Faithless Read online

  Jeffrey asked, “Have you ever used Cole for intimidation?”

  Lev looked uncomfortable. He took his time answering. “Yes.”

  “In what way?”

  “Sometimes we have people who want to take advantage of the system. Cole talks to them. He takes it personally when people try to exploit the church. The family, really. He has an extraordinary loyalty to my father.”

  “Does he ever get physical with them, these people who try to take advantage?”

  “No,” Lev insisted. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why are you so certain?”

  “Because he’s aware of his problem.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He has— had— a very bad temper.” Lev seemed to be remembering something. “I’m sure your wife told you about his outburst last night. Believe me, it’s simply a matter of him being passionate about his beliefs. I’ll be the first to admit that he went a little overboard, but I would have handled the situation if the need arose.”

  Lena wondered what the hell he was talking about, but she knew better than to interrupt.

  For his part, Jeffrey skipped it completely, asking, “How bad was Cole’s temper? You said he had a bad temper. How bad was it?”

  “He used to get physical. Not when Papa knew him, but before.” Lev added, “He’s a very strong man. Very powerful.”

  Jeffrey fished out some line. “I’m not trying to contradict you, Lev, but I had him in here yesterday. He looks like a pretty harmless guy to me.”

  “He is harmless,” Lev said. “Now.”

  “Now?”

  “He was special ops in the army. He did a lot of bad things. You don’t start using a thousand dollars’ worth of heroin a week because you’re happy with your life.” He seemed to sense Jeffrey’s impatience. “The armed robbery,” Lev added. “He probably would have gotten a lighter sentence— he didn’t even make it into the store— but he resisted arrest. An officer was badly beaten, almost lost an eye.” Lev seemed troubled by the image. “Cole used his hands on him.”

  Jeffrey sat up. “That wasn’t on his record.”

  “I can’t tell you why,” Lev said. “I’ve never seen his records, of course, but he isn’t ashamed about admitting his past transgressions. He’s talked about it in front of the congregation as part of his Testament.”

  Jeffrey was still on the edge of his seat. “You said he used his hands?”

  “His fists,” Lev elaborated. “He made money from bare-knuckle boxing before he was thrown in jail. He did some serious damage to some people. It’s a part of his life he’s not proud of.”

  Jeffrey took a moment to process that. “Cole Connolly’s head is shaved.”

  Lev’s change in posture showed that was the last thing he was expecting. “Yes,” he said. “He shaved it last week. He used to keep it in a military cut.”

  “Spiky?”

  “I guess you could say that. Sometimes the sweat would dry and it stuck up a bit.” He smiled sadly. “Abby used to tease him about it.”

  Jeffrey crossed his arms. “How would you describe Cole’s relationship with Abby?”

  “Protective. Honorable. He’s good to all the kids on the farm. I would hardly say he singled Abby out for attention.” He added, “He watches Zeke for me all the time. I trust him completely.”

  “Do you know a Chip Donner?”

  Lev seemed surprised by the name. “He worked on the farm off and on for a few years. Cole told me he stole some money from petty cash. We asked him to leave.”

  “You didn’t call the police?”

  “We don’t normally involve the police in our affairs. I know that sounds bad—”

  “Stop worrying about how things sound, Reverend Ward, and just tell us what happened.”

  “Cole asked the Donner boy to leave. The next day he was gone.”

  “Do you know where Cole is right now?”

  “We all took the morning off because of Abby’s tribute. I imagine he’s in his apartment over the barn, getting ready.” Lev tried again, “Chief Tolliver, believe me, all of this is in his past. Cole is a gentle man. He’s like a brother to me. To all of us.”

  “Like you said, Reverend Ward, we need to eliminate family first.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jeffrey could feel Lena’s excitement matching his own as they pulled up in front of the equipment barn where Cole Connolly lived. If solving a case was like a roller coaster, they were on the back end of the incline, heading ninety miles an hour toward the next loop. Lev Ward happened to carry a photograph of his family in his wallet. Patty O’Ryan had been her usual colorful self when she’d pointed out Cole Connolly as the cocksucking motherfucker who visited Chip at the Pink Kitty.

  “The cut on his finger,” Lena said.

  “What’s that?” Jeffrey asked, but then understood. Connolly had said the cut on his right index finger had come from working in the fields.

  “You’d think that he’d have more than a little cut on the back of his hand, considering what Chip Donner looked like.” She allowed, “Of course, O. J. just had a cut on the back of his finger.”

  “So did Jeffrey McDonald.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Viciously stabbed his whole family to death— two kids and his pregnant wife.” He told her, “The only wound he didn’t give himself was a cut on the back of his finger.”

  “Nice guy,” Lena remarked, then, “You think Cole took Rebecca?”

  “I think we’re going to find out,” Jeffrey told her, hoping to God the girl had just run away, that she was somewhere safe and not buried underground, taking her last breaths as she prayed for someone to find her.

  He turned the car onto the gravel drive they had taken to the farm last Monday. They had followed Lev Ward’s ancient Ford Festiva as the preacher closely observed the speed limit. Jeffrey had a feeling he would do this even without a cop following him. When Lev pulled into the drive to the barn, he actually used his turn signal.

  Jeffrey put the car into park. “Here we go,” he told Lena as they both got out of the car.

  Lev pointed to a stairway inside the barn. “He lives up there.”

  Jeffrey glanced up, glad there were no windows at the front of the barn to give Connolly a warning. He told Lena, “Stay here,” making his way inside the barn. Lev started to follow but Jeffrey stopped him. “I need you to stay down here.”

  Lev seemed ready to protest, but he said, “I think you’re way off base here, Chief Tolliver. Cole loved Abby. He’s not the sort of man to do something like this. I don’t know what kind of animal is capable, but Cole is not—”

  Jeffrey told Lena, “Make sure no one interrupts me.” To Lev, he said, “I’d appreciate it if you stayed here until I came down.”

  “I have to prepare my remarks,” the preacher said. “We’re putting Abby to rest today. The family is waiting on me.”

  Jeffrey knew the family included a pretty sharp lawyer, and he sure as shit didn’t want Paul Ward barging in on his conversation with Connolly. The ex-con was sharp, and Jeffrey was going to have a hard enough time cracking him without Paul shutting things down.

  Jeffrey wasn’t in his jurisdiction, he didn’t have an arrest warrant and the only probable cause he had to talk to Connolly came from the word of a stripper who would kill her own mother for a fix. All he could tell Lev was, “Do what you have to do.”

  Lena tucked her hands into her pockets as the pastor drove away. “He’s going straight to his brother.”

  “I don’t care if you have to hog-tie them,” Jeffrey told her. “Keep them away from that apartment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Quietly, Jeffrey walked up the steep set of stairs to Connolly’s apartment. At the top of the landing, he looked through the window in the door and saw Connolly standing in front of the sink. His back was to Jeffrey, and when he turned around, Jeffrey could see he had been filling a kettle with water. He didn’t seem startled to find someone looki
ng through his window.

  “Come on in,” he called, putting the kettle on the stove. There was a series of clicks as the gas caught.

  “Mr. Connolly,” Jeffrey began, not sure how he should approach this.

  “Cole,” the old man corrected. “I was just making some coffee.” He smiled at Jeffrey, his eyes sparkling the same way they had the day before. Connolly offered, “You want a cup?”

  Jeffrey saw a jar of Folgers instant coffee on the countertop and suppressed a feeling of revulsion. His father had sworn by the power of Folgers crystals, claiming it was the best curative for a hangover. As far as Jeffrey was concerned, he’d rather drink out of the toilet, but he answered, “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  Connolly took down another cup out of the cabinet. Jeffrey could see there were only two.

  “Have a seat,” Connolly said, measuring out two heaping spoonfuls of grainy black coffee into the mugs.

  Jeffrey pulled out a chair at the table, taking in Connolly’s apartment, which was a single room with a kitchen on one side and the bedroom on the other. The bed had white sheets and a simple spread, all tucked in with military corners. The man lived a Spartan existence. Except for a cross hanging over the bed and a religious poster taped to one of the whitewashed walls, there was nothing that would reveal anything about the person who called this place his home.

  Jeffrey asked, “You live here long?”

  “Oh”—Connolly seemed to think about it—“I guess going on fifteen years now. We all moved onto the farm some time back. I used to be in the house, but then the grandkids started growing, wanting their own rooms, their own space. You know how kids are.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You’ve got a nice place here.”

  “Built it out myself,” Connolly said proudly. “Rachel offered me a place in her house, but I saw this room up here and knew I’d be able to do something with it.”

  “You’re quite a carpenter,” Jeffrey said, taking in the room more carefully. The box they had found Abby in had precision-mitered joints as did the other. The man who had built those boxes was meticulous, taking time to do things right.

  “Measure twice, cut once.” Connolly sat at the table, putting a cup in front of Jeffrey and keeping one for himself. There was a Bible between them, holding down a stack of napkins. “What brings you here?”

  “I have some more questions,” Jeffrey said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  Connolly shook his head, as if he had nothing to hide. “Of course not. Anything that I can do to help. Fire away.”

  Jeffrey got a whiff of the instant coffee in front of him, and had to move the cup out of the way before he could speak. He decided to begin with Chip Donner. O’Ryan had given them a concrete connection. The tie to Abby was more tenuous, and Connolly wasn’t the type to hang himself with his own rope. “Have you ever heard of a bar called the Pink Kitty?”

  Connolly kept his gaze steady, watching Jeffrey. “It’s a strip club out on the highway.”

  “That’s right.”

  Connolly moved his mug a quarter of an inch to the left, centering it in front of the Bible.

  “You ever been there, Cole?”

  “That’s a funny question to be asking a Christian.”

  “There’s a stripper says you were there.”

  He rubbed the top of his bald head, wiping away sweat. “Warm in here,” he said, walking over to the window. They were on the second level and the window was small, but Jeffrey tensed in case Connolly tried to make a break for it.

  Connolly turned back to him. “I wouldn’t much trust the word of a whore.”

  “No,” Jeffrey allowed. “They tend to tell you what they think you want to hear.”

  “True enough,” he agreed, putting up the jar of Folgers. He went to the sink and washed the spoon, using a well-worn towel to dry it before returning it to the drawer. The kettle started to whistle, and he used the towel to take it off the eye of the stove.

  “Hand those over,” he asked Jeffrey, and Jeffrey slid the cups across the table.

  “When I was in the army,” Cole said, pouring boiling water into the cups, “there wasn’t a titty bar around we didn’t hit one time or another. Dens of iniquity, one and all.” He put the kettle back on the stove and took out the spoon he had just washed to stir the coffee. “I was a weak man then. A weak man.”

  “What was Abby doing at the Pink Kitty, Cole?”

  Connolly kept stirring, turning the clear liquid into an unnatural black. “Abby wanted to help people,” he said, going back to the sink. “She didn’t know she was walking into the lion’s den. She was an honest soul.”

  Jeffrey watched Cole wash the spoon again. He put it in the drawer, then sat down across from Jeffrey.

  Jeffrey asked, “Was she trying to help Chip Donner?”

  “He wasn’t worth helping,” Cole replied, putting the cup to his lips. Steam rose, and he blew on the liquid before setting it back down. “Too hot.”

  Jeffrey sat back in his chair to get away from the smell. “Why wasn’t he worth helping?”

  “Lev and them don’t see it, but some of these people just want to work the system.” He pointed a finger at Jeffrey. “You and I know how these people are. It’s my job to get them off the farm. They’re just taking up space where somebody else might be— somebody who wants to do better. Somebody who’s strong in the Lord.”

  Jeffrey took the opening. “These bad people just want to work it to their advantage. Take what they can and get out.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Cole agreed. “It’s my job to get them out fast.”

  “Before they ruin it for everybody.”

  “Exactly,” he said.

  “What did Chip do with Abby?”

  “He took her out to the woods. She was just an innocent. An innocent.”

  “You saw him take her out into the woods?” Jeffrey asked, thinking it was pretty odd for a seventy-two-year-old man to be following around a young girl.

  “I wanted to make sure she was okay,” Connolly explained. “I don’t mind telling you that I was worried for her soul.”

  “You feel a responsibility for the family?”

  “With Thomas like he is, I had to look after her.”

  “I see it all the time,” Jeffrey encouraged. “All it takes is one bad apple.”

  “That is the truth, sir.” Connolly blew on the coffee again, chancing a sip. He grimaced as his tongue was singed. “I tried to reason with her. She was going to leave town with that boy. She was packing her bag, heading right down the road to wickedness. I could not let that happen. For Thomas’s sake, for the sake of the family, I could not let them lose another soul.”

  Jeffrey nodded, the pieces falling into place. He could see Abigail Bennett packing her bags, thinking she was going to start a new life, until Cole Connolly came in and changed everything. What must have been going through Abby’s mind as he led her into the forest? The girl had to have been terrified.

  Jeffrey said, “I don’t see that you wanted her to die.”

  Connolly’s head snapped up. He stared at Jeffrey for a beat.

  “You built that box, Cole.” He indicated the apartment. “You do things right. Your workmanship gives you away.” Jeffrey tried to ease him into it. “I don’t think you meant for her to die.”

  Connolly didn’t answer.

  “It’s her mama I worry about,” Jeffrey said. “Esther’s a good woman.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “She needs to know what happened to her daughter, Cole. When I was in her house, looking at Abby’s things, trying to find out what happened to her, Esther begged me. She grabbed my arm, Cole. She had tears in her eyes.” He paused. “Esther needs to know what happened to her baby, Cole. She needs it for her peace of mind.”

  Connolly just nodded.

  “I’m getting to this point, Cole,” Jeffrey said, “where I’m going to have to start bringing people in. I’m gonna have to start throwing things agai
nst the wall, seeing if they stick.”

  Connolly sat back in his chair, his lips pressed tightly together.

  “I’ll bring in Mary first, then Rachel.”

  “I doubt Paul will let that happen.”

  “I can keep them for twenty-four hours without making a charge.” He added, still trying to find the right pressure point, “It’s my opinion Mary and Rachel might be material witnesses.”

  “Do what you want.” He shrugged.

  “It’s Thomas who’s going to be the hard one,” Jeffrey persisted, keeping his eyes trained on Connolly, trying to judge how far to push the old man. At the mention of his mentor’s name, Connolly’s body tensed, and Jeffrey continued, “We’ll do everything we can to keep him comfortable. Those cell doors are pretty narrow, but I’m sure we can carry him in if his wheelchair won’t fit.”

  The sink faucet had a small leak, and in the silence that followed, Jeffrey could hear the dripping water echo in the small room. He kept his eyes on Connolly, watched the man’s expression change as he struggled with the image of Jeffrey’s threat.

  Jeffrey saw his leverage and pressed even harder. “I’ll keep him in jail, Cole. I’ll do whatever it takes to find out what happened. Don’t think I won’t.”

  Connolly’s grip on the coffee cup was tight, but it slackened as he seemed to make up his mind. He said, “You’ll leave Thomas alone?”

  “You have my word.”

  Connolly nodded. Still, he took his time continuing. Jeffrey was about to prompt him when the old man said, “None of ’em ever passed before.”

  Jeffrey felt a surge of adrenaline, but did his best not to break the rhythm of the conversation. No one came out and admitted they’d done something horrible. They always came around it the back way, easing into the admission, convincing themselves that they were actually good people who had momentarily slipped and done a bad thing.

  Connolly repeated, “None of ’em ever passed.”

  Jeffrey tried to keep the accusation out of his tone. “Who else did you do this to, Cole?”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “What about Rebecca?”

  “She’ll turn up.”

  “Turn up like Abby?”