She glanced back at Mitch, and they walked onward like nothing happened.
When they arrived at the interview room, Serene-41 opened the door for her, and she exchanged one last glance with Mitch before they separated.
She took a seat at the table and waited while Serene-41 stood in the corner silently.
She studied him, the subservient geisha-like man; pale-skinned, eyes lowered, softly spoken. The silver halo wrapped around the back of his skull.
“Do you go into town, Serene-41?”
Remaining still, only his eyes traveled to look at her. “Yes, Detective.”
“Every single day?”
“Yes. Every day.”
“We’re not recording!” Remmell’s angry voice sounded over the speakers.
Salvi looked around at the mirrored window. “So, record me.” She turned back to Serene-41. “How come you get to go into town every day, Serene-41?”
He gave a pleasant smile. “I am graduated, Detective. I do good things and I’m their most trustworthy Serene. It is my job to guide the others. I am the Serene-Supreme.”
“Serene-Supreme…”
A thumping sounded against the mirrored window. Salvi glanced at it, then back at Serene-41, who had lowered his eyes to the ground again.
“It’s OK, you may speak,” she told him. “I give you permission, Serene-41. You guide the others. Other Serenes or the Subjugates?”
“Both,” he said pleasantly, raising his eyes again.
“And how do you guide them?”
“Detective Brentt!” Remmell hissed again.
The Serene paused, his eyes darting to the mirror, unsure as to what to do.
She nodded to him. “Please continue, Serene-41.”
The Serene hesitated, unsure. Salvi gave him a warm smile.
“I show them what to do and where to go,” he said. “I check up on them and make sure everything is as it should be.” He lifted his beige tunic and showed her a security pass that sat attached to the top of his beige trousers. “I am entrusted with access to the Complex.”
Salvi stared at the pass. “So, you could come and go as you please from the Complex?”
Serene-41 thought for a moment, looking as though he’d never considered the idea. “Yes, I suppose I could. But it is too far to walk into town.”
“Has anyone ever asked to use your pass?”
“No. I would never give it out.”
“You’ve never lost or misplaced the pass?”
“Never. It is with me at all times. I am the Serene-Supreme.”
Salvi studied him. “When you’re in town, do you guide Subjugates-52 and 46?”
“Yes. Sometimes.”
“And how do you think they’re doing, Serene-41?”
“They are making good progress. We are very proud of them.”
“What do they do when you’re with them?”
The door opened, and Bander entered with Moses. The caretaker paused upon seeing her.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked a little bluntly.
She smiled. “I’m here to speak with Subjugate-52.”
Bander glanced over to the window, before moving the Subjugate into his seat. He turned back to the window. “This was approved?” he asked the mirror.
“We can’t hear you!” Remmell’s tetchy voice came over the speakers. “You need to fix the system!”
“Again?” Bander glared at the window, then exhaled heavily. He moved over to the table in front of Salvi and pressed the on/off button on the console. “Can you hear me now?”
“Still nothing,” Remmell’s voice responded. “It’s not a system lockout. I checked. The fault must be in there.”
Bander looked at Salvi, the relaxed face of the night before long gone, and the pissed-off guard firmly in its place. “Excuse me,” he said, motioning that he needed to get under the table. Salvi stood and moved out of the way, glancing at Moses as she did. The Subjugate sat there still and silent. And serene. His skin was pale, but she could just make out the outline of where he shaved, halfway down his thick neck. A neck that sat atop broad, strong shoulders. Although not as broad or strong as they had once been, but broad enough. She tried to picture him in his former life: as a lawyer in a suit, or the narcissistic gym fanatic in some sweats. Or the murderer raping and killing innocent women. She could see how he would’ve gotten close to his victims. The handsome Moses with some added, albeit fake, charm. Many women would fall prey to that, be fooled into a position they didn’t realize they’d been put in until it was too late. Until the facade dropped and the killer stood before them.
The question was, is that what Moses was doing now? Presenting a facade? Pretending to be Serene while the devil still lay within waiting to come out?
She struggled to comprehend why a man with a good job, a nice body and a handsome face, who probably could’ve had any woman he wanted, would turn into the brutal raping killer that he had. According to his criminal file, his excuse was that he’d simply been bored. He was bored of getting everything he wanted all the time. He wanted to have to fight for it. To earn it. To win it. So, he made his victims fight him. Fight for their life, for their survival. And he would take it from them. He would fight them, and he would win, stating that he’d never felt so alive. And, of course, it had been the fault of his victims for their own death. Not his. The women, he’d said, had literally flirted with death. Moses, with his high IQ, enjoyed the hunt, he enjoyed outsmarting his victims. So, was that what he was doing now?
Bander came out from under the table and smacked the microphone button hard. “Now?” he asked.
“Perfect, Caretaker,” Remmell answered calmly and lightly, as though reminding Bander to be the same.
“The devices seemed to get turned off quite a bit, don’t they?” Salvi commented. “That must make it difficult to record what happens in here.”
The caretaker glanced her way, but virtually ignored her, moving to stand by the door.
“You may begin,” Remmell’s voice sounded.
“Thank you.” She flashed a big smile at the mirror, catching sight of her bright red lips, which she then turned to Moses.
“Subjugate-52, I’m Detective Brentt. I want to ask you some questions about what you do when you’re in Bountiful.”
“Yes, Detective,” he said with that deep, refined voice.
“How long have you been traveling into Bountiful now?” she asked, keeping her face light and friendly.
“I’m not sure,” he answered. “We do not believe in tracking time at the Complex. They are all God’s days and we serve without question.”
“Ten weeks,” Bander answered for him. “He’s been going in ten weeks.”
Salvi nodded and looked back at Moses.
“And you attend church?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, giving a slight bow. “Every Sunday.”
“And that’s the only time you go to the Children of Christ?”
“To the church, yes. But we do attend the Children of Christ hall for other things.”
“Such as?”
“We attend their Bible studies. We help the preacher when they have fairs, and we help their charity groups.”
“Do you like going there? To the Children of Christ?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“Who else goes to this Bible studies group? Is it just for Subjugates?”
“No, the townspeople go too. They share their stories with us, of how they found God.”
“I see. Did you ever see Sharon Gleamer there?” Salvi asked. “She was young, pretty, blonde?”
Bander’s eyes flicked to hers. A silent warning.
“Yes. I remember her,” Moses answered.
Salvi studied the Subjugate a moment. He was the first one to recognize the vic by name. The others had to be shown a holo. “Did you talk to her?”
“Yes. She was a nice person.”
“What about Rebecca Carson?”
Moses gave h
er a blank look.
“She went to the church,” she said projecting a holo of Rebecca Carson from her iPort. “Have you see her around?”
“Yes,” Moses replied, eyes fixed on the hologram. “I’ve seen her at church, and sometimes in the hall with the charity groups.”
Salvi nodded, studied his face; his dark blue eyes, his square jaw, his full lips. “Did you know these two women were now dead?”
Bander cleared his throat and glanced at her; a warning to watch her step, as Moses marked a sign of the cross upon himself.
“I knew that Sharon had passed, yes,” Moses answered frankly. “I attended her funeral. But I did not know about Miss Carson. I am sorry for your loss.”
“I didn’t know them,” Salvi said. She pulled her arm back then placed her elbows up on the table and leaned forward, a move that pushed her cleavage together and offered Moses a view. “How did they seem to you?” she asked. “What kind of women were they?”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Moses said, looking her in the eyes, seemingly oblivious to the top of her opened shirt.
“Did they seem like nice girls?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and biting her bottom lip.
The Subjugate’s eyes looked down to her lip but returned just as quickly to her eyes. His face remained impartial. “Yes,” he said. “They were Children of Christ.”
“So, you never saw them with bad people?”
“No.” Moses seemed to study her back. “Why do you ask this of me?”
“Well,” Salvi said, “the way they died–”
A gentle musical chime suddenly sounded and a bright red light began flashing beneath the Subjugate’s beige uniform shirt. Moses looked down at it.
Bander stepped forward.
“What is that?” Salvi asked, looking at the light pulsing and glowing beneath Moses’ uniform.
“His personal alarm. It’s time for his injection.” Bander checked his watch.
“What injection?” she asked.
“The injection that helps keeps him serene,” Bander said.
“We have two a day,” Moses told her calmly. “They are crucial to our wellbeing. This must be attended to.”
Bander motioned for him to get up. Moses did, standing taller and broader than the caretaker. Which was saying something, because Bander wasn’t exactly small.
“Move!” Bander ordered and Subjugate-52 left the room with his Serene escort and Bander in tow.
Salvi sighed, annoyed her interview had been cut short. She wondered if Attis had planned it this way, knowing she wouldn’t have long with Moses before he’d need to leave for his shot. She needed more time. She’d gotten nothing from the Subjugate during it. From what she could tell, he didn’t seem to react to her at all. He glanced down at the biting of her lip, but it was a natural reaction. Had anyone else been sitting in Moses’ place, they probably would’ve done the same thing.
She stood from the table and headed for the exit. Mitch met her at the door and was about to say something, when his iPort signaled an incoming call. He engaged his lenses and the silver shimmer swam across his eyes as he turned and started walking down the corridor, answering the call. Salvi went to follow, but a hand clasped tightly on her arm jerking her back. It was Remmell.
“I saw what you did!” he hissed, looking down at the open top of her shirt. “That’s entrapment!”
“Yeah, it was,” she told him. “And would you look at that, he passed.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” he said, looking her up and down with disgust.
Salvi gave him an unaffected stare in return, then moved off down the corridor.
Mitch ended the call and turned to her with a look of dread on his face.
“That was Ford. We got another vic.”
Mitch pulled the Raider up in front of the third vic’s house. Salvi got out and surveyed the surrounding streets. Nice, well-maintained houses and manicured gardens. She caught staring faces in windows, but they vanished upon being seen. No one was on the street. Fear had now gripped the community.
“It’s close to the center of town,” Mitch said. “Just like the others.”
“Yeah,” Salvi said, glancing about.
“Walking distance for the Subjugates and Serenes.”
They exchanged a look as they approached the steps of the small duplex house, engaging the cameras on their badges. Salvi heard crying and turned to see a small boy in the arms of a pale-faced woman, who sat in the back of an officer’s car, trying to console him. An officer stood close by and Salvi guessed this must’ve been the person to have found their third vic.
With names checked and coveralls and gloves on, Sheriff Holt met them at the doorway to the vic’s abode.
“It’s one of ours?” Mitch asked him.
Holt nodded, leading them through to the body. “She’s got ‘pure’ cut across her, but it’s been crossed out. This one was a sinner.” They entered the vic’s living room and saw the body lying on the floor covered in a sheet. “Carly Fresner, thirty-two. Bountiful’s dirty little secret. Also Bountiful’s worst kept secret.” He made his way over to the body and lifted the sheet. “She’s a known prostitute.”
Salvi paused when she saw the torn bright yellow dress the woman wore.
It was the same woman she’d seen getting into Mitch’s Raider the night before.
The back of her head was red with blood; part of her skull had caved in. She obviously died from severe head trauma. Salvi looked up at Mitch and saw him silently reeling, eyes wide. He looked like she felt. Like the blood had just run out of him.
“Something wrong?” Holt asked, studying Mitch carefully.
“No,” Mitch said quickly. “No, I… show me the carving.”
Like Rebecca Carson, this woman was lying face down, her dressed pulled up around her waist. Holt lifted her body up and back with gloved hands. They saw the front of her yellow dress had been sliced open all the way, and there carved into her belly was the word “pure”. Although as Holt had said, a line had been carved across it as though canceling it out.
Salvi looked back at Mitch. He looked like he was struggling to breathe, like someone had punched him in the gut. He turned his back to them and began to look around the apartment as though searching for clues, but Salvi knew he wasn’t really looking at anything.
Her eyes fell back down to the body as Holt lowered it to the ground again. She felt herself breaking out in a sweat as her heart kicked double time. She forced her mouth to move. “You moved the body again,” she said to Holt. “To see the carving, you moved the body again.”
He glared at her. “I wore gloves and the movement was minimal. I know what I’m doing. You may be running this investigation, but this is my town. These are my people. I got a right to know what’s going on.”
She remembered seeing Holt driving after Mitch the previous evening. Did Holt know?
“Who else has contaminated the site?” she said. “Who placed the sheet on her?”
“Just the neighbor. She found her,” he said. “She was babysitting Fresner’s son. Fresner didn’t come to collect him when she was supposed to, so the neighbor brought the son back about an hour ago and found her.”
Salvi glanced at Mitch again. His eyes were fixed on the floor, searching around aimlessly, his mind clearly racing. He suddenly engaged his lenses and the silver sheen washed over his eyes. “Riverton? How far away are forensics? Yeah … Alright.” He ended the call and glanced at her. “Ford’s got ’em on the SlingShot. They’ll be here soon.”
She nodded, then scanned the room. “It would be risky to attack her with the neighbors so close,” she said, darting her eyes to Mitch, who now stood by the window looking out into the street, his back still turned.
“Unless he did that to her head first,” Holt said. “There’d be no sounds of struggle then.”
“The side window looks tampered with,” Holt said, standing up again
. “Looks like he got inside that way.”
Salvi looked around for evidence of a struggle. The furniture didn’t look disturbed, but she saw visible blood splatter and possibly skull fragments. He mostly likely subdued her quickly.
“No sign of the weapon that did that to her skull?” Salvi asked.
“Not that I can tell,” Holt said. “Must’ve took it with him. I’m sure your forensics team will tell us what it was soon enough,” he said, throwing Mitch another glance, then he gave a huff of a laugh, though it contained no humor. “Hell, they might as well just stay here in town, the way things are going.”
“If everyone knew she was a prostitute, why was she allowed to live here?” Salvi asked.
Holt shrugged. “Because she went to church every Sunday. Vowker likes the sinners. He likes the challenge of converting them, I guess. He’s the one that OKed her to move here.”
Salvi stared at Holt, then turned her eyes to stare at Mitch’s turned back.
“Anyway,” Holt said. “I’ll get back to canvassing the neighbors.” He eyed Mitch again, then walked back out of the apartment. “Let you know what I find out.”
Salvi watched him go. Alone with Mitch and the dead body, she stood frozen. She looked from Fresner’s dead body to Mitch’s turned back, heart still thumping against her chest. Should she mention what she saw last night? Did she admit she’d followed him? Should she get in first, before Holt did? But what if Holt hadn’t seen anything?
Besides, so what if he slept with her? Why would he pay to have sex with her, then attack her? Unless he took his money back afterward?
Silence filled the room and still Mitch didn’t move. Salvi looked back at Fresner’s bashed-in skull.
“He’s getting more violent and more frequent,” she said, heart and hands rattling. “Sharon was strangled, Rebecca had her neck broken, and this one… her head smashed in. He’s getting more aggressive. He’s getting angrier… Or he’s growing in confidence and enjoying it more… I don’t know which one is worse.”
Mitch eventually turned around to face her. His skin was pale, as he clenched and unclenched the gloved hands that rested by his sides. “She’s against type,” he said softy. “She’s not pure.”
The Subjugate Page 24
