Loonies (35 page)

Noah shook his head. “This is news to me. I told you, I grew up in Ohio.”

Brian looked at the chief. “It’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“Let’s set that aside for now,” Noah said. “You’ve uncovered some more important stuff. We know where the babies came from.”

“Yes,” Brian said, still excited. “But what we don’t know is how they ended up in that trunk.”

“Then I think we need to pay Father Scrimsher a visit.” The chief rose, a smile on his face.

“Should you call Steem?”

“No, no,” Noah said, waving his hand. “Let’s check this out on our own, find out a little more.”

He was surprised. This wasn’t like Noah. And for the first time Brian thought they
should
call the State Police. This was information that could break the case open, and he would feel more reassured if the captain was involved. He didn’t have all the confidence that Noah could handle this, but he did appreciate his enthusiasm.

“Okay,” Brian said.

“Let’s go.”

The two of them stood on the dark steps of the rectory and rang the doorbell. The light over the front stoop came on, and shortly thereafter Father Scrimsher opened the door. He looked surprised.

“Gentlemen,” he said, his voice wary. “What brings you out tonight?”

“Hello, Father,” Noah said. “I was wondering if you could help me out with a few questions I have.”

Scrimsher shot Brian a wary glance. “Of course.” The priest opened the door and motioned them in. He led them to the parlor where they all took seats.

“Is Sister Bernice around?” Noah asked.

Scrimsher’s eyes bounced back and forth between the two men. “Yes,” he said. “I believe she’s out back cleaning up in the kitchen.”

“We will want a few words with her later,” Noah said.

Brian sat in silence. This was the chief’s show and he was willing to let him have the stage.

“What is this about?” Scrimsher grabbed a rosary off the coffee table and began fidgeting with it.

“We’ve uncovered some information,” Noah began. “We know about the girls from the group home who got pregnant.”

Scrimsher’s face grew pale. Brian could see the man’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his thick neck.

“There were some unfortunate incidents,” Scrimsher said.

“Incidents!” Noah said, his voice rising. He stood up from his seat and took a step toward the priest. “Those girls were used as prostitutes.”

“I had no idea any of that was going on,” Scrimsher said. “They were led astray by that horrible man at the cosmetology school. I was not involved with that. That was out of my control.”

“You were in charge of them!”

Brian was taken aback by the chief’s tone. He had never witnessed Noah show this much emotion.

“They sinned,” Scrimsher said. “They were tempted by the devil and were out of control. I tried to save them.”

“You tried to save them?” Noah said, his tone lowering. “How did you try to save them? By fucking them yourself?” He spat this last question out, shocking Brian. This was not the police chief he had been accustomed to. He went from good cop to bad cop in the blink of an eye.

“That’s not true!” Scrimsher yelled back.

Brian wondered if Sister Bernice would come out and shush the boisterous men.

Noah stepped closer to Scrimsher. “You had sex with some of those girls, admit it.”

The priest tugged at his collar. His face was sweating. “Things were different then,” he said. “I was a young man, fresh out of seminary school. I was struggling with celibacy and they tempted me. It wasn’t my fault. They flaunted their bodies in front of me. They teased and taunted me. They seduced me. It was the devil’s work and I fought hard to suppress those urges, but, but….” He stopped and began panting.

“But what?” Noah said, leaning even closer to the priest’s face.

The priest dropped to his knees in front of the police chief. “I was only human,” Scrimsher said. “We all sin. But I prayed and begged my Lord for forgiveness. And I sought salvation from him. I repented.”

“And that made it all right?” Noah said.

“It’s okay as long as we repent,” Scrimsher said, and he sounded like he believed it.

“And you sent those girls up to have those babies at the institute,” Noah said.

The priest nodded. “That’s right. Dr. Wymbs agreed to help the girls out.”

“Because you knew he had The Pillowcase at his asylum and that he let the killer out.”

The priest nodded again and his eyes welled up in tears. “The man came to confessional and told me his story. He had been at the institute for several years. Dr. Wymbs released him because he realized the man wasn’t really crazy. He was as normal as any of us. The doctor said he could still function in society. He had repented as well and wanted me to absolve him of his sins.”

“And when this man began killing again, you didn’t feel the need to come forward?” Noah asked.

“The confessional is sacred,” Scrimsher said. “I couldn’t break the sanctity of that.”

“Get up,” Noah said, his tone displaying how sickened he was by the priest.

Scrimsher rose and stood before the chief, cowering.

“What happened to the babies the girls delivered?”

“Sister Bernice picked them up at the institute to deliver them to the Catholic orphanage.”

“But they never made it there did they?”

“I left her to handle that. As far as I knew, she….” He stopped and a shocked look came over his face. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He leaned forward, looking deep into Noah’s eyes. Then he stumbled backwards. “You,” he said. “It can’t be.”

Brian was confused and rose from his own chair. Something had just clicked inside the priest’s brain.

Noah began to turn away, but Scrimsher caught his arm and pulled him back.

“Your eye!” Scrimsher said, pointing a shaky index finger at the chief’s right eye. “You have a fleck in your eye.”

Noah shook the man’s grip off.

“What are you talking about?” Brian finally said, wondering what the hell was going on.

Scrimsher turned to him. “He has a fleck in his eye.”

“Yeah?”

“I saw that fleck before,” Scrimsher said. “On a little boy, nearly twenty-five years ago. His mother had lived in the group home out back.” He stared at Noah. “You’re Timmy Birtch!”

Brian’s mouth dropped open as he looked from the shocked expression on the priest’s face to the steady stare of the police chief.

Scrimsher stepped closer to Noah. “I have that same fleck,” he said. “I inherited it from my father.”

“Are you saying,” Brian began, but didn’t finish.

“I’m your father,” Scrimsher said to Noah.

Brian looked at the chief who just glared back.

“And you killed my mother,” Noah said.

Brian was stunned.

“No, no,” Scrimsher said. “She died naturally, she was sick.”

“Because of what you did to her.”

“No,” Scrimsher said. “Your mother was in love with me. But I told her God was my true love. She left the school when she turned eighteen. I never knew she was pregnant. She came to Mass one day with you.” He bowed his head. “I saw the fleck in your eye and I knew.” He began sobbing.

“She was a teenager,” Noah said. “What you did to her messed her up. And when I went missing, it broke her.”

“Who else knew?” Brian asked Scrimsher.

He lifted his head. “I told no one. I was ashamed.”

“Not half as ashamed as I am right now,” Noah said.

“Someone else must have known,” Brian said. “Someone who kidnapped him.”

“I was shocked the day I realized,” Scrimsher said. “The only person I breathed a word of it to was Sister Bernice.”

“We’re going to need to talk to Sister Bernice,” Noah said.

In the back of the rectory, a door slammed.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Treece said to Scrimsher before he and Brian went out the back door of the rectory.

It was dark in the back yard. Brian heard running footsteps and caught a glimpse of a shadow moving. He saw the flowing robe of the nun’s habit as she ran toward the abandoned old-folks’ home.
(The black specter.)

“There,” Brian said, pointing to the vacant building.

Noah pulled out his gun in his right hand and his flashlight in the other.

Brian glanced at the gun. “Is that necessary?”

Noah looked at him and smiled. “How dangerous can a nun be?” He holstered his weapon and turned the flashlight beam onto the darkened brick structure behind the church parking lot. The bottom windows were boarded up with plywood. The second-story windows were not, but most of the glass was broken.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Brian said to the chief. His head was still spinning with what he had just learned.

“Later,” Noah said. “There will be time for that.”

Brian hoped there would be.

With the chief leading the way they walked through the dark parking lot, footsteps echoing in the quiet night. The front door was ajar and still swaying. Noah pushed it open, shining his light inside. There was an empty, darkened foyer and a staircase to the left. He entered and Brian followed.

Noah shined his light around the foyer. There was a wooden telephone stand against the right wall with an old rotary phone on it, smothered in cobwebs. Brian saw a light switch on the wall beside the door and remembered seeing a light in one of the windows last night. He flicked the switch a couple times. No power. The light he had seen must have come from some other source.

“Hello,” Noah called out. “Sister Bernice?”

“Is it wise to let her know we’re here?” Brian asked.

Noah looked at him, his face aglow at the edge of the flashlight beam. “She knows we’re here.”

A floorboard creaked from above.

Noah played the flashlight beam up the stairs. He turned to Brian and motioned that he was going up. He signaled Brian to stay. Brian shook his head. There was no way he was going to stay down here by himself. Noah nodded and indicated that he stay behind him.

The chief ascended the steps, taking each one slow, keeping his light pinned to the landing at the top of the stairs. Brian kept pace with the chief, wincing each time a wooden step groaned under their weight. His hands trembled, and he wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or fear.

At the top of the dark stairs, the chief stopped, and Brian almost bumped into him. A long, narrow hallway stretched in both directions. Noah shined his light along the floor. Disturbances in the dust showed tracks coming and going both ways.

Brian looked at the chief and shrugged. He was about to ask which way, when the chief put his finger to his lips. They stood motionless, listening. A soft patting noise came from the left. Noah motioned for him to follow. With the chief’s light in front of him, all Brian could really see was the chief’s back, and he stayed close behind it. Noah stopped at the second door on the left. He looked back at Brian and nodded.

Something shifted beyond the door. Noah grasped the doorknob, turning it slowly and easing the door open.

Something flew out the door, Noah ducking. It nearly hit Brian in the face. His heart jumped. It was a pigeon, and it flew off down the dark hallway. Noah looked back at him, grinning. Brian let a withdrawn breath escape.

Noah stepped into room. Twin beds were lined up against the back wall, beneath a window overlooking the parking lot. A small bedside table stood between the beds. There were several more pigeons in the room. A pair sat on the window sill, cooing. One was on the nightstand, and a few more perched on the headboards of the beds. Pigeon shit covered the floor, emitting a noxious odor.

“Come on,” Noah said, closing the door behind them as they left the room. They tried the next room on the left, and it too was full of pigeons.

Brian scanned the room, which looked identical to the first. An oil lamp sat on the nightstand between the beds, a cross hung on one wall. He spotted something on the floor. “What’s that?” he whispered, though even as quiet as he tried to be, it sounded loud in the silence.

Noah shifted his light in the direction Brian pointed. About a dozen dead pigeons lay in the corner. The chief knelt and picked one up. Its head flopped over. He looked back at Brian.

“Neck’s broken,” Noah said.

Brian shrugged. “Maybe it flew into a wall.”

Noah pointed to the rest of them. “Mass suicide?” He stood up. “I don’t think so.”

They left the room. The chief approached a door on the other side of the hallway and opened it. It had a similar layout, though the windows were intact and there were no pigeons. They stepped into the next room, and it was the same.

Noah shined the light onto the beds. He leaned closer to Brian. “Notice something about these last two rooms?”

Brian followed the chief’s flashlight beam from bed to bed. He looked back at the chief and shook his head.

“The pillows have no pillowcases on them.”

Brian looked again, and saw that the chief was right. An icy chill crawled up his spine. He thought it might throttle him. He had the urge to leave. This place was creepy. He was grateful the chief was here. He wished Noah hadn’t put his gun back in his holster.

He backed out of the room, and the chief closed the door behind him. They went to the next door. Noah stopped, brought his ear closer to the door. Had he heard something? The only sound Brian could hear was his heart pounding. Other than that it was very quiet.

As if on cue, the church bell began ringing. It startled Brian, nearly making him jump, and he turned away, looking toward the stairway landing. Why were the church bells ringing? It distracted him enough that he didn’t see the chief open the door and enter the room. He heard the doorknob turn and by the time he looked back the chief was already halfway through the doorway.

That’s when Brian saw something grayish-white crash down on the chief’s head and Noah dropped to the floor, his flashlight flicking out.

Everything was bathed in darkness.

Something moved in the doorway. He could see only shadows, but the shadows shifted and swarmed around him. A large, black shape pushed him backwards. Brian grabbed onto the shape, feeling cloth. He saw white, and a hideous face leered before him.