Do you know who would have known him well? Mackenzie asked. Did he have any close friends?
Just that priest or pastor or whatever at the church, Eddie said. The one that runs the place.
Your father wasnt the lead reverend? Mackenzie asked.
No. He was like an associate pastor or something, Brian said. There was another guy over him. Jerry Levins, I think.
Mackenzie noticed the way the young men were getting their terminology mixed up. Pastor, reverend, priestit was all confusing. Mackenzie didnt even know the difference actually, assuming it had something to do with differences in beliefs between denominations.
And your father spent a lot of time with him?
Oh yeah, Brian said, a bit angry. All of his damn time, I think. If you need to know anything about Dad, hed be the one to ask.
Mackenzie nodded, well aware that she would not be getting any useful information out of these two young men. Still, she wished she had more time to speak with them. There was clearly unresolved tension and loss between them. Maybe if they broke through whatever emotional walls were keeping them so tranquil, theyd have more to offer.
In the end, she turned away and gave them her thanks. She and Ellington left the apartment quietly. As they took the stairs down side by side, he took her hand.
You okay? he asked.
Yeah, she said, confused. Why?
Two kidstheir father just died and arent sure how to handle it. With all of the speculation about your dads old case as of latejust wondering.
She smiled at him, reveling in the uplifting way he made her heart feel in those moments. God, he can be so sweet
As they walked out into the morning together, she also realized that he was right: the reason she had wanted to stay and keep talking was to help the Tuttle brothers resolve the issues theyd had with their father.
Apparently, the ghost of her fathers recently reopened case was haunting her more than she realized.
***Seeing Cornerstone Presbyterian Church in the light of morning was surreal. Mackenzie drove by it on the way to visit with Reverend Jerry Levins. Levins resided in a house that sat just half a block away from the church, something Mackenzie had seen a lot of during her time out in Nebraska where the heads of smaller churches tended to live in very close proximity to their houses of worship.
When they arrived at Levinss house, there were numerous cars parked along the side of the street and in his driveway. She assumed these were likely members of Cornerstone, coming by to seek solace from or offer comfort to Reverend Levins.
When Mackenzie knocked on the front door of the modest little brick house, it was answered right away. The woman at the door had clearly been crying. She eyed Mackenzie and Ellington suspiciously until Mackenzie raised her badge.
Were Agents White and Ellington, with the FBI, she said. Wed like to speak with Reverend Levins, if hes in.
The woman opened the door for them and they stepped into a house that was filled with sniffling and sobbing. Somewhere else within the house, Mackenzie could hear the sound of murmured prayers.
Ill get him for you, the woman said. Please wait here.
Mackenzie watched the woman go back through the house, turning into a small living room where a few people stood by the entryway. After some whispering noises, a tall bald man came walking toward them. Like the woman who had answered the door, he had also been weeping.
Agents, Levins said. Can I help you?
Well, I know its a very tense and sad time for you, Mackenzie said, but were hoping to get any information we can on Reverend Tuttle. The sooner we can get any leads, the quicker we can catch who did this.
Do you think his death is related to that poor priests from earlier this week? Levins asked.
We cant know for certain yet, Mackenzie said, though she was already certain he was. And thats why we were hoping you could speak with us.
Of course, Levins said. Outside on the stoop, though. I dont want to interrupt the prayer we have going here.
He led them back out into the morning, where he took a seat on the concrete steps. I must say, Im not sure what youre going to find on Ned, Levins commented. He was a stand-up believer. Other than some issues with his family, I dont know that he had anything closely resembling an enemy.
Did he have friends within the church that you might question being moral or upstanding? Ellington asked.
Everyone was friends with Ned Tuttle, Levins said, wiping a tear away from his eyes. The man was as close to a saint as they come. He regularly tithed at least twenty-five percent of his pay back into the church. He was always downtown, helping to feed and clothe the poor. He mowed lawns for the elderly, did home repair for widows, took three missions trips to Kenya every year to help with a medical ministry.
Do you know anything about his past that might be shady? Mackenzie asked.
No. And thats saying a lot because I know a great deal about his past. He and I, we shared a lot of stories about our struggles. And I can tell you in confidence that among the few sinful things he experienced in his past, there was nothing that would suggest being treated in the way he was last night.
How about any people within the church? Mackenzie asked. Were there members of the church who might have been offended at something Reverend Tuttle said or did?
Levins thought about it for only a moment before shaking his head. No. If there was such an issue, Ned never told me and I never knew about it. But againI can tell you with the utmost certainty that he had no enemies that I was aware of.
Do you know if Ellington started.
But Levins held up his hand, as if shooing the comment away. Im very sorry, he said. But Im quite sad about the loss of my good friend, and I have many grieving members of my church inside. I will happily answer any questions you have in the coming days, but I need to report to God and my congregation right now.
Of course, Mackenzie said. I understand. And I am truly sorry for your loss.
Levins managed a smile as he got back to his feet. Fresh tears were streaming down his face. I meant what I said, he whispered, doing what he could to not break down in front of them. Give me a day or so. If there is anything further you need to ask, let me know. Id like to take part in bringing whoever did this to justice.
With that, he headed back inside. Mackenzie and Ellington walked back to the car as the sun finally took its rightful place in the sky. It was hard to believe it was only 8:11.
What next? Mackenzie asked. Any ideas?
WellIve been awake for nearly four hours now and I havent had coffee yet. That seems like a good place to start.
***Twenty minutes later, Mackenzie and Ellington were sitting face to face in a small coffee shop. As they drank their coffee, they looked over the files on Father Costas they had taken from McGraths office and the digital files on Reverend Tuttle that had been emailed to Mackenzies phone.
Aside from studying the photographs, there was not really much to study. Even in the case of Father Costas, where there was paperwork to go along with it, there wasnt much to tell. He had been killed from either the puncture wound to his lung or a deep incision in the back of his neck that had gone deep enough to reveal white glimmers of his spine.
Aside from studying the photographs, there was not really much to study. Even in the case of Father Costas, where there was paperwork to go along with it, there wasnt much to tell. He had been killed from either the puncture wound to his lung or a deep incision in the back of his neck that had gone deep enough to reveal white glimmers of his spine.
So according to this report, Mackenzie said, the wounds to Father Costass body were likely what killed him. He was most likely dead before he was crucified.
And that means something? Ellington asked.
I think theres a very good chance. Its clear theres some sort of religious angle here. The mere subject of crucifixion supports that. But theres a huge difference between using the act of crucifixion as a message and using the imagery of crucifixion.
I think I follow, Ellington said. But you can keep explaining.
For Christians, the image of crucifixion would really just be a depiction of sorts. In our cases, death as a result of crucifixion doesnt seem to be the goal. If that were the case, the bodies would likely be mostly free of injury. Think about itthe whole of Christianity would be quite different if Christ was already dead when he was nailed to the cross.
So you think the killer is crucifying these men just for show?
Too early to tell, Mackenzie said. She paused long enough to take a blissful gulp of her coffee. Im leaning toward no, though. Both men were men of the clothleaders of a church in some form or another. Displaying them strung up like the Christian figure those churches revolve around is too much of a sign. Theres some sort of motive behind it all.
You just referred to Jesus Christ as a Christian figure. I thought you believed in God.
I do, Mackenzie said. But not with the strength and conviction someone like Ned Tuttle had. And when it gets into the Bible stories the talking snake, the ark, the blow-by-blow of the crucifixion I think faith has to take a back seat and rely on something closer to blind belief. And Im not comfortable with that.
Whoa, Ellington said with a smile. Thats deep. MeI just prefer to go with I dont know answer. Soas for the motive you mentioned. How do we find it? Ellington asked.
Good question. I plan to start with the family of Father Costas. Theres not much to go on in the reports. Also, I think
She was interrupted by the ringing of Ellingtons phone. He grabbed it quickly and frowned at what he saw on the display. Its McGrath, he said before answering it.
Mackenzie listened to Ellingtons end of the conversation, unable to piece together what was being said. After less than a minute, Ellington ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket.
Well, he said. It looks like youll be visiting the Costas family on your own. McGrath needs me back at his office. Some detail work on a case hes being all secretive on.
Which probably means its grunt work, Mackenzie said. Lucky you.
Stillseems weird hed yank me off of this so soon when we dont have any leads. It must mean he has immense confidence in you all of a sudden.
And you dont?
You know what I mean, Ellington said, smiling.
Mackenzie took another gulp of her coffee, a little disgruntled to find that it was already empty. She tossed the cup in the trash and gathered up the files and her phone, ready to move in to her next stop. First, though, she headed for the counter to order another coffee.
It was looking like it was going to be a very long day. And without Ellington to keep her on her toes, shed definitely need coffee.
Then again, long days usually resulted in leads in productivity. And if Mackenzie had her way, shed find the killer before he had time to so much as plan another murder.
CHAPTER FOUR
After dropping Ellington off in the parking garage at the FBI offices (and a quick yet passionate kiss before she left), Mackenzie made her way out to Blessed Heart Catholic Church. She wasnt expecting to find much of anything, so she wasnt disappointed when that was exactly what was waiting for her.
The doors had been replaced, but looked like exact replicas of the ones she had seen in the photos from the crime scene. She climbed up the stairs, these much fancier and ornate than the ones at Cornerstone Presbyterian, and to the new doors. She then turned her back to the doors and looked back out to the street. She couldnt help but wonder if there was any further symbolism in nailing the men to the front doors.
Maybe theyre supposed to be looking out toward something, Mackenzie thought. But all she was seeing were parked cars, a few pedestrians, and street signs.
She looked at her feet and along the edges of the door frame. There were small spackled shapes there that could be anything. But she had seen this color before the color of blood once it dried into pale concrete.
She looked back down the steps and tried to imagine a man bringing a dead body up them. It would be a task, that was for sure. Of course, she didnt know for sure that Costas had been dead when he had been nailed to the door, though that seemed to be the working assumption.
As she stood at the double doors and looked around, she went over the facts as she knew them from the files. The same kind of nails were used here as were used at the Tuttle scene. The only common injury among the two bodies was a large gash that went the length of their foreheads maybe an allusion to Christs crown of thorns.
Imagining such a grisly sight on the stoop she was standing on was hard to imagine. People didnt typically think of death and gore when they stood before the doors of a church.
And maybe thats the point. Maybe thats a tie-in to the killers motive.
Feeling like she might be on to something, Mackenzie took the stairs back down to the street. It felt odd to be moving at such a pace without Ellington by her side, but by the time she was in her car and moving forward, her mind was solely on the case.
***For the second time that day, Mackenzie found herself walking into a crowded home. Father Costas had lived in a nice home, a two-story brick home just along the outskirts of the downtown region. She was met by a woman who introduced herself as a parishioner of Blessed Heart. She led Mackenzie into a den area, where she was asked to wait for a moment.
Within a matter of seconds, an older woman entered the room. She looked exhausted and profoundly sad when she sat down in an armchair across from the seat Mackenzie had taken on an ornate sofa.
Im so sorry to bother you, Mackenzie said. I had no idea youd have this much company.
Yes, I had no idea, either, the woman said. But the funeral is tonight and there are all of these people coming out of the woodwork. Family members, acquaintances, loved ones from the church. She then grinned sleepily and added: Im Nancy Allensworth, the parish secretary. Im told youre with the FBI?
Yes maam. At the risk of upsetting you further, there was another body discovered this morning, treated the same way as Father Costas. This one was a reverend at a small Presbyterian church near Georgetown.
Nancy Allensworth put her hand to her mouth in a dramatic oh no gesture. My goodness, she said. Then, through tears and gritted teeth, she hissed, What has this wretched world come to?