Holt glanced at the Gleamers then back to Mitch, lowering his voice. “No. I did not. I know these folks, they’re good people. And they just found their daughter like that.” He pointed across the street and gave Mitch a look that said it wasn’t up for discussion. “Besides, they were with the Fizzraelis, so they have an alibi.”
“We need to talk to them,” Mitch said.
“I know.” His voice lightened and body softened. “The investigation is yours. I’m just here to assist.” He motioned for Mitch to approach the Gleamers, then gave a nod to the homeowner. “Mrs Fizzraeli?”
“Come on, Sophia,” the woman called to the child still standing at the pulpit. “Let’s leave them in peace.”
“I’m praying,” the girl said, closing her eyes, hands still laid out flat upon the Bible’s pages as though she were reading via osmosis, “for their souls.”
Salvi stared at the girl, knowing it wasn’t the Gleamers she was praying for. The girl was praying for her and Mitch.
“Sophia,” the woman said firmly. “You can pray with me in the next room. Come!”
The girl huffed and threw Salvi and Mitch another glare, then stomped out of the room.
Salvi glanced at Holt. “Did you get a statement from the Fizzraelis already?”
“Yes, of course I did.”
“May we see them?” Salvi asked.
Holt gave a small nod and pulled a paper notepad out of his pocket, licked his fingers then flicked through to the relevant page, before holding it out to her. Salvi took a photograph of the pages on her iPort, then uploaded them to Riverton with the message “Riverton, transcribe. End request.”
“Thank you,” she said to Holt, then pulled up the case file to check the parents’ names: Paul and Christine. She looked back at the Gleamers as they finally noticed the two strangers standing in front of them.
Christine bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a tissue over her nose and mouth, while one hand clutched a silver chain around her neck. Paul stared at them, a vacant yet shocked look glazed in his red eyes.
“Mr and Mrs Gleamer,” Mitch said, as they lit up their badges again and activated the record mode. “We need to ask you some questions?”
Salvi motioned to Mitch. “This is Detective Grenville and I’m Detective Brentt.”
The grieving parents nodded silently, eyeing their holo-badges cautiously. Aged in their late forties or early fifties, just like the house around them, they were middle class and well maintained.
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Mitch said. “We won’t take too much of your time.”
“You were the ones to find your daughter?” Salvi asked gently.
Paul nodded, while Christine buried her face in her tissue again, the other hand’s knuckles turning white as she clutched firmly at whatever hung off her necklace.
“What time was this?” Salvi asked.
“A-about nine this morning,” Paul replied softly.
“Had you been out, or had you just awoken?”
“We…” Paul’s voice came out rough and croaky. He cleared his throat and tried again. “We’d just gotten home from a week away.”
“Where had you been?” Salvi asked.
“Out at Green Pines, a few miles outside town. We help the church with their retreats. Volunteer.”
Salvi nodded. “How regularly do you go on these retreats?”
“Once every quarter.”
“And your daughter didn’t attend these with you?”
“Sometimes. If she could get holidays. But she had to work this time.”
“Where did she work?” Mitch asked.
“At Joan’s Veterinary Clinic, on the main road in town.”
“So, you arrived back today. Who knew you were out of town?” she asked.
“Who knew?” Paul asked, confused.
“How widely advertised was the retreat and your involvement in it? Who knew that your daughter was home alone?”
“The… the whole town knew,” he said. “The Children of Christ are the backbone of Bountiful. Everyone here knows about the retreats. Everyone attends the church. I work at the local library and Christine works reception at the doctor’s office. Everyone in town knows us.”
“Who goes to these retreats?” Mitch asked.
“People from town.”
“No outsiders?”
“No.”
Salvi nodded. “Is there anyone you know that may have wanted to harm your daughter?”
“No.” Paul shook his head, his eyes lost and confused. “Sh-she was a good girl. She was a Child of Christ. Everyone in Bountiful is. No one here could do this.”
Christine nodded in agreement. “Everyone liked her. Everyone. I-I don’t understand how this could happen. It doesn’t make sense. This… awful sin. Here! My beautiful baby…” Her mouth began to shake and she squeezed her eyes closed. “This cannot be God’s will,” she whispered, before breaking down in tears again. Paul wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.
“Did Sharon have a boyfriend?” Mitch asked.
Paul shook his head again. “No. No, we don’t encourage that behavior here.”
“That behavior?” Salvi’s brow furrowed.
“Maybe Tobias or Ellie…” Christine looked up at Paul, then back at Salvi and Mitch. “Tobias and Ellie might know something. They’re Sharon’s friends.”
“Tobias?” Mitch asked.
“He volunteers down at the church with Sharon,” Paul said. “They spent time together, but he is a good boy. He’s a Child of Christ.”
“Surname?” Mitch asked.
“Brook,” Paul said. “Tobias Brook.”
“Was Tobias at the retreat with you?” Salvi asked.
Paul shook his head. “No. No, he was here. Same with Ellie. Ellie Felling. She works at Vonn’s café.”
“And where might we find Tobias?” Mitch asked.
“He works at the hardware store.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Salvi asked. “Anyone else your daughter had contact with that might know something?”
Paul shook his head, then shrugged helplessly. “Everyone in town knew her. Just like they knew us. There’s no one in the town that would… do this. I-I don’t understand…” Paul seemed to choke on his words as they tangled with his emotion. He touched his forehead, his chest, then each shoulder, marking a sign of the cross upon himself.
Christine watched him, shaking her head as tears spilled from her eyes again. She turned back to Salvi with a vacant look, raised the hand that had been clasping her necklace. A smear of fresh blood sat across her open palm, as it did the crucifix she’d been clutching. “This is the work of the devil…” She marked a sign of the cross over herself as well. “No one here would do this. No one.” She started crying heavily and Paul wrapped his arms around her again.
Sheriff Holt stepped forward. “I think maybe they’ve had enough for a while.”
Salvi turned and met eyes with Mitch. He looked back to the mourning Gleamers.
“Thank you for your time,” he said. “Again, we’re very sorry for your loss. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”
They moved into the hallway and the sheriff motioned for them to head outside. Holt and Mitch stepped out onto the porch, but Salvi hesitated upon seeing the young girl standing down the hallway staring at her.
“The devil was here,” she told Salvi, her face emotionless.
“Do you know who hurt Sharon?” Salvi asked her.
The girl shook her head. “But he was here. The devil. And now he’s brought you.”
Salvi gave the child a soft smile. “We don’t work for the devil. We’re police.”
“You live in the sinful city. It’s full of filth. It corrupts you.”
Salvi felt a pang of pity for the girl, spouting words she didn’t really understand the meaning of. Spouting words fed to her since birth. She turned for the door, but the girl’s voice stopped h
er.
“Are you going to catch him?”
Salvi looked back at her. “The devil?”
The girl nodded, her face tilted as she eyed Salvi’s white shirt and the rest of her black attire.
“I’m sure going to try,” Salvi told her.
The girl glanced at Salvi’s badge, at her iPort, then looked back at Salvi’s face, eyes fixed to her red lipstick. “Technology is the devil,” she whispered, making a sign of the cross upon herself. “It’s going to eat your soul.”
Salvi gave her a nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As she stepped onto the porch she glanced around the quaint suburban street again; at the pretty flowers, green lawns, and the clear drone-less sky. She felt a slight chill in the air, heard chirping birds, then faint sobs. Just down the street, the group of neighbors still stood huddled together and staring at the Gleamer house, at the ambulance and police cars, at the sleek black Raider from the city. Their idyllic surrounds broken by something apparently unimaginable in this religious pullaway town.
“So, you got any leads?” Holt, now wearing mirrored sunglasses, asked Mitch as the three of them stood on the Fizzraelis’ porch.
“Not yet, but we’ll work on it,” Mitch said.
Holt glanced around the streets, shaking his head. “Such an awful business.”
“First time something like this has happened around here?” Salvi asked.
Holt nodded, and she watched herself in the mirrored reflection. “You bet. I’ve worked this area some ten years now. Worst we get around here is the occasional car or farming accident. We’ve never had anything like this.” He glanced around the streets and shrugged. “But that’s why you’re here, I guess. This has never happened here before, and they can’t afford to have this happen again.”
“They?” Mitch asked.
Holt seemed to analyze him for a moment. “The Solme Complex. I take it you’ve heard of it?”
Mitch nodded. “Just outside of here, right?”
Holt nodded back and eyed the surrounding streets. “You’ll see the Serenes walking around the town. They’re pretty quiet folk. Handy to have around. They keep the town clean and help people out.” Holt looked back at Mitch. “But you also see some of the Subjugates walking around here too. They’re the ones they’ve haven’t finished converting yet. They’re close, but not finished.” He stepped closer to Mitch and lowered his voice. “If one of them did this?” He shook his head again and pressed his lips together in concern. “A world of trouble will go down.”
“A world of trouble?” Salvi asked.
Holt nodded. “The Solme Complex relies on this community for support. And the town relies on the Solme Complex in return. But at the end of the day, they need us more than we need them. No one else will have them on their doorstep. The only reason we do is because the Children of Christ are all about forgiveness. If it weren’t for them, the Solme Complex would be stuck out in the desert somewhere. But boy, I tell you if one of those Subjugates did this to that little girl in there,” he motioned back into the Gleamer house, “Attis will have to close his doors.”
“Who’s Attis?” Salvi asked.
“Attis Solme. He’s the founder of the Complex. It’s his baby. He lives here now but he grew up in the city, has a lot of connections. That’s why the Complex is located here.”
“Thanks,” Mitch said. “We’ll look into it.”
“You can’t just drive out there, you know,” Holt told him. “Their facility is effectively a prison. Just a special one. You’ll need approval to get in there and interview people. My advice would be to get on that asap. It might take a while to get clearance.”
“Will do,” Mitch said.
Holt gave him a nod. “You get any leads you need me to look into, just say the word. It’s my job to watch all the pullaway communities in the area. And I live right here in Bountiful, so I know the people around here, and they know me.”
“You live here in Bountiful?” Salvi asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“Is that why your officers don’t use technology?” Salvi asked.
Holt nodded. “We respect the wishes of all the communities. They’re pullaways, so we are too. You get used it after a while. You don’t need technology to police.”
“So knowing the townsfolk, I take it you have no suspects in mind?” Mitch asked.
Holt stared at him. “I know this. No one in Bountiful did this. They’re good, kind people. That’s why I live here. So if I were you, I’d be talking to the Solme Complex. I’ve already canvassed the other neighbors for you. I’ll send you through my notes.”
“Please do,” Salvi said. “Send them to our AI, Riverton, care of SFPD Hub 9.”
Holt’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the word ‘AI’ but he gave a nod, then moved past them to re-enter the Fizzraeli house. She watched him go, then looked back at Mitch.
“Let’s go talk to Tobias,” he said, then made his way down to the sleek black Raider, parked on the street.
Chapter Two
Vows
Salvi stepped out of the Raider and looked around the center of Bountiful. It really did feel as though she’d stepped back in time to an early 1950s country town. There was hardly any traffic on the wide-open street, no horns, no yelling. There were no bright LED lights flashing in her face telling her to buy something. No tech addicts, booze or drug addicts pestering passersby. The buildings were mostly one story, sometimes two, but she could clearly see an expanse of sky overhead as the autumn sun shone down. Used to the dense intensity of the city, it was so strange to have so much space and peace and quiet.
And no drones watching you.
She looked across the broad street to where the large white stone church stood with its green cross atop. Looming big and mighty, it felt like a deity silently watching over its worshippers. She eyed the cross again, thinking it odd for it to be green in color, but then she suddenly realized why.
“Is that BioLume in the cross?” she asked Mitch.
He studied it then nodded. “Looks like it.” He glanced back to the hardware store. “Come on.”
Hudson’s hardware store sat opposite the church wedged between the café and the vet, in a line of stores that threaded through the main street of the town. The people of Bountiful were going about their day, dressed neatly and tidily and in muted colors. She saw no piercings or tattoos, no colored or spiky hair. And everyone seemed happy, walking around with a smile pasted upon their face. One woman even sang a hymn aloud to herself as she walked along pushing a pram. It seemed that word of Sharon Gleamer’s murder hadn’t quite spread to everyone just yet. It surprised her, but then she remembered they didn’t use mobile phones. News here had to spread by word of mouth or old-fashioned telephones. That was a good thing. Being able to question suspects before they had the heads-up to get their stories straight was helpful.
News may not have spread yet, but their presence was certainly drawing some curious stares… Mitch and Salvi, dressed mostly in black and pulling up in their sleek black Raider, certainly did stand out.
They entered the store and saw a few people milling about. Salvi approached a young woman, about 5’4” in height, 120 pounds, with blond curls, standing at a counter with an old-fashioned cash register – the kind where you press buttons, manually punching in the price of each item. Salvi stared at it a moment. She’d never seen one before.
“Good… morning, ma’am” the young woman said tentatively, as her eyes drifted over Salvi’s red lipstick, dark suit and technology.
“Good morning,” Salvi said. “We’re looking for Tobias Brook. He in today?”
The woman’s eyes drifted over her again, then she nodded. “Yes, ma’am, he’s in today. May I ask what this is in relation to?”
“We’d just like a chat. Where can we find him?”
The young woman suddenly looked past Salvi to Mitch, as though just noticing him. She eyed him over then straightened a little and smiled nervously.
“Last I saw he was in the back corner stocking shelves.” She pointed in the direction helpfully, her eyes remaining on Mitch.
“Thank you,” Salvi said, throwing her partner a look and suppressing a smile. He was oblivious to young woman’s attention as he scanned the store before him. She guessed in a small town, new faces would always strike interest among the locals, even in a religious town like this and with a mysterious man in black like Mitch. He was certainly very different to the guys around here. Salvi figured he was handsome in his own disheveled, hungover kind of way.
They headed in the direction the young woman pointed and finally came across an employee folding lengths of rope. Salvi analyzed him quickly like she did any potential suspect. He stood around 5’10”, about 160 pounds, and was dressed in a plain sweater, jeans and apron, with neatly combed short brown hair.
“Tobias Brook?” Mitch asked.
The young man turned to face them. “Yes?” He smiled. “How may I help you?”
Mitch lit up his badge. “Detective Grenville, this is Detective Brentt.” He motioned to Salvi. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”
“W-what about?” Tobias asked, the smile falling into surprise.
“Sharon Gleamer,” Salvi said.
Tobias’ smile fell further. “What about her?”
“You haven’t heard what happened?” Mitch asked.
The color slowly drained from Tobias’ face as his eyes darted between them. “No. What? What happened?”
“I’m afraid she’s dead,” Salvi said. “Her parents found her body this morning.”
Tobias stared blankly at her. “Sh… She’s dead?”
Mitch nodded. “She was murdered.”
For a moment Salvi thought she was going to have to catch the kid.
“Can you take a break, so we can talk?” she asked.
Tobias stared blankly for another second, then seemed to shake his head as his face grew paler. “Y-yeah. Just… just give me a minute, ma’am.” He put down the rope and walked away, removing his apron as he did.
The Subjugate Page 3
