A dark cloud passed overhead and moonlight beamed through the chuch skylights. O’Brien looked at the body and said, “Father Callahan left us the first clue, the three sixes might be a reference to Satan. What does that drawing mean? The letters P-A-T could be a name or someone’s initials. The symbol Omega is the last letter in the Greek alphabet. If I remember my ancient Greek history right, Omega means the end.”
“Definitely the end for the priest,” said Grant, his voice almost a murmur.
“But it might be the beginning-the clue that points us to the start of this,” O’Brien said. “Father Callahan was a linguistics and art history genius. Let’s put ourselves in his shoes-his frame of mind after he was shot twice. He’s dying and he knows it. Probably going into shock. Doesn’t have much time, a minute or two. He struggles to write this. Probably began with the drawing-could be a cloaked figure against the moon or sun. Then the six-six-six…followed by the Omega sign…ending with P-A-T…after making the T, it looks like he lost consciousnesses. The T is closest to his fingers.”
O’Brien hovered over the bloody message, and then he knelt down and touched the back of Father Callahan’s left hand. “The killer’s identity is in there before us, written in the blood of a priest before the altar of God.”
The medical examiner’s team lifted Father Callahan’s body, sat it down carefully on the gurney, and started to pull a white sheet over the face.
“Wait a second,” said O’Brien. He stepped to the gurney and used two fingers to close Father Callahan’s eyes. “We’ll find him…I promise,” O’Brien said in a low voice.
The forensic crime scene investigators took a few more photographs of the blood smears and patterns as the coroner made notes on a clipboard. One of the forensics investigators said, “There was nothing on the body. Found his wallet about ten feet over there. Money and credit cards are gone.”
O’Brien knew the answer to the question before he asked it. “You found no papers in his pockets, a letter maybe?”
“He was clean.”
The corner stepped over to the detectives and said, “You don’t have to be a religious man to know whoever did this has a date with the devil.”
Dan Grant looked at the body. “May have been the devil himself-sis-six-six, the initials P-A-T, a drawing and some Greek letter.”
O’Brien said, “Father Callahan has already given us a big clue.”
“And what would that be?” Detective Henderson asked, his tone skeptical.
Valdez said, “Maybe the priest didn’t know the perp’s name. Otherwise he’d have written it, or at least part of it, right?”
“Not if Father Callahan thought the killer might see it,” said O’Brien.
“What about the initials?” Henderson asked. “Could be the perp’s.”
O’Brien squatted down near where the body had lain. He was silent for half a minute, his eyes locking on every detail-blood patterns, religious relics scattered acrossbthe floor. O’Brien stood and followed the blood trail away from where the body was found. He walked slowly, tracking, his eyes looking for the smallest specks of blood.
When he was about forty feet away, heading in the direction of the rear exit, he turned and said, “Father Callahan was shot about here. This is ten to fifteen feet from the first sign of blood. After he was shot, he turned and started in the direction of the altar.” O’Brien walked back toward the detectives. He knelt down. “He fell here first. There’s a bloody palm print. Then he got up and staggered toward the altar. He crawled to within a few feet of the steps-his last breaths were taken at the first marble step. That’s where he died. Why would he crawl in this direction?”
“Maybe to get to a phone,” Detective Valdez said.
O’Brien looked to his left. “The church offices are that direction.”
“Cell phone,” Detective Grant said.
O’Brien lifted the cell phone off his belt and punched in numbers. A phone rang. The detectives looked in the direction of the sound. Detective Grant walked toward a small antique table in a dark corner of the vestibule, near the entrance door to the church. The cell phone was sitting at the base of a large silver bowl.
O’Brien disconnected. “If Father Callahan’s cell is lying over there on the table, why wasn’t he crawling in that direction? Why wasn’t he trying to dial 911?”
The detectives were silent, and then Henderson mused, “Phone was too far away.”
“Then why was he here? Why was his body at the base of the altar?”
Detective Grant said, “When you are dying-right at the cusp of death-people try to get right with God.” Grant gestured with a hand in the direction of the burningbcandles, the statue of Mary, and the figure of Christ hanging from a cross above the altar. “Maybe the priest was saying his last prayers in a place that he knew best.”
O’Brien said, “Why would a man so close to God feel a need to redeem himself in his last minute of life?”
No one spoke.
“I think he was crawling in this direction for another reason,” O’Brien said.
Detective Valdez said, “Maybe the Father was crawling in that direction because he was in shock. And as Dan said, he was trying to get in the vicinity of the altar-a very holy spot to pass into Heaven.”
“Those things are symbols. I knew Father Callahan well,” O’Brien said. “He could be as close to God on a boat as he would in his own church.”
O’Brien stepped up onto the altar. Except for the artifacts tossed on the floor, all else appeared intact. He looked behind the dais and beneath it. There were two incense burners, half a dozen church books, and a stack of printed agendas from last Sunday’s mass. He removed a pen from his shirt pocket and used it to leaf through a few pages of the large Bible that lay open on the dais stand.
“Pardon me,” said a woman dressed in a navy blue jump suit with letters CSI Volusia County on it. She held two boxes of fingerprint equipment. Another investigator climbed up from the back of the altar. He held a portable light and stand.
O’Brien nodded and moved to the front of the altar, then slowly descended the steps. He looked at the message written in blood. “What was he trying to tell us? The rough drawing-could be a circle and face. Who? The Greek letter Omega-the end? The letters…P-A-T. Is it the name Pat? Patrick? Patricia? Or is it something else?”b “Could be a warning,” said Grant. “But if it is…then who was he warning?”
“Dan, you said that Spelling told you if something happened to him to see Father Callahan immediately.” O’Brien stared at the message in blood.
“He was adamant about it.”
“Meaning, as Father Callahan told me, the identity of the killer is on that written statement. If Spelling happened to use a pad of paper when he wrote it, he might have pressed down hard to leave an impression on the next page. Even if it’s only a few words-enough letters to spell a name-we might have something.”
“You mean as in P-A-T?” asked Grant.
“Exactly. We need to get to the hospital now.”
“I was just heading that way. The ME is a busy man tonight, too.”
“Call your officers. Don’t let them remove any notepaper.”
“Paper?”
“The killer’s ID could be on the sheet of paper that was under the original-the one he wrote for Father Callahan.”
O’Brien looked at the figure of Christ on the cross. He watched as a dark cloud passed over the moon. He thought about Charlie Williams locked in a place where light from the moon, stars, or the sun never penetrates. O’Brien walked faster.
b