Alex Kava - A Necessary Evil

"I don't know enough about the games. Look, I suppose it's possible. Anything's possible. To tell you the truth I was beginning to think it might be more than one person, but a kid… I just can't wrap my brain around that one."

"One thing I've learned, Detective Pakula, in almost ten years of chasing killers is never to underestimate who is capable of murder."

"You mean like four years ago in Platte City?" It had taken Pakula a while to remember the details of the case, but when he did he also remembered the rumors, "Didn't you make a statement someplace that you thought the wrong men were being convicted? If I remember correctly, the FBI profiler in that case __ you __ believed a young Catholic priest was responsible."

"I still do believe that," she said, looking out her side window at the little shops and restaurants in Dundee along Underwood Avenue.

"Why didn't you pursue it?"

"I did." This time she shot him a look and he caught a glimpse of her anger before she could control it and go back to studying the cityscape outside her window. "Everyone in Platte City, including Sheriff Nick Morrelli seemed content to believe they had the killer, or rather, killers. Timmy Hamilton escaped and was rescued. I suppose everyone thought it was a nice wrap-up."

"But if the kid got away couldn't he identify the guy?"

"No, Timmy said the man always wore a Halloween mask, a Richard Nixon Halloween mask. I certainly could understand that people wanted to put the case behind them. They thought they had the killers in custody and why wouldn't they think that? The kidnappings and murders stopped."

"Makes sense," Pakula agreed.

"Yes, but what no one seemed to notice or care about was that Father Michael Keller had suddenly disappeared. He left the country. Not even the Omaha Archdiocese knew why or where he had gone. They claimed there was no reassignment. It wasn't like he had taken a leave of absence. He just disappeared."

She paused and Pakula glanced at her. She stared out the windshield now, but seemed to be somewhere else, her hands in her lap, her ringers nagging at a loose thread on her jacket. She continued as if she needed to explain, "I tracked him for a while as best I could even though I had absolutely no jurisdiction to do so. He wasn't implicated in the case in any way and he had left the country. All I had to go on were rumors. He fit the description of an American-speaking priest who suddenly showed up at a small parish in a poor village outside of Chiuchin, Chile. No sooner did I think I'd found him and he was gone again, on to some other little village."

"How could he do that without the Catholic Church keeping track of him? What did he do, just show up and pretend to be the new priest?"

"From what I could find out, yes, I think that's exactly what he was doing, probably what he's still doing. Many of these poor villages haven't had a priest for years. The people have to travel miles just to take part in a mass. Can you imagine a priest just coming into their village? They might not question it at all. They'd simply be glad to have him. They'd probably do anything and everything in order to keep him. Maybe even keep his presence secret."

"Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time the bad guy got away." Pakula flexed his shoulders. He'd wondered if he'd overdone it with the punching bag this morning.

"Maybe he hasn't gotten away, after all."

"Whadya mean?"

"That's who called me right before we went into the school," Maggie said.

"Holy crap! You've got to be kidding." Then he remembered. "You said something about the list. He's on it?"

"Yes," she said, only now she was smiling.

"What the hell did he want?"

"Protection. And medical attention. He thinks the killer poisoned him."

Pakula couldn't believe it. "Why the hell does he think we'd protect him?"

"For one thing, he can tell us who else is on the list."

"He has the list?"

"That's what he says."

"And you believe him?"

Maggie nodded. "He says Daniel Ellison is on it."

Pakula stared at her until he realized they were approaching a stop sign. Keeping his eyes on the road, he said, "You already made a deal with this guy, didn't you?" It wasn't really a question.

"We should probably talk to Chief Ramsey about this," she said calmly.

Pakula felt the sweat trickling down his back. He turned up the air-conditioning and flipped one of the vents to blast him in the face.

"We'll have to do that later" he told her. "We only have about a half hour before we meet with that snoopy reporter." And he needed to keep focused. Actually what he needed was a break. This case kept getting more and more bizarre. "How 'bout some lunch? Whadya think about splitting a pie at LaCasa's. Best pizza around."

"Italian sausage?"

"Only if we get to have Romano cheese."

"Deal," she said.

"Oh crap!" Pakula said, slapping his forehead. It hit him like a flash of lightning. "Hamilton? The kid. Morrelli's nephew is Timmy Hamilton. And you asked him how his sister, Christine, was?"

"That's right. What is it?"

"It just occurred to me and I don't suppose it's a coincidence __ the snoopy reporter from the Omaha World Herald is Christine Hamilton."

Our Lady of Sorrow High School

Omaha, Nebraska

Gibson waited outside Sister Kate's classroom for Timmy. He'd told Gibson that he was almost certain he recognized the woman who had been talking to Sister Kate earlier. He kept saying she was an FBI agent he knew. Yeah right, Gibson had wanted to say, but didn't. He liked Timmy. And he liked having a friend.

Yesterday they discovered that they lived only about three blocks away from each other, so Gibson invited him to come over again and play some computer games. Now he wondered what was taking Timmy so long. Maybe he ran into the FBI lady. He had gone off to use the school's ancient pay phone to ask his mom's permission about going over to Gibson's, which blew Gibson away. He couldn't believe Timmy didn't have a cell phone. Gibson thought he was the only teenager alive who didn't have one.

He was actually feeling pretty good today. Sister Kate had taken more of an interest in his collection than he expected. She even praised him, telling him she was impressed that he had been able to find and barter such exquisite authentic pieces. She had actually called them exquisite. And she said she was impressed. Sister Kate was impressed with him and his collection. Yeah, it was a pretty good day. One of his best in a long time, probably since he helped her with her cataloging project.

Maybe he'd show Timmy the portfolio he found in his backpack. He was hoping that having Timmy there with him might give him the courage to go through the damn thing. He had carefully placed it in the back of his closet after he opened it and found Monsignor O'Sullivan's name on one of the papers. He didn't want to be reminded of the dead priest let alone go through some stupid papers about him.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and leaned against the wall. Maybe Timmy had to get change from the office. The pay phone still took quarters. Probably not many like it left. Truly ancient. He smiled and thought Sister Kate should ask for it if and when the school ever replaced it.

"You, over there. What are you doing?"

Gibson straightened up and pushed away from the wall. It was the tall, hawk-nosed guy from Monsignor O'Sullivan's office yesterday. And he was coming at Gibson, pointing a finger at him as if lasering him to the spot. It worked. Gibson couldn't move, couldn't even breathe.

"What are you still doing here? Isn't class over?"

"I… uh… " Gibson tried to answer but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.