I stood there wondering what to do. I could just leave. It would be rude, but it wasn’t like I’d come with a Catholic friend. I promised myself that I’d leave as soon as I could without making a disturbance. The hymn ended, and we sat back down as the priests and altar boys made themselves comfortable at the front.
Slipping down the pew, I headed for the aisle that ran along the outside wall of the church. Before I turned to leave, I noticed Father O’Hannahan standing in front of a door to the side of the altar. I headed up the outer aisle toward him. My movement caught his attention, and he ducked into the door behind him.
I dove through the door after him. I heard a gasp behind me as I did. It was probably a priests-only area. I found myself in a hallway. I ran down it until I got to another hallway, this one lined with doors leading to offices, I supposed. I caught O’Hannahan halfway down this hallway.
“Father, I need to talk to you.”
He spun around. “I told you to leave.”
“Was it you? Did you kill Eddie?”
“No, of course not. I never even met him.”
“You didn’t? He wasn’t a member of your church?”
He shook his head.
“Then how did you end up doing his funeral?”
“Sylvia Navarez asked me.”
Something very obvious suddenly occurred to me. “You know who killed them, don’t you. You know who killed Eddie.”
Even what he was going to say before he said it, “Yes, yes I know. But I can’t tell you.”
“You have to. He’s killed two people, and he’s not going to stop.”
“I can’t. That’s why you have to leave. Do you understand? You’re not safe.”
I grabbed him by the arm. “You have to tell me. Who killed them? Who was it?”
He pushed me off him. Then, without a word, ran down the hall. There didn’t seem to be a point in chasing him.
As I walked back to my car, I wondered if the priest could at least tell the police it wasn’t me who killed Eddie. If he did that much, he wouldn’t be violating the confessional or whatever they call it. I was about a half mile from home when my phone rang. It was illegal to talk on the phone while driving without one of those Bluetooth ear pieces, but when I saw that it as Jeremy, I answered anyway.
“How’s Palm Springs?” I said instead of hello.
“The hotel is nice,” he said, after a sheepish pause. “We tried to register under fake names, but it’s harder to do than you’d think. Everyone wants to see photo IDs.”
“Why, Jeremy? Why did you give that statement?”
“Oh, God. Matt, it was terrible. Suddenly there was all this pounding on the door and yelling. There were, like, six cops, with their guns drawn. This detective waved a search warrant at me and then they’re in our home looking at everything.”
“Was it Hanson? The woman you talked to before?”
“I guess. Anyway, they sat Skye and me down in the living room and a few minutes later she’s showing us this bag of crystal and Skye’s looking at me like it’s mine. But it wasn’t mine. I have no idea where it came from. I think the detective brought it with her.”
“Then what?”
“She’s telling us we’ll have to go to prison unless we can make some kind of deal. She kept looking at me when she was talking. She said you were dangerous, that you were looking for victims, that you were likely to kill again.”
“And you believed that?”
“Not really.”
“Not really? Thanks.”
“Matt, she told me what to write and said we’d go to prison if I didn’t sign it.”
“And she did this in front of five other cops?”
He was silent. “Maybe it was just two. They were outside while she dictated the statement.”
“Did she take pictures of where she found the meth?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did she leave the search warrant?”
“No.”
I thought about it for a moment. “She didn’t have a warrant. When they searched the house they made a big deal out of giving it to me. And they left it with me.”
Jeremy tumbled. “She tricked me?”
“Yes. I need you to recant your statement.”
He surprised me by agreeing right away.
“She’ll probably try to say you and I made some kind of deal,” I explained. “But I still need you to do it.”
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
“When can you come back?”
“We used cash in case the police tried to find us again. We’re paid through tomorrow.”
“Jeremy,” I said, in the disapproving tone I’d often used when we were together.
“I’ll talk to Skye.”
Before I hung up, he stopped me. “Matt, I am really sorry. I felt awful signing that thing.”
As I pulled into my driveway, I wondered if things were as bad as I thought. Tripp was on my side, I was sure of that. And that had to mean that things would start to look up. I didn’t kill two people, so it would be difficult for Hanson to pin the murders on me. Especially if Tripp was there to stop it.
Still, I felt like I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit around waiting for Tripp to fix everything. But what should I do? The killer had to be someone connected to Detective Hanson or there’d be no reason for her to want to frame me. So, all I had to do was connect Eddie to Hanson. There was one degree of separation between them, and I had to find that person.
Of course, the easiest way to do it would be to have Eddie’s client list. Which reminded me to call Tiffany about the flash drive.
“Sonja fired me,” I told
