“If I can, I will. I promise. Thanks, Joyce.”
“Go on back.”
Joyce returned to her counter and buzzed me back into the station. I’m sure she didn’t wait for the door to close to call my grandmother to ensure I’d keep my dinner promise. I owed a lot to Joyce. She was lovely during my early pestering days, giving me candies and answering all my questions. She even helped me get a job at the station and trained me. And when the abortion nightmare happened, she was one of only a handful of people who told me I’d made the right choice. I should have been the one cooking her dinner.
Like the front of the station, the bullpen hadn’t changed, still just two rows of desks with two uniformed officers at their ancient computers. When I worked as a clerk/secretary twenty years before, there were fifteen full-time deputies and thirty part-time or volunteer officers for the whole county. Last I’d heard, the county was almost bankrupt, and the full-timers were down to two and the other fifteen were volunteer only. Not great. Meth, like in most downwardly spiraling low-income towns, had been a growing problem even when I lived there, and I later learned it had reached almost epidemic proportions. The police didn’t stand a chance even under ideal staffing conditions.
The two officers looked up from their desks as I passed, both with puzzled expressions as they tried to place me. I just kept walking toward the back office. Sheriff Timothy Hancock had the phone pressed to his ear when I strolled in. As the years progressed, he resembled his father more and more. Same broad yet handsome face, tan skin, trim beard, and thick dark brown hair. I had such a crush on him during the Armstrong mess, well until he began dating Mom. I quickly convinced myself to let the crush go and viewed him more as a father figure/hero. The six months they were together were wonderful. I learned to shoot a pistol, he answered all my law enforcement questions, and he made great tuna casserole. Mom’s neediness eventually drove him off, but he was still kind to me even after the dust settled. He let me look at his case files and actually listened to my advice or corrected me the few times I was wrong. I wasn’t surprised when I heard he’d taken his father’s mantle as sheriff. Grey County couldn’t have been in better hands.
It took Hancock a second to recognize me as I stood in his doorway, but when he did his jaw dropped. If I had a nickel for every time that’s happened, I wouldn’t have to be writing a damn book, I thought.
“Uh, Larry, just email me the damn thing. I’ll do what I can,” Hancock said into the phone. “I’ll call you later, okay? Bye.” He hung up and gawked at me for a second. “Iris?”
“Live and in the flesh,” I said as I took a step inside his small office. “And I come bearing gifts.” I set the pastries down on his cluttered desk. “How’s Mrs. Hancock doing? And little Aiden?”
“Both doing well. Thank you.”
“Well, give them my best. Aiden’s gotta be, what, fourteen now?”
“Good memory. He is. He’s at theater camp of all things right now. He wants to be a stand-up comic.”
“Could be worse. He could want to be a cop,” I quipped.
“Or even worse, an FBI agent,” Hancock replied with a smirk. “Though from the nine hundred times I’ve seen you on TV the past month, I’d say you’ve done all right.”
“Yeah, and all it took was for me to be tortured and almost raped in my own basement by a serial killer,” I pointed out.
“Well, you look like you’ve bounced back just fine. Really. You look good, Nancy Drew. Did you get the flowers we sent when your husband—”
“I did. It was sweet of you, and sorry I didn’t send a note back or anything. It was rude.”
He waved it off. “It’s all good. You had a lot going on then. And now.” He leaned back in his wooden chair. “I assume you’re here about your brother?” I nodded. “You know your mother almost punched me when I told her there wasn’t anything I could do. What are you gonna do when I tell you the same?”
“Come on. My mom’s way scarier than I am.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” he said with a smirk. “But the answer’s the same, Nancy Drew. He left a note. He’s an adult. So if you’ve come to strong-arm me into starting an investigation—”
“Strong-arm? Come on. You know bribery is more my style,” I said, nodding at the pastries.
He didn’t smile. “Iris, you know I can’t officially open a file—”
“I’m not here to ask you to do anything. Officially.”
Hancock raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to, Iris?”
“Nothing dangerous. I’m just…checking into this New Morning group.”
“How?”
“How do you think? With my sparkling personality and keen wit. In one day I’ve already discovered my brother got a girl pregnant and got married not forty-eight hours after he cleaned out his bank account and left his girlfriend of two years to live on a farm. My brother. Who never cheated on a test. Who is afraid of spiders and considers a playground a nature preserve. From what I can tell they’re mostly true believers, but there definitely is an undercurrent of something untoward. Some of them are just too damn slick. Their church is a house in Dunlop. Have you heard anything?”
“As far as I can recall, no.”
“Would it be at all possible for you to do a quick search of the address for me? Please?” I asked with a toothy smile.
Hancock sighed. “What is it?” I gave him the address and he typed it into his computer. “No record of any calls to that address.”
“Anything else you can tell me? Who owns the house, if anyone listed it as their residence with the parole board, anything?”
“You know I can’t divulge confidential information to non–law enforcement personnel.”
“Come on,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I brought you a blueberry muffin and a cheese Danish.”
“Iris…” he said sternly.
My smile dropped. “Sir, you know I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. You, of all people, know how much I hate asking for help. But I’m here. Asking. Begging. This is my brother. This is Billy. The kid you kicked a soccer ball around our backyard with. Who you picked up from school and taught how to speak to girls. Something is going on with him. Something is wrong. I just need to find him. Talk to him. Make sure these people aren’t conning him or fucking with his mind. He’s lost, sir. He’s vulnerable. He needs help, or at least a good talking-to. But I have to find him first.” I leaned forward. “You know if the tables were turned, I’d do it for you. Hell, I have. When you had the Russian mob moving meth and assaulting civilians, didn’t I put you in touch with the DEA? Didn’t they help you? And the Rand kidnapping? I got agents here in just over an hour. You kind of owe me one. Or two.”
Hancock frowned. In my eyes he really didn’t owe me a damn thing. I hated using guilt, but I was desperate. Hancock finally sighed, and I knew I had him.
“I can’t open an official file. Whatever I do has to be off the books. It stays between you and me. And I can’t give you officer support.”
“I’m not asking for it. My main goal is finding the address of this damn farm, but to do that I need to know more about a few key players. Mainly I dealt with a girl approximately nineteen to twenty-five, white, named Megan; a middle-aged woman named Helen; and a guy in his mid-twenties named Paul.”
“That’s it? I need more,” Hancock said.
“I know. That’s why I collected cups with some of their fingerprints on them. I got the sense most of the members had records.”
“Clever. And I assume you want me to dust them for prints and run them through the system?”
“Yeah. Anything you can find out about this group would be appreciated. The Internet was all but a bust.”
“And what’s the leader’s name?” Hancock asked, writing everything down.
“He calls himself Mathias Morning, an alias obviously, and the church is the New Morning Movement. I don’t know if they have tax-free status or what. I really don’t know a hell of a lot. I’m goi
ng to meet Billy’s ex and hopefully she can give me more. I’ll drop off the cups on my way to her trailer.”
“Okay, this is all…doable. But I don’t like the idea of you mixing with these people without backup,” he said.
“You sound like my mom.”
“Well, even a broken clock’s right twice a day,” he said. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Sorry. Did I mention she almost punched me a few days ago?”
“Well, now I’m here to act as a buffer. It’s me she’ll be pissed at from now on.” I rose from the chair. “I’ll be by later. Thanks for this. Really. It means so damn much to me you helping.”
“As if I could ever turn you down. I learned when I met you, saying no to you was an exercise in futility.”
“Damn straight. See you later, Sheriff Hancock.”
“Ms. Drew,” he said as I walked out. I smirked.
Okay, so maybe Memory Lane had a few beautiful spots along it. Sometimes you just had to look.
Chapter 6
Gia Cantone met my brother when she began working as a waitress at his favorite restaurant. It took him three months to work up the courage to ask her out. That was the full extent of what I knew about my brother’s ex-fiancée. They’d been dating for almost two years, gotten engaged, she’d even gotten pregnant, and I had never spoken to or met the woman. I couldn’t even remember what she looked like from the few pictures Mom emailed through the years. I was a shitty, shitty sister.
When I turned into her trailer park, I could practically smell the cat piss and Sudafed wafting on the breeze. The trailers were parked so close together neighbors didn’t need phones to talk to one another—hell, they wouldn’t even have needed to poke their heads out of the windows. Most of the trailers were nice; some even had lawn decorations and kids playing in sprinklers or riding bikes. The park was homey, save for the trailers tucked away from the group with blacked-out windows that were no doubt the source of the smell. A few bad apples spoiling the otherwise lovely neighborhood.
Gia’s trailer was smack dab in the middle of the park. I parked next to an ancient Corolla with a different-color passenger door. The two couples watching their kids run through a sprinkler eyed me as I climbed out of the car and walked up to Gia’s front door. I was not looking forward to the interview. I knew at some point I’d have to break the news about Billy’s marriage and baby to her, although I was looking even less forward to telling my mother. Mom never forgave me for not granting her the grand wedding she’d always dreamed of for me. The judge’s office was more our speed. Now Billy hadn’t even invited her to his. I could anticipate the temper tantrum already. Gia deserved to know first, though.
She opened the door on my second knock. Gia was very pretty, with olive skin, thick wavy black hair, a petite frame, and the kind of bee-stung lips women pay thousands for. She didn’t use them to smile, at least not at me. Instead she glared and shifted all her weight to one hip, almost in annoyance. I figured out within a millisecond she was not a member of the Iris Ballard fan club. I’d never met the woman and she was already pissed at me. I always seemed to have that effect on people.
“Gia?” I asked.
“Yeah. Come in,” she said curtly before returning inside.
The trailer was small, cramped, and dark, close to claustrophobic, but still homey. One of Grandma’s quilts rested on the couch and posters of cities in Europe were mixed with family photos. Judging from a group photo with easily two dozen people of all ages in it, Gia came from a large family. Most other photos were of her and Billy at parties or at the beach. Mom, Khairo, and his sons were in a few, and some included Grandma and Grandpa. I was in none, not even the ones from our childhood. That stung, but I refused to let Gia see my reaction.
My hostess walked into the kitchenette. “Want something to drink? I have water and…well, water. Tried to go to the grocery store, but he didn’t leave anything in our checking account and the credit cards were already maxed out, so…” She rolled her doe eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it.
“So, water or not?”
“I’m good. I’m fine. Thanks.”
She shut the fridge and frowned. “You two really don’t look alike at all, do you? You’re prettier in person too. I liked your Shelly Monroe interview. You were funny. Billy and the family never made it seem like you’d be funny.”
“What did they make me seem like?”
“Hard. Selfish. Stubborn.”
Another sting, but I hid it again. “I am those as well. Grandma used to say I was salty and Billy was sweet, but we were both delicious in our own ways.”
“I love your grandmother. She reminds me of my own nonna. She died a few months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, it has been a shit year to end all shit years. Nonna died, I’ve lost two jobs due to cutbacks, had a miscarriage, then my fiancé runs off to join a fucking cult with all our cash. And next month I get to look forward to being evicted and moving in with my brother, his bitch wife, and their four kids.”
I frowned. “That…is a shit year to end all shit years. Although you’re handling it way better than I did when I had my shit year. Unless of course you’re on crack or something. That was the one thing I managed to avoid.”
“Can’t afford it,” she said with a shrug. “Though I may take my neighbor up on his free meth offer after you leave.”
“It is the neighborly thing to do,” I said with a smirk. Gia chuckled wryly. I let my smirk drop and steeled myself for what came next. “Okay, uh, there’s something I need to tell you that I found out last night. I debated telling you, but…I’d want to know. And, uh…there’s no great way to say it so I’ll just…”
I sighed and Gia stood up straight in preparation for more bad news.
“Just say it,” she ordered.
I sighed again. “I went to The Temple yesterday to poke around, and someone told me Billy…married a woman named Betsy two days ago. And…she’s pregnant. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Gia just stared at me, face blank, but judging from her trembling hands the news was slowly sinking in. “You’re sure?”
“Megan didn’t know I was his sister, and she had no reason to lie. I am so, so sorry.”
It took her a few more seconds for the information to fully sink in, but when it did, tears formed in her eyes. She turned her back to me. “That son of a bitch.”
“If I had to guess, that’s probably why he ran off. Out of some misguided sense of obligation to the baby. Billy’s always had a chivalrous streak. He—”
Gia spun around, venom all but dripping from her lips and eyes. “How the fuck would you know? You’ve barely spoken to him in two decades. He practically worshiped the ground you walked on, and you didn’t even give him the time of day. You left and never looked back. Do you have any idea how much that hurt him?”
She was pissed and wanted to take it out on someone, I got that, but this information cut me so deep I couldn’t stop myself. “Th-That’s not fair. I tried to help him with schoolwork. I pushed him to go to college too. I offered to help him look for jobs in both Philly and D.C. He wanted to stay here.”
“Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes before wiping them.
“And I’m here. Now. And I’m not leaving until I make sure he’s okay.”
“I hope he rots in hell,” Gia spewed.
“You don’t mean that. You’re angry, and God knows you have every reason to be, but I’ve met these people twice. I was trained to recognize their tricks, but even I felt a little pulled in and enchanted by them. Even if he was at his best, Billy didn’t stand a fucking chance. If I had to guess, this Betsy probably got pregnant on purpose to trap him, maybe even at the behest of this Mathias. It’s a trick as old as time. Hell, the only reason Billy and I exist is because my mom thought the same damn thing. They’re playing him, and he’s not hard like us. He doesn’t have a single street smart. It’s not his fault; he’s just built that way. Innocent.
That’s why he needs us. So be pissed at him, hell yes, but be really pissed at the selfish bastards taking advantage of him. Warping him. The people who are right now using your hard-earned money to ensnare more vulnerable people and ruin more lives as we speak.”
“And you think you can stop them?” she asked incredulously.
“I think I can damn well try. But I need your help to do it. I need to know anything you can tell me about these people, especially Mathias Morning.”
Gia stared at me for a few seconds—well, glared at me—but finally looked away. She sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m doing this so you can burn those bastards to the ground, not for Billy,” she said, lying to us both.
“Fair enough,” I said as I sat across from her. I pulled out my cell. “Mind if I record this?” She shook her head no. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning. How’d you guys first find the group?”
“Billy’s friend at the plastics plant, Kevin Perry. He’d been to a few seminars and parties and really liked them.”
“Do you have his phone number?”
“Yeah. I’ll get it for you. He’s not involved with them anymore, I don’t think. He was seeing one of the girls there, and they broke up.”
“What was her name?”
“Meg, I think. Young, super pretty, sweet, or at least that’s what she wanted you to think. I didn’t like her. She was trying too hard or something, I don’t know.”
“I think I’ve met her. I know what you mean. So did Kevin take Billy to the house in Dunlop?”
“No, we didn’t go there until like a week or two after our first seminar. They mostly held, like, support groups. They call them seminars, but we all sat in a circle and just vented our problems. Occasionally this woman, Helen, would say something about the universe and try to explain why what happened happened. It was actually nice, you know? No one judged or said a negative word.”
“You mentioned the name Helen. Is she about late fifties, with a round face and grayish hair?”
Darkness at the Edge of Town Page 8
