The Last Amen Read online

  “So the killer sat next to her?”

  “And for quite a while,” Kate added, noting how flattened the carpet fibers were. Turning to the photographer, she asked. “Did you get a few good shots of the carpet before we stepped all over the crime scene?”

  “A few. I’ll share them with you when we get back, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  Chapter Ten

  “How many dozens did you bake, Mom?” Luke asked as he loaded yet another Rubbermaid container into his car.

  “Don’t you worry about it and just load it all up. Oh shoot!” she said, looking around. “I almost forgot my purse. I’ll be right back!”

  Five minutes later, Luke opened the driver’s door, muttering to himself as his mother commented on his choice of clothing.

  “I don’t care what your fellow parishioners think of the way I dress,” he said after she closed the passenger door. “Aren’t they supposed to be all loving and accepting? Isn’t that what religion is supposed to be about?”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “I’m not changing, Mom. These jeans are clean, and so is my T-shirt. If I’m going to be socially uncomfortable, at least let me do it in comfortable clothes.”

  After dropping off his mother at the front entrance of the school where the fundraiser was being held, Luke drove to park his vehicle.

  A few minutes later, one large container in hand, he found his mother chatting with a young, brown-haired man at a registration table. He, too, had dressed as fancy as his mother had, wearing a buttoned-down shirt even though his right arm was in a cast and pinned against his chest in a sling.

  “Mrs. O’Brien, you’re at table twenty. Go ahead and get yourself set up. Harold will come by later to collect more information and discuss an upcoming project we’re excited about. I see you’ve brought someone to help.” He looked at Luke.

  “I’m her son. Table twenty, you said?” Luke turned his attention to his mother. “I’ll go put this first box at your table, Mom.”

  As he walked away, he could hear his mom beginning the embarrassing speech that always came next. Sure, there were much worse things than having a mother who constantly bragged about how smart her son was. But decades of hearing the spiel hadn’t made it less embarrassing. And his mother never listened to his numerous requests to end that behavior.

  Best get this evening over with as fast as possible.

  After several trips to the car, Luke had carried all of his mom’s precious muffins, pies, and cupcakes to her table. Thankfully, she had already displayed a fair amount of her selection of goods and then organized the other Rubbermaid containers behind her table so she could presumably replenish her items as needed.

  Either that or he’d have to carry all of those containers back home and he, Kate, and his mom would be stuffing their faces with baked goods for weeks to come. That wouldn’t really be a problem, though. His mom’s baked goods were delicious. He still had lots of spare notches in his belt, but Luke didn’t want to put on weight. Worst comes to worst, I’ll talk her into offering free samples.

  Already, even though the doors had yet to open, his head was buzzing. The incessant jabber of mingled small talk, especially from the loud lady one table over, made him regret his decision to help his mother.

  “Hey, Mrs. O’Brien!” she practically yelled. “Looks like we’ll be neighbors again!” Her chirpy voice was as loud as her bright red dress. “And who’s that nice man you brought with you today?”

  Although the woman had technically addressed his mom, her deep brown eyes were dead locked onto Luke. Her lips arched upward after she gave him the once over.

  “I’m her son, Luke,” he said, extending his hand toward her even though starting a conversation with the bubbly woman was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “Adrianna Johnston. Nice to meet you. And you’re not married?” she said as they shook, her eyes glued to his left hand.

  Best to end this right here.

  “Nope. But not single either,” Luke said in a tone as flat as his interest toward the woman.

  “Luke Stewart O’Brien, I didn’t raise you to be impolite.” His mom turned her attention to the woman.

  “Adrianna, please don’t mind him. My son’s not much for social gatherings, but he’s helping me tonight. It’s his birthday present to me.”

  “Oh! Just like my son! I know how that goes. When did young people stop liking other people? Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Brien.”

  “Thank you. It’s not today, per se, but I couldn’t think of a better birthday present than getting my Luke to spend quality time with me.”

  “And helping the community,” Adrianna added.

  “Sure,” Luke said, doing his best to not roll his eyes at the woman who was still looking at him strangely.

  “Too bad you’re not single. If things don’t work out, please ask your mom to let me know.” She winked at Luke then was about to walk back toward her table when Luke’s mom spoke.

  “Oh, Adrianna. I wouldn’t get your hopes up. My Luke is dating a detective, you know? She’s quite the catch—”

  “Mom!” Luke said, doing his best to keep his voice low. “Enough about sharing my private life with strangers!”

  “She’s not a stranger! She’s a friend from church.”

  “My offer remains in case things don’t work out with your smart detective friend.”

  After giving one last wink, she returned to her table—the very next one over—where a young man sat quietly, his arms crossed on his chest. In front of him rested a colorful selection of rosaries made out of knotted strings.

  He appeared as uncomfortable as Luke, but at least he’d found himself a chair. Scanning the room, Luke spotted two stacks of chairs against the far wall.

  “I’m gonna get us some chairs, Mom. I’ll be right back.”

  He grabbed two, noticing several large plastic bins nearby. A sign read “Clothing donations” and he made a mental note to tell Kate she could donate her uncle’s clothing to the church. He remembered her mentioning how much she’d found. Sure, Kenny hadn’t been the most fashionable man he’d met, but he understood lack of income had contributed to him never updating his wardrobe.

  Beggars can’t be choosers, he thought. Kate had enough to sort through already—an entire houseful—the church volunteers could go through and decide if Kenny’s old clothes were worth anything to them.

  When he returned with the chairs, a broad-shouldered man with a clipboard was chatting up his mother.

  “So, if you’d like to support our cause, then please write your name, address, and phone number. We’re hoping to get two hundred signatures tonight.”

  Hoping to avoid an awkward conversation in front of his mother—and definitely not willing to listen to whatever pitch the man had been tasked with—Luke retrieved his phone and brought it to his ear, feigning to be on a call as he, one by one, moved the chairs over to the table. A polite nod later, he stepped away from his mom’s table, then decided he might as well check on Kate.

  She’d been called to work hours ago. Perhaps she was nearly done? Having her by his side would most definitely make the whole fundraiser much easier to stand. Spending time in social settings was at the bottom of his list of enjoyable activities. He already saw plenty of people at work.

  But with Kate around, the world always seemed to fade away. How she achieved that, he had no idea, but he wished she were with him now.

  His stomach twisted at the thought of how uncomfortable he’d soon be, once the doors officially opened to the public.

  After dialing her number, it went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Katie, I was just thinking of you. You’re probably still working, or maybe you’re driving back home. Anyways, Mom and I are in a school basement for the next five hours. Selling baked goods to raise funds for something or other. You know how much fun I’ll be having. So, it’d be nice to see you, if you can make it. But you might still be at work. Either way. It’s cool. Love you.”<
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  He returned the phone to his pocket, saw that the man had moved on to table eighteen, so Luke deemed it safe to return to his mom.

  “Luke, you should talk to Harold and sign his petition.”

  “Maybe later. I’m sure he’ll find plenty of willing parishioners tonight. How many people did you say are expected?”

  “About three hundred.”

  He took a seat and looked at Adrianna’s son behind the next table. The young man hadn’t moved a hair, it seemed. He hadn’t even looked his way. Crossing his arms on his chest, Luke decided he’d follow the kid’s lead. But he added a fake smile. Psychological disguise or not, he’d read that smiling increased one’s happiness.

  And he was going to need all the help he could get for the long social evening that was about to start.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Murphy, you’re it. Summary. Now!” Detective Lieutenant Fuller barked as he walked into conference room two, ending the chatter among the four detectives in attendance.

  Kate cleared her throat as she walked toward the board where she’d pinned several pictures.

  “Lori Davis, age twenty-two, only child of Doug and Francine Davis, was found dead in her bedroom earlier today at her family home by her boyfriend of two years, David Dempsey. She still resided with her parents—”

  “Parents,” Fuller repeated. “Have you notified them?”

  “No, sir.” Kate looked at her watch. “They’re still traveling as we speak, coming back from a Caribbean cruise. Their flight is expected to land in two hours. I’ll be at the airport when they arrive”—Kate swallowed hard—“to tell them their only daughter is dead.”

  “Fun times ahead,” Detective Jenny Wang said, tucking a long strand of black hair behind her ear. Her face was as solemn as a monk’s.

  “Yep. Moving on.” Kate tapped her finger on the zoomed-in version of the map and the photo of the vic’s body lying in bed.

  “This is the cleanest photo of footprints left on the carpet. We don’t know for sure, but this here”—she circled an area with the tip of her pen—“could be a sign that the victim was dragged into the room or it could be someone trying to wipe the footprints from the carpet. We’ve got at least two shoe sizes. Could be the victim’s, the killer’s, and/or the boyfriend’s.”

  “The latter two could be one and the same,” Chainey chimed in.

  “Too early to say.” Kate stepped back to point to a large photo of a brown-haired man with bright blue eyes. “Meet David Dempsey. He’s the one who broke into the home.” Kate referred to her notepad for a second. “I quote, ‘I hadn’t heard from her in over two weeks and I knew she had to pick up her parents at the airport tonight.’ End quote.” Kate closed her pad. “Scene markers like the overflowing mailbox confirm this as a plausible timeline. Boyfriend didn’t have a key to her house. Broken glass on the floor says forced entry from the outside. The fingerprints lifted on both the outside and inside latch will likely confirm that story. We’ll know soon enough.”

  “A suspect?” Fuller asked.

  “For now, but we didn’t arrest him. No way we could collect sufficient evidence to prove probable cause, let alone without a doubt, within twenty-four hours. We’ll keep an eye on him then try to build a case once we get a time of death.”

  “Isn’t it weird that he hadn’t spoken to his girlfriend for two weeks?” Wang asked.

  “Tough to tell. Items found in the vic’s house all point to religion being important. Perhaps it was typical for them to only see each other once or twice a month. I’ll interview David Dempsey again tomorrow. Give him a chance to digest the news and possibly contradict himself on record based on what we got from the squad car camera today. He seemed genuinely affected by his discovery.”

  “What else?” Fuller prompted.

  Kate pointed to a map of the area. “The residential neighborhood is mostly multi-dwelling buildings. The vic’s home appears to be an exception. One of the rare homes that hasn’t been converted into multi-family housing, and based on renovations, the family probably has money. Wang will comb through the parents’ financial situation and insurance policies for potential motives. Possibly a large life insurance payout. She’ll check to see if there are more relatives who could have stood to gain from her death.”

  “Security footage?” Fuller asked, a line between his brows.

  Kate shook her head. “The house isn’t equipped with anything. No alarm, no cameras. I checked the streets in the neighborhood. No luck. I’ll canvas the neighborhood over the coming days, but with so many tenants, many of whom could work various day and night shifts, it will take a while.”

  “I’ll approve a few extra officers to help,” Fuller said. “Businesses nearby?”

  “Nothing for a few blocks.”

  “What are your priorities?” Fuller prompted.

  “I’ll attend the autopsy first thing tomorrow morning. There was no sign of struggle, but perhaps the medical examiner will find something underneath the nails—a lose hair, or some other fiber. Rosebud will look into the boyfriend—his whereabouts for the past two weeks, their history, any potential motives. In addition to the recorded interview we did earlier today, we’ll get him to commit to a timeline on record again, to see if he contradicts himself. Tough to confirm an alibi until we get an estimated time of death.”

  “Go with your scene markers for now. You said Wang’s on the parents. What about Chainey? What’s he looking into?”

  “The vic. Her story, phone calls, credit card and bank statements. Tracking down her whereabouts for the past three weeks. Talking to friends—work and church—to see if we can narrow down the time of death.”

  “Warrants?” Fuller asked.

  “Filled out and submitted already so we can look into the vic’s past. I don’t expect any issues. I doubt I’ll get any information from the parents tonight. I’m hoping I can talk to them again after the autopsy and show them photos to ask about anything missing or out of place in their home, or potential enemies.”

  “You’re going to break the news at the airport?” Fuller asked, his brows raised.

  “I can’t think of any other option. I checked with border control. Scene markers and witnesses say she was alive when they left. The death occurred while they were out of the country. Unless they hired someone to kill their daughter, they’re not suspects. I don’t want to bring them all the way here to tell them. They deserve to know before they learn about it on the news.”

  “Take Rosebud and do your best to avoid a public scene.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Bath, Maine

  Friday, June 23rd, 1995

  Standing in the doorway of her brother’s bedroom in jeans that she’d already outgrown—exposing a few too many inches of her crimson socks—Kate watched her mother hum a lullaby while cradling Bobby, rocking him to sleep in the chair that made the old floor creak.

  “Mom?”

  She looked up and smiled, her green eyes kind and loving. “Yes, dear?”

  “Can I head out to play with my friend Luko?”

  “Where are you planning to go?”

  “To the park, maybe go all the way to the cave today.”

  “Promise that you’ll be careful?”

  “Of course, Mom! Luko and I always check both ways before crossing roads. We never talk to strangers. We just go and play explorers.”

  “You sure are a little tomboy, Katie. I certainly preferred to play with my dolls when I was your age.”

  “Dolls are boring.”

  “You know what you like. But come back on time today. I’m cooking a small turkey, so I don’t want it to dry out while waiting for you.”

  “Yes, Mom. Can I hold Bobby for a few minutes before I go?”

  “Sure, sweetie. But he’s sleeping already, so be careful not to wake him up.” She extended her arms so Kate could take him. “Put him down in his crib gently when you’re done. I need to get started on my potatoes.”

  Kate beam
ed as she grabbed her baby brother. He was so little and light. His tiny nose barely flared as he breathed in and out.

  Her hands now free, her mom got up from the rocking chair and started the mobile that hung over the crib. A tranquil melody soon filled the blue bedroom with its bells and soft notes.

  Kate sat where her mom had seconds earlier, sensing the warmth of her mother’s body still in the chair. Humming the tune of the mobile, Kate rocked her baby brother, letting him hold onto the tip of her index finger. His tiny fingers loved to grab ahold of everything. Even while he slept.

  She leaned in and inhaled her brother’s scent before brushing a kiss on his tiny forehead. His lack of hair—a thin layer of fuzz was all he had—had first worried Kate, but her mom had explained that she needn’t worry about it. His real hair would grow in due time. Unlike Kate and her mom, Baby Bobby had brown fuzz, like their dad. Well, their dad had real hair, not baby fuzz.

  She rocked and rocked, the melody soon dissipating in the air as the winding reached the end of its cycle—

  Chapter Thirteen

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Monday, June 18th, 2018

  But her peaceful memory ended just as suddenly as it had begun.

  A horrible vision flashed in Kate’s mind, that of Bobby’s cold and limp body in her arms, pressed against her teenage chest.

  Kate woke up in sweats, her limbs almost slapped Luke as she bolted upright. Beating out of control, her heart syncopated to the soundtrack of her recent nightmare.

  “Kate?” Luke said.

  But all Kate could do was concentrate on slowing down her heart, on pushing aside the horrific memories that had overtaken her mind like a flash flood.