“She’s my sister-in-law,” Slade said, meeting the detective’s stare with his own.

Valerie thought of his involvement with Camille and blanched.

“You were close?” Bentz asked.

Slade lifted a shoulder. “Like family. She lived with us for a while.”

“When?” Bentz pulled out a small notebook.

Slade said, “A couple of years ago.”

“Before she joined the order.” Bentz found a pen and was scribbling.

“Yep.”

Valerie cut off the interview by saying, “So, can I see her?”

“Sure,” Montoya said, though he wondered if it was a good idea. The body had already been IDed. “But first we have some questions. What do you know about your sister’s friends? Any enemies? Can you think of anyone who would want her dead?”

“Besides Frank O’Toole, you mean?” she charged, angry all over again. “I’m telling you right now, no one would have more motive to kill my sister than that cowardly son of a bitch who’s hiding behind his damned clerical collar. He seduced her, got her pregnant, and then, when she was trying to break it off with him, he killed her to keep her quiet. End of story.”

“Wait a second,” Bentz interjected. “She was breaking it off with him?”

“Yeah.” She was nodding and fighting tears. He witnessed the set of her jaw. “The last time we talked on the phone, she said something like, ‘I have to get out of this.’ And then you know what she added?” Valerie said, her eyes filling.

Bentz and Montoya waited.

“That he wouldn’t take it very well. That he’d ‘kill’ her.” She sniffed and swiped angrily at her eyes. “And she wasn’t joking, you know. She was being literal.” She swallowed hard, her eyes red.

“Did he ever threaten her that you know of?” Montoya asked.

“I . . . I don’t know. She, uh, didn’t tell me all of the details.” Val blinked hard, still fighting tears and staring at him as if he was completely dense. “I don’t know what their relationship was, just that it was unethical, immoral, and God knows what else. The term ‘sexual harassment’ doesn’t even begin to touch what was going on there!” She took one step forward, and her husband grabbed hold of her wrist, but she shook him off. “Listen, you’re dealing with a sick, narcissistic psychopath who scared her to death. She said as much, thought he would kill her and his own unborn child to save his damned reputation!” Tears welled in her eyes again. “If you don’t believe me, check with the medical examiner. He should be able to tell you that Camille was two, almost three months along.”

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 11