“Here, let me tie the mask on you,” she said. “Amos is right. The air’s a little ripe down here today.”
He stood still as she placed the mask over his nose and mouth and tied the strings at the back of his head. The touch of her hands on his hair sent goose bumps marching down his spine.
“It smells a lot like a eucalyptus tree,” he said, forcing his thoughts away from her.
“I read somewhere that koala bears love those leaves.”
Jacob chuckled. “There are more than 500 different types of eucalyptus trees, all poisonous to every other creature, but the koalas only eat from about two dozen varieties. They’re picky about which leaves they’ll eat, too.”
“I’ll bet they smell like furry little cough drops.”
“The joeys do.”
“I thought joeys were baby kangaroos.” Her nose crinkled in confusion.
He wanted to reach down and drop a kiss on it.
Steady, mate. She’d probably shoot me if I did.
He swallowed awkwardly. “Pretty much all marsupial young are called joeys, but you’re right. Most people associate the term with kangaroos. Adult koala bears weigh about twenty-five pounds, and while you can smell the eucalyptus on them, you can also smell urine and the musk they use to attract mates. Most people find the odor less than pleasant.”
“Eww,” she said and chuckled. “You’ve just ruined a childhood wish to have one of those cute, furry bundles.”
“Stick with a cat,” he said, wanting to hear her laugh freely like that again. “Their claws are shorter, and they make much better pets. Koalas spend 90 percent of their time sleeping, but when they’re awake, they can be very dangerous. I’d love to be able to tell you all about Australia sometime.”
“I’d like that, too. Can you tie mine, please? The smell in here probably rivals your adult koalas.”
He tied the mask behind her head and was about to suggest lunch with him when the loudspeaker crackled.
“Here’s the first body,” Amos’s voice echoed in the hallway, ending the conversation, and the curtain covering the window opened.
Jacob stared at the stretcher. The attendant pulled down the sheet, revealing a young man in his late twenties, with blond hair and a reddish chin beard. If this boy had been on the compound when Jacob had lived there, he’d have been a child, at least ten years younger than he was.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize him. He doesn’t resemble anyone I remember either.”
“That’s okay,” Lilith said. “This is a long shot anyway.” She pressed the intercom button. “Still a John Doe, Amos. Can we have the next one?”
Amos wheeled the second corpse into view, and Jacob shook his head and frowned. “I should know this guy. He’s got to be at least fifty. He’d have been an adult, but I’ve never seen him before. I’m sorry. I guess, I’m not much help after all.”
She smiled and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. We weren’t too optimistic this would work. Here’s the last one.”
Amos pulled down the sheet and Jacob recoiled from the window. Damn. “I know him. He’s Seth Miller. He looked after the horses. He was a little slow, if you know what I mean, but he was great with the animals. He could tame the wildest stallion and have him eating sugar out of his hand. I followed him around like a puppy dog when my dad was busy with my uncle. As I got older, I spent less time in the stables and more time with the tutors. I was supposed to go to school the year after I disappeared.”
“What were you planning to study?”
“Agricultural engineering. My uncle insisted that boys be groomed to help the commune, so none of us were given the option for fine arts or political science. My oldest brother Peter studied geology, and Michael wanted to be an architect; Simon, had a degree in accounting, while David was studying veterinary medicine. I don’t remember what Adam’s field was, but Timothy—he was my age—was going into computer science.”
“Computers are rather high-tech for the commune, aren’t they?”
He chuckled but couldn’t keep the bitterness he felt out of his voice. “My uncle was an astute businessman. He and my dad resurrected the commune and turned it into a moneymaking proposition. They bred some of the finest rodeo horses in the country: broncos, mustangs, barrel horses, and chuck wagon teams. Medical advancements in breeding were important, as well as computer technology to advertise and keep track of sales and inventory. With my uncle, it was a case of do as I say, not do as I do. The other boys in the commune were sent into more practical careers: plumbers, electricians, mechanics, and construction. No matter what field they were in, it was designed to assist the growth and well-being of the community. I was happy going into agriculture since I loved farming. I guess I figured that out on my own.”
He shrugged and took one last look at the man who’d been a friend to him. How had that kindly old man turned into a killer?
Lilith depressed the intercom. “We’ve got a winner. Seth Miller. Did you get that, Amos?”
“I did. Who’d you want next?”
“Mr. Andrews?”
“Please call me Jacob. I think after yesterday we can dismiss the formalities.” He noted she didn’t offer to let him use her first name. “I’ll see my brother, please.”
“James Colchester.”
“How did Seth die?”
“The night they stormed the farm, he was one of the armed guards posted on the roof. The snipers had to take them out to safely rescue the women. They’d expected to liberate more people, but we had a mole in the investigation, and we think he warned them we were close. This man might still have been looking after the horses, but that night, with a rifle in his hand, he was the enemy.”
His uncle had been one to play the angles. Having someone on the inside would’ve suited him. He liked being in control at all times. His special entourage, the men he’d made part of his council of elders, had their eyes and ears everywhere.
“Here’s your brother.”
Reluctantly, he turned back to the window and gasped as Amos lowered the sheet. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but what he saw definitely wasn’t it. From the photograph online, he’d assumed his brother would have long hair and a beard. Looking at a clean-shaven face, hair cut short, Jacob was seeing himself in the mirror, and he shivered. The resemblance was uncanny. This was his brother, his twin, the man conceived and carried in the womb at the same time as he was, but James had become a monster.
Lilith made a slight, startled sound. “My God! I didn’t understand why the men acted the way they did yesterday, but now I do. You look just like him.”
“I may look like him, Agent Munroe,” he said, his teeth clenched so tightly his jaw hurt, “but I can assure you I’m not the same man he was. He’s the Mr. Hyde to my Dr. Jekyll. Nothing would ever make me do what he’s done. I can’t undo the wrong or ease the pain, but believe me when I say I’ll share the responsibility for his sins for the rest of my days.”
He turned away from the window, needing a few minutes to get over the shock. He’d decided last night to set up trust funds for each of the children his brother had fathered. Hopefully, away from the cult’s influence, with proper guidance, those children—his nieces and nephews—would grow up to be decent human beings. It was the least he could do. Children shouldn’t suffer for the sins of the father ... or the uncle.
“Tell me when you’re ready for the girl,” Amos’s voice echoed loudly in the quiet hall.
“I’m ready now,” Jacob said, glad his brother was gone when he looked back at the window. What would his mother have thought of James and the man he’d become?
A few moments later, the curtain opened, and Amos stood next to the covered body. Jacob nodded, and, once more, the coroner pulled down the sheet. Eloise was lying so that the unmarred side of her face was to the window. He’d anticipated this gut-wrenching agony and grasped the window ledge for support.
Grief choked him, making it difficult to speak. “She looks just
like my mother,” he said. Tears slipped down his cheeks. It was like losing Mom all over again, and yet worse. This was his baby sister, the one he’d cradled in his arms and rocked until she’d fallen asleep. His little blue-eyed angel. “I should never have left her at New Horizon. At the very least, I should’ve come for her in June. I could’ve saved her.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Lilith said slowly. “My sister was the same age when she died.” She placed a comforting hand on his arm but pulled it away seconds later.
Her words surprised him. He wouldn’t have expected her to share a personal tragedy after the way her eyes had condemned him yesterday. Steeling himself for more shocks, he asked the coroner to turn the table around so Jacob could examine the tattoo on the side of her face.
He had to admit, like the young man in Cambridge had said, it was impressive, a real work of art, giving Eloise an alien persona, as if she were a creature from another planet, half woman and half bird. His uncle must’ve hated it. That was probably why she’d been with the Williamsons and not under his thumb at the compound, wherever it was now, with the rest of the women. The inking must’ve hurt like hell. Tears trickled down his cheeks.
I’m sorry, Eloise. I shouldn’t have left you there. I know that now, but I was scared, angel, so damn scared I couldn’t think straight. I was sure that if he ever got his hands on me again, he’d kill me, and Uncle Duncan would’ve sat by and watched. I convinced myself that Jimmy would take care of you, and I suppose he did for a while. That’s a damn fine tattoo. I wish I’d tried to find you sooner. I don’t know what would’ve happened, but ... I hope you’re happy now with Mama and Dad. I’ll bet Grandpa’s sitting down with his buddies, smoking stinky cigars and telling war stories. I didn’t realize how much I missed you until I lost you forever. I pray you can find it in your heart to forgive me, because I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself.
He continued to stare at his sister’s remains, unwilling to give the order to close the curtain. “Who do I talk to about arranging her cremation and having her ashes sent to me? My uncle may try to claim the body, but I don’t want him anywhere near her.”
“I understand,” Lilith said softly. “It’ll probably be some time before the bodies are released. Agent Clark can give you more information, but I’m positive he has no intention of letting your uncle or the Prophet have any of the bodies. I’m sure he can get you some information before you return to Australia.”
Jacob nodded. Mindlessly, he reached for a tissue on the table under the window and wiped his eyes. Instead of the dead girl, he saw a happy child running through the desert, climbing rocks, chasing butterflies. Like a slide in a presentation, the child changed and turned her mutilated face to him. Sadness gave way to anger and the need for justice—no, revenge. Turning his back on Eloise’s remains, he noticed the gleam of tears in Agent Munroe’s eyes before she could look away, and it grounded him once more.
“Thank you for letting me see them both. I understand what Grandpa meant when he said closure was important. I’ll never understand why James did what he did, and I’ll never be able to forgive him and my uncle, but I will make restitution in whatever way I can. Whatever you need to help you find my sister’s killer, if it’s within my means to provide it, it’s yours. As far as I’m concerned, my uncle is responsible for all this—James’s perversion, the crimes committed by the members of New Horizon, and Eloise’s death. I don’t know how he managed to corrupt those people, but he did, and he has to pay for that, too. The members of the commune I remember were pacifists, living quiet lives under the radar, content to let the rest of the world fend for itself.”
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”
They rode the elevator to the fourth floor in silence. The doors swished open, and when there was no welcome committee to greet him, Jacob let out the breath he’d been holding. Agent Munroe stepped off the elevator, and he followed. Most of the desks were empty, but he recognized the wrestler who’d grabbed his head the day before.
“Welcome to the bullpen where most of the work on any case gets done.” She indicated the wrestler. “This is Detective Tom Adams, Detective Halliday’s partner.”
Her voice was clipped as if she, too, was fighting to stay in control. Right now, if he were home, he’d head into the outback alone to lick his wounds, but where did she go when the memories of her sister swamped her?
“Tom, Mr. Andrews identified one of the three bodies as Seth Miller. Now that we have a name, maybe we can find something on him. He didn’t know the other men, so let’s try a wider search for them. Amos says Mr. Miller was in his mid-fifties. Does that sound right to you?” She looked at him questioningly.
“Yeah. He was my father’s age, maybe a little older. His wife used to teach the girls to read. He had a couple of daughters, one my age, the other older than me. If he was on that farm, then chances are you’ve got his wife, too, and maybe his daughters. Families used to stick together.”
The burly detective stood and held out his hand. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said. “No hard feelings, I hope.”
Jacob reached for his hand. “Detective, knowing what I know now and having seen my brother, I’m grateful you didn’t shoot and ask questions later.”
Tom laughed. “Rob wanted to, but Trevor convinced him it wouldn’t be in his best interest. Way too much paperwork for discharging a weapon inside headquarters.”
Jacob burst out laughing for the first time in more than two weeks.
Chapter Eight
Jacob’s laughter surprised Lilith. Considering what had happened downstairs—his grief had been genuine—it was the last reaction she’d have expected from him. But then he hadn’t gotten angry yesterday either. Maybe, like her, he kept his emotions locked away until he couldn’t control them any longer and they surfaced unbidden.
His smile involved his whole face, the mirth bubbling up from deep inside him, adding to his charisma. Dressed casually as he was, his jeans fitting snugly in all the right places, his sex appeal rose exponentially.
What the hell’s wrong with me? First, I have X-rated dreams, then a massive meltdown the likes of which I haven’t had in years, and now I’m turning into mush at the mention of koala bears.
If she could give herself a good, swift kick in the ass, she would. At one time, she’d hoped to be able to juggle a family and her career, but those dreams had come crashing down around her. Bill Skansen, the man she’d thought to marry, had told her quite clearly how unattractive she’d become because of the scars she bore. When it came right down to it, her scars were only part of the problem. Men had expectations. They wanted to be first in a woman’s life. Oh, they’d shared her with their offspring but not with a job, no matter how much that job meant to her. No wonder so many professional women stayed single. No man held sway over her, and that was the way she wanted it.
Wasn’t it?
Normally, she was the ice queen, as Bill had called her more than once, subduing her feelings so that they barely impacted her behavior. The meltdown earlier only proved how strung out she was. Yeah, she and Jacob had almost bonded downstairs, but that had been a moment of temporary insanity. She needed to center herself.
She’d been antsy ever since she’d read through the Harvester file. Had something in it triggered her PTSD? For some reason, the Richardson and Winchester murders had thrown her off. Seeing those bodies had been gruesome, but she’d seen graphic photographs before and had been able to keep it together. And the missing children in the cases, not the first ones she’d dealt with since her move to Quantico, stayed with her, barely under the surface, constantly dredging up memories of Rose and Kelly Kirk. Listening to Jacob describe the whipping he’d received had revived her fears that the tormentor would return, no doubt contributing to that little half hour of me time in the bathroom. Finally, standing with Jacob as he viewed Eloise’s body had brought back memories of Ruby-Ann, leading her to confide in him, despite the fact he’d aband
oned his sister in the first place.
Tom’s guffaw stopped her musing. Now that she saw Jacob laughing and joking with Tom, she could pick out the subtle differences between the brothers. Jacob’s face was fuller, with pronounced laughter lines and wrinkles at his eyes and a dimple in his right cheek. He was a man who enjoyed life. His skin, unlike his brother’s pasty color, was sun-bronzed, testifying to hours spent outdoors working under the Australian sun. With his unusual blue eyes and hair, chestnut with golden highlights worn in spiked casual disarray, he reminded her a little of Brad Pitt. Maybe that’s all there was to it—that kind of hero worship was normal. She shivered. Hadn’t Amos mentioned he’d seen a garrote similar to the one last night in a Brad Pitt movie?
Her mind wouldn’t settle. She couldn’t focus. Why? Hormonal imbalance? Lack of sleep? Relapse? As soon as she could, she’d take some time off and call the FBI therapist she’d visited a few years ago. Right now, she needed to get back to work.
Moving into her office, she grabbed the Harvester folder on her desk—not the complete one she’d read earlier, but a smaller one with some, but not all, of the crime photos. Her earlier idea of having Jacob talk to the people in the Nashua Street Jail actually made sense now. He’d identified one of the bodies and might be able to identify someone else—Seth’s wife and daughters, maybe. No one had expected him to recognize the young man, but not knowing the older one was disheartening—although it might mean cult members moved around, and if that was the case, it worked both ways.
If the prisoners would speak to Jacob, the task force might glean valuable insight into the Prophet’s plan. One of them was bound to know what to do next—no matter where you went, there was a chain of command. Someone had orders to follow.
Watching Jacob interact with Tom, she couldn’t help but notice how Jacob seemed to have taken over the conversation the way a glib politician might. It made the profiler in her uncomfortable. Could she be wrong about him? What if Jacob’s behavior was a front designed specifically to earn their trust and get him inside that jail, placing him in a position to relay information rather than gather it? Her gut told her he wasn’t involved with the Prophet, since he’d left soon after the epidemic and seemed impervious to the man’s brainwashing, but that was the same gut that had convinced her to tell Kelly Kirk who she was, the gut that allowed her to believe that Bill loved her and the scars wouldn’t matter. If she’d been wrong twice, she could be again.
The White Lily Page 11
