who’d said it. When he—” Keren couldn’t lie and she couldn’t tell the truth. “Look, I’m a cop. I thought someone across the room reacted… strangely I couldn’t see who it was, just movement, a response by someone in the crowd. I moved fast, trying to see who it was. I didn’t see anyone. I can’t describe anyone. I know you can’t do it on my say-so, but if you’d trust me, I’d pull a lot of pictures down off that board, eliminate them as suspects. It would save us time.”
Dyson narrowed his eyes. The jerk.
“I feel certain that—” Keren saw something. Studying the pictures, she said, “Paul, some of these people weren’t there this morning. I don’t recognize them, at least.”
Keren went up front and pointed to several photos. “Who are these men? There are five or six I don’t remember.” She looked over her shoulder at him. He’d followed her and was watching where she pointed.
“They weren’t there.” Paul looked up at Higgins. “Where’d you get these five pictures?”
“They came up shortly before Detective Collins came out.
Identify them, Morris.” Higgins, giving orders again.
“That’s Murray.” Paul pointed.
“Who was supposed to preach, right?” Keren asked.
“That’s right.” Paul jabbed each photo as he named them. “That’s Buddy. Louie. Casey-Ray. McGwire.”
“I don’t remember seeing any of them.”
“They drove up right at the end. The driver let four passengers out,” Higgins said. “These pictures are pinned up here in the order the pictures were taken.”
He jabbed a finger at Murray’s picture showing him behind the wheel of a car. “The others went inside and returned almost immediately. Based on the way this one stayed behind, double parked—the others only needed to run inside briefly. They exited the building, got in the car, and drove off. Only a few seconds later you came out. They must be the disturbance that drew your attention. Since it’s clear they never planned to stay, you probably misread the situation.”
Paul’s eyes, still fully shielded as he became the cop, shifted to hers and away. Keren thought of Dyson and Higgins and their watchfulness and didn’t react, but she knew exactly what Paul was thinking. One of those men was almost certainly the killer. She’d felt him. They could narrow their suspect list to five right now. And here, in a room full of law enforcement officers, she had no way of explaining that without claiming a revelation from God.
Which these people wouldn’t believe.
But they were under so much pressure to hurry, Keren had to focus the search. She did her best to come up with a reason these people would understand.
“We need to look closer at these men. I don’t expect you to take my word for it with no solid evidence, but my gut tells me this is where we should look first.” She pointed at Murray then swung her finger down the line of photos.
“We can try to nail down where these men have crossed your path when you were a cop, Morris,” Higgins said. “We don’t count the others out, but we’ve got limited time with a missing woman to find.”
“Is it possible”—Keren turned to Dyson—”that something happened after Paul left the force? These men know him
“I’ll listen to the tapes again and see.”
Keren turned back to the pictures, satisfied that she’d given one of the FBI agents what amounted to an order.
Then she turned to Paul. “Let’s go look at your files again with these men in mind. Do any of them have known addresses? Or are they truly homeless?”
Paul stared at the picture of Murray. Keren had heard him talk about the man as a friend. “I’ve got addresses on Murray and Buddy. Louie lives in the mission. Casey-Ray and McGwire live on the streets. They sleep in the mission on cold nights. So did Buddy and Murray for that matter, until they cleaned up their act.”
“And Louie?” Dyson asked.
“On parole.”
“For what?”
Paul’s jaw was so tense Keren wasn’t sure he’d be able to move it to answer.
“He murdered his wife.”
Paul tried not to turn into a cop. He really did.
But he’d gone right ahead and turned.
Hearing that Keren had been assigned to come to the mission this morning made him sad. Hurt. More than a little confused. Cynicism was much more comfortable.
She was a cop. She had a job to do. So did he. Being a pastor investigating the people with the biggest trust issues in the world could very likely destroy years of work. Betraying his congregation, even for the best reasons, was painful, and he preferred to not deal with that pain.
His blood cooled. His feelings faded. He could do this—but only as a cop.
“We need known addresses on the two men you say have one.” Higgins moved to the center of the room. “And do you have full names? Background information will speed things up.”
Paul told them what he knew. “Except for Louie Pike, I only know what these men have told me. Murray is Leo Murray. He volunteers at the mission. I don’t file income tax forms or pay him a salary, so I don’t have a social security number for him. Buddy is the same and I don’t even know what his real name is. I asked him. ‘Buddy’ is all I’ve ever gotten. Casey-Ray is a former boxer, or so he says.”
“He coulda been a contender instead of a bum?” Higgins asked.
Higgins’s sneering attitude should have annoyed him but Paul didn’t let it. Not when he was thinking like a police detective. The black humor had always helped him cope with the tough stuff.
“McGwire—that’s not his real name. He rarely talks. He wears an old St. Louis Cardinals number twenty-five Mark McGwire jersey. I’ve never seen him without it, and I’ve known him for at least two years now. So that’s why we call him McGwire, because that name’s written on his back. He follows Casey-Ray around,
but he’s not exactly sane, I’m sure. I can’t imagine he’s the one who phoned me. Pravus’s voice didn’t sound familiar, and I’ve heard all these men talk, even McGwire on a few rare occasions.” Paul stopped and tried to connect Pravus’s voice to one of those five men. He couldn’t.
But Keren believed Pravus had been in that room. And he trusted her. He couldn’t think of what she’d done for Roger and doubt her. But he could doubt what had brought her there. He’d been stupid enough to think it was at least partly because of him.
He gave the FBI all the information he had on the five men and added names of several others missing from the morning service.
After telling them Murray’s and Louie’s addresses and the alley that was home to Casey-Ray and McGwire, Paul said, “I want to go with you to talk to these men, Higgins.”
“No. Maybe we’ll bring you in on the two homeless men if they’re not where you said they’d be. You can help us hunt, but we want to question them without you being involved. We don’t want a pastor there making it easy for them.”
“If I’m there, you’ve got a lot better chance of gaining their cooperation. They’re all hostile to the police. You’ll be lucky if they don’t hide from you.”
“We’ll be watching close. They won’t get away.” Higgins was so sure, Paul dropped it against his better judgment. That’s what a cop would do.
“Buddy and Murray could be in their apartments right now. Sunday afternoon is really quiet at the mission.” Paul narrowed his eyes and looked at the picture of Murray behind the steering wheel. “And as far as I know, none of those men owns or drives a car. So I don’t know where that one came from.”
The whole group turned to the picture.
“Did we get the plate number?” Higgins asked.
“I’ve got a photo of it pulling up. I’ll get the make and model from the picture and run it,” one of the agents said.
