Author: Jerry J. K. Rogers
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/jerry-j-k-rogers/page,11,23159-the-fallen-and-the-elect.html
Chapter 6
To say that Detective Green was a little upset at having to escort Michael Saunders, Sister Justine, and Father Hernandez while they investigated the incident scene would be an understatement. He was thoroughly livid. He was confident he was wasting his time while not out investigating with his peers and their FBI counterparts. It didn’t help that their FBI liaison had been called back to the station’s incident control center to be assigned to another active investigation team. And having to provide key crime scene information and portions of their investigation to the Church’s team didn't help to improve his attitude.
Detective Matthews, whose hacking cough disrupted the eerie silence, took the assignment in stride taking time to play a word puzzle game on his smart phone. The three others perused the empty chapel annex deep in thought and attempted to rationalize the cause of all the deaths. In the foyer, they inspected the platters, buffet trays now devoid of food with plastic number markers and chits placed in their stead. Fanciful wicker baskets fortressing elaborate patterned silverware, stacks of unused gold-trimmed porcelain plates both large and small, folded cloth napkins, and several artistic centerpieces sat undisturbed upon seven white-cloth-covered service tables. Sister Justine and Father Hernandez glanced at a couple of the photos and the floor plan they received from the police. Nothing appeared moved out of place. Whereas most of the fatalities had been in the sanctuary, only a couple of body markers rested on the floor by the doorway from the foyer to the main sanctuary and near the buffet tables.
An hour passed; both detectives kept to themselves believing they wouldn’t find anything new since the site was thoroughly scoured over the previous couple of days. If there were an alleged visitation, the remnants turned out to be elusive. They deliberated whether they would ever find anything else.
Father Hernandez gingerly walked the outer perimeter of the pews, careful not to disturb the number markers where the bodies laid three days prior. He browsed the marker positions and then surveyed a copy of the floor plan to ensure their placement still matched. Michael and Sister Justine pondered the front of the sanctuary near the altar. According to what Stephen had said during their earlier interview with him, it was where the angel was to have made his appearance. The dark maroon carpet on the two steps and adjoining dais appeared completely new, without a blemish of dirt. Where the casket would’ve rested during the ceremony, the softened sunlight shining through the Picasso-esque patterned stained glass windows and downward-directed diffused ceiling lighting gave an otherworld impression. A wisp of air circulated through the chapel. Michael was now intrigued by his sense of smell. Sniffing with an inquisitive look on his face, Sister Justine watched a rapid change to Michael's expression, and before she could phrase and ask a question, he dropped to all fours and smelled the carpet.
“Michael, what are you...”
Before she could finish, Michael stood up and put his hands on Sister Justine's shoulders to coax her down. He told her to take a whiff. Eyes widening, they both stared at each other with amazement. By this time, the other three men had raced to the altar where the Michael and Sister Justine were still on all fours.
“What's so interesting?” Father Hernandez asked first.
“Get down here and smell boy toy,” Michael answered.
An irritated scowl formed on the Father's face. When assailed with the puppy-dog look of “please” on Sister Justine's face, he complied. His eyes widened after taking a sniff. The two police detectives followed seeing the priest’s reaction.
“So, it smells nice,” Detective Green, noted thinking he was going to smell something out of the ordinary. “They use carpet freshener, big deal.”
“You don't understand detective,” Father Hernandez said. “Remember what Stephen Williams said, and according to reports of other angelic events, they mentioned a distinct smell of flowers, almonds, and an indescribable sweet scent. That’s exactly what this smells like.”
“You know how some smells invoke memories?” Michael asked Sister Justine.
“Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing,” she replied.
“What’s going on?” Father Hernandez asked.
“Ever smell something so delightful you can’t describe it, yet it brings back earlier memories? Well, this smell reminds us of exactly the same smell we experienced down in Mexico years ago. If I didn’t know better, I would call this the same smell.”
Detective Green stood up and worked his way to the end of the dais by the wall next to a brightly polished brass, three-legged flowerpot stand. “Well then, let's check something out.” Reaching the wall, he got back down on all fours again to take another whiff of the carpet: carpet shampoo, glue compounds, and a synthetic plastic-like smell, nothing resembling what he just experienced by the altar.
“Well, what do you smell?” Detective Matthews asked standing up.
“Just carpet.”
The remaining three stood up. The action of Father Hernandez putting the floor plan atop the altar caught Detective Matthews’s attention. Staring attentively for a few seconds and tilting his head to the left, he shifted himself around to view the map to where the wall he was facing was toward the top of the page.
“What's up Dion?” Detective Green asked, noticing his partner's actions.
Detective Matthews remained quiet. Staring intently at the page, he focused on the evidence marker number positions identifying where the deceased bodies had lain. Patterns began to appear.
“Dion, what's going on?” his partner questioned again.
“Hold on,” Detective Matthews responded. No one noticed the rasp in his voice was now completely cleared. Detective Matthews gazed for several minutes at the 11x17-inch sheet containing the chapel floor plan. Dismissing each actual number, he viewed each grid square as if a distinct spot and was confident a pattern did exist. Even though the shapes of the pews, walls, doorway, and other objects drawn on the blueprint were outlined, they didn't distract Detective Matthews from seeing the pattern of dots form two words. “Do you guys see that?”
Everybody else stared at the floor plan. Each in their own perspective could only make out a random pattern of numbers overlaying the layout of the furniture. Father Hernandez and Sister Justine thought possibly there was an image of a face or religious symbol. They dismissed it as superfluous after viewing a few more minutes. Detective Matthews was confident of the pattern his mind formed. Grabbing a pencil from his pocket, he started to connect the dots. Although each letter he connected was not the same size or orientation, he continued forming the words. They became more pronounced to the others watching: “two hearts.”
No one could utter a word, each bemused for different reasons. Detective Green divorced the words from any significance with the incident, thinking this was just a mere coincidence. Both Father Hernandez and Sister Justine began thinking of the significance of the words in relation to their understanding and knowledge of the Bible: no immediate correlation. Michael thought of himself and his past relationship with Sister Justine. Associating nothing else with the words, his mind went blank. Detective Matthews felt this was way above him and made sure he wrote the words into his notepad and recorded the date and time.
“Well? What does it mean? You’re the religious experts,” Detective Green asked.
“We'll need to take this back and do some research. We'll probably cross-reference with church history, Biblical references, who knows?” Father Hernandez answered.
“So what you're saying,” Michael jumped in, “is you don't have the slightest idea what any of this means?”
“You do? Aren’t you supposed to be the real expert?”
“No, it's probably just a coincidence those words were formed from the pattern of the bodies.”
“My thought exactly,” Detective Green commented. “Does this mean anything?”
“Let's see if we can find anything else. You never know what it could m
ean,” Sister Justine said.
“So how come no one saw this before now?” Detective Matthews asked.
There was silence. No one could think of an immediate response. Father Hernandez decided to answer. “Maybe because no one was looking for it.”
All five felt energized by the revelation and continued to look for any clues as to what might have happened in the chapel. Two hours passed. Michael now felt this might not have been too much of a waste after all. Coming out to placate Sister Justine was his main purpose, and if he didn't find anything useful, he would call it quits and head out on his own way, abandoning the investigation. They broke away from the altar to search the sanctuary of the chapel, the other viewing rooms, the office and administration areas, and the waiting rooms. They decided not to check the body holding area, preparation area, or other areas downstairs, feeling they were of no relevance. In the rooms they did check, every time something appeared somewhat out of place, out of the ordinary, or distinctive in some way, they would spend extra time surveying the area.
Father Hernandez examined one of the offices where one victim died outside the sanctuary while working at his desk trying to see if the number marker and floor plan held any hidden secrets or patterns. Studying the sheet for 15 minutes, nothing jumped out, just a simple number. Sister Justine analyzed the multi-tiered candelabra on the dais, even going as far as trying to see if there was any significance in the different heights of each burned-down candle. Michael decided not to be as thorough. This was partly because he felt that if the words they’d found were important, in the obtrusive nature of how they were discovered, anything else found probably wouldn't be as obscure.
Another hour passed. Detective Green recommended that it would be a good time to finish up. Finding that the map of the bodies on the floor plan spelled out two words was peculiar, but if they did find anything else, it wouldn't be as dramatic. The soft marimba ringtone of Detective Green's cell phone echoed in the chapel. It was Dr. McKay's number displayed on the caller ID.
“Hey Doc, what is it?” Detective Green asked. “We’ll be right there,” he said, ending the call after a minute of silence. “We gotta go,” he directed to his companions. “Doc is saying there’s something strange going on concerning the bodies from what happened here.”
Neither detective nor Father Hernandez noticed Michael and Sister Justine pass a glance of concern to one another.