Shane McCollum had entered Kate's at 10:15. He had immediately seen the blonde cop that had been questioning his friend June. A glance around and he sees the other cop.
"So…not Kate's tonight," he mutters and leaves.
He briefly considers trying Full Stop but worries if they had found Kate's they had found the other bar, too. He smiles. He'd hunted at one other but not found a soul to save there. Perhaps tonight's the night. He makes his way to Maestro's, arriving just before 11. He wouldn't have long to hunt tonight but maybe he would still find someone who needed retribution, either for them or against them.
He makes his way to the bar, ordering a beer since he didn't trust an American bar to not ruin a Black and Tan. He slowly looks around until his eyes fall on a woman sitting alone. She twirls her glass around, quite obviously bothered by something. Shane notes where the cameras are and pulls his cap low, easing the cross from under his shirt so it falls clearly upon his dark shirt. He walks up and sits beside her, motioning to the bartender.
"I think tha lady needs another as she contemplates tha worries uv tha world," he says, letting his Irish lilt shine through.
She glances at him. "Uh, look, I can see you're a nice guy but I just don't- -"
Shane extends his hand. "Father McCollum. And ye look like ye need an ear, no' a date."
She shakes his hand and nods. "Yeah…maybe I do. Lyndsey Schneider."
"So tell me, Lyndsey, what be troublin' yer brow?"
Before long she is telling him about how she has been engaged to a guy for over a year but suddenly someone else is turning her head. She'd been with her fiancé since college, 5 years now. She wasn't sure if it was really doubts about their relationship or just that this new man was so exciting.
A song starts to weave through Shane's head. Yes…she was the one. By the time she finishes her tale he has assured her that there is nothing wrong with having doubts. He tells her that her heart will help her make the right decision. And then he makes his subtle move.
"Well, I hate ta leave ye but I do need ta get home. Tell me, will ye be okay, lass?"
She nods. "Yes, Father. Thank you so much for the talk. I really appreciate it."
He smiles. "'Twas no problem." He makes the sign of the cross. "God bless ye, Lyndsey." He starts to stand then stops. "Uh, just how do ye plan ta get home tanight?"
She shrugs. "Uh, cab, I guess. Or maybe I'll walk."
He nods. "Oh. Okay." He starts to walk away. He stops, as if warring with himself. Finally he turns back to her. "Lyndsey, I feel like yer one uv my flock now. Please, allow me ta escort ye home? Will help me sleep tanight ta know ye got home safely."
She shakes her head. "Oh, no, Father, I couldn't put you out like that."
He smiles, nothing but sincerity on his face. "Trust me, Lyndsey, 'tis no problem. Consider it an extension uv our chat and tha conclusion uv my ministry to ye."
She sighs. "Well, okay. Something tells me your car will smell nicer than a cab."
He laughs. "Well, I do 'ope so."
They walk down the street to a public lot. He opens his passenger door for her and she smiles as she thanks him. As she turns her back to get in he swings the small baton he had surreptitiously removed and extended. She barely grunts as she drops unconscious into the seat.
Shane quickly pushes her in, shoving her to the floorboard so no one will see her. He drives them out to an abandoned warehouse down on the wharf. He knows he only has a few minutes to finish before she starts to wake up from the knock to the head. She had not had enough to drink to extend her unconsciousness.
He lays her down on the ground and rips open her shirt. He pulls out his knife and starts to carve.
Forty-five minutes later her last gurgling breath leaves her. He rolls her to get rid of some of the blood before rolling her in a tarp and driving her up Broadway. He had not yet chosen the theatre but he knows inspiration will hit him. He smiles when it does. A story of criminals and cops.
"Perfect," he whispers. He drives down the alley behind the theatre where 'Chicago' plays. He sits, lights off, for ten minutes to make sure no one is leaving late. He had nearly been caught a few nights before when some dancers had stayed behind for a late practice. Tonight there was no one around. He gets out and carries the late Lyndsey Schneider to the backdoor and lays her on the ground.
"Farewell, Lyndsey. Yer cheating soul is now in God's hand."