“Hmmm.” Mrs. Mabel’s mood changed. She eased on over to the other side of the desk, grabbed her glasses, and put them on her face. “And are you on it too, Haven?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Jesus.” Mrs. Mabel held her hands together in front of her. “We need one of ours on this. We have to find this man before he gets more girls.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Alexander scanned the office, checking each picture on the shelf. “We were wondering if we could look around the church.”
Mrs. Mabel turned to me as if I needed to translate.
I cleared my throat. “Since Ariana was taken here, we want to go over each step and make sure nothing was missed.”
“Pastor Miller is gone. He picked up his grandson Vernon and took him on over to Fanny’s.” Mrs. Mabel beamed. “He’s a good boy. He started as a bus boy over there.”
“He’s better than me. Fanny’s is always booked.” I widened my smile. “The restaurant isn’t far from here, so Pastor Miller should be back soon. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind us looking around a little.”
Mrs. Mable eyed Alexander and then me. “I know that he wouldn’t mind anyone looking around as long as you stay with him.”
Translation: Don’t let that white boy go snooping around the place and arrest everybody for nothing.
I placed my hands in my pocket. “Yes, ma’am. This shouldn’t take long.”
“Go on then.” Mrs. Mabel sat down in her chair. “You know your way around. All the classrooms are open. Bessie cleaned up everything and that child doesn’t know how to lock doors for nothing. I’ll phone Pastor Miller and let him know you’re here.”
I laughed. “Okay. Thank you. And when you call Pastor Miller, could you tell him that we want to talk to him?”
“Good because he will want to talk to you. Since Melody Luther’s body was found this morning, he has been praying with the family most of the day.” Mrs. Mabel shook her head. “It’s not right what they’re doing to our girls.”
Alexander stepped forward. “Who?”
“Reverend Thompson and his clan. The Thompson family has been terrorizing black people for years. Even when I was a little girl, parents told kids to run the other way if they were on a dark street and spotted old man Thompson’s red truck. He was an evil man. Reverend Thompson isn’t as bad as his father, but he’s evil too.”
“Did you ever see Reverend Thompson around here?” Alexander asked. “Did he ever have a reason to come to this church or anybody in his clan?”
“No. He knows better than to step on this property.”
“Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Mabel. We’ll be around here.” I guided Alexander out and walked us down the hall.
With each step, he checked the pictures on the walls. “Everyone is certain that the town racist did it.”
“It makes sense. Reverend Thompson is usually the villain of most people’s stories.”
“Even yours?”
“Even mine.” I pointed to the room at the corner of the hallway. “That’s where my mother teaches Sunday School. She’s taught it there for twenty years. I already asked and the room didn’t change.”
“When did you ask her?”
“The night Ariana disappeared; my mom called me crying. I walked her through it all, trying to get as many details as I could.” I turned left at the end of the corner. “And here’s the girls’ bathroom.”
“Fullbrooke’s forensics went through it. This was before they called us. They gathered no new fingerprints besides most of the female church members in the church. No males.”
“That makes sense.” I knocked on the door, opened it a little, and then ducked my head in. “Is anybody in here?”
No one answered back.
I stepped in.
Alexander followed and scanned the space. “Where is the passageway?”
The whole place was done in pink and white—from the floor tiles to the painted walls. Three sinks were on the left. A big vase of roses sat at the center of the sink. I knew Mrs. Mabel always liked to keep a fresh bouquet there.
Six stalls were on the right.
I walked forward. “It’s the last stall.”
“The handicapped one?”
“Yes.” I got to it and opened the door.
We both walked in.
A small metal cover was behind and on the right of the toilet. It was about three feet high and three feet wide. Not many adults would think to pull at it and crawl through. Now that I was more mature, I found it crazy that I did it with others. Surely, our parents knew something was up. We always got dust on our clothes. It took forever to wipe the spiderwebs away, before heading back to the pews to listen to Pastor Miller’s sermon.
Alexander dug in his pocket, took out gloves, and put them on. When he finished, he walked up to the metal cover and pushed it. The cover knocked away.
He frowned. “Wouldn’t the cops have discovered this? It wasn’t put back on well.”
“Mom didn’t think the police took them seriously.”
“It was the sixth missing girl.”
“For this year,” I corrected. “Black girls are always missing each year. Most of the time, the cops say it’s runaways or the parents covering up abuse.”
“As in they think the parents accidentally killed the child and hid the body somewhere?”
“Yes.”
Alexander lowered to the ground. “We need to look at all the old cases on the missing girls.”
“You think the Angel Maker might’ve taken them too?”
“I think these girls weren’t the Unsub’s first group. He’s too organized and clean now. He’s definitely had some years of practice.” Alexander ducked his head inside.
I knew there was a two-foot distance of a crawl, not even much before one entered concrete steps to go down to the basement.
Alexander crawled in. And for one unprofessional moment, I noticed his muscled behind. It was an inopportune time.
Lord have mercy. He definitely gets some gym time in.
When he disappeared, I lowered and crawled in too. By the time I got to him, he had a tiny flashlight on and was waving the light along the space.
He flashed the light down the stairs. “I can’t believe you and others used this dark, creepy place as an escape.”
“That’s how bored out of our minds we were.”
“Apparently.” He put the light on the ground. “There’s footprints on the dusty floor. Looks like boots and sneakers. Could still be kids sneaking away from service or. . .”
“It could be our Unsub.” I swallowed.
He handed me the light, took out his phone, and dialed someone. “Stein? Okay. We’re inside. Barron was right. The secret passageway is open. Fresh footprints are here. Call a forensics unit to the church.”
My stomach tightened. Mrs. Mable would be nervous about having a unit here, but in the end, this could get us closer to finding the Angel Maker. The community didn’t want the Feds snooping around too much, but it was a necessary evil.
“Good. Wait for them. Barron and I are going to check the basement out.”
I held in my smile.
See. I’m helping, and I’m not going anywhere.
As if Alexander heard me, he whispered, “Good job, Barron.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t celebrate. It’s a clue, but it may be nothing.”
Or it may be everything.
It was only six steps before we hit the basement. I always assumed maintenance used these steps to get back and forth. I wasn’t sure why they were here.
When we hit the bottom of the steps, we remained side-by-side. Dust covered old boxes. In some corners, cigarette butts littered the floor.
“The new generation is still using this place as a smoke room.” He flashed the light on a few joints and condom wrappers. “They’ve also upgraded their smoke breaks to more.”
Uh oh. People’s business is about to be exposed.
“Where’s the steps to the boy’s bathroom?” he asked.
“Over here.” I walked ahead of him.
He kept the light in my direction as I guided him. “How many kids would come down here?”
“We had a rule. No more than five people at a time.”
“Interesting.”
“Anymore and then somebody’s mom or dad would suspect something.”
“During that time, how many kids knew about this hole?”
“God. It must’ve been at least thirty of us naughty rascals.”
“Any of the parents of these little girls?”
I let out a long breath. “All of the victim’s parents had at least one that attended when I was here. Fullbrooke Baptist is a popular church. It’s the upper crust Blacks in town. My father was considered a prominent person. When Fullbrooke had a black mayor, he went here. Any wealthy black person is a member. Any politician black or white will attend on holidays throughout their election years, hoping to get the black vote.”
“So, you could write down a list of the parents that you knew attended?”
“Easily. If it wasn’t the mother, then it was the father.”
“Hmmm.” He stopped us at the steps and then walked up them. “According to you, at least thirty kids knew about this place?”
“Yes. Of course, now they’re adults.”
“And the new generation may know?”
“Yes. As well as all the church’s staff. I’m sure they’ve tried to hammer the opening, and the kids have reopened it.”
Alexander lowered to the ground, crawled through the small passageway, and shoved the other side. The metal cover fell off. He went through the bathroom. I followed. When I came through, he extended his hand to help me up.
“I’ve got it.” I rose on my own and scanned the men’s bathroom—all blue and white. This one only had two stalls. The rest were urinals and a smaller sink.
Alexander shut off the flashlight. “The Unsub chose Ariana, watched her, and knew what Sunday school class she had.”
“Each class has a different bathroom break.”
“He knew when Ariana would be in the bathroom.”
Something bothered me. “But how did he know he could get her? She could’ve chosen any stall or. . .”
“Then, he didn’t pick Ariana.”
A shiver ran through me. “He chose whatever little girl would use that stall.”
Alexander ran his fingers through his hair. “But is he a member of the church or was he a maintenance man or plumber that snuck into the building, waited in the basement during Sunday school, and came up at the right time?”
“Both options scare me.”
“Welcome to the case.”
Chapter 5
Holy Communion
Alexander
The Forensics unit arrived fifteen minutes later. Barron and I went outside to greet them. I let Barron guide Forensics inside. Richards went along with her.
Stein smoked a cigarette in the parking lot. “What do you think?”
I stayed out with him. “I think the Unsub definitely used the basement to get Ariana.”
“Of course, but I was asking about Haven.”
“Agent Barron,” I corrected.
“I like saying her first name. It’s pretty.”
“We’ve got more things to worry about besides pretty names.”
Stein blew smoke. “You know that two minutes of happiness or peace won’t hurt the investigation. At some point, you can turn off Agent Alexander King and enjoy your life.”
“And what happens when another little girl is taken?”
“You’ll do what you always do. Find him.”
“What’s your thoughts on Agent Richards?”
“Besides the fact that she’s smart, funny, and smells good?”
I scowled. “Yes. Besides that.”
Stein took a puff of his cigarette. “She thinks the Unsub is a black man between the age of 30 to 50. Religious. Neat. Social, but still an introvert. Married with kids. Family man, which is why he doesn’t hurt the girls. His taking and killing them serves a higher purpose. It’s a ritual of some sort. Perhaps, even a sacrifice to God for the greater good.”
“He’s giving the kids to God? I hate serial killers based on religion. They’re usually harder to catch.” I looked back at the church. “A black man that’s married with kids and active within the church. If we make this profile public, the streets will be full of rioters by the evening.”
“Haven said something similar when Tina brought her theory up.”
I nodded. “So, Haven didn’t like the idea either?”
“Not at all.”
I shrugged. “It’s a fair point. After six precious black girls are taken and killed, we don’t want to storm into black households and grab the men.”
“Correct. However, Tina’s profile makes sense.”
“It does, but perhaps the killer wants us to think that he’s black.”
Stein dipped ash on the ground. “His care of the girls says that he loves them, not hates them.”
“Correct.”
Stein dropped the cigarette and stomped it out. “This isn’t Thompson and his crew. They’re too racist to care.”
“It still could be.” I directed my gaze to the sky. “Either way, we’re missing something.”
A dark blue Cadillac drove up to the parking lot and then parked next to us. Pastor Miller stepped out of it. Although he was my father’s age, he looked as young as me. No weight. No sign of balding. Barely any wrinkles on his face. He probably jogged a few times a week and kept a healthy lifestyle—good food and no alcohol.
Pastor Miller walked over to us, holding a bible in his left hand. “Mrs. Mabel says that you have police down in the basement gathering fingerprints.”
I extended my hand to shake his. “We do.”
Pastor Miller looked at my hand and didn’t shake it. “When Ariana went missing, I told the cops to check that basement.”
I put my hand in my pocket. “I wasn’t aware of that. The information wasn’t in any of the files.”
“You would’ve known that if you allowed me to help with this investigation.”
“I apologize for my mistake. Now, I’m asking for your help.”
“But I hope it’s not too late, Agent King.” Pastor Miller tapped the Bible against his leg. “Those boys should’ve been down there the night Ariana went missing.”
“They should have.”
Pastor Miller scowled. “Mrs. Mabel says that you have Haven working the case too.”
“That’s correct. Agent Barron will be helping us.”
The Pastor’s expression softened. “Good. She’s smart and she cares.”
“We all care.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Mrs. Mabel appears to be a wealth of knowledge around here.”
“She gets the communication going when others are not so forthcoming.”
Could you give me a break, Pastor?
I cleared my throat. “That will change.”
“I imagine it will. Now that Haven is here.” Pastor Miller walked off.
Stein and I exchanged glances.
Here goes nothing.
I rushed after the Pastor.
Stein followed.
I yelled, “We would like to talk to you, Pastor Miller!”
Pastor Miller didn’t stop walking or turn around. “Will Haven be present?”
I stifled my growl. “If that would make you more comfortable.”
“It will. I don’t think the FBI or police are really listening to us. But Haven will. This is her people. This is her community. She’s taken this seriously.”
“We all are,” I argued.
Pastor Miller stopped and spun around. “If you were serious, then these girls would’ve been found before he killed them. And that’s the truth.”
He’s upset. It makes sense. I would be mad too if I told the police about
the basement passageway and they ignored it.
“When can we talk, Pastor?”
He turned back around and stomped off. “Give me five minutes to welcome Haven back, and then we can meet you in the office.”
“Sounds good.”
“Mrs. Mable will show you where it is.”
I’m sure she will.
Pastor Miller headed off.
I glanced over my shoulder. “The church told the police about the basement.”
Stein shrugged. “We’ve already established that Fullbrooke police dropped the ball on this.”
“We’re going to have to retrace every step now. Each place the victims were taken from must be re-checked. New interviews of every witness. The police did shit work.”
“And we should hurry,” Stein added. “Before the next girl. Tina thinks that the numbers of girls are significant. He’ll take six, rest one month, and then take six more.”
“Why?”
“God took six days to create our world and then he rested on the seventh. It’s just a theory she’s working with.”
“But it could relate.” I quickened my pace. “Then, we’ll hurry. The eight-month is coming soon.”
Minutes later, I waited in Pastor Miller’s office.
Supervising the forensics team, Stein remained outside the church with Tina. It was hard not to call the women by their first names since he’d been doing it.
I guess I’ll just start saying Brett since we’re all buddy-buddy around here.
On a case, there needed to be some form of discipline.
Haven?
It was a pretty name for a beautiful woman and absolutely perfect for her. And all those facts were the reason why I shouldn’t even be saying the word.
It took ten minutes for Haven and Pastor Miller to get to the office. Haven giggled as she walked inside.
“God worked hard on you, girl.” Pastor Miller closed the door behind him. “Your mother and father must’ve come to me every week, asking me to pray for you.”
Haven blushed in embarrassment. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“It was at least once a month.” He smiled. “And they say pastor children are devilish.”
“I wasn’t devilish.” She held a wicked grin.
“Well, you sure raised a lot of hell in your younger days, but I’m proud of you. I think you did mighty fine for yourself.”
Missing Hearts Page 6
