But this wasn’t the time to be thinking about any of those things.
“I’m so excited,” Dawn said. “This guy is really good.”
“He’s phenomenal,” Kayla agreed.
“Have you ever seen his show, Sean?” Dawn asked.
Sean shook his head. “Not all the way through. I watched a couple of taped segments that came with his press kit. Seems to me he’s like a TV evangelist of the New Age variety. Does a little channeling, a little healing and talks about God’s message. But I have to tell you, kid, I’m a skeptic about this psychic stuff.”
“Yeah? You just wait. He’ll convince you.”
Sean gave the girls a doubtful look, then turned to Julie. “How about you, Jones? You believe in this crap?”
“I’m keeping an open mind,” she said. “I did notice there were cameras on us the entire time we stood in line. And I think I saw a microphone or two out there, as well.”
“Ahh, good call. I should have brought up something obscure out there. My dear insane aunt Aggie with one brown eye and one blue, just to see if he’d mention it in here.”
“You have an insane aunt Aggie?” Jones asked.
He frowned at her. “Doesn’t everyone?”
She smiled. It was a real smile, this time, full, spontaneous and potent. It hit him where he lived. He’d been missing that smile lately. “You made it up,” she accused.
He wiggled his eyebrows, and they took their seats. Then the lights went down and the crowd hushed. Intro music swelled as the spotlight hit the small stage. Then the star walked out from behind heavy purple curtains and applause filled the place to bursting.
Nathan Z smiled, his shiny bald head gleaming in the spotlights. He pressed his palms flat together and bowed toward each section of seats. He wore white robes and sandals.
Kayla and Dawn were awestruck as they gazed up at him, applauding.
Then he held his hands up for silence. “Thank you all for coming. It means the world to me. This room is just bursting with energy tonight, so let me get straight to work.”
He lowered his head slightly, closed his eyes. His fingers made small, rapid circles against his temples. The audience went so still, Sean thought it was holding its collective breath. Then the guru’s hands fell to his sides and his head came up. His piercing eyes opened, and he turned, then pointed.
“I’m coming to this section.” He moved to the edge of the stage and pointed to an area of the audience. “Who has a…dog? Sam His name is Sam. And he’s…no, she. A female dog named Sam. She’s not well. Does this make sense to anyone?”
A man raised his hand.
“Come up on the stage with me, sir.”
Nodding, the audience member hurried onto the stage. Nathan Z clasped the man’s hand in both of his own, nodding, sympathy in his eyes. “You have a female dog named Sam, and you’re worried about her health, is that right?”
The man, a skinny fellow of sixtysomething with hair the color of orange sherbet, nodded. “She’s not acting right. Not eating, whining all the time.”
“She’s in a lot of pain,” Z told the man. “You need to get her to the vet. She’s a golden retriever, isn’t she?”
The older man’s eyes widened. “Yes. How did you know that?”
Z smiled, his face warm. “She has a ragged old teddy bear she’s chewed almost to pieces, but you can’t throw it away.”
“That’s right.”
“Why haven’t you taken her to the vet?”
The old man lowered his head. “I guess—I’m afraid they’ll tell me it’s something fatal. Or that she has to be put down. She’s old, you know.”
“I know,” Z said. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “It’s not. It’s inflammation in her joints. Arthritis. It hurts to move, to put weight on her legs. The cooler weather is making it worse. She can’t eat because she’s in so much pain.”
The man lifted his head. “Will the vet be able to help her?”
“Yes. She has…she has several good years left.”
The old man flung his arms around Z and hugged him hard. “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You’re welcome,” Z said, smiling, blinking his eyes as if they were damp while the man made his way back toward the audience.
Dawn leaned closer. “I told you he was awesome.”
Sean nodded, trying to look suitably impressed. But the reporter in him was itching to get behind this guy’s veneer, find out what really made him tick. Did they poll the audience when they sold them the tickets, pick a few and interview them ahead of time, have microphones planted in the lobby, or did they just have plants scattered throughout the crowd?
Or was the guy for real? He looked toward Jones to ask what she thought, but she appeared mesmerized by the man on the stage.
The same thing went on for damn near the full hour, with Z picking people out of the crowd and telling them details about their lives that he shouldn’t know. Couldn’t possibly know, the subjects exclaimed again and again. There were tears, relief. If the people weren’t plants, then this guy was helping them. Making them feel better. Giving them closure and positive, logical advice. He never told them to sell all their possessions and move to Tibet, so that was good.
Finally the guru declared that he had finished with his readings and would now proceed on to today’s message for all of mankind. He moved to a large, bowl-shaped wicker chair with a thick cushion lining it, which stagehands had brought out moments earlier. He sat down in it, folding his legs and his robes beneath him, and let his head fall limply to his chest. For several tense moments he sat there like that, breathing deeply, and the silence hung in the air. No one in the audience made a peep. Not a whisper. Once again, they almost seemed to be holding their breath.
God, this guy had them enthralled.
When Z’s head came up again, his eyes were so intense that Sean wondered if he’d managed to slip some kind of luminescent contacts in while no one was looking. They nearly glowed.
“I am a prophet,” he said. His voice was different now, not the soft soothing, nondescript one he’d had before. But rich, full, booming with power and, interestingly, bearing a slightly Southern accent. “I am an exalted soul, so enlightened that I am not safe on the physical plane, for like all exalted souls before me, like Jesus and John and Galileo and Joan of Arc, I will be misunderstood, persecuted…and killed.”
“Ow,” Sean muttered, glancing down at the pain in his lower arm, then frowning. Jones was clutching his forearm so hard her nails were digging into his flesh. If she squeezed any harder, she would draw blood.
“For this reason, I must share my message with you now, while I can. This is what you need to know to achieve oneness, wholeness and harmony in your lives. In the past, humans offered sacrifice to their gods in order to receive blessin’s. They slaughtered cattle, hosses, lambs, then offered them up on the pyre. But all you need to do is to believe in me, believe in my words. They are the same words, no matter what system of belief you hold dear. No man cometh unto the father except by me, for he who believeth in me shall not perish, but have everlastin’ life. I am the way, the truth and the light. So sayeth the Lord.”
He paused to let that sink in.
Sean leaned close to Julie. “Am I dreaming here, or did he just imply that he was Jesus Christ?”
She didn’t answer, so he glanced sideways at her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and riveted to the man on the stage. She was shaking, physically shaking. He thought she was going to explode out of her seat in a moment.
“Jones?” he whispered. “Hey, what is it?”
She shook her head. “He’s done. Let’s get the girls out of here.”
The man had stopped speaking, and the audience applauded wildly.
“You’re not looking so hot right now, Jones,” Sean said. “Tell you what. I’ll go get the car, since we parked clear at the other end of the lot. I’ll pick you three up at the door, all right?”
He started to rise. Jones closed her hand over his on the armrest none too gently. “Take the girls with you.”
He frowned at her. Her words fell like hailstones. Cold, quick, hard. He searched her face for an explanation.
She turned to Dawn. “You and Kayla go with Sean. I just need to find a rest room. I’ll meet you out front.”
“Sure, Mom. Don’t get lost on us.” Dawn got up, tugging Kayla with her.
Sean leaned closer to Jones. “What the hell is it?” he whispered.
“Just…watch them, Sean. Don’t let Dawn out of your sight. I need a few minutes.”
He held her eyes, but she wasn’t giving away a thing. “If you think I’m leaving you alone…”
“She’s in danger, Sean. Please do this for me.”
His stomach knotted, but he gave in. “All right. But if you’re not in the car in five minutes—”
“Give me ten.”
With a nod, he turned and headed up the aisle with Dawn and Kayla on either side of him.
* * *
Julie watched them go until the rest of the audience rose to begin filing out of the studio, blocking her view. Then she walked against the flow of traffic, down and closer to the stage. She had already picked out the likeliest way to get backstage, a doorway to the left of those thick curtains, and she headed toward it, only to have a heavy man wearing a tight-fitting “Z” T-shirt and a radio headset step into her path.
“No one’s allowed back there, miss.”
She conjured a smile, met his eyes, watched the recognition change his expression.
“Wait a minute, aren’t you…?”
“Julie Jones, Channel Four News,” she said, extending a hand. He took it, shook it warmly. “Mr. Z is going to be interviewed at our station soon. He gave us the tickets tonight, in fact, and I have a few background questions for him in order to prepare for the segment. Do you think he’ll see me?”
“I’ll find out for you, Ms. Jones. Just wait right here.”
She waited while he walked a few steps away and spoke into his headset. Then he nodded and came back to her. “Go on back, Ms. Jones. It’s the first door on the left.”
“Thank you.” He stepped aside, opening the stage door for her. She heard it close behind her again as soon as she moved through. The hall was long, but the first door on the left loomed all too soon. It was closed. No star on the door, no name plaque.
She was shaking, deathly cold, when she lifted her fist, paused, clenched her jaw and rapped on the door.
“Come.”
She wrapped her hand around the doorknob. She didn’t want to do this, to face this thing head-on. But she thought of Dawnie, and knew she had to. She twisted the knob and pushed the door open; it felt as if she were opening a long-sealed crypt instead.
He sat at a mirrored dressing table, wiping his face with a soft cloth. He didn’t turn around, just met her eyes in the mirror.
She held his gaze, knew now why his photo had stirred that odd feeling of recognition in her belly. It was the smile and the dimple in his right cheek. Dawn had that dimple. Dawn had that smile.
“I know who you are,” she said.
He closed his eyes briefly. “Close the door, Jewel. This isn’t a conversation we need others to overhear.”
If she closed the door, what was to stop him from killing her? she wondered. Just the way he’d probably killed Sirona and Tessa. But she had to do this. She had to face him. For Dawn. She closed the door and went a few degrees colder.
“Now, who is it you think I am?”
“You’re Mordecai Young. A madman the world thinks is long dead.”
He lowered his head with a sigh. “What gave me away?”
“Your voice,” she told him. “When you were…channeling. The things you said. The accent. It was just as if I was back there again, listening to you.” She tipped her head to the side. “The way you just called me Jewel, instead of Julie.”
He pursed his lips. “Freudian slip, do you think? Maybe deep down I was hoping you’d figure it out.”
He wasn’t denying it. It seemed so impossible, especially since he looked nothing like Mordecai. Except for the depth of his eyes and that smile. “How is it you look so different than before?”
“I was burned very badly in the fire, you know.” He didn’t even try to conceal his Southern drawl, not anymore. “I’ve undergone numerous rounds of reconstructive surgery. The hair on my head will never grow back. Most folks think it’s a style choice—or a spiritual one. Humility or something like that.” He smiled gently. “I worked on my accent. But it still comes through when I’m in a deep state of trance.”
He got to his feet, and she took an instinctive step backward. He only stood there, looking at her. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Jewel. I have never hurt you.”
“What about Sirona? Did you hurt her? Or Tessa?”
He lifted his brows. “They survived the raid, as well?”
He was either genuinely surprised or he was a very good actor. “Up until recently, they did. They both died within the past two weeks.”
“And you naturally assume I’m responsible. Jewel—” He took a step toward her and she jerked back. “For God’s sake, Jewel, will you relax? I’m not going to harm you.” He waved toward a sitting area, which held a miniature sofa, a chair and a table laden with dried fruits, muffins, carafes of juice and fresh flowers. Daisies and black-eyed Susans. “Sit, relax. We’re completely surrounded by security people and staff. You’re safe here.”
“I didn’t come alone,” she said. “My partner knows where I am.”
“Even more reason to believe you’re safe.” He licked his lips as if he might be nervous. “I’ve changed, Jewel—”
“Stop calling me that. It’s Julie.”
He nodded. “Yes. Julie Jones, I understand. You’ve changed. You’re completely different from the girl I knew. From Jewel Jordan. That’s why you, of all people, should understand. I’m not the same person I was then, either. I’ve moved on with my life, Jewel—Julie. I’m trying to do some good with it. Please, sit down.”
Swallowing her fear, Julie moved across the room and perched on the edge of the chair.
“Help yourself to—”
“Look, this isn’t a social call. I just needed to confirm you were who I thought you were.”
“And now that you have?”
She would be stupid to tell him she was going straight to the police. He would never let her out of there alive. “Now, I’m telling you to leave me and my family alone. I want you to get out of town. And don’t ever, ever, come back.”
He seemed to ponder that for a moment. “And if I refuse?”
She held his steady gaze but said nothing.
“You’ll go to the police, reveal my true identity. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it, Jewel? But you won’t do that. You can’t do that, not without also telling them how you know.”
“I was one of your victims. I survived. There’s no crime in that.”
“Perhaps not. All right, then, I suppose I’m forced to resort to blackmail. Kind of like our dear departed mutual friend, Harry.” Ignoring her gasp, he went on. “If you turn me in, Julie Jones, I’ll turn something in, as well.”
“What are you talking about?”
He sank onto the sofa, helping himself to a dried apple slice, nibbling it slowly, licking his lips. “The knife that was used to cut Harry Blackwood’s throat. It’s got your fingerprints on it, Julie. Oh, it didn’t have, originally, but it was easy enough to lift some from the door of your car and plant them on the hilt. Scotch tape, wonderful invention.” He took another bite. “The police already suspect you had something to do with it. The murder weapon would clinch it.”
She sat there, stone still. “You killed Harry.”
“Does it matter? Don’t tell me you weren’t glad to see him dead.” He shook his head slowly. “My plan was to plant the murder weapon at your home, let the police find it, arrest
you and get you out of my way. You see, Jewel, you are standing between me and something I want.” He shrugged. “But that plan didn’t work, and I knew that was a sign from the Almighty that I must proceed differently. Now that you know my little secret, I might as well give you the chance to give me what I want, rather than forcing me to take it from you.”
“I gave all my money to Harry. Everything I took from you, from the compound, is gone. I used it to get an education, a new identity, a home….”
“That’s all right, Jewel. I have all the money I need.”
“What do you want, then?”
He smiled very slowly. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out already. I want the girl,” he told her. “I want my daughter.”
Julie shot to her feet. My God, he knew about Dawn! “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s not—”
“She is. She’s my child. Mine and Lizzie’s.”
“No!” She edged toward the door.
“It’s all right, Jewel. I understand you’ll need some time. Time to explain to her how you’ve lied to her all these years. How you stole her from her true father, left both her parents to die in that hell. How you’ve deceived her, her entire life. And that you need to make it right now.”
“You’re as insane as you ever were if you think you’ll ever lay a hand on my child!”
“I’ll give you twenty-four hours. You bring her to me, Jewel, or I will take her from you. And I will see to it you can never try to take her back.”
“You stay away from my daughter! I swear to God, Mordecai, if you try to touch her, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you!”
* * *
Jones was a basket case when she came back outside and climbed into the waiting car. She was as white as if she’d just had a conversation with a dead man, so angry that tiny lines he’d never seen before bracketed her lips. She got in, slammed the door, stared straight ahead.
“You all right?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
She nodded. “Let’s just go.”
He picked up a worried frown from Dawn, returned a “damned if I know” glance and drove the car. “You want to tell me what has you so upset, Jones?”
Thicker Than Water Page 20
