Alex Kava - A Necessary Evil

"I decided to close for business today," Gwen said without leaving her perch at the window. "It seemed the least I could do, considering my office assistant was recently decapitated" She knew her morbid sense of humor was simply a coping mechanism. She wasn't sure if Racine would see it that way.

"I talked to Maggie earlier. She asked me to check on you."

"Did she? I didn't realize that was a service the District police department provided." Morbid sense of humor followed by flippant remarks. Was she losing it? Surely she should be able to tell. She was a medical professional, after all.

"Also, I had a few more questions," Racine said, inching her way farther into the office, but keeping her distance.

"Of course you have more questions."

"You mind?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"I could certainly come back later," Racine told her, still patient, to the point that Gwen might have to call it polite as well. And Gwen wondered what else Maggie may have told the young detective to eke out such patience. Or was this simply some new interrogation tactic Racine was testing out on her?

"Now or later, nothing will have changed." She turned from the window and came into the room, continuing to stand, but waved at a chair, inviting Racine to sit.

Racine took time to pat Harvey, giving him a rub behind the ears before she chose the chair next to him. By now he recognized Racine and had started to identify her as one of the good guys. Gwen wasn't convinced that that was such a good idea. But maybe she should trust Harvey's instincts. The dog hadn't been wrong yet.

"There's something you're not telling me," Racine said, but it didn't look as if she was going to try to force it out of Gwen. She sat back, and instead of waiting for some explanation or confirmation she went on. "At first I thought maybe it was something about your assistant. Maybe something you were afraid would damage her good name, her reputation. You know, embarrass her family." Racine paused and Gwen could feel the detective studying her, perhaps searching to see if she had struck a chord or gotten anywhere close to the truth. "Finding her in her own home was very different from all the others. It didn't feel right."

Gwen leaned against her desk, suddenly very tired again. "Dena wasn't like the others," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"No," Racine agreed with a knowing calm. "With Dena he knew he could leave her in her home because he knew someone would come looking for her. With the other three victims we had to wait until he told us where to find them. I kept thinking that was the big difference, and yet, it wasn't really all that different."

Another pause, as if Racine was testing her. Gwen crossed her arms and held the young detective's stare without flinching as Racine continued. "The owner of a construction company told us where we could find the first victim. Funny, I called him this morning and asked how he had found her, but he said he hadn't. He told me that a woman had called and tipped him off. Ironically a woman and her dog found the second victim in the park while out walking."

Racine glanced down at Harvey. "But she declined to come in and file a report. Then last week when we found Libby Hopper on the banks of the Potomac it was because a woman had called in the exact location, but she used a stolen cell phone and we couldn't trace it. Dena Wayne was left in her own home. I thought that seemed totally out of character for this killer until I realized that it was actually a woman… a woman and her dog who had, again, found the victim."

Racine sat quietly now, holding Gwen's eyes as if she could see the truth within them and didn't need anything more to corroborate her wild theory.

"Sounds like you think you have it all figured out," Gwen finally said without any sort of admission. "Too bad things aren't ever as simple as they seem."

"No, they usually aren't."

"His instructions also came with subtle threats." Gwen said it in such a whispered tone she hardly recognized her own voice.

"I wondered if it might be something like that. You were afraid he'd hurt you." Racine nodded but her eyes never left Gwen's.

"No. Not me. Always someone else. Someone close to me. It would have been easier if it were me," Gwen had been threatened before. She considered taking those risks just part of the job. "I thought I might be able to outwit him," she added.

"But in the meantime he was making you an accessory to his murders."

"Yes, I suppose he was," Gwen said. "But not anymore."

Omaha, Nebraska

Maggie excused herself from Father Gallagher's office, explaining that she had some phone calls she needed to make. Cunningham was at the top of her list. She desperately wanted to hear how Gwen was and besides, she needed a break from the testosterone battle between Pakula and Nick. She had heard enough of Father Gallagher's clever evasiveness to know their interview would provide little new information. But she wondered why the priest didn't realize that every time he answered one of Pakula's questions with a question it only stretched out the process?

It seemed obvious that Father Gallagher was hiding something, but she doubted that he could be the killer. He had a solid alibi for Saturday evening. The entire parish of Our Lady of Sorrow could vouch for him. He couldn't have officiated at the seven o'clock mass in Omaha, Nebraska, and still made it to Columbia, Missouri, to drive a knife into Father Gerald Kincaid's chest at nine-thirty.

However, in her own mind Maggie didn't rule him out completely. Father Tony Gallagher, in spite of his holy vows, could very well fit her profile. This killer could have convinced himself that he was doing something that needed to be done for the greater good. If it was confirmed that each of the three victims had, in fact, been accused of abusing young boys _ or as in Keller's case, their murder __ then this killer would feel he was performing a service, administering justice to those who had previously escaped punishment He might rationalize the killings in his mind as a necessary evil to prevent more evil perpetrated against other children. He could even consider himself a crusader, protecting the vulnerable and helpless victims and avenging those already hurt or murdered. Who better to justify avenging evil than a Catholic priest? After all, the Catholic Church had a long history of crusading against evil.

She decided to put off calling Cunningham for now. She'd call him after she talked to Detective Pakula. She could use his support. Instead, she tried Gwen's office number and her cell, only to get voice-messaging services. Racine wasn't answering her phone, either. She wished Tully was back from vacation. She needed someone to make sure Gwen was okay.

She passed the classroom with the historical artifacts that she and Pakula had noticed earlier. The class must have taken a break. The room looked empty. Maggie backtracked and stood in the doorway. Several antique daggers caught her eye. They were laid out on the counter, resting on special black cloths. The metal sparkled in the streaks of sunlight. She wandered closer, standing over them, examining without touching. Two of them were much longer than regular knifes, their hilts wide and narrow. The handles had elaborate carvings, some worn down and impossible to distinguish as decorative or symbolic. All had been meticulously polished and cleaned.

"You can pick them up if you like."

The voice startled Maggie, but she didn't turn around. Instead, she simply glance over her shoulder. The woman wore khakis and a white T-shirt with bright pink and aqua-colored fish and funky lettering that read Pensacola Seafood Festival.

"This one look like a sixteenth-or seventeenth-century European stiletto," Maggie said, pointing to the sleekest one, a thin blade about nine inches long with a hilt that curved down the ends. Several years ago she had helped raid the basement of a serial killer who collected and used stilettos from different eras. It was a history lesson that stayed with her.