Richard Montanari - The Killing Room

The two detectives looked at each other at the same moment, understanding flowing between them.

‘Stained glass,’ they said in unison.

‘Keep playing it,’ Jessica said.

Maria hit the button. The video continued. The stained-glass image of the cruciform began to lose focus again, and Jessica soon realized what was happening. There was an image behind the glass that was starting to come in to focus. A few seconds later she saw what it was, and her heart skipped a beat. There, on the other side of the cross, was a person, perfectly framed, as if on the cross.

There could be no doubt. The person was Kevin Byrne.

Jessica ran back down the street, up the alley. She looked at the side window next to the door that gave entry into the church. There was a cross in the stained glass. It was identical to the crucifix in the video.

The killer had just shot this footage.

Jessica paced the sidewalk in front of the church. There were police cars everywhere. Dana Westbrook had said that she wanted her back at the Roundhouse on the double.

‘Are you okay?’ Maria asked.

‘I’ve had better days.’ Although Jessica knew she was expected at Eighth and Race any minute, she knew she wouldn’t rest until Kevin Byrne was in her sight. ‘What I think we should do is — ’

The envelope , Jessica thought. The envelope the woman had dropped off for Byrne .

The envelope from Father Leone .

Jessica reached into the car, retrieved the envelope from the back seat, tore it open. In it were pages from the Bible, along with other pages, handwritten on old, yellow-edged typing paper.

These were messages from Father Leone. Messages from beyond the grave.

As Jessica’s eyes scanned the pages, things began to make a clear, horrifying sense. It was about the seven churches of the Apocalypse:

Unto the angel of the church of Ephesus … thou has left thy first love …

Cecilia Rollins, Jessica thought.

Unto the angel of the church of Smyrna … ye shall have tribulation ten days …

Danny Palumbo was in that basement ten days.

To the angel of the church of Pergamos … give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written …

Martin Allsop. The white stones. The name of the next crime scene written on a stone.

Unto the angel of the church in Thyatira … Jezebel … I will cast her into a bed …

Michelle Calvin was found on that bloody mattress.

Unto the angel of the church of Sardis … I will come unto thee as a thief …

DeRon Wilson had his hands cut off.

Jessica found that her own hands were shaking as she looked at the last two entries. The final two churches were Philadelphia and Laodicea.

Her eyes roamed the page, looking for a clue, a thought, a line that might help her penetrate the mind of a killer.

Unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans … I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire … and white raiment …

To the angel of the church in Philadelphia … he that hath the key of David … but do lie …

The final page was a single piece of old onion-skin typing paper. On it was a hand-scrawled note from Father Leone, perhaps the last thing he ever wrote. To Jessica, it was just as cryptic as the pages of Revelation . It read:

IT WAS A VESTMENT, KEVIN. THE FIRE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT.

What did he mean by this? What vestment?

Jessica considered calling Byrne again, but she knew she would get his voicemail. She looked at her key ring.

‘I’ll be back,’ Jessica said.

‘Where are you going?’ Maria asked.

‘I’m going to Kevin’s house.’

‘I’m coming with you.’

Jessica glanced at the swarm of PPD personnel descending upon St Simeon’s. They had both given their statements, and neither of them were going to be the lead investigator on the case.

‘Let’s go,’ Jessica said.

Jessica and Maria parked on Third Street, around the corner from Byrne’s second-floor apartment. Jessica did not see her partner’s car, but that was not unusual. Sometimes he was forced to park more than a block away.

Within a minute they were in front of Byrne’s door. Jessica knocked, listened. Silence. She knocked again. They heard no movement within.

Jessica took out the key, gently slid it into the lock, turned it. She opened the door an inch. ‘Kevin?’

No answer.

The apartment was dark. The only light was from the green digital clock on the kitchen stove. Jessica flipped the switch, and three lamps came on. The apartment was exactly the way she had seen it the last time she had been there.

‘Kevin?’

Nothing. She edged over to the bedroom. Empty. The bathroom was empty, too.

‘Jessica,’ Maria said.

Jessica crossed the apartment. Maria was standing at the dining-room table. There, neatly arrayed, were three things Kevin Byrne never left home without. His weapon, his shield, and his cell phone. Next to Byrne’s phone was a blue flip phone Jessica had not seen before.

She picked up the blue flip phone, navigated the menu.

There were two text messages: One was the address of St Simeon’s. The second message made her blood run cold.

IF YOU ENTER THE BUILDING THE BOY WILL DIE.

What boy?

Jessica then picked up Byrne’s cell phone. She knew she was invading his privacy, but she had no choice. She checked his voicemail messages, and she was right. Eighty percent of the messages were from her. Then she saw an SMS message with a photo attached.

The subject read: how u lik me now???!!!

The accompanying picture was of a young black boy tied to a chair. Jessica looked closely at the boy’s face. She knew who it had to be. Gabriel Hightower.

She looked at the last number Byrne had dialed. She wasn’t familiar with it. Or was she?

‘Do me a favor,’ Jessica said.

‘Sure,’ Maria replied.

‘Could you run down to the car and get my portfolio?’ Jessica handed the keys to Maria, who was out the door in a flash.

Jessica launched the browser on her phone and did a reverse lookup on the second-to-last number Byrne had called. It was an all-night pharmacy around the corner. She did the same thing for the last number, but hit a dead end. There was no listing.

Maria returned with Jessica’s portfolio. Jessica opened it, pulled out the contents. She soon found the item she was looking for. It was a photocopy of a piece of paper they had found in Danny Palumbo’s backpack.

Jessica put the paper down on the table, with the maddening feeling that what she was looking for was right in front of her but she could not see it. None of the numbers lined up.

She closed her eyes for a moment, recalled going into Danny’s room at Loretta Palumbo’s rowhouse. The answer was there. Why couldn’t she see it? She recalled the neatly made bed, the empty closet, the magazines arrayed on the shelves, the acrostic number puzzles of which Danny Palumbo was a fan.

Jessica opened her eyes, glanced back at Danny’s handwritten square of numbers, looked diagonally, and saw it. It was the same number as Byrne’s last phone call. Danny Palumbo had this phone number in his possession.

Jessica looked again at the picture of Gabriel Hightower, and the last piece of the puzzle snapped into place. She crossed the room, found the box containing the framed photograph. She held up the picture of Byrne with Marcus Haines next to the picture of Gabriel Hightower. There could be no mistake.

Gabriel Hightower was Marcus’s son. Marcus had taken a bullet meant for Byrne. That’s why Byrne was doing all of this.