just doesn’t make any sense to me that he would try to contact me again. I’ve listened to your arguments and I know you’re experts…"