Chapter 11
KARA ROLLED THE SUV to a stop about ten car lengths behind the line of cars at the funeral for Emily Cleary, and right behind Shane’s vehicle. She saw him and Jones standing in the background, flanked out about fifty paces from one another, along with a half dozen other plain-clothed officers who were there for security purposes.
Shane was on the north side, leaning against a tree. It was one of those days where the temperatures rose to about fifty degrees. Large piles of dirty snow littered the landscape, making winter look like a combination of mud and ice. You could always count on the weather to change drastically day to day in Rochester, and since it was January this warm weather wouldn’t last.
Grey clouds floated above, and a light trickle of rain drizzled from the sky. Fitting for the funeral of a murdered little girl.
Friday was always a bittersweet day. She held her two doughnuts in a bag in her hand.
“Being around him is still hard on you, isn’t it?” Foster asked.
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “I’ve known him since I was in grade school. He used to pull my ponytail and tease me on the playground. I would come home crying, and my mom would always tell me that boys who did that were being stupid because they actually liked you. That boys in general were illogical, even as grown men. In middle school, Shane and I began a secret romance. Everyone thought we were just friends. But we weren’t.”
“Ah, friends with benefits. I’ve had a few of those.”
“We were in middle school.” Kara glared at her partner. “And I was never easy.”
“Never said you were.” Foster laughed. “If he got to cop a feel, it was friends with benefits.”
“What is it with men and ‘copping a feel’?” She used her free hand to make the quotation marks.
“We’re men. Breasts and swords. It’s what we live for.”
She shook her head. “Anyway, Shane and I have a good working relationship now.”
“There’s a lot of history between you and him.”
She glanced at Foster, holding up the bag. “A lot of history in this town.” Foster knew more about her than she liked anyone to know. He knew her routines now. Her rituals about only taking days off when forced, and working cases on vacation. She’d been avoiding life for fifteen years. Perhaps it was time for a change.
“You still care about him,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t you still care about your first love?”
Foster stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No. She left me at the altar and married my cousin, who happened to be my best man.”
“That sucks.”
“It did,” Foster said. “But then she left him for his accountant. She’s forty-two and on her third husband. I’m really glad I never married her. Now, the first girl to let me in her pants? Yeah, I still got it bad for her. She still lets me in her pants now and then.”
“You can be a real pig, you know that?”
He nodded. “Jones is a good detective. I like working with him.”
“I’ve noticed,” she said. “You two have a real bro crush going on. Odd, coming from a guy who gets into pissing contests with other men.”
“As long as we don’t cross streams.”
Kara opened her mouth, then shut it tight before opening it again. “I got nothing.”
Foster laughed “Let’s go tell them what we’ve uncovered, which isn’t much. Then, once the funeral is over, we can regroup back at the precinct.”
“There’s something I need to do first.”
“What’s that?”
“My parents are buried in this cemetery.”
“What me to come with?” Foster asked.
She shook her head.
“Got it. I’ll hitch a ride with Jones. You’ve got the SUV.” Foster meandered toward Jones. Kara stood by the car for a moment, watching Shane. He wore his standard black coat and trousers. His shoulder against the tree. One ankle crossed over the other. He must have felt her presence, because he turned and waved her over.
It was time to face another demon. Only this time she realized she didn’t have to be alone.
“Hey you,” he said as he placed his hand on the small of her back and rubbed gently for a few seconds before letting his hand drop. “How was the flight?”
“Uneventful.” She smiled. It did feel good here with him.
“I haven’t had the chance to read your report. Been staked out here since seven.”
“The religious angle is interesting. The one cult where the pastor was molesting small boys caught our attention because it was rumored he performed human sacrifices. I was able to interview five of his former followers. They said at one point they didn’t have any electricity in the compound, so he used a lot of candles. They also said he used them in religious rituals like exorcisms and shit. One follower said she saw a human sacrifice. The details she gave were gruesome. Stuff like taking out human hearts...shit,” she muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Shane said. “Keep going.”
“She’s not a credible witness, but the details she gave us were a little too realistic and detailed to ignore. Can’t make that stuff up.”
“Do we know where the pastor is now?”
“Yes,” Kara said as she studied Shane’s profile. He’d always been confident in almost any situation. “Went dark a few years ago, but resurfaced this winter in Kentucky. My office is looking into his current church and working on getting an interview with him. Hoping to have something this afternoon.”
“I was thinking about the black market,” Shane said. “The killer wouldn’t have known Gregory had a transplant, unless it was a friend or close family member. That information is kept under lock and key.”
“I thought about that, too,” she said. “Except for the scars. The killer would have had to see them on his back.”
“So, then, why take the kidneys?”
“That I don’t know,” she said. “The guy who we think runs the black market is under surveillance, but it appears he’s aware he’s being watched. He barely moved from his house and we didn’t see anyone coming or going. Nothing suspicious. I talked to a few people involved, and thus far everyone who has donated did so voluntarily. Did it for the money. Most of the organs don’t stay in this country, but kidneys are a big bulk of the market, so my question is why murder someone when people are willing to sell them?”
“People will go to any length. Pay any amount of money,” Shane said. “You’d be surprised what people might do if they can’t get to the top of the organ recipient list.” He glanced at her, his brow arched in an inquisitive stare. “You think we’re on a wild goose chase, don’t you?”
“With the black market? Yeah, I do,” she said. “Both murders are too ritualistic. My gut says it’s not the black market, but we’ve got four other different rings that we know are active, and we have to chase down every possible lead when we’ve got nothing solid.”
“The funeral is over,” Shane said, pointing at the sea of people moving away from the grave site. “I think we can leave now.”
She noticed Shane picked up a bouquet of flowers and showed them to her. “Your parents,” he said softly. “I thought you might want to pay them a visit.”
“I was planning on it.” She held out her bag that contained two fried cakes. “Treat O’Friday.”
“You still do that?” Shane slipped his hand under her FBI rain jacket. His fingers gently rubbed against her lower back as they walked down the narrow path in silence, until she was standing in front of her parents’ tombstones. Some brown grass and mud was mixed in with the snow. The tombstones had weathered over the last fifteen years, and the carvings of their names and dedication had darkened with age.
“The last time I was here was for their funeral,” she whispered.
“I’ll give you a few minutes.” He began to pull away.
“No,” she said, grabbing his arm. “I want you to stay. Please?”
He said nothing else. Just stood there next to her, arm looped around her waist, holding her steady like he’d done all those years ago.
“I have been so wrong about so many things,” she said, leaning toward the graves. The stone above her mother’s resting place felt cold and clammy. She ran her fingers across the lettering.
Patricia Murphy Martin. Loving Wife and Mother. A Friend to All.
She took the flowers Shane had brought and placed them in the holder next to each stone. A pang of guilt trickled down her spine as she looked at the engraving on her father’s stone.
Edward Eric Martin. An Inspiration to All.
“I should have put more on his stone.”
“Your dad was a man of few words to begin with. I’m sure he’d rather it be a simple statement with a positive sentiment.” Shane squeezed her hip. “And that’s exactly what that statement is.”
She pulled out one of the doughnuts. “Here’s to you, Dad.” She raised it in the air. “Say hey to Mom.” Kara stuffed her mouth and practically swallowed the doughnut whole. She coughed as she gently tossed the second one to the ground in front of her father’s grave. It was then she realized a few tears had rolled down her check.
Shane wrapped his powerful arms around her and drew her close. She leaned into him, sucking every ounce of energy he offered. She buried her face against Shane’s chest, wrapping her arms around his strong midsection “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I’d get emotional.”
She felt his hands run up her arms, keeping her body from shivering. It was a gentle touch. Caring. His thumb lifted her chin. She blinked open her eyes as he pressed his lips against her forehead. “You’re allowed to be emotional.”
For a long moment, all she could feel was his thumb gently caressing her chin and cheek. His soft brown eyes locked in an intense gaze with hers. “Thank you,” she managed, doing her best to pull herself together and step away from the embrace that had become way too familiar.
But he wouldn’t let her go. He cupped her face with both hands as he lowered his head and gently, but firmly, pressed his lips against hers. The way he carefully parted her lips with his tongue sent a warm pulse straight through to her toes. He took away all the pain and filled it with something. She leaned into him, taking the strength his embrace had to offer. The kiss deepened. He drew her closer. It felt safe and warm, like she’d come home.
Her fingers dug into his back, demanding more. Her tongue swirled around in his mouth in a wild, panicked frenzy. She couldn’t get enough of him.
With his hands still firmly cupping her face he pulled back, dropping his forehead to hers. “I know I started this, but this isn’t the time or place.”
She let out a long sigh. “I think we need to talk about what’s happening with us.” Never did she think she’d be back in this town, in this cemetery, kissing Shane Rogers. Her heart ached for everything she’d walked away from.
“We do.” He kissed her forehead, then stepped back. “Right now, we need to head back to the station. Jones and Foster are meeting us there.”
They walked in silence, with space between them until they reached the gravel road where their cars were parked. Shane held the door of her SUV open after she’d climbed in and started the engine. He looked at her with a combination of understanding and something deeper. Something powerful and passionate.