On the Lookout

by Christy Barritt

  She beamed. “Thank you. I think it would be a really fun addition to my menu.”

  Cassidy took another bite. “I agree. People will love this.”

  “By the way, Clemson came and got the body out of my freezer. I guess the one at the morgue is officially repaired now.”

  “Good news. Did anyone find out about your secret?”

  “Surprisingly, I don’t think they did. But every time I hear someone whisper, I get a little paranoid.”

  “And what are people really whispering about?”

  “Probably the dead body.”

  “Not surprising.” Cassidy nodded slowly, then finished the rest of her raindrop cake.

  Lisa crossed her legs in the chair, looking like a teenager as she sat there chatting away. “How’s the investigation going? I know you can’t share details, but are things moving along?”

  Cassidy briefly reflected on the highlights of the past couple days. “We’re making progress.”

  “Progress is good. I heard you talked to Rebecca Jarvis.”

  In a small town, news like that wasn’t surprising. “We did. She argued with our victim, but at this point, we have no reason to believe she’s guilty.”

  “I did hear that she’s desperate for money.” Lisa shrugged. “Not that it would have anything to do with this. But … desperation does funny things. And I heard Carter’s dog found a bone?”

  “It was sent to the lab for investigation. If it is a human bone, it’s most likely from an old grave that the dog dug up. We’re not concerned at this point.” Even as she said the words, she remembered the text from Gilead’s book—about those who didn’t believe being an abomination worthy of death.

  That bone surely wasn’t connected to Anthony Gilead and his followers.

  Yet part of her feared it was.

  “Danger can’t seem to stay away from this island, can it?”

  Her words pressed on Cassidy’s chest. “No, it can’t. No, it most definitely can’t.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Is everyone in place?” Cassidy asked into the wired communication device attached to her shirt.

  She’d borrowed a car from Braden and parked it to the side of the gas station near the air tank. She’d dressed casually and pulled on a baseball cap. Her badge was handy in case she needed it, though.

  “Everything’s good here.”

  “We’re clear.”

  “Ready for action.”

  Dane waited with Ranger in a house right across the street. Leggott was positioned across from the entrance to the compound—in an old field full of discarded boats. He would alert them when Barnabas left to get gas. Mac was inside the station, browsing beef jerky. He’d been giving a rundown on his favorite flavors and which ones made him burp for days afterward. And Ty sat beside her.

  Everything was on track. Now she only hoped Barnabas stuck to his normal routine and came out to get that gas.

  “Anything yet, Leggott?” Cassidy asked. She stared at the fuel tanks where a lone truck filled up. The cold and darkness would keep a lot of people in tonight.

  “No, nothing. No movement at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was no one inside this place. It’s kind of weird.”

  Yeah, weird was a good way to describe Gilead’s Cove … and the whole Makir prophecy that she’d read about in that book—the very one that Ty was reading right now as he sat beside her.

  “You know what doesn’t make sense to me?” Ty asked, still staring at the pages. “Even if this Anthony Gilead guy did find this ancient manuscript, it would have probably taken years to translate. Yet he claims he found it five years ago, had it translated, verified by a select group of experts, and now he’s proclaiming it as the gospel.”

  “And even if translating an old, old manuscript like that wasn’t an issue, you have to consider the time it would take to verify something like that. And how did the manuscript survive all these years?”

  “He claims the scroll was found in some old earthenware vessel and very well preserved. Like he said, God showed him how to find it, and it nearly cost him his life. Which would have been worth sacrificing for the cause because, not only is he God’s gift to leadership, but he’s also a martyr.” Ty’s voice faded with disgust.

  “Any kind of expedition like that in the Middle East could cost a person his life. But the whole thing sounds fishy to me. I still have no idea how he got this out of the country.”

  “He could have smuggled it.” Ty showed her a page. “Look at this. Gilead has pictures of himself—in the desert. In a research lab bent over the document. Shaking hands with scholars.”

  “It still sounds like a con to me.” He could have hired actors, for all she knew. Cassidy wouldn’t put anything past some people.

  “I don’t buy it either. But for someone who’s looking for answers and who’s desperate to turn their life around … this could seem legit. He’s done a pretty good job presenting this as the truth.”

  “The best con artists are very good at what they do. That’s what makes them so scary.”

  Cassidy stared out the window, feeling anxious for everything to begin. She glanced at her watch. It was past seven now. Wasn’t that when Barnabas usually came out here?

  “Listen,” Cassidy started. “I know I’ve been on edge this week. I’m sorry. Things will return to normal when …”

  When what, Cassidy? When this cult leaves the island? How are you going to make them do that?

  She couldn’t, she realized. Best-case scenario, she could catch Gilead doing something illegal, lock him up, and hope the rest of his groupies went home. But she knew the truth was that, even if she managed to nab Gilead, there could very well be someone else waiting in the wings to take over.

  No, Gilead’s Cove would most likely be a long-term headache. If they were just a peaceful religious group who’d taken up residence on the island, that would be one thing. But she had a feeling this group wasn’t peaceful, and the longer they stayed here, the better the chance the rest of the island would feel the ripples of their actions.

  Maybe “ripples” wasn’t the right word. The tsunami? That was more like it.

  “This will pass,” Ty murmured. “It may not pass quickly, but it will pass.”

  Cassidy smiled and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for that reminder.”

  Yes, even her nightmare with DH-7 had eventually passed. Or mostly passed, she should say. But when she’d been in the middle of the situation? It had felt like the storm would never pass.

  She sat up straight as a car pulled up to a gas tank. A man who looked an awful lot like Barnabas stepped out—only he wasn’t wearing a tunic and khakis.

  “Leggott, did you see a vehicle leave the compound? A silver sedan?” Cassidy asked.

  “No, Chief. No one has left. I’ve been watching.”

  Cassidy turned to Ty. “I wonder if there’s another entrance or exit that we don’t know about.”

  “There must be because that looks like Barnabas to me.”

  This wasn’t the way Cassidy wanted to kick things off. But she was going to have to skip checking his speed and headlights. Instead, she’d pull out the big guns from the very beginning.

  “Okay, everyone in place,” Cassidy said. “Let’s get this show started.”

  Cassidy remained in the vehicle, waiting to see how things would play out before she made her appearance. She watched as Dane strode from the rental house, Ranger on the leash beside him. Dane wore his newly minted police uniform while Ranger had on a vest, indicating he was an official police dog.

  Cassidy could hear everything he said over her com. She could hear Dane sweet-talking Ranger. Hear him praising the canine for walking beside him. Even hear him breathing.

  “Excuse me, sir. I’m Officer Dane Bradshaw with the Lantern Beach PD, and we’re doing random drug checks here today. I wanted to let you know that, as a matter of routine, my dog will be checking out your vehicle.”

  “Don’t
you need permission for this?”

  “Permission from the county, yes. We’ve got it.”

  “This is an invasion of privacy.”

  “It’s perfectly legal, I assure you. If you don’t have anything to hide, then this shouldn’t be a problem.”

  From where Cassidy sat, she saw Barnabas’s tight, jerky motions. He definitely looked nervous.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” Barnabas said. “I just need some gas and some propane and then I’ll be gone. I don’t have anything.”

  As he said the words, Ranger alerted to something in the man’s car by sitting down and waiting.

  “I’m going to need you to pop your trunk, sir,” Dane said.

  Barnabas remained silent a moment and then … he started to flee.

  And that was Cassidy’s cue to emerge.

  She hurried from the car. Her legs burned as she pushed herself across the asphalt after their suspect. Barnabas, with his short legs, was no competition for her. She easily caught up with him.

  Cassidy lunged and grabbed his arm. They both tumbled to the ground, and Cassidy pulled out cuffs from her waistband.

  “If you’re not guilty, why are you running, Barnabas?” she asked, restraining his wrists behind him.

  He groaned. “All I was supposed to do was get gas.”

  Cassidy pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go see what’s in your trunk. You want to unlock it for us? Otherwise, we have our ways.”

  He groaned again. “Fine. I’ll unlock it.”

  Cassidy practically dragged him back to his truck. Mac and Ty now stood there, along with Dane and Ranger.

  “My keys are in the car,” Barnabas mumbled.

  Cassidy handed Barnabas off to Mac and grabbed the keys. She opened the trunk, not certain exactly what she thought she’d find inside.

  Four propane tanks stared back, along with a gray wool blanket.

  Ranger had alerted them. There had to be more to this.

  She pulled out the contents of the truck and felt around the edges of the compartment.

  As she did, Ranger began barking behind her.

  Using her fingers, she pried the bottom of the trunk up.

  Her heart beat in her ears as she scanned the rest of the trunk.

  And then she realized she’d hit the jackpot.

  Pulling on a glove, she picked up one of the small bags tucked beneath the carpet and raised it for inspection. White powder filled it.

  “Flakka,” she muttered. She’d recognize the drug anywhere.

  “I don’t know how that got there.” Barnabas’s voice climbed in pitch. “I swear.”

  “You’ve been found in possession of illegal drugs, Barnabas. I’m afraid we’re going to have to take you in.”

  “Please, they’ll never accept me back if they find out I’ve been in your custody. Let me go. Keep the drugs. I don’t want them.”

  “You should have thought about that before you brought drugs onto this island,” Mac said.

  “But I didn’t. I promise. I didn’t put them there. This is a community vehicle. I’m just a driver.”

  Cassidy had her bargaining chip—and he just might be panicked enough to spill what he knew. “Let’s talk about it down at the station.”

  Barnabas had been at the station now for three hours. He hadn’t spoken a word and had refused any phone calls. Instead, he sat in his holding cell and appeared to be meditating with closed eyes, crossed legs, and upturned palms.

  This wasn’t exactly how Cassidy had hoped things would go.

  The good news was that they had every right to hold the man. He’d been in possession of illegal drugs, and Cassidy had already begun the process of pressing charges against him. Unfortunately, the magistrate came into town only a couple days a week, and today wasn’t that day. The isolation of the island made everything take longer at times.

  They’d also been able to search Barnabas’s vehicle for any other evidence—including anything that might indicate Al had been in that vehicle at some point. It would verify to them that Al was indeed a part of Gilead, since no one inside the organization wanted to admit it.

  But it looked like Cassidy would be in for a long night.

  Dane remained at the station with her, and Leggott continued to search Barnabas’s vehicle and run his plates. Mac and Ty were in the lounge, passing their time there by experimenting on some of that very beef jerky Mac had been giving them commentary on earlier.

  Cassidy slipped into her office, giving Barnabas more space to think. She herself could use a quick breather. At her desk, she rubbed her temples and reviewed what she knew so far.

  Al had been found on the shore. He’d died from asphyxiation, most likely from a noose around his neck. He showed signs of being beaten with a whip of some sort.

  Gilead claimed he didn’t know him.

  Al’s estranged wife lied about coming into town early. She said she found her husband already dead but ran out of fear.

  Rebecca the realtor had argued with Al. He didn’t want her to let the real estate deal with Gilead go through and claimed the group didn’t need to buy any more property on the island.

  Though the two women remained suspects, Cassidy’s gut told her that this crime was somehow associated with the cult and not Trisha or Rebecca. But, without getting into the gated community, it would be nearly impossible to gain more information. The names she knew so far from being inside were Gilead, Barnabas, Dietrich, Kaleb, and Moriah.

  She also needed to consider that Al could have killed himself. If that was the case, who had put him in the water and why?

  Cassidy had so many questions.

  Ty knocked on her door. “Anything yet?”

  She shook her head. “Not a word.”

  “You going to wait him out?” Ty lowered himself into the seat across from her.

  “For now. After that we’ll try to find out ways to put more pressure on. I did run his name through the system, so I know a little more about him.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “His real name is Gary Largo, and he’s from Kentucky—near the West Virginia border. He worked in construction until he was busted for prescription drug fraud. He had an accident on the job two years ago and got hooked on painkillers. He was evicted from his home and living on the streets last year at this time.”

  “Sounds like just the type of person Gilead might prey on.”

  “My thoughts exactly. We tested his blood alcohol level, and he’s clean.”

  “Has he been branded?” Ty asked.

  Cassidy cringed as she remembered seeing the mark on the man’s back. They’d taken a picture of it when he’d been booked. “He has been, but, again, he doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t appear to have any close family, so I can’t use them for leverage.”

  “What can you use?”

  That was a great question, one that she’d been pondering herself. “The only thing I can think of to use is Gilead. Barnabas seems very concerned about being disassociated with them.”

  “They may be all he has.”

  “That could be true.” Cassidy glanced at her watch and stood. “It’s about time for me to try and get some answers out of him again. Hopefully, I’ll have better luck this time.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “You going to tell me where those drugs came from?” Cassidy stared at Barnabas. At the sweat sprinkled at his hairline. At the way his hands trembled.

  He had refused to talk—until Cassidy had offered him some Mountain Dew and a Snickers candy bar. She’d talked to the attendant at the gas station, who’d told her that Barnabas always purchased those two items when he came in. Apparently, they were his weakness.

  Cassidy would guess that junk food wasn’t allowed inside the compound.

  Either way, it had worked. Barnabas had come out of his meditative pose and seemed human again.

  “I’m telling you—I had no idea they were back there. I didn’t look beneath the floor co
vering in the trunk. I’m only using this vehicle to do errands for Gilead.”

  “Whose vehicle is it?” Cassidy already knew who it was registered to, but she wanted to hear what Barnabas would say.

  “I’m not sure.”

  She leaned closer, the bright lights of the tiny room unforgiving. “Barnabas, you see everyone who comes and goes from the compound. Certainly you know whose vehicle it is.”

  As moisture trickled down his temple, he tried to wipe his forehead against his shoulder. “We surrender our vehicles when we pledge to Gilead.”

  “Obviously, something happens to those vehicles after they’re surrendered.”

  “Gilead keeps a few for emergencies—he doesn’t keep them on the property, though.”

  “And who does this car belong to?”

  He swallowed hard. “I think it belongs to Kaleb.”

  Cassidy straightened, careful not to show any nerves. With each passing moment, she could feel Barnabas’s anxiety building. She hoped to use that to her advantage. The small room with two chairs and a table would make anyone feel apprehensive.

  “What do you know about Al Hartman?” Cassidy asked.

  Barnabas blinked. “Is that what this is about? You just wanted to nab me on some bogus charges so you could question me about another crime?”

  “There were drugs found in your vehicle. Those aren’t bogus charges.”

  He said nothing.

  “And your response indicates that you did know Al, and you know he was murdered.”

  “I heard you talking to Gilead about it.” The sweat glistened even more.

  “Do you know what happened to him, Barnabas?”

  “No! I don’t even know him.”

  “We know that he was a part of your movement. His wife found a book by Anthony Gilead in his possession. You can stop denying the facts.”

  Barnabas closed his eyes and shook his head. “I came here for peace, not trouble.”

  Cassidy leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Then tell me what you know. We can strike a deal.”