“She left before or after the first circle of women?” Ray asked softly.

Mason’s heart was pounding, and he fought to slow his breathing. The conversation had a fragile edge to it that could shatter at the wrong question or tone. He didn’t want to scare Esther away.

“After. I don’t know when. Maybe ten years. And his other son vanished when he was about twenty. He’d been a rebellious boy. Cesare had a difficult time keeping him in line.”

What had this man done to his family?

He glanced at Ray’s composed face. Ray’s shirt pocket twitched over his heart, revealing his rapid heartbeat. Ray’s thinking it, too. We’ve got a serial killer on our hands, hiding behind the guise of a pastor.

“Rumors spoke of women who came to the church. Runaways, women seeking a safe place.” Mason leaned forward to hear Esther’s soft words. “They’d stay at the church for a few weeks, getting back on their feet, and then vanish again. Even the ones who expressed desire to put down roots in that community. They never stayed. All left and never returned. Never communicated with the friends they’d made in their short stay.”

Mason thought back to the previously identified women from the old circle. All women in transition. Had they sought out the church as a sanctuary only to find a hell?

“Who do you think killed the girls last week?” Ray asked Esther.

She slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. It was exactly as the scene before, but Abbadelli is an old man now. How could he orchestrate it? But I don’t know who else could be evil enough to do such a thing.”

“Abbadelli is still alive?” Ray asked.

“Yes. Lorenzo continued to follow him even though he’d moved to the southern part of the state for a while. Nico and his brothers stopped talking with their father when he railed at them to attend Abbadelli’s sermons twice a week after he’d moved back to this area.”

Sermons twice a week? That sounded like a lot of preaching in Mason’s mind.

“Lorenzo apparently was a dedicated member of Abbadelli’s flock,” Mason stated. “Could he have killed those young women if Abbadelli ordered it?”

Esther shrugged. “I don’t know. How would he convince the girls to do as he says? He was an old man, too.”

Mason agreed. He didn’t see Lorenzo as the type of man to convince a bunch of young women to meet him in Forest Park at night. “From an eyewitness account, we’re looking for a younger man. Possibly one who does photography.”

Recognition flashed in Esther’s eyes. “Abbadelli’s grandson is a photographer for his school paper. My nephew knows him. He goes to the same high school as Kyle.”

Ray pulled a tiny notebook out of his pocket and rapidly flipped through it. He halted on a page and ran his finger down his notes, stopping on a line. “Kyle. Is Kyle Carey your nephew? The one arrested for the shooting at the memorial service?” he asked.

Esther’s shoulders slumped slightly. “He is. I don’t know what he was thinking. He told us he spotted the woman who convinced his mother, Jackie, to leave her family at that memorial service. He was very upset, but he wasn’t going to shoot anyone.”

“Wait a minute? He wasn’t upset at a teenage girl? His focus was on an adult who he blamed for his family falling apart?” Callahan interjected.

Ray put two and two together. “Katy Morris? She counsels women in crisis situations and was there with Trinity. Could she have worked with his mother?”

Esther was nodding. “That name sounds familiar. Kyle tries to follow Abbadelli. Tries to bring back Abbadelli’s teachings. He has been very angry since his mother left. She couldn’t take any more of her husband’s rules. I doubt anyone can blame a counselor for her actions. I’ve heard Kyle say we should return to the old ways.”

“The old ways of beating down your wife?” Mason spit out.

“He is a boy. Right now he sees Abbadelli as some sort of symbol to admire. But he is friends with Abbadelli’s grandson. Perhaps the two of them…” She trailed off, a nauseous expression covering her face. “Perhaps together they…” She couldn’t finish.

Mason completed her thought in his head. Perhaps together they decided to punish today’s young women.

“Jesus Christ,” said Ray. “They’re just teens. Why would they do that? To get the old guy’s admiration? Maybe he orchestrated it. Manipulated the teens.”

“Abbadelli is definitely the pastor Brody was looking for. He wasn’t sure if he was dead or not. Do you know where he lives?” he asked Esther.

“He lives where he’s always lived,” she said simply. “We don’t go near him. My husband doesn’t want to remember his years in that church.”

“I wouldn’t call it a church,” said Mason. “This has cult written all over it. And Abbadelli is the aging Manson.”

Esther’s lips whitened. “Yes,” she whispered. “I would call it a cult. They don’t follow a religion. They follow the teachings of one mortal man. A very bad man. No one knew for certain if he killed all those women so long ago. It was only rumors. There was no proof. And if someone reported him, what would happen to their family? Would they die, too?” Esther wiped at her eyes. “I have to imagine they were all too scared of him.”

Mason’s gut was on fire. He wanted to hit someone. Preferably Cesare Abbadelli. And some of his spineless followers. Families had looked the other way as a madman possibly murdered women seeking help. And possibly his own wife and son? How could they do nothing?