JF Gonzalez - Fetish.wps (38 page)

Rachael laughed, putting her hand over her mouth as she did so. Father John Glowacz laughed as well and the tension eased. For a while a worm of guilt had burrowed into her stomach when he asked her if she attended church. She hadn't attended Mass in, well, in almost eight years. Ever since she had been trapped in her first marriage. She didn't know it then, but she supposed it was when she was with Bernie that she began to lose her faith in God. Once the divorce was over she hadn't even gone back to church; it wasn't as if she harbored any bitterness toward the church, she just decided to dive into other areas of her life. Some people attended church as a way to help them deal with their problems. Others dived into their careers or took up hobbies or went to the gym in order to work out problems. Others sought the help of professional therapists. For one who felt comforted by the familiar rituals of the Catholic Mass, returning to church might have been just what some people needed to see them through an especially trying time in life.

She saw nothing wrong with that. For Rachael, church just wasn't for her.

“How are you doing with all this?” Father Glowacz asked.

The question caught her off guard. She looked up, smiled, and answered. “Fine."

“Good. I hope everything is fine. I know that ... these things can be hard on you as well."

“I'm doing fine with it."

“Too bad about that suspect they thought they had,” Father Glowacz said. “Poor man. Danny went through the same thing.” He was referring to Peter Manuel, who they had to release two weeks ago due to lack of evidence. For his parole violation, Peter was able to count the time served as a part of his sentence when he went before the judge. As it turned out, there was nothing Daryl and the task force could hold him on: the bloodstained knife found in his home turned out to be his own when he had accidentally cut himself. He had airtight alibis for the nights the victims had disappeared, and by all accounts from friends and acquaintances, he was nothing more than a simple man trying to settle into the straight and narrow life, his sex life notwithstanding. “I surely hope they catch the real killer soon."

“So do I,” Rachael said.

Father Glowacz shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Well, is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Pearce?"

Rachael was about to say no, but then a thought popped into her head. It was a good sense of intuition and she ran with it. “Father, have any of the investigating officers asked you about any strange behavior in the area? Either from the neighborhood or here at the church?"

“Strange behavior?"

“Yes. Like ... you know ... people acting weird. Strangers hanging around I guess, or unusual rumors about other people. Maybe something mentioned in passing from one of your parishioners."

“I don't like to listen to rumors, Miss Pearce,” Father Glowacz chuckled. “Idle gossip plays right into the Devil's hands."

“I know. But sometimes rumors like this can help. Anything out of the ordinary you might have noticed, Father. Anything you might have heard in confession, or—"

“Wait a minute!” At the mention of confession Father Glowacz's eyes lit up, as if he had just had a sudden revelation. His face became livid, his eyes wide. “Yes, there was something."

Rachael crept forward to the edge of her seat. The change in character that came over Father Glowacz at the mention of confession alarmed her. “What! What was it?"

“Two years ago, maybe a little more, one of our priests took a confession,” Father Glowacz related, looking more animated now than during the whole interview. “The penitent kept the drape in place and his voice was garbled, guttural. He confessed to murder. At first Father Gregory thought the man was joking, but something told him it wasn't a joke. The penitent spoke of certain ... details..."

“Details?” Rachael's heart raced. If this were true—

“It was around the time of Louis’ murder,” Father Glowacz continued, looking at her with a sense of intensity. “In fact, I think it happened right after those first two bodies were found. It was a week or so later, something like that. The penitent basically revealed to Gregory that it was he who had killed the two of them and...” He shook his head,

“...remembering it again is just making it so damned hard to go through with it."

“Please, Father. Try to tell me."

Father Glowacz was leaning forward over his desk, his head cradled in his right hand. His expression had turned from surprise at having remembered the incident to a sense of seriousness. “He ... he claimed he killed those two men. Killed them, and ... he described everything he did to Father Gregory. And he said he
liked it
!” Father Glowacz looked up at Rachael, his features open and shocked from remembering the incident.

“Those were the exact words Father Gregory used when he told me about the incident later that day. You see, Miss Pearce, I was shocked about the incident for the simple fact that Father Gregory told me about it at all. He was so shaken I was afraid I would have to call an ambulance for him. He was simply stricken with shock."

“Why didn't you call the police?"

Father Glowacz shook his head. “That's one of the other reasons why I was concerned when Father Gregory told me. You see, Miss Pearce, if someone confesses to a crime, the priest cannot report it to
anyone
under
any
circumstances.” He leveled a serious gaze at her, emphasizing this. “He can encourage the penitent to confess the crime to the police and could even conceivably make it a condition for absolution, but the priest cannot tell anyone. The Seal of Confession also binds with respect to the penitent outside of Confession. That means if you come to Confession to me face to face and I see you ten minutes later outside the confessional, I cannot even discuss with you what we discussed
in
the confessional."

Rachael remembered this from the catechism classes of her youth. “So why did Father Gregory tell you about it if he wasn't supposed to?"

“Father Gregory was just beside himself with fear,” Father Glowacz resumed. He looked pensive. “He told he me absolved the penitent, blessed him, gave him his penance.

He heard the penitent leave the confessional booth and sit in the pews immediately outside the confessional. After a few moments he heard the penitent get up and leave the church. He sat in that confessional booth literally quaking in his shoes. He said that he was so shocked, so terrified by the whole ordeal, that he almost didn't respond when the confessional opened again and another penitent asked to be blessed for his sins."

He looked up at Rachael. “When Father Gregory burst into the rectory and told me about it he was so shaken I had to sit him down and calm him with some brandy. Once he was calmed down and speaking clearer, I had him start from the beginning. He told me everything, from beginning to end. He told me as a penitent would confess, and I listened to him and prayed with him as his priest. And it is because of that reason that I cannot discuss the matter further. I'm sorry I even let this much out.” Father Glowacz now looked merely disgusted with himself, as if part of him was struggling to break the chains of his religious faith and cooperate with Rachael fully, help her further down this track and identify this guy. “I must say, however, that except for such things as murder—and perhaps even those—God grants His priests a particular grace of forgetfulness. What we hear we tend to forget until we return to the confessional; otherwise we'd be dragging ourselves around burdened by the sins we've heard. I've had people come up to me outside of confession and say they really appreciated the advice or counsel I'd given them; it is extremely rare that I'd even remember having done so. The Holy Spirit also works wonders in the Sacrament of Penance, often giving the Confessor wisdom he would not otherwise possess, to reconcile a sinner to himself. Should a priest be burdened by a penitent's confessing a crime, or even threatening another crime, he is to give that burden to the Lord, since the Lord Himself calls the priest to lay the burden on the One who carried all of Men's sins to Calvary. Although sometimes that is even hard to do.

Sometimes what we hear ... remains with us.” Father Glowacz cast Rachael a dark look, letting this sink in. Rachael got the message loud and clear.

“How often do you get confessions which have murder in them, Father?"

“Very rarely.” Father Glowacz regarded her with those blue eyes again, his once soft, boyish features serious now behind the wire-framed glasses. “Even here in the middle of the barrio. Sometimes the gang members will confess to murder, but when they do they're easily persuaded to give themselves up. It's not up to us to go to the authorities.

When a penitent confesses a mortal sin like murder, it is intended for the priest to hear and it is between the penitent and God. The priest only acts as an interceder."

“You could have helped catch this guy two years ago,” Rachael said softly, looking directly into Father Glowacz's eyes. “You realize that, don't you?"

Father Glowacz met her gaze. “I'm sorry,” he said. “But we've done all that we could here at Our Lady. I've done all that I could, too.” His features were hard and stony.

Rachael turned off the tape recorder and stuffed it into her purse. She could feel her anger rising and she tried to stem it. It wasn't his fault that the police weren't called; he was just acting out of his Catholic faith. Father Gregory hadn't looked out the confessional booth because he didn't want to break the Canon Law. She gathered up her notes, put them in her purse and stood up. “Look, Father, I'm sorry if I came across as a little, well ... pissed off, but...” She shook her head. “I just thought I had something there."

Father John Glowacz rose from his seat and went around the desk to open the door. “That's okay, Rachael. I completely understand where you're coming from. Believe me, I want to see this end as well. We're all on edge over this, I suppose."

“Yes, I suppose we are."

“Is there anything else I can help you with? You know I'm always here. All you have to do is ask.” Once again, his blue eyes were warm and caring.

“No, Father. But thanks for taking the time to talk to me."

“That's what we priests are here for.” Father John Glowacz opened the door for her and escorted her down the hall back to the lobby of the administrative wing of the church. He walked her through the double glass doors and out to her car in the parking lot. They made small talk along the way, mostly commenting about the weather, but when they reached her car the conversation turned back to the case again. “If you need me for anything else, Rachael,” Father Glowacz said, his features serious, “don't hesitate to call me. If you have any further questions or just want to talk. My door is always open to you.

Okay?"

Rachael nodded. “Thanks, Father. I will."

“Good.” Father Glowacz smiled down at her. “Take care of yourself."

“I will.” Rachael opened the driver's side door, threw her purse into the passenger side and got inside. She shut the door, started the car, waved at Father Glowacz who stepped back onto the sidewalk that led to the administrative wing. He waved back.

Rachael put the car in reverse, backed out of the slot and drove out of the parking lot and toward home.

She couldn't stop thinking about the confession as she drove home, trying to sort through the story in her mind. She had thought about asking to speak with Father Gregory but she didn't want to make it appear too obvious. She felt she was intruding on Father Glowacz's time already as it was. She also felt that she had intruded too much on Father Glowacz by him telling her about the penitent Father Gregory had heard in confession; Father Glowacz divulging that information had gone against canon law, and telling her had been a big no-no for him. She supposed now that Father Glowacz would have to seek absolvement from another priest for this particular sin. No wonder why she didn't consider herself Catholic anymore; you could make the same mistake—or sin—over and over again and as long as you confessed you were absolved and saved.

She thought about the story as she drove home. And the more she thought about the confession story, and the more she thought about her talk with Father Glowacz and the way he behaved around her, the more it bothered her...

Chapter 25

“I've just got a break on a lead and I want to check it out before I come home.” It was two days after her interview with Father John Glowacz, and Rachael was sitting in the front seat of her Camaro, a cellular phone cradled between shoulder and cheek. She had punched in her number to call Daryl to tell him that she was running a little late and not to worry. “Expect me home around nine-thirty."

“What's this big lead?” Daryl's voice was faint over the cellular phone frequency.

“I was just at Top's Fast Food over in Highland Park,” Rachael explained. “I'm following up leads on Carmen Aguirre's disappearance, and the owner told me about a guy that sounds very interesting.” The task force had already interviewed Carmen's friends and acquaintances and some of them weren't sure on whether she fit the profile of a Butcher victim. Daryl thought she fit the victim profile perfectly; she lived in the area, where she was acquainted with some of the gang members, and an ex-boyfriend was a Los Compadres gang member. Unlike other Butcher victims, her family had launched a wide search for her and had plastered most of Los Angeles and parts of Orange County with flyers bearing photos of the young woman and information about her disappearance.

Plus, she wasn't like the other women the Butcher had claimed as victims. Carmen wasn't a prostitute, which brought up the question of how the Butcher might have abducted her, if indeed he had. It was this question which split the task force into two opposing camps, one side wanting to investigate Carmen Aguirre's disappearance further, the other wanting to chase down the clues already on hand. It was starting to drive Daryl nuts.

“The guy in question's name is Charley,” Rachael continued. “Mr. Sanchez didn't have a last name for him, but he told me that he used to frequent the place all the time and he was always flirting with Carmen, talking to her, that sort of thing."