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He could be their killer – and now, they needed to prove it.
CHAPTER NINE
Cami rushed out of the police station, hot on Connor’s heels, and bundled into the passenger seat. They were heading straight for Derek Corrigan’s recorded address, and if everything tied up in the way she was hoping, they might have the killer in custody within the hour.
The exorcist lived in a remote part of Boston, on the outskirts of the city, but not bordering any attractive farmland or countryside. Rather, the satnav led them to a tumbledown-looking suburb, where dilapidated office parks and light industrial buildings were separated by tracts of shabby-looking homes. The whole area gave off a sense of neglect, and even though it was midday and the sun had pierced through the clouds, Cami felt that the place seemed strangely gray. She wondered if this was an indication of what they would find there,
After all, an exorcist would surely choose to stay in a tumbledown place that was infested by spirits, wouldn't they? That was what this place felt like, and as she and Connor approached number fourteen, she saw it was characteristic of the neighborhood. The paint on the walls was peeling, the front door was scuffed. The windows were dirty. But on the bright side, the old Chevy parked outside told Cami that the exorcist was definitely home.
Or, at any rate, somebody was home. Cammy reminded herself not to jump to conclusions. But she could see the intent in Connor's body language as he approached the door.
He knocked, and Cami tensed as she heard footsteps approaching the door. There was a hesitation as if the person on the other side was wondering who was there. But then the door swung open, and they were face to face with a man fitting the description of Derek Corrigan. He was taller than Cami had expected, with a face so lean it looked skull-like and a mop of wild dark hair. If Cami had been casting for somebody to play the role of an exorcist, this man would have gotten the part for sure.
Derek did not look pleased like to see them there. His gaze swiveled from Connor to Cami and back again, and his heavy brows lowered in a scowl. For a panicked moment, she thought he might slam the door in their faces. But the thought had no sooner crossed her mind than Connor shoved his foot into the gap.
“Mr. Corrigan?” Connor asked.
His frown deepened. He peered down at Connor’s FBI badge.
“What the hell are the Feds doing on my doorstep?” he asked aggressively.
"It's in connection with a couple of recent crimes in the area." Connor's voice was easy, but his eyes were hard. Cami wondered if Derek already guessed why they were there. His demeanor was swiftly becoming too defensive for somebody innocent.
“Why are you harassing me about local crimes?” Derek wasn't giving an inch.
“Why are you so sensitive about being asked questions?” Connor retorted.
“My profession is unusual,” Derek stated. “And it sometimes means I get unwanted attention when something does go wrong. I’m very misunderstood.”
“It seems you had dealings with both the victims,” Connor said. “The name Lisa Court? Does that sound familiar? How about Debbie Maynard? Do you remember her?”
Now Derek looked very taken aback.
"Yeah. I knew them. But I didn't know they were victims. Victims of what?"
His voice resounded with innocence.
“Murder victims.” Connor was obviously going for shock value. He wasn't hedging around the topic. And although she didn't know if Derek was guilty, he definitely did look shocked. His eyes widened and his face tautened. But surprised or not, it wasn’t enough to make him spill any information, and he was still clinging to his denial.
“I know nothing about that,” Derek protested. “This feels like nothing more than an attempt to frame me. People do it all the time. It's because of my work.”
"Yes," Connor said. "Your work is a topic of interest to us, and I'd like to ask you more about it. It's cold out here. Perhaps we can talk about this inside."
“I don't see why I should let you in,” Derek grumbled. But Cami could see that he was cold, too. Clearly not having expected the police to arrive on his doorstep, he was wearing no more than a black tightly fitting T-shirt with a strange emblem in white on the chest, and scuffed blue jeans. So, Connor's logic having penetrated, he reluctantly stepped aside and allowed them in.
The place might be tumbledown looking from the outside, but Cami was surprised by it when they walked in, turning right to go into a small living room. The interior was well maintained and well furnished, if in a darkly unique style. Plush leather couches in black. The far wall painted a vivid red. A shelf full of books that looked to be on the subject of his profession, old tomes with scuffed spines. A massive modern art painting in black and gray dominated the wall opposite the window. Was that a Ouija board on the coffee table?
Cami didn’t have time to look more closely, because they sat down on the couches, and with Derek still looking uneasy, Connor started his questioning.
“So. I believe you provided exorcism services to one of the victims, Lisa Court, recently? How did she hear about you?”
“I – I advertise my services online,” he said.
“Not on your own social media though?”
“I keep my personal and professional life separate,” he said haughtily.
While he spoke, Cami was looking at his hands, which were strong and long-fingered. Had he used them to strangle the two women? He definitely was physically capable of it, and she could see that he was being very cagey in this questioning.
