Fractured (Broken Part 2)

Speak of the Devil

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Malcolm asked as we walked hand in hand up to Jessica's front door.
My knee length emerald green faux wrap dress with 3/4 length sleeves tickled the back of my calves as we walked.
"Are you?" I teased nudging him.
We walked through the front door and through the foyer towards the dining room just in time for Jessica's housekeeper to shut the doors in our faces.
"What are you..." Malcolm asked looking over at me.
"I told you this would happen." I shook my head.
"Malcolm Lucas, why have you not been going to therapy?" Jessica asked from behind us.
"She used your middle name. You're so fucked, my love."
"Good morning, Mother. Nice ambush." Malcolm said glaring at me as we turned to look at his mother.
"I'm worried. I haven't gotten a bill from Gabrielle in months." Jessica stepped towards us.
"I've taken a break from therapy." Malcolm sighed.
"Lily, you're okay with this?" She asked.
"Of course not. I've told him as much but he's a grown man. Contrary to popular belief he does not do everything I say."
"What's happened, Malcolm? You can tell me." She practically pleaded with her son.
"It's nothing. I'm fine. Just the life of a serial killers son... it's a psycho rollercoaster."
"But why?" Jessica pushed.
"You can't understand." Malcolm shook his head, his hand searching for mine.
"Try me. I did marry your father."
"I know you want to help me. To help us but you can't... Not with this." Malcolm squeezed my hand searching for strength.
"You are supporting him, right?" She asked me.
"Every second of every day." I nodded.
"Okay." She nodded reluctantly and released us from her faux tomb foyer.
Malcolm's phone rang just after his mother left us in the foyer.
"Why are you calling me?" Malcolm sighed into the phone and I knew that it must be Martin on the other end.
"Let's see. He hardly recognizes the face he sees in the mirror every morning. The only reason he sleeps at all is because of the woman sleeping next to him and for some reason his psychopathic, narcissist father can't seem to leave him alone. I think Mother is starting to sense something." Malcolm looked at me.
"No. I'm not talking about this." Malcolm hung his phone up with a sigh.
His fingers trembled as I took both of his hands in mine.
"We are going to get though this." I assured him.
"Together."
"I can do anything with you by my side." He smiled weakly at me.
Together we walked into the dining room. Ainsley stood on the other side of the table seemingly looking at her reflection in the side of a large knife.
"What are you doing?" Malcolm asked.
"Setting the table?" Ainsley looked at her brother confused.
"Oh my God! Are these... Is this what you used?" She whispered.
"The family silver?" Malcolm chuckled.
"No. I'm just shocked to see you doing chores." He teased with a sigh.
"Hysterical." Ainsley narrowed her eyes at him.
Then she sighed.
"Isn't it strange how little I remember from that night?" She looked at me.
"Not really. It's dissociative amnesia. It's just a way your mind protects you from trauma." I answered gently.
"I remember when he got here. Texting Malcolm to come home. He wouldn't stop telling me the things he'd done to you, to Malcolm, to dad. Then Malcolm got here but then there's a gap. Then you were standing in front of Malcolm covered in blood and I was covered in blood."
"You don't want to remember anything else, Anis. Trust me." I smiled at her.
She nodded at me looking unsure.
"Let's talk about something a million times more fun. I'm moving back to my apartment." She announced sitting down.
"That's great. Did mom freak out?" Malcolm asked pulling my chair out for me.
"Thank you." I whispered sitting down.
"No, which actually freaked me out."
"Malcolm, I'm so glad you're here. Your sister has a mountain of clothes to move and I am in charge of the boxes." Jessica said joining us carrying the first two champagne flutes holding orange juice.
"You're helping her move?" Malcolm shook his head bewildered.
"Yes. I want to help her just as I wanted to help you." She glared at her son.
"Okay. What is it?" Ainsley asked.
"Something's changed." Malcolm agreed.
"She stopped playing the piano too." Ainsley told us.
"Oh? Is there still vodka in your orange juice?" Malcolm asked.
I probably should have told Malcolm about what Dani said to Gil but we didn't need added tension in our team. I certainly hadn't found time to talk to Gil or Dani about the situation.
"All right. Enough. What do you two think you're doing?" Jessica looked at me, sadness hiding behind her eyes.
"We're meddling, obviously." Ainsley smirked at her mother.
"Please. I don't meddle. I mother." She countered.
"This sudden interest in our well-being wouldn't have anything to do with you and a certain lieutenant we all know?" Malcolm correctly deduced, of course.
"Gil?" Ainsley looked at Malcolm scandalously.
Jessica shook her head and scoffed.
"You and Gil are..." Ainsley turned her attention back to her mother.
"Are you mad? There is nothing going on between me and Gil Arroyo." She scoffed again.
"I don't believe you." Malcolm winked at me as his phone rang.
"It's Gil." He announced looking at me.
"Oh. Ask him about mom." Ainsley asked as we stood up to leave.
"Does he let you wear his turtlenecks?" She asked her mother.
"Ainsley. Enough." Jessica cautioned but I couldn't help giggle.
"Malcolm." She called his name.
"Hmm?" He looked at her playfully.
"Not a word or the NYPD will be investigating your murder next." She warned.
Then she glanced at me. I knew Gil had been calling her. I really needed to take the time to talk to both Gil and Dani. With Malcolm and I's wedding in less than two months, we needed peace.
"Gil says there's been a murder at the Catholic church." Malcolm said as we got back into my vehicle.
"Well, if murder wasn't already against one of the ten commandments..." I muttered.
"I know you're hiding something from me." He said after a moment.
"You know what happened between mom and Gil."
"I know her side of it, yes. I haven't talked to Gil about it yet." I answered honestly.
"They really care about one another." He mused.
"I know they do." I sighed.
"How can I help?" He asked.
"I don't know yet." I admitted.
"For now, let's catch a killer."
JT stood in the grass outside the church with his back to us as we walked up hand in hand.
"JT?" Malcolm called his name.
"We've been calling. How are you?"
"I'm fine... Busy." JT answered unconvincingly.
"Are you sure? Every time I say 'I'm fine' I'm usually lying."
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm already on edge with this creepy-ass case."
JT lead us up the church's stairs into the nave. In the center of the sanctuary a man in black Catholic robes hung from his ankles. I could see pools of blood under him as we walked up.
"Holy..." Malcolm began to mutter as we walked up the stairs.
"Watch it, Bright." Gil cautioned harshly.
"The restraints, Holy Water, and a Crucifix... I'm not religious but this looks awfully..."
"Ritualistic." I nodded when he looked at me.
"This looks to be every ounce of his blood volume."
"The victim is Father Ramon Reyes, age fifty six. He's been with the church for thirty years." Gil explained.
"It's amazing." Edrisa called from her place on a hydraulic lift.
"He's been expertly exsanguinated. Forty four precise stab wounds."
"Forty four..." I mused almost to myself.
"Gil. This is Sister Agnes. She found the body and called it in." JT said leading a young woman into the nave.
She stood before us with her head down in Catholic nun robes.
"We are sorry for your loss, Sister. Can you walk us through what happened?" I asked watching Malcolm walk around the scene.
"I had been assisting Professor Shaw in restoring the Cathedral's paintings. I was downstairs and when I came back up I saw this... this evil." She explained.
"Sister Agnes, did Father Reyes perform exorcisms?" Malcolm asked walking up next to me.
"Malcolm?" I sighed.
"What? This is the Rite of Exorcism and it's well used. So, answer the question, Sister?" He pushed handing me the book.
"I can't talk about this." Sister Agnes shook her head.
"That's not a, 'no'."
"Our killer left a note." Edrisa told us.
"The blood makes a symbol."
"What does it say?" I called up to the only one who could fully see it.
"Looks like Hebrew or..." Malcolm began.
"Aramaic. It says, 'Abaddon'." Sister Agnes said looking directly at me.
"Abaddon the Destroyer? The angel of the abyss from Revelations?" I asked to which she nodded.
"So, now we know who the killer is." Malcolm said still looking at the symbol.
"Who is it?" Gil asked.
"Oh, you know... the Devil." Malcolm shrugged.
I glared across the room at my fiancé.
I felt Sister Agnes' eyes on my back as Malcolm and I stood with Gil and Professor Shaw.
"Did you know Father Reyes well, Professor?" I asked trying to focus on him.
"Just in passing. Please, call me Jonah." He answered.
"You're not a member of the church?" Gil asked.
"No. I'm a conservator. I'm just helping Sister Agnes preserve the paintings. We've been working on Madonna and The Child the past few months."
"Did you know Father Reyes was an exorcist?" Malcolm asked.
There had to be a reason he fixated on the exorcism aspect of this murder.
"People come and go. You hear things..."
"Thank you, Jonah. Excuse us." Gil said.
"Archbishop Argento?" Gil lead us over to a man in a black priest suit.
"Officers. Thank you for coming. I've only just heard myself." He said nodding at Gil.
"Dr. Russell? Does the FBI have an interest in this case?" He asked looking at me.
"Not specifically. I'm working as a criminal psychiatry consultant with the NYPD on this case." I answered.
"Of course. I was just surprised to see you here." He nodded at me.
"We're very sorry for your loss." Gil cut in.
"I am overcome but I trust in faith to help us find the light."
"Outside of faith alone, we need to see Father Reyes' records. Anyone he's exorcised is a suspect in his murder." Malcolm added.
"I am truly sorry but I cannot release Father Reyes' records nor discuss his work. They contain confidential information. You understand." He looked between Gil and I.
"Of course, Your Eminence. Thank you." Gil nodded.
"What was that? He just obstructed justice and you thanked him for it!" Malcolm exclaimed.
"I'm establishing a rapport, Bright. That's how you get things done especially with a church. Have some faith." Gil said shaking his head.
"Nietzsche said that faith means not wanting to know the truth." Malcolm countered.
"Nietzsche, hmm? Kid, what is going on in that head of yours?"
"Nothing. I'm fine." Malcolm shook his head.
Liar. I thought to myself.
"Then give me a profile."
"Right. Consistent wounds speak to a methodology, and the bloodletting... This killer was performing a ritual of his own. Obviously, our demon did not want to be exorcised." Malcolm looked at me.
"We're not looking for a real demon." Gil said obviously.
"No, but what if our killer identifies as one? They could be suffering from possession trance disorder. It's a kind of dissociative disorder. The symptoms present like possession." I answered.
"How does bloodletting figure into this?" Gil asked.
"We're not sure. Not yet. I do know another killer who bled his victim dry." Malcolm said.
Great... Back to Claremont. I sighed to myself.
"It's just beautiful out here." Martin sighed as Malcolm and I walked out into Claremont's courtyard.
"Thank you both for coming."
"Smells like urine." Malcolm remarked.
"That'd be the urine." Martin nodded.
"After you called I had a splendid idea. We have so many special minds here. Why not call in an expert?"
Martin pointed our attention over to an inmate dressed in a brown friar's robe across the yard.
"Who's that?" I asked as Malcolm wrapped his arm protectively around me.
"Friar Pete. He went on a killing spree after being ejected from his monastery for his extreme views. The Friar Flayings. I've brought him in to consult." Martin answered grinning.
"Wonderful." Malcolm sighed.
Friar Pete stared ominously at us as he walked over. He showed no signs of stopping as he closed the distance forcing us to back up a couple steps. Malcolm flinched as the metal of his chain clanked forcing him to stop walking.
"Care to confess your sins." He asked.
"Oh! That's a wonderful idea! You two should talk. Lilian and I..." Martin exclaimed.
"We're only here to solve a murder." Malcolm cut him off.
"An exorcist was bled to death. Forty four precise incisions." I continued.
"It's an ominous number forty. Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness fending off the devil. As for four..." Pete said watching Malcolm and I.
"Well, perhaps the four humors, considering the cuts." Martin added.
"How about Hans von Gersdorff?" Pete suggested.
"Of course." Martin exclaimed gleefully
"Hans von who?" Malcolm asked shaking his head.
"Gersdorff. 15th-century surgeon who determined the 44 points by which a human would best be bled." Martin explained.
"He goes into great detail in his Field Guide to Surgery. The illustrations are lovely." Pete added.
"Oh, medicine has nothing to do with it." Malcolm sighed.
I wasn't so sure.
"The killer is obsessed with ritual. Catholic ritual."
"Oh, I'm surprised you don't see the connection. Lilian does." Martin winked at me.
"Well, they used to go hand-in-hand. For centuries, exorcisms were prescribed to patients suffering from the bubonic plague, mental illness, lead poisoning." Pete told him.
"Guys, the victim didn't die 600 years ago. There's no connection between exorcism and medicine today."
"Not true. Today the church can't perform its rite without permission."
"Well, isn't that helpful? Permission from whom, Friar Pete?"
"A physician, Dr. Whitly."
"They're right, aren't they?" Malcolm asked as we walked back out to my car.
"Yes. I'm afraid they are." I sighed.
"Do you think Gil can get the Archbishop to open the files?"
"If he can't, Lord knows I can." I sighed.
JT joined us at the home of a young man referred to Father Reyes for "untreatable" mental issues. He was the last person Reyes performed an exorcism on before his death.
"A Catholic neurologist recommended his patient see Father Reyes as a last resort. This isn't about evil. It's about a sickness. The doctor said his patient Norman is untreatable..." Malcolm explained as we walked towards the front door.
I looked up at the large Victorian style house.
Norman... wonderful. As if I wasn't already getting creepy Psycho vibes.
"Violent, disturbed and possessed. Sounds plenty evil to me." JT glared at Malcolm.
"Ah. You must be from the church." An older woman answered the door.
"Ma'am, I'm Dr. Lilian Russell. I'm a psychiatrist with the FBI. This is Malcolm Bright and Detective JT Tarmel. We work together. We're here because Father Reyes was murdered and your son Norman was the last one on his schedule." I answered, removing the 'Criminal' from my job title as to put her at ease.
"Yes, of course, come in." She stepped aside to allow us inside.
"He stays up in the attic. Right this way."
"How long has Norman lived up here, ma'am?" Malcolm asked as we followed her up the stairs.
"Five years now. He wanted his own space. We agreed it was for the best." She answered.
"Does he take any medication?" I asked as we came to a heavy wooden door.
"Not anymore." She said before knocking on the door.
"Norman? It's Mother. You have visitors. Can they come in, Norman?" She called gently.
Yes. Definitely a Psycho relationship going on here.
"All right, Mother." A small male voice called back.
"Whatever you do... stay inside the lines." She said opening the door.
Slow, eerie piano music filled the room. On the floor, intricate lines of salt created boxes and walkways.
"Hi, Norman. I'm Malcolm, this is Lily and JT." Malcolm made the introductions.
"Hello, Norman." I said gently.
"What's up, man?" JT greeted him.
"Mother said you were coming." Norman said not turning to look at us.
"Good. We're trying to find out who killed Father Reyes. Do you know anything about that? When was the last time you saw each other?" I asked.
"Last week. He came to the house."
"Do you ever go and see him? If I lived up here, I'd sneak out that window all the time." Malcolm added.
"No. No, there's no salt out there. Father Reyes told me I had to stay... here. The salt keeps him out." Norman said.
"Who?" I asked.
"The demon. Father Reyes shouts at him, but still... he finds me."
"What does Father Reyes shout?" Malcolm asked.
"'The power of Christ compels you!'" Norman spun around and shouted the words, likely just as Father Reyes had.
"Excuse me. I have to practice." Norman turned back to the piano.
"He's got to be the guy, right?" JT asked us.
"I'm not sure." I shook my head.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing? Norman believes he's possessed." JT stared at me.
"Okay, he's clearly mentally ill, but he doesn't leave this house. He won't even cross an inch of salt. I wonder what would happen..." Malcolm said.
"Dude, you heard the lady. Don't." JT glared at him.
"Malcolm, baby..." I sighed.
"I have to test him. I have to cross this line." Malcolm said.
"No, you really don't, Bright." JT sighed.
I'd known Malcolm for twenty one years at this point. I knew he was going to do it. He really had to. He had to know.
"Lily, you cannot be okay with this." JT looked at me as Malcolm took one step over the salt line.
"I'm not. Have you tried telling him, 'no'?" I asked.
"Do you have a favorite hymn? I know "You Are Near"..." Norman asked us.
"See? Nothing happened." Malcolm looked back at us.
"'There Was a Fountain Filled with Blood," "Hail Mary: Gentle...'" Norman stopped mid-sentence.
"I knew it was you. You're a demon." He said suddenly.
"Uh... No, Norman. I'm not a demon." Malcolm shook his head.
"I could smell it on you the moment you walked in. You are like me. That's why you came here." Norman continued.
"Malcolm..." I said his name.
"What do you mean, I'm like you?" Malcolm asked.
"You're a killer, too. I did it. I killed him." Norman exclaimed leaping off the piano bench and crawling across the floor on all fours.
"Malcolm!" I called.
"Bright, step back." JT instructed.
"It's okay." Malcolm locked eyes with me.
"Why did you kill Reyes?" He asked Norman.
"He wanted it out, but it doesn't want out. He's in my blood. He's in your blood." Norman grabbed a lamp near him and leaped towards Malcolm just as he leaped back into the circle, grabbing ahold of me.
"Malcolm Bright, always crossing the line." JT sighed at him.
"One of these days you're going to give me a heart attack or a brain aneurysm or both." I slammed the palm of my hand against his chest as we waited for the ambulance to take Norman to the hospital.
"I'm sorry." He pressed his lips to the top of my head.
"You always say that, yet we always end up here." I teased.
"Come on. Time for Gil to yell at us again." I pulled Malcolm back to my car.
"JT just called from the hospital. Norman's sedated." Gil said standing across the table from where I sat with Malcolm's hands on my shoulders.
"Does he remember confessing?" Dani asked standing next to Gil.
"Probably not. Norman suffers from recurrent identity disturbances, voice changes, memory loss." Malcolm answered gently squeezing my shoulders.
"Okay, now, what the hell do you have?" Gil exclaimed.
"JT told us what happened. You provoked Norman."
"I provoked Norman to test a theory." Malcolm explained.
It occurred to me that he was forced to explain himself frequently despite us having worked here with them for over a year now.
"That he's the killer? Norman ticks a lot of boxes. Father Reyes performed exorcisms on him for a year. That's plenty of time for him to learn that Aramaic. And time to develop motive." Gil shook his head.
"It tracks." Dani agreed.
"It doesn't." Malcolm insisted.
"Are you serious? JT said the guy went full Linda Blair."
"That's the problem. When Malcolm crossed the line of salt, it triggered Norman. He became frenzied, out of control. Father Reyes's murder displayed total control, precise incisions." I explained.
"Right. If Norman was triggered by Father Reyes' exorcism, he couldn't perform the bloodletting." Malcolm agreed with me.
"So we're looking for a possessed person with a steady hand? How does somebody learn medieval bloodletting?" Dani asked.
"That I know. They read the manual." Malcolm took the book from my hands to hand it to Gil.
"What the hell is this?" He asked.
"My father gave it to us. Hans von Gersdorff's Field Guide to Surgery, from 1517. It's the how-to for the system of bloodletting our killer used. He must have read it. I know it sounds insane."
"For this case? Not really. I mean, I interviewed a nun who knows Aramaic. Maybe she knows something about this, too." Dani nodded.
"Lily and I need to talk to JT. Try to stay out of trouble." Gil told Malcolm.
Malcolm leaned down to kiss me before following Dani out of the room.
JT walked in shortly thereafter.
"You give any thought to whether you want to make a statement?" Gil asked when JT sat down next to me.
"I'm thinking I wait a beat. You know, let things shake out." JT's voice shook just slightly.
"What things?" I asked gently.
"Look, I know you've both got my back. But what about them? You think they'll play nice if I file a grievance against a fellow cop? I'm about to be a father, and I'm already looking over my shoulder now. If I escalate this, who's to say things don't get worse? Do you think I'm wrong?" JT shook his head.
"Can I be straight? I don't know. Nothing about this is right." Gil sighed and I nodded.
"We're all going to support you no matter what decision you make." I told him.
"I know. Thank you. Both of you." JT nodded at us.
"Go on back to work. Gil and I need to have a conversation." I smiled at JT.
He nodded and got up, closing the door behind him.
"What's up , Lily?" Gil asked looking at me confused.
"Come sit down." I insisted.
"What's wrong?" He sat down next to me in the chair JT just evacuated.
"I know why you've been checking your phone extra today."
"You know why Jessica's avoiding me?" He asked.
"She's about to be my mother-in-law. There's not much I don't know." I nodded.
"Gil... Jessica heard you talking to Dani in the hospital. She already feels so guilty about what happened that night. To hear Dani blames her too?" I shook my head.
"Lily, I..."
"Jackie thought the Whitly's are cursed? What do you think it'll do to Malcolm when he finds out? When I have to tell him? I can't keep it from him. He looked up to her as a second mother. So, did I. Then for you to agree with her? If he's cursed so am I." I sighed.
"She saved me." Gil muttered.
"I know she did. Martin destroyed them in more ways than one. They are each broken but you and I... They view us as their saviors. The only two people that stuck by them; that never judged them for the things beyond their control but..." I could feel myself getting emotional and paused.
"Martin becoming The Surgeon and killing those twenty three people was not his only crime. He abused them without them even knowing it. It made them broken and vulnerable but not cursed. Then for Nicholas to come in and abuse them all over again." I paused again.
"Now, her spirit is crushed because she truly loves you but she feels like you lied to her; to Malcolm. That it wasn't love you felt but pity."
A knock came at the door.
"Lily? Bright fell asleep." Dani called.
"I'll be right there." I called back.
"Just think about what I said, Gil. I have to go save my fiancé from his own mind."
I stood up and walked out of the conference room.
As I walked into the bullpen I noticed that Dani and all of the uniformed officers were in their body armor.
"Oh, come on." I sighed walking over to where Malcolm sat with his head down on his folded arms on the desk.
I sat on the desk next to him and gently touched the back of his hand. He shot up with a gasp and looked at me.
"Oh, I was asleep." He looked at me with a small smile.
"Yeah, we noticed." Dani said from behind me.
"Why are you wearing body armor?" He looked at her.
"Because you fell asleep. Your nightmares are kind of epic."
I shook my head.
"Apparently they don't trust me to keep you from bum rushing anyone." I smirked at him.
"We should go home. Try to rest."
"Let me come with you. We should talk." Dani looked at me.
"You're right. We should." I nodded.
Malcolm separated from Dani and I to make he and I a drink as we walked into the loft. I sat down on our couch.
"I panicked. I was upset." Dani said sitting down next to me.
"We all almost lost him. I almost lost my own life. There's only one person to blame for both of those things: Nicholas Endicott. Not him or me; not Jessica or Malcolm. Nicholas tried to end our lives. No one else. She heard you. Jessica. She knows what you think of her. If they're cursed then so am I."
"Lily, I never meant..." Dani started.
Then Malcolm came back into the room and handed me a glass of bourbon.
"Thank you." I smiled at him.
"You were right though. At least for me, when it comes to him there isn't anything I wouldn't do and if that makes me reckless..."
I shrugged leaning back into Malcolm's arms.
"Are you two sure you're not into this religious stuff? Could've fooled me." She motioned to a large painting on the wall behind us.
"Come on. No one captures the destitution of the soul like Goya." Malcolm smirked at her.
"It's creepy, Bright." Dani shook her head.
"It's also staying here when the house is finished." I teased as he gently squeezed my waist playfully.
"Well, Goya was actually quite the romantic. Of course, he went insane. All the best artists did. Their work destroyed them." Malcolm said.
"Are you any different? You've been on edge lately, even for you. You want to talk about it?" Dani asked glancing between us.
I knew that overall she meant well but the things she said in the hospital really hurt Jessica and Jessica was my family.
"We're fine. Really." I answered not allowing Malcolm to lie again.
"Hmm." She muttered clearly unconvinced.
"How about you? It's bad out there." Malcolm asked over my shoulder.
"It's always bad. Difference is people are paying attention. It's like they just realized that the world is racist and cops target black people. JT and me, we don't get a pass. I swear this job is gonna kill me. Like your painter."
"Who, Goya? Well, the job didn't kill him. It was the lead in the paint." Malcolm chuckled then froze.
"What is it?" I asked sitting up to turn to look at him.
He got up off the couch and walked over to the painting.
"Lead poisoning. From the paint. It causes dementia, paranoia, symptoms that manifest like..."
"Possession. Sister Agnes and the professor, they're restoring old paintings. We have to get to the cathedral now." I finished his sentence.
Gil and JT met us as we rushed up into the nave.
"Archbishop Argento?" I called out leading our group towards them.
"I can't believe you're here. We were just about to call." He looked at me.
"What happened?" Gil asked from beside me.
"It's Sister Agnes. She didn't show up for work today." Jonah answered his voice shaking.
"Professor Shaw, the Madonna that you've been restoring, are you in contact with lead paint?" Malcolm asked.
"Yes, but we wear masks and gloves. Why? I don't understand." He shook his head.
"Sister Agnes could be suffering from paranoid delusions brought on by lead poisoning. She thinks she's possessed." Malcolm continued.
As if on queue muffled bangs came from the distance but within the church.
"What was that?" Dani asked.
"It came from the crypt. But we're the only people here." Archbishop Argento told her.
The crypt... Honestly?
"Lily, Bright, stay with them. Dani, JT, you're with me. Let's go." Gil said before leading them away.
"Jonah? She's going to be okay." Malcolm said sensing his anxiety.
"I taught her. I taught her how to handle the paint. I did." Jonah replied.
"We know, Jonah." I nodded.
"Don't you outrank the lieutenant?" The Archbishop asked me.
"Technically, yes. When I'm consulting I try not to step on any toes." I answered.
"Lead poisoning. I didn't expect that. Poor Agnes." He said as we sat down on one of the pews.
"Tell me, Your Grace. Do exorcisms ever work?" Malcolm asked.
"In some cases, yes. Although... I don't take you for a believer. I know, Dr. Russell isn't." He answered.
"I wish. I really do. To say, "The power of Christ compels you," and what's wrong disappears? Would make my life so much easier." Malcolm looked sadly at me.
"Nothing's ever easy. Forget the prayers and the rites. Priests spend most of their time listening. Anything you want to discuss?"
"I told her to use the mask, wear the gloves. Use the mask, wear the gloves. Use the mask... Told her, told her, I told her. I told her." Jonah's voice cut in.
"Malcolm..." I muttered his name.
"Is that the painting they've been working on?" Malcolm asked the Archbishop.
"Yeah." He nodded.
Malcolm stood up leaving us on the pew and walked over to the large covered painting to pull the sheet off.
Underneath, the painting had been altered with black paint distorting the faces, making them look almost demonic.
"He ruined it." Archbishop Argento stood up gawking at the painting.
"It's Jonah. He's the one poisoned by the paint." Malcolm said looking at me.
"Wait. Don't." Malcolm reached out towards the Archbishop when he made a move towards Jonah.
"What?" He shook his head.
"You need to go. We'll keep an eye on him." I said standing up next to Malcolm.
"Okay." He nodded.
"Father? Lock the doors behind you." Malcolm called before pulling out his phone.
"Mr. David, I need emergency phone time." He said after a moment.
"I need you to tell me everything you know about lead poisoning. Lily and I found the killer, and he's hallucinating because of the lead paint."
"Malcolm." I muttered pulling my pistol from it's holster