Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Now, the ugly.
“Riley,” I said, “what can you tell me about your father’s private island?”
13
Rock
Walking back into St. Andrew’s made me want to puke.
We’d been here a little over a week ago for the bastard’s memorial service, and we’d sat straight-faced while Father Jim talked about what a paragon of society Derek Wolfe was, about how he’d known him since they were kids, how Derek had steered Jim into the priesthood.
I’d had to hold back retching then, and I had to do so now.
Underneath this parish, we’d discovered—via Reid’s SEALS—a system of tunnels and caves, once used for the underground railroad in the mid-1800s. A noble purpose.
Father Jim had bastardized a once noble thing by turning it into a hunting ground.
Why? I’d asked myself that question a million times since Roy’d had his revelation. Why would Derek Wolfe make a game out of hunting women? He could hunt animals. He could fuck as many women as he wanted. Hell, there were men and women out there who’d gladly be hunted for a price.
So why abduct women and hunt them?
We hadn’t found any remains. Did he kill them? We were pretty sure he had, since Reid’s SEAL said the underground smelled of rotting flesh. Finding any news of the missing women had taken serious research, and once we found a name, nothing else surfaced, as if the trail had gone dead.
Derek Wolfe had paid off the press as well as everyone else.
Why? Why would he do something so heinous to innocent women?
Then again, why would he molest his own daughter? Why would he ship his own son off to the horrors of Buffington Military Academy?
Which was, in its way, a hunting ground.
Sick, sick bastard.
I followed Reid into the church. The place was beautiful, almost like a mid-century cathedral in Europe, which it was obviously modeled after.
We walked into the sanctuary where a few individuals were seated, praying. One rose, walked to the altar, and lit a candle. Another headed toward the confessional.
The confessional.
Yeah. I was going in.
“He’s back there, taking confession,” I said to Reid. “I’m next.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Hell, no, I’m not crazy. We’ll take him by surprise.
“At confession? That’s sacrilege.”
“Do I look like I care?”
“Yeah, I don’t either. Let’s do it.”
We waited quietly until the young woman left the confessional. I walked in to take her place.
I inhaled, wondering if I should disguise my voice. Nah. Let him know we were here. What could he do?
I cleared my throat. “Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been…a long time since my last confession.” Try nearly three decades.
“What sins do you wish to confess, my child?”
Fuck. That wasn’t Father Jim’s voice. I should know. I’d just listened to him wax poetic about my dead bastard of a father a week ago.
“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.
“My child?”
“Get on your knees!” Reid’s voice came from the other side of the confessional.
“Reid, wait!” I pounded on the panel separating me from the priest. “Oh, fuck it.” I left the confessional and ripped away the curtain.
A scared priest was on his knees, my brother holding his hair in his hands.
“That’s not Jim,” I said.
“I’ve been trying to tell him. I’m Father Amos. I’m working with—”
“Fuck.” Reid let him go. “You’re Buck’s guy.”
“Yeah. Christ!”
“Christ?” I said. “Taking his name in vain? Are you even a real priest?”
Amos glanced around the sanctuary. Luckily, we’d scared away the few people who’d been praying and lighting candles. Nicely done.
“I am,” Amos said.
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Taking confession? It’s my job.”
“For fuck’s sake. I mean why are you doing this? For Leif?”
“Because I believe in what I’m doing. I want to take Father Jim down. I want to take all the pedophile priests down.”
“Jim isn’t a pedophile,” Reid said. “That we know of, anyway. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“I know that. But he’s as bad. Who the hell hunts women? Frames innocent people? Kills?”
“Good enough. But if you’re a real priest, what’s with the swearing?”
“Real priests are human beings, Mr. Wolfe. I grew up in Hell’s Kitchen. Swearing is in my vocabulary.”
I let out a laugh. “Good enough. Now where’s Jim?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t been in today.”
“He lives on-site,” Reid said. “We’ll find him there.”
“Got it. Sorry about the intrusion, Father.”
“Hey, I’m here to help. The thing is, I’ve looked into everything I can, and on the surface, the guy’s clean.”
“He’s far from clean,” I said. “We’ve got an eyewitness tying him to my father’s hunting escapades. Reid’s wife.”
“I know. Leif keeps me up to date.” He looked around. “I’ve been through this place with a fine-tooth comb. Even the underground.”
“You’ve been down there?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Take us,” I said. “Now.”
“Sure. No problem.” Father Amos smoothed his wrinkled robe. “Be ready to hold your nose, though. Follow me.”
He led Reid and me to a staircase. We went down to the lower level, which was divided into classrooms, a large kitchen, and several shelters where homeless people were welcomed.