“I’ve met my share of testy and opinionated clergy,” answered Polhemus. “But Father Peters had a disposition that never changed. He was even-keeled, always making sure to leave you with a good word and a blessing.”

This didn’t surprise Grant—the only thing the priest had probably been guilty of was working on the Sabbath. He told that to Frankel as they left the office.

“So you’re basically saying this maniac could have killed any priest.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Frankel shook his head. “And he had to pick my precinct to do it in.”

“The frightening thing is that next time he might venture somewhere completely different. There’s no specific reason for him to stay in Manhattan. Every bloody person has a mother and father—he could choose anyone.”

“You really know how to cheer a fella up,” chided Frankel as they entered the sanctuary.

Before Grant could respond, Frankel’s cell buzzed. The detective glanced at the readout and motioned that he was going to take the call. As Frankel moved off, Grant’s eyes were drawn to a side altar where a lean man was lighting a candle.

“Did they finally come to their senses and kick you out of your parish for a multitude of sins?” Grant asked as he approached the man.

Monte Ferguson straightened up and faced Grant.

The Daily Mail reporter appeared to be wearing the same ill-fitting suit Grant had seen him wearing over the weekend. He suspected Ferguson was the type of man who bought half a dozen identical off-the-rack suits, ties, and shirts—never wanting to be a distraction when pursuing a story, preferring to blend in unnoticed.

“You didn’t call me yesterday,” accused Ferguson.

Grant had been in such a rush to get himself across the Atlantic that he had forgotten he owed the journalist a phone call. By the time he remembered midflight, he figured the man was still pursuing connections to the murders back home.

Clearly Grant had been mistaken.

“The circumstances changed,” Grant told him. “Obviously, you figured that out—otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here. And just how did that happen?”

“Have you ever known me to reveal a source, Commander?”

The Scotland Yard man shook his head. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Sergeant Hawley were a bit forthcoming when you rang yesterday looking for me.”

“I leave that for you to discuss with your subordinate,” Ferguson said, obviously not wanting to discuss the subject of his arrival further.

Grant let that pass without comment. “What exactly do you want from me?”

“A reason not to tell the world you’re chasing a serial killer across two continents.”

“If that’s what you think, why haven’t you gone and published this already?”

“Corroboration from a credible source adds veracity to any story. And despite our past differences, I’ve always appreciated the fact that you’ve never outright lied to me, Commander.”