by Mary Stone
“That wasn’t even my fault.” She dropped the plates back down on the coffee table with a loud clatter. “She was just so high and mighty, parading around with her badge and gun, pretending she was better than me.”
“She could never be better than you. She’s a freak,” he reminded her.
“Damned right.” Like she did whenever she was anxious, she took out the elastic from her hair and shook it out around her shoulders. He wished she’d dye it again. When they were dating in high school, it had been a pretty, brassy blonde. Now, it was faded, mostly back to its natural darker blonde color that more closely resembled dishwater. She grabbed it all up again and dragged it back into its usual ponytail, chewing on her bottom lip as she snapped the elastic.
“I’m going to talk to Chief Miller. She can’t throw her weight around like this and get away with it. Hell, she’s probably using that woo-woo shit on him.”
“No. No, you’re not going to talk to my boss.” He sat up too fast and slopped some of the amber liquid out of his glass. It dripped off the back of his hand and stained the flowered arm of the chair. Oops. “Hon, you can’t go off on anyone in the condition you’re in.”
Frowning, she put a hand to her belly. She was still skinny as a pole, and if he hadn’t seen the positive pregnancy test for himself, he’d never believed she was actually pregnant this time. It was early days yet, though, he reminded himself. He couldn’t get excited yet. They’d had their hopes crushed too many times before.
“Sweetie,” Tom cajoled, setting the glass on the table. It would leave a ring on the glass and Sam would complain later, but he didn’t care. He stood up, a little unsteady on his feet, and made his way over to her. “C’mere.” He pulled her into his arms.
She wrapped her thin arms around him. Or as far around as she could get, he thought in disgust. He had to lose some weight.
“I just want her to go away,” Sam said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I don’t like her being back here.”
“She’ll go away,” he promised. “Winter will be heading back to Richmond before you know it. Poof. Gone like she was never here.”
A sick feeling swam in his stomach, and it wasn’t from the alcohol he’d consumed. He wished the high and mighty FBI agents would just up and disappear. They were stirring things up that should stay buried, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“You want to try to talk to Benton Junior before we corner his dad?” Winter made a face, and Noah laughed. “Did you know you do that every time his name is mentioned? You wrinkle up your nose. It’s kind of cute.”
“Can it, Dalton. I’ll call Chief Miller and see if Benton made it into the office today.”
He was glad to see that she was back to her normal self. Or, as normal as Winter usually got. She was so damned secretive, it drove him nuts. Something had spooked her at the farm, but she wasn’t spilling about it.
Not yet.
He listened to her side of the conversation, letting the car idle in the parking lot of the hotel. Finally, it looked like the chief was going to get his wish. The clouds and rain had disappeared, and for the first time in a few days, the sky was vivid blue. The morning breeze was pretty crisp, and he eyed Winter as she talked to the chief. She had her fingers tucked into the sleeves of her coat.
He shook his head and turned on the heat. His eyeballs would be sweating in about two minutes, but Winter was skinny. She got cold easily.
“Benton’s there. He said he’ll let us talk to him together, find out why he didn’t mention anything about his dad being a former Disciple before now. Hopefully, Benton’s got his story straight, because he’s going to feel like he’s walking into an ambush.”
She stared out the window as they made the drive to the station.
He was going to give her another thirty seconds before he started pushing her about her reaction in the driveway of Rebekah Archer’s farm the day before. Before he finished counting to twenty, she turned to him.
“There’s something weird about Jenna.”
“Yeah? I thought she was a pretty cute kid.”
“Absolutely. And I don’t really even like kids. But she said something to me before I left yesterday.”
Bingo. Hallelujah, she was sharing. He tried to control his grin. “The Snow White comment? I thought that was pretty funny. With that black hair and white skin, she wasn’t too far off, y’know.”
Winter folded her arms, hugging herself. Even though he felt like his face was on fire, he clicked the heater up another notch.
“Seriously, Dalton. She hugged me and told me to smile. That my mom and dad would want me to be happy.”
He glanced away from the road for a moment. “Kids are weird sometimes. Even the cute ones. I’ve got nieces and nephews, so I know this from personal experience. Hell, one of my little cousins had an imaginary friend he named Baba Jane. Later, when he got old enough to talk about her, he described how she looked in detail. Scared the hell out of my grandpa. Bobby’s description matched Grandpa’s deceased mother-in-law perfectly, right down to the scraggly mink shawl she always wore.”
Winter didn’t look reassured. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking back out the window as they passed a playground. “Her eyes. She just looked sad for me when she said it. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Noah flicked on the turn signal and made the turn into the station parking lot. “Well, since you finagled us another shot at looking around the Archer place tomorrow, maybe you’ll figure out what makes the little princess tick then.”
Inside the station, Benton was already at his desk. He did a double-take when he saw them come in, his face reddening to match the bloom of visible blood vessels in his eyes. Noah felt his lip curl a little in distaste. Even from four feet away, he could smell booze sweat. The guy had been on a bender the night before.
Benton shot an ugly look at Winter as they passed him on their way to the conference room next to Chief Miller’s office. She didn’t appear to notice, focused on their destination. Noah bared his teeth in a rictus of a smile at the slimy officer as they passed, and it was gratifying to watch the asshole shrink back in his chair.
Winter might not like confrontations, but Noah was looking forward to this particular one.
“Morning.” Miller gestured for them to take a seat at the oblong table. He poked his head out the door, into the hall. “Tom, come on in here for a sec, will you?”
With dragging steps, Benton shuffled in. There was a mustard stain on his uniform shirt.
“Sit down, Tom. Status meeting.” Coffee in hand, Chief Miller sat down at the head of the table. “Agents, would you like to start us off?”
“Sure.” Noah pulled out his notebook. “So, what we’ve got so far is a clearing full of bodies.”
Benton snorted. “Tell us something we don’t know.”
The chief sent Benton a warning glance, and Noah went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “The first body, a boy of approximately six years of age. Severe birth defects, congenital abnormalities in the skeletal structure. Cause of death at this point believed to be a bullet wound to the back of the skull. Time of death is estimated around 1987. Remains were found by Brian Snyder and his son while hunting in the area.”
He flipped a page. “We called in a cadaver dog because of the nature of the cause of death. The dog alerted to several other areas. Second burial site contained bones of an animal. Relevant because of the similar wound believed to have killed it. Third site, two victims, possibly siblings. Evidence of entry wound from a small-caliber bullet at the backs of both skulls. Both victims, children under the age of five. Visible bone defects. Fourth site, an infant. Same story, cause of death bullet wound, believed to have had skeletal deformities.”
Noah looked around the table. The chief was going over his own notes, his brow furrowed. Winter was waiting calmly for him to continue. Benton was scowling, staring out the window like his thoughts were a thousand miles away.
“Then
we have the anomaly. Body of a female uncovered at site five, approximately sixteen years old. Cause of death appears the same as the older remains, pending forensic investigation. However, the victim was killed within the last three or so years.”
Benton leaned forward in his seat, now intent. Before he could speak, Chief Miller cleared his throat. “Recent discovery. You were out of the office.”
“Proximity,” Noah went on as Benton shrank back in his chair. “We learned of the existence of a group operating out of the area during the approximate era in which the earlier victims were believed to be killed, which led to an interview with Elbert Wilkins. Wilkins shared information with us about the leader of the Disciples of the Moon, Wesley Archer. Also known as The Bishop. Wilkins was murdered in his home within hours of his interview. His office and files were ransacked.”
Benton had gone a sickly shade of paste-white. “Why didn’t anyone call me about this?”
The chief folded his arms and leaned back, his chair creaking. “Check your voicemails, son.”
Winter picked up the thread. Her voice was cool and detached, and inwardly, Noah rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Her very calmness was guaranteed to piss Benton off.
“We received a list of names from another individual, of people who were active in the Disciples during the time of the murders. Tom, your dad is on the list. Can you tell us why this information wasn’t disclosed sooner?”
Benton shot upright, his chair wheeling back to bang into the wall. “What the hell is this? An ambush?”
Winter held up a hand to forestall any comment from the others. “We’re going to go speak to your dad. He’s not a suspect at this point. We’re just gathering information. If there’s anything else you can tell us, now would be the time to do it.”
“You fucking bitch,” Benton hissed, glaring at Winter. His fists clenched and unclenched spasmodically. “This is all some kind of revenge for a little teasing in middle school. What kind of freak carries a grudge for that long?”
She smiled. Just a stretching of the lips, really. “I was assigned to this case by my supervisor. I’m just doing my job. Believe me, if there were a way to do it without having to encounter you, you’d never have even known I was here.”
“Tom,” Chief Miller snapped. “Sit down. Act like an adult and not a hotheaded idiot. The only reason I haven’t canned you is that this behavior is so unusual for you, and I have to wonder why. Tell us now, like you should have before. Was your dad involved in this Moon cult?”
The guy looked like he was about to stroke out, but he sat back down. “My dad’s a respected member of this community. He’s been on the City Council for years. He’s a card-carrying Republican. He wouldn’t have had anything to do with a bunch of crackpots like that, much less anything to do with the murder of a bunch of kids.”
His boss stared him down for a long moment, until Benton squirmed in his seat.
“Fine. If that’s all you have to tell us, you can go back to your desk. You’re relieved from this case. I’ll give you your new assignment this afternoon.”
Benton’s jaw dropped, and hectic color rushed into his face. “You can’t do that! Just because these federal assholes step in and—”
“Enough.” Chief Miller slapped his hands down on the table in front of him, and the sound echoed through the small room like a gunshot. He levered himself up, his face hard and unrelenting. “You’re officially on desk duty. Your conduct is unprofessional and unbecoming an officer. If you can’t get your shit together, you can start looking for another job.”
Samantha cursed the transmission on her Camry as she pulled into the lot of the police station. Every time the car shifted, it shuddered like it was going to shake loose a part and leave it in the street. She wished her husband would just ask his dad for a loan. They were barely making ends meet, and pretty soon, money was going to get even tighter. As it was, the chief let Tom drive his squad car home. But if the Camry died, they’d literally be without their own transportation.
She pulled up next to a black sedan and flipped down her visor. She fixed her lipstick and fluffed her hair out around her shoulders. Tom might be mad that she came down here, but he needed a kick in the ass.
It was bad enough that Chief Miller hadn’t promoted Tom yet, like Tom said he’d been hinting around for the last eight months. It was even worse that he was letting Winter and her muscle-headed partner push Tommy around. If Tom wasn’t going to say something, she would.
She opened the Camry door with a hard shot of her shoulder since there was a dent in the side that made it difficult to open. As she stepped out, the front door of the station opened at the same time, and Winter stepped into the late morning sunshine.
Sam couldn’t help it. Her blood boiled.
Winter had grown up from a spooky kid into a stunning woman. Her hair was thick and black, even though she wore it scraped back, and she didn’t look like she had any problem with the zits that had plagued Sam since she was sixteen. And those big blue eyes made her look all sweet and innocent. She wasn’t. She was a freak.
Sam’s voice came out so shrill, it surprised even herself. “You did it, didn’t you? You got Tommy fired.”
Winter squared her shoulders and walked down the two steps that separated them. The fact that the move shoved Winter’s perky C-cups forward under the tailored, expensive-looking blue shirt the same shade as her eyes just made Sam angrier.
She’d never admit to herself she was jealous.
“I’m going to say this one last time. I don’t have a grudge against you and Tom. I grew up. I moved away from here and put the past behind me. We were all kids. I’m here to do a job, and then I’m moving on. Moving on is healthy. You should try it sometime.” Her butter-wouldn’t-melt expression slipped at that, and Winter scowled.
“Your high-paying, fancy-ass job,” Sam sneered. She’d googled just last night how much an FBI agent made, and it was a helluva lot more than a waitress at a shitty small-town café.
“Are we done here?”
Winter looked at Sam like Sam was something to be scraped off the bottom of her shoe, and she snapped. Sam lunged forward and pushed Winter, hard.
She stumbled back, but recovered quickly, her eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to do this, Sam. Your husband’s on shaky ground here, and this isn’t helping.”
“Shaky ground because of you,” Sam screamed. “Why couldn’t you have just died that night too?”
Winter’s face lost all color, like Sam’s words had drained her of every drop of blood. She looked younger. Hurt. For a second, Sam remembered how they used to sit on the merry-go-round at the park, sharing candy from the corner store.
“I’m sorry,” Sam gasped. Tears burned her eyes. “I didn’t mean that. I’m such a bitch.” The tears overflowed, scalding her cheeks. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted, putting a protective hand over her stomach. “We can’t afford to lose Tom’s job. It’s high-risk, and I’ve had so many miscarriages and I—”
Abruptly, she shut her mouth as Winter’s partner, the big handsome guy, stepped out.
Sam backed up a couple of steps. “Please,” she finally said in a low voice. “Please don’t get Tom fired. We just couldn’t survive that right now.”
She’d gone too far. She despised herself for losing it like a crazy person and begging on top of that. It had to be hormones.
Retreating like a coward, she slid into the passenger seat and blindly cranked the ignition. As she backed out, the car jerking into reverse, Winter just watched her go.
16
“Well, this has been a fun morning so far.”
Winter hardly heard Noah. She was thinking about what she’d said to Sam. I’m here to do a job. And then I’m moving on. It wasn’t true. She could solve these murders. Go back to Richmond. Get assigned to another job. Become an FBI lifer and retire out at the mandatory age of fifty-seven. Even catch the Nighstalker and see him locked in a cage. But she still wouldn’t have m
oved on. She’d still be stuck here in Harrisonburg.
“I need you to drive me past my old house.”
“Sure,” Noah readily agreed. He flicked on the turn signal and made a right.
“I don’t even have to tell you where it is?” Goose bumps pebbled her skin, and the skin at the back of her neck felt tight.
“I’m a cop, sweetheart. It’s my job to know where stuff is. You sure you’re ready for this?”
“After so many years? I’d better be.”
“Hey, I heard what Benton’s wife said. Don’t let it get to you. She’s one of those small, petty people that never got over high school and will never be satisfied with what she has.”
“Yeah, Sam doesn’t bother me.” It was true. She’d been shocked by the other woman’s malevolence, but she could see for herself that Sam was lashing out because she was unhappy. Winter didn’t wish her ill. She hoped Sam’s pregnancy went to term with no problems. She obviously badly wanted a baby and miscarriages had to be heartbreaking.
And speaking of heartbreaking…the streets around them became more familiar.
She wondered if the old guy who had lived on the corner was still alive. He’d always grouched at her brother for cutting through his yard on his BMX. He’d literally sit on his porch and yell, “Get off my lawn!”
Mrs. Beverly had lived in the blue house in the middle of the next block. Her roses were always gorgeous, but now they looked overgrown, sprawling out in all directions and climbing haphazardly against the side of the porch.
Memories came faster the closer they came.
The place in the sidewalk where a huge oak had pushed up the concrete. She’d hit that ledge and gone over her bike handlebars at nine years old. The scar was still a faint line under her chin, but the oak tree was now a stump.
Dan Riley’s house. She’d had a crush on him at twelve and use to rollerblade back and forth in front of his house daily in hopes of seeing him. She’d been heartbroken when he’d gone off to college.
