Steven James - Opening Moves

“I think they’re getting ready to take him into surgery now. There are some officers with him.”

“Good. What room is he in?”

She told him, pointed toward the correct hallway, he thanked her and left for the room.

Facts spun through my mind.

Colleen worked for Basque and she was the first victim in this crime spree. If the offenders weren’t working together, she could have been how their lives interconnected.

The cases are linked through her.

Two cases.

Two offenders.

One interconnected puzzle.

Someone donated that money to that mission. Someone picked up those mattresses.

The abductor knew the woods, had to have spent time in that neighborhood. The mission…

Deep in thought, I glanced past Taci and saw the sign to the hospital’s chapel just down the hall.

And then, the facts of the case began to reshuffle themselves before me all over again and everything I’d thought was true turned on its head.

We needed a person who could have met Adele here in the hospital after her car accident and would also have been able to get into the school.

My eyes were still on the sign to the chapel.

When Colleen was brought to the hospital, she had a rosary with her-which meant she would have had it with her when she was left by the pier. And that meant the killer would’ve known she had it, could have easily guessed that she was Catholic.

When you were arresting Vincent, he said Colleen’s abductor mentioned last rites.

Oh yes.

I had it, or I thought I did.

“Taci, grab that phone book.”

She did and I flipped to the right page.

If our guy was the person I was thinking of, he would have known to switch the plates, been at enough crime scenes to know how to frustrate the investigation.

He has a portable phone-

He knows Radar, wouldn’t have stuck out at the department when he dropped off the package.

Switching to another line, I punched in the number for the West Reagan Street Mission. I had to know if this guy ever volunteered there. If he did, it would fit, it would all make sense.

Who would think to mention last rites to a Catholic like that? Only someone who-

The mission’s director, Reverend Tate, picked up and confirmed what I was thinking. “Yes, of course. He comes in every Friday night. He was here earlier today, as a matter of fact. For a funeral we had.”

That was it. That’s how he disappeared into the neighborhood after fleeing from the train yards. The people knew him from his work at the mission. He wouldn’t have stuck out or drawn attention to himself at the funeral either.

No, he wasn’t a cop or a doctor.

Who else could have convinced the secretary at the school to let him see the Walker children?

A minister.

I saw the other line blinking and when I pressed the button, Gabriele came on again. “Pat, we’ve got the name of the victim. You’re not going to-”

“Our chaplain…” Honestly, I was still caught up in my thoughts about the kidnapper. “It’s Padilla.”

“Yes.” Gabriele sounded shocked. “How did you know?”

That got my attention. “What?”

“The victim. Sylvia Padilla, she’s the police chaplain’s wife. How did you know it was her?”

Oh no.

Basque had killed Joshua’s wife. It was all tied together in one intricate web.

If Padilla finds out, he’ll come after Basque. You know he will.

“Call Reverend Padilla. Find him.” I let the phone drop and hobbled away from the counter. “If Agent Hawkins gets here,” I shouted over my shoulder, “send him to Basque’s room right away.”

I told Taci and the doctors to stay there and, as fast as my injured leg would take me, I rushed toward Richard Basque’s hospital room.

Reverend Joshua Padilla knew the officer who was stationed outside Basque’s door: Lyrie. He’d counseled him after he’d shot a gang member last year.

“Thorne told me I’m supposed to go in,” he said to Lyrie. “Talk to him. Before his surgery.”

“Why?”

“I guess he asked for me while he was at the slaughterhouse.”

“I’m not authorized to-”

“You know it’s protocol to let spiritual advisers speak with victims and injured suspects.”

“Yeah.” Lyrie rubbed his head. “Alright, look, there’s an FBI agent in there. Parker. The guy’s strapped to the bed. But she stays in the room.”

“I’m supposed to meet with people confidentially.”

“She stays, Padre.”

The tranquilizer. Use it if you need to. Get in, meet Basque, then get out.

“Alright.”

I heard heavy footsteps pounding around the corner behind me.

I looked back.

Ralph.

“Radio Ellen,” I called to him. “She’s at the room!”

He was quickly catching up with me. “I tried already. There’s interference here in the hospital.”

“Then let’s move.”

One hallway to go.

Lyrie introduced Joshua to Special Agent Parker and then left the room.

Joshua looked toward Basque, but his attention was immediately drawn to the television on the wall. There was a news report about the woman who’d been killed at the slaughterhouse.

A name flashed across the screen and the announcer said, “We’re getting unconfirmed reports that the victim’s name is Sylvia Padilla.”

Joshua froze.

He locked eyes with Basque and knew it was true.

Parker looked at Joshua oddly. “Didn’t Lyrie just say your last name is-”

But then her words were cut off as he jammed the needle fiercely into her neck and depressed the plunger. The tranquilizer kicked in almost immediately. He held one hand over her mouth and with the other he stopped her from reaching for her gun.

She faded and he lowered her to the floor.

He quickly checked-there was no lock on the door. He slid her body against it to slow anyone down who might try to interrupt him. After wedging her legs solidly in the nearby bathroom doorway, he turned a cart on its side and jammed it in to lock them in place. Nobody was going to get the hospital room’s door open without torquing Agent Parker’s spine.

Then Joshua turned to Basque, whose wrists and ankles were strapped to the bed.

The man’s jaw was broken so he couldn’t cry out for help.

His hands were restrained so he couldn’t hit the call button.

“You took Sylvia.” Joshua’s voice was trembling. “You killed my wife.” He produced the necrotome from its sheath.

Voices shouted in his head: You are beyond redemption, Joshua!

No! It’s not evil to pursue justice!

Basque just watched him. Didn’t struggle to get free. Didn’t look away.

You took care of your father, Joshua. You did what needed to be done. You’re good at doing what needs to be done.

He pulled up a chair beside the bed.

Ralph shouted down the hall for Lyrie to open Basque’s door, but when he tried, he was able to open it only far enough to get a hand inside.

Ralph beat me to the room. “I got it,” he told Lyrie.

But then he looked into the room. “It’s Ellen! She’s down!”

And that’s when I arrived.

Joshua heard Detective Bowers shout, “Padilla, stop! Get away from the bed!” Through the crack in the doorway he could see movement. He wasn’t sure how many people.

So this was it.

Endgame.

He tightened his grip on the handle of the necrotome, the “cutting instrument of the dead.”

Yes, he would do this for Sylvia.

Your father taught you what to do. This is your chance, just like you did in the cellar under the barn.

Bowers called again for him to stop, even as Joshua saw a massive arm squeeze through the crack in the door, clutch Agent Parker’s armpit, and begin to lift her from the floor.