Angel Fire - Lisa Unger [68]
“We’ve missed Shawna very much,” he continued quietly. “She was a great help to us. Maria came to confession every Wednesday and to mass every Sunday. Christine and Harold came to Sunday mass sporadically over the years.”
Morrow pulled the crucifix from his pocket and handed it to the priest. “Did you make this, Father?”
The priest inspected it, holding it in a hand that trembled slightly. “Yes, it looks like an older one. Where did you find it?”
“At Ms. Lopez’s apartment. One was found at the homes of each of the other missing persons as well.”
The priest tapped his foot lightly on the floor. It was an unconscious gesture, the slender black leather shoe rapping a staccato on old wood. Lydia and Jeffrey exchanged a glance. “I have to admit, I never imagined any harm had befallen them. Maria, of course—the headlines were shocking. But Shawna, Christine, and Harold were all troubled people. I thought they had just run off.”
“That’s what we all thought,” said Morrow.
“Not all of us,” muttered Lydia. The priest appeared not to have heard her, but Morrow shot her an angry look.
“And it still might turn out, though it’s doubtful, that Shawna, Christine, and Harold have nothing to do with our case,” interjected Jeffrey. “But, Father, if you know anything that could help us, now would be the time to let us know. Anybody any one of them may have mentioned to you. Someone they were afraid of …?” Jeffrey sat down beside the priest, who seemed to be deep in thought.
“Nothing comes to mind,” he said, sighing.
Lydia spoke up for the first time. “Father, it seems obvious, with all of these people being members of your congregation, with the dog’s body that was found here, with the crucifixes that were found in each of the victim’s homes, that this church is somehow tied in. Has anyone said anything to you during confession that may have sounded suspicious or threatening?” She fixed her eyes on him as if she were trying to read his mind.
“Obviously, I would be loath to violate the sanctity of the confessional. But I can tell you that certainly I have heard nothing of the nature you mean.”
“Does the church have any employees other than you and your nephew?”
“No, we have volunteers who care for the church. Some are just parishioners who want to give time to the church, like Shawna. Some do community service here, you know, as punishment for a minor offense of some kind, and some of them come from the school for the mentally challenged.”
“The man who is here today, was he from the school you mentioned?” asked Jeffrey.
“I’m not sure who you mean.”
Jeffrey looked up and saw that the man was gone. The old woman who had been praying had also left unnoticed. “He was polishing the table.”
“We didn’t have anyone in today to do volunteer work, as far as I knew.” He turned to his nephew. “Juno, did you schedule anyone?”
“No, I didn’t. The people from the school are always scheduled because they need to be supervised,” he explained. “They usually come in groups. The volunteer parishioners come and go as they please.”
“Did either of you see the man I saw?” Jeffrey asked Morrow and Lydia. Both shook their heads. “Morrow, can you go take a look out the door?”
“Sure,” he said, rising and walking to the entrance.
“Father, can we get a list of names, addresses, and telephone numbers of your congregation and volunteers?” Lydia asked.
The priest hesitated. “I don’t think I’m within my rights …”
Morrow returned, overhearing the priest’s reluctance.
“Father, this is a murder investigation. If you would like me to get a warrant, I can do that,” said Morrow, respectfully but with authority.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary.” He rose. “I’ll just get what I have from my office. Of course, not all of the people who attend mass give their addresses.”
“Of course. What you have will be good enough for now,” Jeffrey answered.
When the priest had left, Morrow turned to Jeffrey. “I didn’t see anyone out there. There are no vehicles except for ours and the church