Lisa Jackson's Bentz And Montoya Bundle Part 144

The occupant, a tall, excruciatingly gaunt man with sunken features, was sprawled upon the recliner. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and cardigan sweater, slacks and slippers, no sign of a clerical collar. His eyes were closed, his mouth agape, and he was snoring softly over the muted tones of an announcer for a golf match playing on the televison. "Father Paul?" Sherry said loudly.

The priest snorted and opened one eye.

"Father Paul? You have visitors."

"What?"

"Visitors. These men are with the police," she nearly shouted as he fumbled with his hearing aid.

"I don't know any policemen."

"No, they're here to ask you some questions."

"Questions?" he repeated. Blinking from behind gla.s.ses that made his eyes appear owlish, he scrabbled with one hand for the handle of his recliner, pushing the footrest down with some difficulty in order to force the chair and himself into a sitting position.

"Detectives Montoya and Bentz," the aide said, pointing to each of the cops in turn.

"We need to talk to you about Faith Chastain," Bentz said loudly. When Father Paul didn't respond, didn't seem to understand, he added, "She was a patient at Our Lady of Virtues when you were the priest there."

"Faith," he repeated dully. Something clicked, and his eyes cleared a bit. "Oh, Faith. Yes. Lovely but confused, very...Ah, well, she died. Fell from a window...I think. A pity."

"Yes."

"It was a long while ago, wasn't it?" He blinked up at Bentz as if he really didn't know. Then he swiped at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Yes."

"Sad...Faith? Yes...yes..."

"But she had a baby while she was at Our Lady of Virtues, by a Cesarean section."

"And Sister Rebecca, she died too," he said, his face twisting with sudden agony. "Someone killed her. I read about it. A terrible thing, that. A pity."

"Yes."

"But she is with G.o.d now," Father Paul went on, running a hand over his head and smoothing some wayward gray hairs over his bald pate.

"What can you tell us about Faith Chastain and the baby she gave birth to about twenty-eight years ago?" Bentz decided it best not to bring up the name "Adam," the still-birth issue, or the fact that Eve Renner's DNA said she was Faith Chastain's daughter. Even though Sherry had warned them that Father Paul was in and out of lucidity, and that much was evident, Bentz wanted to see what the priest could remember without being given every prompt.

"The child," Father Paul said softly and gazed so long at the floor Bentz thought he was memorizing the pattern of the carpet. Finally he said with more clarity than Bentz would have expected, "I suppose it's time someone knew the truth. Before anyone else is hurt."

"Or killed," Montoya put in. "Who was the baby's father? And what happened to it? We found the coffin in the cemetery. Someone had dug it up, put a pig's carca.s.s inside."

Father Paul winced. "So it's come to this." He rubbed his large hands on his knees. Guilt settled on his narrow shoulders, stooping them even more. "Faith was confused and active.... She had men to whom she bestowed favors."

"She was abused by members of your staff and other patients," Bentz corrected.

"But she wanted the attention." He glanced out the window, where a wren was flying toward the roof.

Bentz and Montoya waited for more, but minutes pa.s.sed with no further response. They exchanged glances.

The priest seemed fascinated by, even fixated on, the bird outside the window. The sky was dark and menacing. Raindrops began to pepper the gla.s.s.

"She wanted attention from whom?"

He started, as if he hadn't remembered anyone was in the room with him.

"Faith Chastain. You said she wanted attention?"

"Father James. He counseled her."

"James McClaren?" Bentz supplied, his gut twisting. The familiar name sent his mind down pathways he'd rather not travel. But it was imperative that he did.

"Oh, I don't know...McCafferty?"

"McClaren."

"Oh...Father James...yes."

"He was a.s.signed to the parish."

Bentz felt Montoya's gaze on him.

"Yes. No...Oh, for a while." Father Paul was obviously troubled, his forehead wrinkling as he tried to call up the memories. "I think he and the woman, the patient..."

"Faith Chastain."

"Yes, yes. That's the one. She had a baby. No." He shook his head, and one long, gnarled finger moved in the air as he thought. "She had two babies. I was there. They thought the boy child died."

"He didn't?"

"Oh no." He shook his head thoughtfully. "It was just after the nurse left the room that the doctor...Dr...."

"Renner."

"Yes, Renner. That's it. He realized the baby was alive, and then the other one...The woman was in so much pain. There was nothing to do." He looked up pleadingly then sat back hard in his chair. "I, we, vowed...never to tell. Never. I prayed about it."

"Can you tell us about it?" Bentz asked, pulling up a chair.

He folded his hands and bent his head. "Yes..."

In fits and starts, with Father Paul moving from periods of clarity and guilt to cloudiness and what seemed total loss of memory, he told them of the more dark secrets within Our Lady of Virtures. It took nearly an hour to pull out the story, and they were left in silence, absorbing what the old priest had told them.

Father Paul revealed that when Faith delivered, two babies were born. The first was a boy, who was originally thought to have not survived the birth. He was born v.a.g.i.n.ally, the cord wrapped around his neck, and he was blue...but, "Miracles of miracles from the Holy Father, the boy child began to breathe."

The discovery that the boy was alive had apparently happened after Nurse Chaney was excused from the birthing area. Then there were complications. Father Paul wasn't clear, but it seemed from what he said that Faith had started to have more contractions, and the doctor had realized she had another baby to deliver. For another unclear reason, the delivery had been performed by C-section, though the nurse was not called back into the room. The hospital was ill equipped for that kind of procedure. The priest wasn't sure if Faith knew she had delivered twins, only that she was not "thinking clearly" and very "confused," possibly "delusional." All he knew for sure was that Faith thought she had one baby, a boy named Adam, who died at birth. For her, nothing else registered except shame and fear and desperation. "She confessed to me often and was always in tears, but I'm not sure she knew why she felt such overpowering guilt."

Nor, it seemed, did Father Paul any longer. He could provide no information about the people who had adopted the boy, only that both babies were put with "people of strong faith." The girl had ended up with Renner, but the boy's parents and ident.i.ty were a mystery. Father Paul recalled nothing of them, not even if they were parishioners, though he did mention that Dr. Renner took care of all the paperwork, whatever that meant. That was also how Renner adopted Faith's daughter with no questions asked.

When the priest was asked about the grave where Faith's child was supposed to be entombed, he sighed. "Another lie," he muttered unhappily, rubbing his hands nervously. "To protect her from the truth."

"Protect who?" Montoya asked.

The priest opened his mouth and closed it again. He seemed to drift into a place far away but finally whispered, "Everyone."

They asked a few more questions. Bentz even brought up Ronnie Le Mars's name, but they got nothing further, not the least flicker of recognition in his eyes. The old man seemed to have shut down. When the nurse came in with his medication, they left.

They took the stairs down and exited through the main entrance. Bentz wondered if the boy Faith bore might still be named Adam. His adoptive parents may have changed his name to make his adoption all the more anonymous.

At least now they had something to go on. Renner probably had fabricated some of the information, but hopefully he hadn't switched dates or times of birth. There still should be some kind of record for them to find.

As they drove off, Montoya said, "Half of what the old guy said could be fantasy. Just in his mind."

"Possibly, but enough of the facts agreed with Chaney's."

"Can you believe that c.r.a.p? Hidden babies, falsified records, illegal adoptions? Who are these people who think they're G.o.d and can just bend or break the rules to suit their needs because a kid, a d.a.m.ned human being, was inconvenient or even an embarra.s.sment? Jesus H. Christ! All in the name of religion."

"This has nothing to do with the Church. It's people abusing power, thinking they were doing the right thing."

"All to avoid a scandal. Unbelievable!"

Bentz glanced back in the direction they'd come. "Do you think Father Paul is safe? Sister Rebecca was at the birth. So was Terrence Renner. Both of them were murdered. So is there a connection, and, if so, what about Ellen Chaney and Father Paul? Are their lives in danger?"

Montoya pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "I'll tell the FBI and the local authorities for Covington and in Ellen Chaney's home-town."

"Call Zaroster too and have her check vital records. Get a copy of Eve Renner's birth certificate and see if there are any other birth records for boys who were born on the same day, in the same area. Anyone named Adam. That might have changed, but maybe not."

"And about Father James...You going to tell Eve Renner you're her uncle?" Montoya asked.

"Right after I tell Kristi she's got a sister," Bentz said flatly.

"There's no way I'm going to be able to keep this from Abby so, let me know, will ya?"

Bentz nodded and flipped on the wipers.

The house was clean, the locks changed, and yet when Eve walked through the familiar rooms and hallways, she could feel her skin lift into gooseflesh. This, the home she'd loved, the place she and Nana had baked pies and cookies, the house where she'd felt on the top of the world in the turret room.

She glanced at Cole but didn't say anything as she dropped Samson to the floor. The cat skittered up the stairs ahead of her, and Eve trudged up dutifully, steeling herself. She was glad for the sound of Cole's footsteps behind her.

On the second floor, everything was the same as she'd remembered it. Nothing had changed, but in the turret room, when she pushed open the door and the clean and gleaming room greeted her, she still cringed. She'd bought new bedding, including a new mattress pad. Even so, in her mind's eye, she still saw the bloodstains on the mattress, quicksilver images of her doll lying facedown on the coverlet, along with images of Sister Vivian's body in the attic of the old hospital.

The doorbell rang, and she nearly jumped from her skin.

"I'll see who it is," Cole volunteered. He was down the stairs before she could protest. She hurried to follow him, and as she reached the first floor she spied Detective Bentz in the foyer. He was grim as ever, and Cole was still holding on to the edge of the door as if he intended to slam it closed the minute the cop left.

Bentz looked up at her, and she saw that whatever he had to say, it wasn't good news. He barreled right in. "I met with Father Paul, who was the priest who worked at Our Lady of Virtues the night you were born. He confirmed what I'd already guessed: a priest by the name of James McClaren is your biological father. He's also my half brother, so technically, you're my niece."

She stopped short. "Your niece?" He nodded, and she saw that what was about to come next was difficult. "There's more."

He sighed. "It's a complicated story, but the long and short of it is that James McClaren also happens to be my daughter, Kristi's, natural father."

"What?"

"My first wife had an affair with my half brother, who also happened to be a priest."

"Why the h.e.l.l is that guy a priest?" Cole asked, his own disbelief evident.

"Good question. But too late. He's dead."

A dull roar started deep in Eve's ears. "So I'm related to you and to Kristi on...on my father's side and to Abby and Zoey Chastain on my mother's?" She couldn't believe it. She'd gone from being an only, adoptive child to a woman with three sisters and an uncle in one fell swoop.

"Are you kidding me?" Cole demanded as if he smelled some kind of trick. "What are the chances that Eve would be related to both you and Montoya?"

"Technically not Montoya. Only by marriage, if he and Abby tie the knot."

They were all still standing in the foyer, the door open, the wind and rain slapping onto the front porch.

"Close the door, please," she said to Cole.

"So, what does this have to do with the investigation?" he asked. "It's interesting history, but so what?"

"We think Eve has a twin."

"A twin?" Eve repeated, lips parting.

"A boy, now a man. A boy called Adam, who was thought to be stillborn. It was his grave we dug up at Our Lady of Virtues, but it was a fake."

"Wait, you're going much too fast," she said, her head spinning.

Bentz said by way of apology, "It's a lot of information. We don't know how, but we think he might be a part of this. I thought you might want to know about it."

"Yes...I do. Come in, Detective," she said. They walked into the parlor, a room rarely used, and she waved Bentz into one of her grandmother's Queen Anne chairs. She settled on a corner of the sofa. "Go on, please."

Bentz launched into his tale while Eve listened and Cole, standing in the archway from the foyer, crossed his arms and stared at Bentz as if there was some kind of trap lurking in Bentz's words.

Eve listened quietly. It was a wild tale. With her father right in the center of it. Was it really possible? Did her father and the staff at Our Lady of Virtues hide two births for twenty-eight years? She glanced over at Cole, who was glowering.

"So," Bentz finished, "we're trying to find your brother, see what he has to say."

"And you're linking him to the crimes somehow? As a killer or a victim?" Cole finally asked, the defense lawyer in him coming to life.

"That's a question I'd really like to ask him."

Bentz's phone rang, and he looked at the screen, saw it was Montoya, and picked up. "Bentz."