Relentless (Elisabeth Reinhardt Book 1) (28 page)

“
Let the old ladies leave,” Jake murmured, “We’ve got ourselves the perfect hostage. We got a priest.”

“
One false move,” Jake threatened “and I’ll blow your head off.” They were crowded in the foyer outside the Sanctuary. The polished wooden pews glistened as rays of sunshine streamed through stained-glass windows and the scent of freshly cut flowers filled the holy space.

“Better yet, I’ll blow the head off of everyone I see. And you’ll be responsible for their deaths. You’re a man of
G-d; you don’t want to be responsible for killing people, right?”

“My Son,” Father Wallington turned his hands outstretched, “you don’t have to do this. Whatever problem you’re having cannot be solved this way. Let me help you. Let’s talk about this.
Let’s you and me go into my office and talk about it. You are children of G-d. Let me help you, my Son,” he continued turning to Jake, “You must be weary and tired of running. Let me help you, Son, let G-d help you.”

“Father,” Jake snarled, “that shit didn’t mean anything to me when I was a kid and it sure as hell doesn’t mean anything to me now. So shut up and do as you’re told or we’ll start shooting people.”

Father Wallington was taken aback. He looked at him sadly and turned to the other two killers. “My Sons, why do you follow this man?” he asked, “Why do you do as he says? There is good in you, I can see it,” looking to Custer now. Custer was inclining slightly toward the priest, remembering his youth and how he respected the priests in his church.  Sensing Custer’s conflict, Jake screamed, “Father,” his face inches from the Priest’s face, “excuse me, Father, but Shut the Fuck up!” Father Wallington stared unswervingly into the younger man’s wild eyes, but was silent.

Custer’s face turned red. He was mortified to see Jake being so disrespectful to a man of the cloth, a priest no less. He remembered how much he had liked church; how he wanted to help the priest light the candles and carry incense and wine. He was not chosen to be an altar boy, but he always wanted to be one. “Jake,” he began, “he’s a holy man, Jake, you can’t talk to him like that.” Jake backhanded Custer across the face and knocked him backward across a pew, blood
from his lip spattered across the polished wood.

“Go out to the van,” he ordered, “and figure out how to rig it so we can hide under those seats. We’re going to have the good father, here, drive us out of town and we’re going to be hidden. You two get the FUCK out of here and figure out how we’re going to do that,” he screamed at them waving his gun in their faces, “The good father and I are going to have a little talk in his study.” 

Jake was coming undone. He knew the cops would be returning any minute with those damn dogs. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control his ‘gang’ much longer. They were out of money and he was going to be killed, or worse, sent to jail forever. He had to think. He needed some time to get his head together. Roughly, he pushed the priest toward his study in the back of the church. The priest’s study was a quiet room, a place for reading and quiet conversation. Shelves of books and holy objects were arranged around a worn black leather sofa and three smaller arm chairs done in muted woven fabric.  A black desk pad with matching pencil holder sat on an old schoolmarm’s desk strewn with books and papers. Father Wallington walked behind his desk to a worn leather chair and sat with his hands folded on the desk. “Mind if I use your phone, Padre?” Jake asked, enunciating every syllable sarcastically as he walked over to the priest and lifted the receiver from the old black phone and yanked the cord out of the wall. Then he reached into the priest’s pocket and extracted his cell phone. He walked into the community room eyes on the priest sitting at his desk and paced. He had intended to go into town and find those two old ladies who knew where Reggie was but it was getting too hot to stay around here anymore. Too risky…he had a better idea. Pleased with himself he dialed a number from memory, pacing as he talked.

“
Hey, Ruff n Red-y old buddy,” he started out, “It’s me. Yea! Hey old Buddy, I need you to check something out for me. No, listen Bud I have to make this quick. I need you to find out where this gal is. Yea… (Whispering...) That was her name at the time. Think maybe so. Not sure what it would be. I’m in a load of shit ….Red-y my friend.” 

He listened for a while, rubbing his chin and nodding ‘uh uh’s into the phone. “I need it quick, Man.
Good. If all goes well, we’ll meet at ‘Sit in.’ He listened some more. “Sure, that’s a plan, I’ll hold onto this one. Thanks buddy, I owe you one! You find her for me OK, Buddy?” he said and clicked off. He then strode back to the window and watched Slim and Custer in the garage. It looked like they were taking the car apart. He only hoped they would do it fast enough to get them out of there in time.

Jake strode back into the study swearing angrily, knocked some books off some shelves, knocked over a lamp and kicked a footstool. The man’s calm bothered him. He couldn’t understand why the priest wasn’t scared of him. It was weird. He should have been frightened. “What the hell is wrong with you
man?!” he shouted.

“What do you mean, my son,” the priest answered calmly. “Stop calling me ‘son,’ you aren’t my
G-d Damned father,” Jake spat out.

“Alright,” the priest replied, “what shall I call you?”

“How about
asshole
?” Jake sneered.

“I’m sorry,” the priest shook his head, “I can’t call you that. What’s your name?”

Oh, what the hell, Jake thought, “Call me Jake.”

“
Alright, Jake, what did you want to talk to me about?” the priest asked reasonably.

“
I want MONEY,” Jake blurted out angrily, “MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!”

“
I see, well, Jake, we are a small church,” the priest began, but Jake flew across the room and leaned menacingly across the desk.

“
Don’t give me that shit, Man, you have money. The Vatican sends you money. The Fucking POPE sends you lots of money and I want it. I want all the money you have or I’ll start shooting everyone I see.”

“
Of course, I’ll give you what I have, Jake, but it’s not much,” the priest swiveled his desk chair and reached to open a cabinet behind him when he heard the gun click.

“
Hold on there, Father,” he heard Jake warn, “let me see your hands, up in the air, high.” Father Wallington raised his hands. Jake came around and bent over to see what was in the cabinet in front of the priest. There was a small combination safe behind the doors. No gun. No knife. Nothing else.

“OK,” said Jake, “open it.” He stood bending over the priest’s shoulder watching his every move. The safe opened to reveal a small grey
box. The priest took it out and put it on his desk.

“Shall I open
it?” he asked politely.

“Yeeesss pleeease, Father,” Jake drawled with exaggerated politeness.

The priest sighed, looked up at the petulant killer and then took a key from his pocket and opened the lock box. Inside were several stacks of bills. One of $1.00 bills, maybe 20 of them. One was a stack of $5.00 bills, perhaps 10 of them. And one was a stack of $20 bills, perhaps 5 of them. Taking the money out the priest counted out $170 and handed the bills to the killer.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Jake exclaimed.
“The Vatican is filthy rich.”

“That’s true Jake but this is not the Vatican. It’s Hurricane West Virginia and this is all we have.
” The priest then extracted his wallet and handed that to the killer as well. Jake opened the wallet to find a total of $42.00. “That’s it,” the priest said, “That’s all the money. You have it all.”

For once in his life, Jake was speechless. He believed the priest. He didn’t think that priests were allowed to lie. At the same time, it was unbelievable to him that this money was all the money he had. Jake knew there was no money upstairs in his bedroom. He’d already searched up there and, in fact, all over the church. He had known that this safe was in here, just hadn’t had time to break into it, yet. They’d been a little busy since they got here! “You must be nuts,” Jake said staring at the priest, “You work for that little money? As hard as you work, living here and taking care of people all the time and everything. You do all that for this shit?” He waved the bills in the air, making flapping noises, “Really?”

“Actually,” the priest replied, “I would do it for nothing. I get a small allowance from the church, housing is free and I eat most of my meals here at the church. I don’t need much. I am doing G-d’s work. It’s my life.”

“Well, its nuts,” Jake said
dismissively.

“You see it differently, to you money means a lot,” the priest said good-naturedly. 

Jake was silent.

“So Jake,” the Father continued, “are you the killer everyone is looking for? Are you the one who killed all those girls?”

“ALL those girls?” Jake exploded, “Man, you don’t know the half of it. They haven’t found ALL THOSE GIRLS, yet!”

Father Wallington held his face in an expressionless pose. He was horrified, but didn’t want to show Jake how he felt. Jake continued excitedly, “Man, there are dozens more, great looking girls, pretty and blonde and oh so good. Father you should have been there. You would have loved it!”

Again, the priest kept his expression calm. “Why, Jake?” he asked, “What on earth would make you do such horrible things to another human being?”

“Sex, Father,” Jake flaunted the word, “I love it! And I love hurting those pretty young things and I will keep on doing that
‘til the day I die! What do you think about that? How does that work with your argument about good and evil, Father?”

The priest frowned. “I think it proves the argument, Jake. Absolutely proves it.”

“Really?” Jake was surprised.

“We believe that there is evil in this world that
everyone is born with the potential to do either good or evil. That Satan is a real force in this world of ours and that only through G-d, prayer and confession can we find our way back from evil. Do you want me to hear your confession, Jake? Do you want to turn from your evil ways and find peace?”

“Hell, no!” Jake exclaimed, “
Hell
NO
! I don’t want to change anything except that I want to find one special little girl and do her good before I die. That’s my one last wish on this earth.”

“You know your followers don’t share your passions, don’t you? You know they are not as
possessed by the devil the way that you are,” the Priest said provocatively.

“Yes, they are!” Jake insisted. He did not like the way this conversation was going. He didn’t want to think about his gang and how strained things had been lately. He knew that the Priest was picking up on something real. His gang was falling apart. To push these thoughts away, he stood up and threw an armchair across the cozy little room. It thudded loudly against the wall causing the windows to shutter.

“Why are you so angry, Jake?”  Father Wallington asked, “So filled with hatred?”

“Well, Father,” Jake replied, “you want to hear my sad story? First my mother died and then my father gave me away. How does that sound? Good enough reason to start raping and killing a bunch of girls?”

“No, Son, it does not. But it does explain some things.”

“I told you NOT to call me, ‘SON’, didn’t I?” Jake came forward and nearly punched the priest.

“Sorry, Jake, I forgot. You can forgive an old man a slip of the tongue, can’t you? My memory’s not what is used to be,” the priest said calmly.

Jake had never had a conversation like this one. Something about it was real and honest. He was actually enjoying himself. The priest was actually listening to him and actually talking to him like a real person. Jake realized he liked this man and in his whole life he had never really liked anyone before. It felt odd and a little bit scary. He wondered for a moment what his life might have been like i
f he’d met this man when he was a kid. He was silent for a while. Then he wondered if the priest was trying to trick him. Sure, that must be it. Then to push his good feelings further away, he wondered if the priest was coming on to him. Maybe he was gay. Then he had another worry. He liked this man, was this what it felt like to be gay, to like another man? He never thought that before. Even with all his years in prison he’d never considered this question about himself and it worried him.

Sneering at the priest he declared, “You’re playing mind games with me, aren’t you? Well, it’s not going to work. I don’t kill people because of Satan or anyone else. I do it because I want to. I’m in charge of me, not anyone else. What do you say about that Mr. Priest-man?” Father Wallington didn’t argue. He was not looking for an argument. He didn’t care if he won or lost the arguments with Jake. He wa
s playing for time. He didn’t want this gang of killers to leave the building. He wanted to see if his plan would work,
it was a gamble,
he thought,
mostly a matter of good timing and G-d’s will. Whatever happens is G-d’s will and G-d’s plan. I just need to play for time.

At that moment, Slim came in the door. “Let’s go, Man,” he said, “Van’s ready, our stuff is in it. We’ve got to go,
Man.” Jake pulled the priest out of his seat by his lapels and shoved him toward the garage. Custer was already under the seat in the far back of the van. Slim and Jake crowded under the back seat.