As the bidding was closed on the silent items, the staff and volunteers for the parishes collected the bidding sheets. Most of those attending worked their way into the gymnasium, a cavernous room with high ceilings and open rafters. If she closed her eyes, she could smell old sweat from soiled jerseys at basketball games and the teen angst and worry, even disappointment, of girls standing at the sidelines of a Friday-night dance. The old memories hung in the air, left over from the years when, off and on, the gym had been attached to a school.

Now the crowd was excited, enthralled, the buzz of the festivities, lubricated by a few glasses of wine, evident. Rain slanted against frosted windows high over stacked bleachers, but the room was stifling and hot, too many bodies giving off too much heat.

If a fire marshal had been around, Valerie believed he would have closed the place down. As it was, people were jockeying for position, and Father Thomas had climbed to the auctioneer’s platform, a few steps higher than the crowd.

At his side was Sister Georgia, in her habit, and a slim woman with dark red hair that was almost auburn and a smile that lit up her face. She was introduced as Dr. Sam, the radio psychologist for WSLJ. Her program, Midnight Confessions, Father Thomas insisted was one of the most popular in not only New Orleans, but also most of the Gulf Coast.

Another couple of introductions were made before one more prayer, this time led by Father Paul, and finally the oral auction was officially open. Sister Georgia made the announcement.

First up, a trip for two to Las Vegas. But that wasn’t all—there was a pair of matching wingback chairs donated by a local furniture store, a carousel horse that had been owned by a famous actress, and, of course, the grand piano. . . .

Montoya was on Valerie Houston like glue. He’d seen her leave the hotel early, and with a quick signal to Bentz, took off after her. She was with her husband, so that was good, but he was still worried about the message she’d received earlier, the threat claiming she was to be the next victim.

Was it possible that it was a prank?

Sure.

But he didn’t think so.

His gut told him to follow her, so he gave Bentz the high sign, then called him on his cell. Bentz was on Father O’Toole, while Brinkman, Zaroster, and several other undercover cops were watching the group as a whole.

Everyone in the department thought the killer wouldn’t be able to stand it, would be lured out of the shadows by all the festivities and media attention. If he was going to go after Valerie Renard Houston, Montoya intended to be there.