"You knew the victim, Father…?" Lee asked.

The priest's eyes were dark and pleading, like a puppy's. "Michael. Father Michael Flaherty."

"You were able to ID the body?"

"As I told him, I knew her because she was one of my-"

"Flock?"

"One of my comparative religion students." His voice was thin and ragged; he looked away, perhaps suppressing tears.

"I see."

"As I told the detective, she wasn't a regular in church. She attends another one, I believe." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Ralph is going to be so devastated when he hears about this."

"Ralph?"

"Her boyfriend. Nice kid, a science major." Father Flaherty let his hands fall to his sides, a gesture of surrender. "I, uh…I just came in to pray and tidy up the altar." He glanced at the vases of drooping and withered lilies to one side of the altar. A CSI worker was bent over them, dusting for fingerprints.

The priest swallowed hard. "And…there she was." He gave Lee a searching look. It was clear he was studying Lee to see how his explanation was being received. The priest was obviously concerned about establishing his own innocence, but that didn't necessarily mean he had anything to hide. Lee knew that even innocent people are often nervous in the presence of the police.

"Okay, thank you, Father Michael," he said, handing him a business card. "Here's my card if you think of anything else."

The priest looked at the card. "The detective already gave me one of his. Aren't you working together?"

"Yes, we are, except that-well, we sometimes work on cases from…different angles." He hoped that was enough to satisfy the priest. He had no wish to discuss the tension between criminal profilers and traditional law enforcement.

The priest fished a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it a swipe across his nose. "All right. He already asked me the usual questions-could I think of anyone who would want to hurt her, and all that. I couldn't think of anyone."