The Profiler Read online

  “You’ve had quite the week,” Cain says, as I look to him from the passenger seat, thinking how that is such an incredible understatement.

  I decided to ride with Cain so Severo could grab another officer to accompany us to my uncle’s church. Plus, I need to hear the wisdom of my mentor. With his experience, he’s undoubtedly encountered a number of cases such as this. If he can help me understand this one, I’ll be grateful for more reasons than one.

  “You holding up okay?” he asks me.

  “It’s messed up, is what it is,” I reply, acknowledging the bizarre events that have unfolded these past few days. “Never in my life would I have imagined this to be my reality, Cain. When I made that transfer request to come back to New York, I figured it would do some good to reunite with the past. Just not to this extent, by any means.”

  “I’m real sorry this has turned out the way it has,” he says, nudging a hand against my shoulder. “But I suppose if something funky did happen between your father and this Judas Barnaby, or whatever his name is, it’s best to know about it. It’ll put your mind at ease and then you can get back to doing what you gotta do, to work your way toward NCAVC.”

  I nod my head as I realize how strange this has become. From my father’s untimely death to learning of his putting away the man who is now a serial killer, not to mention the remote possibility that a kid is doing time for a crime he may not have committed… It all intertwines in my mind, and I’m not sure what to think of any of this.

  All I know is I’ll be glad when this case is over and done with. My family has been through enough these past few months. They do not need to feel unsafe now, with this guy out there seeking revenge.

  “Just know this, kiddo,” Cain says, and I watch as his face turns very serious. “Your father wouldn’t let something like this get under his skin, ya hear? He would have done all he could to make sure justice, in his mind, was carried out. I suspect you and he are alike in that way. So you need to prepare yourself, kiddo. The worst may be yet to come.”

  It’s not long after we pull up to my uncle’s church that I see Severo’s Jeep following behind. Cain waits for the detective, but I immediately go in to gently share the news with my family. The sound of Alex Trebek’s voice informs me they are watching Jeopardy!, but they have no idea of the new game they are about to learn.

  “Angie!” My uncle’s thinning body pushes free from the old recliner and he approaches me with arms wide. My grandmother follows his lead, and she looks at me with a mixture of happiness and confusion.

  “Were we expecting you, love? I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow,” she says, placing her arms around my neck. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

  Cain, Severo and another officer make their entrance, and I look back at them cautiously, then return focus to my family. “Go ahead, sit down,” I say, leading them back to their comfortable seating. “There’s something you need to know.”

  “What is it, Angie? Is everything okay?” My uncle’s words are pitched high, and I don’t like that I have put them in an alarmed state. I know my mentor and the detective are right, that there may be a chance this guy wants to execute harm upon my family, but I wish it weren’t so.

  “It’s okay, Simon. Grandma, it’s okay. You remember Detective Severo? And this here is my mentor, Special Agent Marcus Cain.” A few pleasant hellos are exchanged quickly as my family watches us, not yet understanding the purpose of our unexpected visit.

  “It seems there is someone out there,” I say, slowly explaining the situation, “who may have vengeance on his mind.”

  “I do not know for what you mean, my Angela,” Simon says, his face puckered with bewilderment, his reading glasses resting low on his nose. “What is this about?”

  Cain pulls a chair from the dining set and places it in front of my family members, his face full of sincerity and compassion as he explains the situation. “There’s a man we’re working on, a murderer in fact, who seems to have taken an interest in Angie,” he says, and as he does so my grandmother’s breath catches in worry. “Now, there’s no need for you to be concerned, really, as we’re on it and we plan on taking this guy down tonight.”

  My grandmother, ever the wise matriarch, leans in to look at Cain, her eyes narrow as she judges his words. “And yet, Mr. Cain, you feel the need to come here to tell us of this? Why do I think there’s more than you are letting on?”

  Despite the severity of the situation, Cain chuckles as he looks at me. “Sheesh, runs in the family I see.”

  But then, with a serious tone once again, he looks directly into my grandmother’s eyes as he says, “You are right on that one, Mrs. David. Our man may have a score to settle with your family in general. In fact, we think he is seeking revenge for being put behind bars by your son, Agent David.”

  “Joshua?” Grandmother questions, looking to me for answers.

  “Yes, Grandma. Dad put this man away years ago, and since his release a while back, he’s apparently been planning this elaborate scheme to ease his pride.”

  “We don’t want to alarm you,” Severo says, his voice warm and familiar with my family, whom he just met yesterday. “But for the sake of caution, we’re going to make sure you are both completely safe.”

  “What of my Angela?” Simon asks, obviously feeling I have been left out of the safety equation.

  Severo looks at me as he answers, “She can take care of herself. Agent David’s fully aware of what she’s getting involved with, and neither Cain nor I have any doubts as to her ability out there.”

  My grandmother looks to me with pride, then shifts her gaze over the detective. “You’re a smart boy, I see.”

  She then reaches her frail hand to mine, squeezing it as she checks me over. “You are your father’s daughter,” she breathes, then looks away for a moment as the detective answers a call on his cell phone. “I have no doubt you can and will take care of yourself. After all, my darling Angela, you have a family who needs you to take care of them,” she says, her voice saying more than her words.

  “I know, Grandma.” I place a kiss on her forehead.

  “We may have found him,” Severo says, closing his phone. “Got a street tip. Someone who meets his description was seen heading into a church.”

  “Let’s go,” Cain grunts, getting up from his seat to follow the detective. “Come on, Angie.”

  “Wait. Someone needs to stay with them.” I look to my uncle and my grandmother, see the slight worry in their eyes, more for me than for themselves, I know.

  “The officer here can do that, Angie,” Severo says, nodding toward the man who accompanied him. “We need to get going.”

  “Severo, this is my family we’re talking about. No offense to your squad, of course, but someone else has to stay here. Someone who knows what Jude is up to and what he’s capable of.”

  “This is my case.” He shrugs. “I have to go. And you? If you stay, you’re just putting yourself and your family at risk. So now what?”

  We both look at Cain, who stares back at us. “Well, hell, I guess I could stay with them. I don’t think there’s a need, but if it’s what you want.”

  “There’s no time to argue about it,” Severo says, leading me to the doorway. “Cain, you stay. You might also want to get in touch with Denise, just so she knows what’s going on. I’m sure Simon has her number. We’ll call you when we know Judas is there for sure, so you’ll know it’s safe to leave this family to enjoy their evening.”

  As Severo and I turn away, my mentor offers some last words of wisdom. “Hey, kiddo. Keep your guard up, and whatever you do, don’t let it get personal.”

  “Cain,” I say with more sincerity than I have ever felt. “I think it’s a little late for that. Getting personal doesn’t even begin to explain what I’m about to do with Judas.”

  Chapter 16

  At East Tenth Street, between Second and Third Avenue, we take in the sight before us. Judas could be here or at least i
n the area. Either way, he was spotted heading into this church, so we’re off to a good start.

  Squad members from Severo’s precinct fan out in the immediate radius, stepping quietly but with forceful intent across the wet earth, as the detective follows me toward the entrance.

  This is one of the oldest churches in Manhattan, and lately it’s developed a reputation for being used by the city for community events and historic presentations. My interest in sightseeing, however, is set aside this evening as we stride up the shiny sidewalk, slick from today’s rain, and prepare ourselves for the worst.

  Passing the entranceway and into the nave, we make our presence known throughout the dimly lit place of worship. Candles are burning along the sides and at the front, and the hint of light is enough to lead us.

  Stepping cautiously, I am aware of the fact that Judas could be looking at us, spying on us from a safe location as he likes to do. He won’t be safe for long this night.

  Severo nods to the right of the altar, and I step behind him as he follows his senses toward one of the side chapels. There’s something I’m hearing, and though I can’t make out anything distinct, I’m willing to have a look inside.

  As we round the doorway, candescent flickering casts dancing shadows against the wall, and we prepare for any confrontation that may await us. The sound of distant voices reaches my ears, and when we clear the entrance, I see there is a camcorder sitting at the foot of a statue of Mary.

  I hear my own voice coming from it, and recognize my words from the scene at the City College campus in St. Nicholas Heights, when we were trying to figure out why Thomas Devlin had a Bible on hand.

  “Maybe he used it in class. To some, the idea of God is a myth. Or maybe he was just a follower.”

  “Angie?”

  I tilt my head to meet Severo’s glance, his silhouette barely distinguishable in the dim light. “That’s us,” I whisper, looking hard at the footage. “Look, there’s you. And Cain. Judas was right there.”

  I think back to Saturday, when Jude followed me from the campus to the crematorium. He was watching me the whole time. Hell, he was watching us. I suppose if we knew what to look for then, his presence would have stood out. As it was, he would have blended in with the grouping of teachers and students, looking on as we dissected the crime scene, right before his eyes.

  Severo nudges me, and I follow him as we step cautiously out of the prayer room and into the nave again. Judas has to be here, watching us. It’s his style. I know that now. There’s no way he would lead us to this church only to run off. This, I’m afraid, feels much more like an invitation to get nice and personal with his devious mind.

  As we pass through a hallway leading to a study room, I take in the bookcases along the wall. On them, I see there are stacks upon stacks of Bibles, some old and worn, some leather bound, and since Judas was previously a minister, I’m guessing he knows his way around the verses. Open notebooks with pages of handwriting also catch my attention, and you just gotta know he’s written some strange diary entries in those.

  The creepiest feature leading down the hallway, on the opposite side from the study room, is the collection of crucifixes hanging from the walls, ceiling, doorways, and propped up on the floor. There’s a balanced mix between those upright—and those turned upside down. They vary in color and shape. Some have a figure of Christ. Others are ornately decorated with rosary beads, and I think of the rosary containing my father’s blood.

  Apparently Judas has made himself at home here these past few days. With this church being as popular as it is, even throughout the week, he had to have done something intense to take its interior over and claim it as his own. I wonder if he’s been administering to the public. They’d have no reason to suspect the horrors contained beyond the untouched nave. As for the resident priest, I’m not too naive to realize innocent lives could have been taken in trade.

  Severo pokes me in the side and directs me down the hall, toward a room we cannot yet see. Even stepping lightly along the old wooden floors, I can’t stop the creaking beneath my feet. If Judas is here, he’ll know he has company. Yet there is no sign of him anywhere.

  In this room, which I assume is the office, we find pinned to the sadly painted drywall a few Polaroids of each victim, taken long before their deaths. For the first time, I become acquainted with Matthias Killarney’s original appearance, before he was burned in the crematorium. His eyes are warm and kind, and the smile in the photo gives no indication he knew what was to come. My eyes scan the snapshots, reviewing those whose lives have already been taken from them, but I am grateful we were able to save the others from the wrath of Judas.

  As we head down the last hallway, leading to the rectory, I become aware of a shuffling sound from within a hallway closet. Thinking of where we found Mrs. Schaeffer yesterday, I flash my light at Severo, signaling him to back me up while I turn the doorknob.

  Another officer approaches, handgun drawn, as we prepare for who or what is inside. As the door creaks open, an elderly man stumbles toward me, bound at the feet and hands, with his mouth closed off with duct tape, just like my neighbor was. As he falls toward me, his eyes are fiercely teary, and I grasp his weight, steadying him.

  “Shh,” I request, not knowing where our sought-after man is hiding. “You’ll be okay.” The attending officer takes the burden from me and begins to unravel this man’s bindings.

  Severo leans in, speaking quietly. “Where is he?” and the man, who by his clothing I gather is the priest of this church, nods down the hall.

  Looking at the officer, Severo instructs, “Get him out of here and see that he’s taken care of.” The priest, untied and breathing freely, is escorted in the opposite direction as the detective and I continue on down the hall.

  I begin to hear a few voices and I look to Severo, who nods before we round the corner. Weapons drawn and blood pumping, we enter the priest’s chambers and spot one of Severo’s squad members taking photos for evidence of this new crime.

  A man is bound against a floor-to-ceiling crucifix, his body stained with blood. His eyelids flicker, so we know he’s alive, but obviously in pain, as his chest heaves anxiously.

  I watch as a CSU member passes a small flashlight over the man’s eyes, checking his level of awareness. Another officer begins to peel away the ropes, careful not to cause the man any more bodily harm than he has already endured. His limbs are bound fairly tightly, enough to suspend him against the cross.

  The detective looks at me and says, “This can’t be an apostle. Cain said we got them all. They’re supposed to be in a safe house.”

  “Could be another church member?” I wonder, though my conviction isn’t strong as I take in the sight. I think for a moment, and trace my memory for any indication of what the symbolism of this man could mean.

  From the testimony given by Philip Martin, we have all of the living apostles, though there is one other thing to consider. “Technically, Severo, there were thirteen apostles. But why would Philip Martin hold anything back? He seemed to be so honest with us.”

  We move in and Severo’s gloved hand pulls duct tape slowly from the man’s mouth. He gasps for air, sending saliva flying as he breathes freely. As I walk toward him, my foot catches on a small step stool and I move it out of the way so no one else makes the same mistake.

  Doing so, however, makes me wonder why there is a step stool at all. Unless whoever tied this man up was extremely short, there was no need for one, as this man’s body was hanging fairly close to ground.

  The man’s chest is heaving as he is relieved of the last bindings and held up securely by two officers. His eyes narrowly watching me, he blows air against his upper lip, sweat dripping onto his mouth.

  As he does so, I look at him intently, staring into the black centers of his eyes, where I see a small, distorted reflection of myself.

  As I aim my Bauer .25 toward the man, he licks his lips, a smirk crossing over them.

  “Judas,” I sa
y, my words barely audible above the commotion of the room.

  “Hello, Agent David. It’s so nice to see you again.”

  Severo and every squad member present unleash the safeties from their guns, and all aim directly at this man.

  I step in closer, wanting to have a good look at the man who has killed four men and nearly a fifth. The man who followed me and trapped me in the crematorium. The man who took control of others’ lives and led them down a path of destruction. The man who somehow came into contact with my father’s blood.

  “Nice is not exactly how I would describe it,” I say, my face a mere inch from his. Severo pulls on my arm, urging me away from Judas as the officers quickly cuff him.

  “How the hell did he manage to tie himself up like that?”

  I face the detective, the blood pumping in my veins. “You said it yourself, Detective. Never underestimate the mind of a monster.”

  Chapter 17

  “Angie, this is Captain Delaney. Captain, this is Special Agent Angela David,” Severo says, introducing me to the commanding officer of the Fifth Precinct.

  The captain’s eyes are direct as he sizes me up from his towering height. “I’ve heard several positive things about you, Agent. Glad to have you in the city.”

  “Thanks very much.” Though I maintain a polite exterior, my insides are surging with adrenaline as we sit in a conference room, complete with a window that also acts as a mirror for the interrogation room beyond the glass.

  Judas is in custody right now and we’re simply awaiting protocol to clear the belongings off his person. An officer will soon escort him in for questioning, and my body is itching, waiting for us to get started.

  Though I doubt we’ll have much to debate regarding his plea. With all evidence and testimony pointing to him, he needn’t say much. Besides, he practically confessed to the apostle murders by binding his body against that crucifix.

  Hell, he knew we’d find him there. As Cain has told me time and time again, people like this want to get caught. Whatever Judas wants to get off his chest, I’ll listen. But I don’t expect to find reason in this man or his actions.