The look he gave her suggested he expected her to physically open the gate for him.
"I'm afraid no one is allowed inside Sanctuary at this time." She flashed her badge. "CFBI."
The man examined her badge. Then his gaze strayed to the smoldering fire. "What happened here?"
"A fire." She wasn't giving him any more information until she knew who he was. "Can I see some identification, please?"
"Of course." He fished inside his jacket and pulled out a wallet. Removing his driver's license, he passed it to her.
"Oliver Gathmann," she read aloud. She scanned the card with her data-com, then handed it back. "What brings you all the way from Washington, Mr. Gathmann?"
"I have business dealings with Father Jeremiah and happened to be in the area."
"So you're not here about the murder?"
The man's jaw flinched. "Murder?"
"The dead woman in the incinerator."
Gathmann raised a hand. "I know nothing about that, Agent Prushenko. I have interests in a few organizations and have invested in many. Sanctuary happens to be one of them."
"What do you do?"
"Construction. Houses mainly."
A helicopter hovered overhead for a few seconds then veered off toward the field inside the fence and landed.
"Was someone hurt?" Gathmann asked, gripping the bars of the gate.
"Two teenagers."
Gathmann's face went white. "Are they going to be okay?"
Natassia took in the man's pallor. "We hope so. You, on the other hand, don't look so hot. You need some water?"
She reached for his arm, but he brushed her hand away. "I'm okay. I'll be on my way." He walked back to the waiting sedan and opened the door. "Agent Prushenko?" He glanced over one shoulder, his expression unreadable.
"Yes?"
"I do hope you find out who's responsible for the murder and the fire."
She narrowed her eyes. "So do I, Mr. Gathmann."
Natassia watched him enter the car and waited until it had vanished from view before heading back to the surveillance van. She was halfway there when she spotted a familiar SUV. Her ride was here.
"Agent Prushenko!" Jay shouted from the vehicle.
The vehicle pulled to a stop and all four doors opened, spewing out five CFBI agents, all armed and dressed in bulky flak jackets.
"These are agents Derek Norman, Vijay Singh, Kaye Killgore and Kristen Howe," Jay said. "They're assigned to guard the property while we're gone."
Natassia shook the agents' hands. "We appreciate the help."
"Is it only you out here?" Agent Killgore asked, the confident look in her eyes betraying her petite stature.
"No. My partner, Agent Ben Roberts, is in the van monitoring the situation. We have two agents inside Sanctuary—Jasmine McLellan and Brandon Walsh. So how are we doing this?"
Agent Norman stepped forward. "Singh and I will be watching the fence. Killgore and Howe will be conducting searches of the buildings on the property, along with your agents."
"Sounds like you have your orders. Jay, are you ready to go?"
"Yes, ma—Agent Prushenko. You want the keys?"
"No, you drive. I might run us into a ditch." When he gave her a questioning look, she added, "The sleeping quarters in the van leave much to be desired."
She strode to the van, yanked the door open and ducked her head inside. "I'm leaving now. Matthew sent us backup for the fence and two agents to assist with the cabin searches."
"Okay," Ben said. "See you when you get back. Good luck."
"We could all use some luck right about now."
Twenty minutes later, Natassia and Jay pulled into the parking lot of Mission Memorial Hospital, located off Lougheed Highway on Hurd Street. Built in 1965, the hospital featured the latest in technology, including emergency services, and though it was an older building, it was well kept and easy to get around.
In the ICU, Natassia showed her badge to the nurse on duty. "We're here to see Amanda Christiansen and Eric…" She paused, realizing she didn't have the boy's last name.
"The two kids brought in from Sanctuary?" the woman behind the desk asked.
"Yes. Can we see them?"
"I'm afraid neither of them can have visitors at the moment. And it wouldn't do you any good, anyway."
Natassia's mouth thinned. "Really. And why's that?"
"They're still unconscious."
"I'd like to see them anyway."
The nurse opened her mouth to argue, but Jay held up his badge and puffed out his chest. "We're here on official CFBI business, ma'am. We'd appreciate your assistance."
"Of course. Follow me."
The woman scurried off down the hall, her shoes clicking sharply on the tile floor. "We put them in the same room. The parents are taking a break in the cafeteria." She opened the door and Natassia and Jay entered.
There were three beds in the room. Only two were occupied. Both Amanda and Eric were hooked up to ventilators and beeping monitors.
Natassia sucked in a deep breath. "Will they be okay?"
"We'll have a better idea tomorrow. Amanda has been in and out of consciousness. We expect her to wake up later tonight possibly. Eric, on the other hand…" The nurse shrugged and shook her head solemnly.
"I'd like to sit with them for a bit," Natassia said. "Jay, get me a coffee."
After the kid left with the nurse, she made a beeline for Eric, but after over five minutes of touching his hand and face, she realized his brain was too amped up on drugs for her to read him.
Apprehensive, she pulled a chair up to the girl's bed, figuring she'd get the same result. "Hi, Amanda. My name's Natassia. I'm hoping I can help you." She stroked the girl's hand. "You're in good hands. Relax…there's nothing to fear. You're safe."
As she touched Amanda's hand, she thought about Sanctuary, picturing the forest and meadows. Something peaceful.
"Amanda, what do you know about the bodies in the woods?"
The air around her grew thick, and she fought to breathe.
In seconds she was in…
Amanda ran through the woods now, her pale blue dress flowing behind her. She laughed. Someone was chasing her. Eric. She couldn't see him, but he wasn't far behind her.
"You can't catch me," she teased.
"Yes I can," Eric replied.
She headed farther into the woods. It was dark, and she only had a flashlight to guide her, but she knew the route by heart. They'd traveled it every week, always in the wee hours of the morning when no one would catch them.
She veered around the wide trunk of an ancient cedar and began the climb that led to the rocks at the base of a small mountain ridge. There were caves here and there, and they'd found one that was uninhabited by wolves or other animals.
Their special cave.
He knew where she would go, of course, and she knew he'd catch her eventually. This was all part of the forbidden game.
Then they'd kiss.
Her mouth lifted into a wide smile. She loved Eric Finnegan with all her heart. And one day he'd tell her he loved her too.
As she scrambled up the hill, she scraped her knee on a rock and let out a small cry. "Stop being a baby, Amanda," she mumbled to herself. "You're gonna be married in a couple years. To an old man who won't put up with no baby for a wife."
She tried not to think of her impending marriage to Mr. O'Brien. It made her want to cry. And run away.
Once she'd asked Eric to run away with her, but he said he couldn't. His dad wouldn't let him and he didn't want to disobey Father Jeremiah. Bad things happened when someone did that.
She thought about the lady she'd seen in the woods a few nights ago. She'd followed her, watched her take pictures of the ground and the trees. She'd trailed the lady to the river, lost her for a moment, then followed her back into the woods.
"You shouldn't be out here," she'd whispered, half-hoping the lady would hear her.
Then she'd heard the beast. She'd seen it
once before, about a month ago, a beast from Hell that could change its shape and size. It always went hunting in the middle of the night. She'd followed it a month ago, but it had disappeared, which was really weird because they were climbing the rocks and there was nowhere to go. 'Cept down.
But she never found a body when she climbed down.
"I see you," Eric called, interrupting her memory. He was much closer now.
She squatted behind a boulder and put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. She could hear rocks moving, so she knew he was almost upon her.
Then everything went silent.
She waited.
After a minute, she peeked around the boulder. No sign of him. "Eric?"
No answer.
"Eric! You can catch me now. I don't wanna play no more." She stood up. "I'm over here."
Something moved behind her and she jerked her head.
A huge beast loomed over her, and she felt its hot, rotten breath on her face.
"You're not supposed to be here, girl," the beast said in a low growl.
Heart pounding in her chest, she took off down the rocks, skidding and falling as she went. She didn't think about Eric or their special cave. She had to get home.
Before the beast caught her.
Run, Amanda, run!
As she ran, she heard an earsplitting alarm…
Natassia was jolted from the vision when the door burst open.
"Step aside," the nurse barked as she wheeled a crash cart toward the girl in the bed. "She's coding!"
Natassia pushed past two nurses and a doctor and exited the room.
"I've got your coffee," Jay called out as he strode toward her. "How goes it?"
"Something's happened with Amanda." She pushed her nose up against the glass window, hoping to see what was happening behind the curtains in Amanda's room. "They're using paddles on her."
Damn it! I didn't even get a chance to find out about the fire.
She prayed the girl would be okay.
Ten minutes ticked by before the nurse came out of the room. "We've got her stabilized, but she needs to rest."
Natassia gave her a card with her 'com number on it. "If anything changes with either of them, I want to be notified immediately."
The nurse took the card and returned to her station.
Jay passed Natassia the cup of coffee. "What now?"
"We go back to Sanctuary and take a little walk in the woods." She glanced down at his polished shoes. "Got any hiking boots?"
"In the trunk."
"Good boy."
Jay blushed. "I'm twenty, actually."
"Ah, the innocence of youth."
"You can't be that much older than me."
"Not much," she lied.
"I didn't think so, ma'am."
Her smile thinned. "What did I tell you about that 'ma'am' business?"
"Sorry…Agent Prushenko."
"You're forgiven, Jay." She snickered at his discomfort. "Now let's find the SUV and get out of here."
19
Sanctuary, outside Mission, BC
Ben skimmed through the background reports as they were ejected from the printer. Most of the residents were clean, no arrests. A couple had the odd DUI or small drug possession charge. There were a handful of citations for Public Intoxication and one weapons charge for not securing a proper hunting license. Reports on Giles Christiansen's wives and some of the other Sanctuary members raised no red flags.
The girl, Katie, turned out to be a runaway named Katherine Yang. She was from Surrey, and had been in and out of trouble since she was twelve. Her parents knew she was at Sanctuary. They'd given her their blessing and washed their hands of her.
He taped four reports to the van wall—Giles Christiansen, Lazarus (AKA Paxton Helling), Kenneth (AKA Kent O'Brien) and Henry (AKA Horton Edgars). Christiansen's file held no secrets. The CFBI had been watching him, yet the man looked clean on paper. Helling had a stack of unpaid parking tickets, mostly while driving the Sanctuary van. O'Brien, the man engaged to Amanda, had one major red flag. A woman had filed attempted rape charges against him several years ago, but the charges had been dropped. And Edgars had been brought in numerous times to dry out on a cot in the local jail.
Ben was stumped. Nothing in the reports tied any of the men to possible murders.
The printer spat out over two dozen missing persons reports. He divided the stack into male and female, then perused each pile. He matched almost half with the DNA reports from Divine Ops, DNA taken from the graves in the forest.
Why them? What happened to the others?
A dozen bodies suggested a serial killer, yet there were differences in the methods of murder. Some had been shot, some stabbed and a couple beheaded.
On the opposite side of the wall, he taped up the photos of each of the victims found in the woods. He added Sheral's photo at the top, stepped back and studied their faces. What do they have in common?
The victims varied in height and weight, hair and eye color, but they had two commonalities. They were attractive and healthy looking, no matter what their personal demons were or what had led them to seek out Sanctuary.
Was Christiansen seeking to create a picture-perfect community? Was he recruiting the beautiful and handsome to merge with his existing family? And why were these victims discarded so horrifically? Had they balked at the idea of giving all control to Father Jeremiah?
He groaned and rubbed his eyes. "What am I missing?"
He thought about his vision. Where the hell does a small black rodent fit in?
Nothing made sense. He felt like they'd been going in circles. Or like they were always one step behind figuring this out.
He examined his watch. 7:35 AM. Time to visit Father Jeremiah.
Ben slid into the driver's seat, started the engine and turned the van around. As the vehicle meandered toward the gate, he rolled down the window and inhaled. The air was still heavy with smoke residue. He squinted. The fire seemed to be out, and he saw three men heaving buckets of water over the smoldering embers.
A man approached and walked behind one of the brick posts. Seconds later the gate doors squealed open.
Ben parked in front of Christiansen's lodge, climbed out and locked the van. He climbed the steps to the porch and knocked. Seconds later a black-haired, pregnant woman answered the door. Grace Christiansen. He recognized her from one of the background report photos.
"I'm here to see your husband," he said, presenting his badge.
"Please come in," Grace replied. "Jeremiah is in the sitting room."
Ben took in the rustic charm of the place and the handcrafted tables and chairs. It would make a great B&B.
They found Christiansen seated at a desk, going over paperwork.
"Husband, you have a visitor," Grace announced.
Christiansen looked over his shoulder, saw Ben and shuffled the papers into a bottom drawer. Then he stood. "You're one of the CFBI agents who's been watching us, I take it."
"Agent Roberts." Ben held out a gloved hand.
Jeremiah crossed the room. "Welcome." His grip was firm, and it lingered as if a warning. To his wife he said, "Leave us."
The woman dutifully left the room.
"How can I help you, Agent Roberts?" Christiansen asked.
"I have a few questions for you."
"Would you like to walk the grounds, or would you prefer to stay inside?"
"Inside is fine."
"My home is your home."
Ben cleared his throat. "Mr. Christiansen—"
"I prefer 'Father Jeremiah.'"
"Mr. Christiansen, this is an official investigation," Ben said, his jaw clenched. "We'll stick to legalities. Your legal name is Giles Christiansen. You never changed it."
Christiansen gave him a miffed shrug. "Fine."
"We have a number of reports of missing people who were last seen at Sanctuary. That concerns me, considering what we found in your woods."
"Technical
ly, they're not mine." Christiansen strolled to a window and parted a curtain. "My property ends about five yards from that fence line. The land beyond is untamed wilderness. Crown property. Part of that area backs onto a park." He took a few steps away from the window. "Anyone could access that land."
"We found tire tracks in the forest near the area where we found the other bodies." Ben watched the man's face, but it barely registered anything, not even sadness.
"Can't see how a car could get in there."
"The tracks belonged to an ATV."
Christiansen's face went through a barrage of emotions, from disbelief to anger to fear. "You're suggesting that someone took one of our ATVs into the woods to bury innocent victims? No. I don't think so. And I guess you won't be able to prove it now that both ATVs have been destroyed in the fire."
"We already have proof."
Christiansen's composure cracked, along with his condescending smile. "What proof?"
"We took a sample of the soil from one of the tire treads. The report came in this morning. It's a match to the soil from the gravesite."
Christiansen attempted a laugh. "There's dirt all around us. How can you be certain it's from that specific area?"
"Our techs analyze everything from composition to vegetation to insects, but in this case it was an easy match. We found traces of sodium hydroxide, otherwise known as lye, on both ATVs and the ground where the bodies were dumped. I don't suppose you have lye here."
"I'm sure you already know the answer to that, Agent Roberts. We use lye for a variety of purposes—as a drain cleaner…for making soap. It's possible someone spilled some on the ground and the ATVs picked it up that way."
"Possible, except that there were also traces of DNA in the samples we took from the tires. And we already have one positive match from one of the bodies." Ben watched the man, taking in his fidgeting hands and inability to stand still. "We're left with two conclusions, Mr. Christiansen. Either someone killed these victims to protect Sanctuary, or someone is setting you up."
"It has to be the latter. No one here would do such things."
"How many of your members own guns?"
"Two."
"Rifles or handguns?"
Divine Trilogy Page 65
