She centered her gaze back on the man and saw that he was mimicking her scan of the room. When he finished, he sighed, then leaned in toward her, “ Yes. I see him, just as you do. Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.”
Constance hated hearing that. It seemed like every time she dealt with someone who started spouting scripture in a literal sense, people died.
“Tell you what,” she offered. “Just let me put on my coat and we can go.”
“Yes,” he said. “That would be good.” He glanced about once again and gave a slight nod, as if to implicate everyone else in the room. Then he whispered, “And that they may come to their senses and escape the snare of the devil, having been taken captive by him to do his will.”
“That’s from the Bible, right?” Constance asked, trying to keep him engaged so that he remained focused on her.
“Yes. Second Timothy, chapter two, verse twenty-six,” he replied.
“I’d like to hear more. Just let me get my coat and we can go.”
She kept her eyes on him while reaching back with her left hand and grasping the heavy outer garment. Without warning he reached over and clamped his own hand tightly around her right wrist and pulled, lifting her hand up toward his face.
Without even thinking Constance rotated her forearm and flexed her elbow hard inward while twisting her upper torso. Her wrist instantly snapped free between the weak point where his thumb met the tips of his fingers, and she pulled away. All of her instinct and training dictated that she should follow through and subdue the threat, but she managed to stop herself just short of bringing her left fist around and taking him to the floor. Her hand, however, was tightly clenched; arm cocked and ready to fly.
He sat motionless, his gaze following her right hand as she drew it back. He seemed transfixed by her pink polished fingernails. The look in his eyes was a queer mixture of sadness and terror.
“Too late,” he muttered, then looked up at her and raised his voice. “I’m too late. Get thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offence unto me! ”
This was definitely not going according to plan, but then she knew better than to have expected it to. She couldn’t help but notice that the scuffle had now caught the attention of the rest of the patrons in the diner. Conversations had stopped instantly, bringing a newfound quiet to the room. Within the scope of her peripheral vision she could see that several people were now aiming glances toward the end of the lunch counter where the two of them were sitting.
“Calm down,” Constance instructed the pastor, staying focused on him and watching for any threatening movement. “Everything is okay. Just calm down.”
He shook his head, then exclaimed, “And no wonder! For Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light.”
With that, the man turned and slowly panned his stare around the room at the rest of the people. Their faces wore expressions that wavered between embarrassment and sorrow. He cleared his throat then dropped his gaze back down to the coffee cup sculpture he had created earlier.
“That’s good… Let’s just stay calm,” Constance told him again. “Everything is okay. We can go talk just like you wanted, okay?”
In reality, she was worried that what had just happened was a minor squall and that his sudden passive state might be the calm before the storm.
“No, Special Agent Mandalay,” he replied quietly. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that… I’m too late…” When he finished speaking he reached up and slipped his hand inside the folds of his topcoat.
“Whoa,” Constance said, her right hand automatically sliding back and easily pulling the bottom of her sweatshirt up to clear her weapon. Her left came forward toward him. “Why don’t you just pull your hand out slowly, and keep both of them where I can see them, okay?”
“No need to worry, Special Agent,” he replied softly. “I am merely reaching for my wallet.” Pastor Reese withdrew his hand from his coat, slowly as he had been instructed, and just like he’d said, it was filled with a black leather rectangle.
As he started unfolding the checkbook style wallet, Stella arrived, looking somewhat embarrassed. She settled a plate of pancakes onto the counter and then put a smaller dish containing eggs and bacon alongside. She glanced at Constance, then at the man.
“Put your money away, Pastor,” she told him. “You know the coffee is always on the house for you.”
He ignored her and withdrew a twenty-dollar bill, which he then placed next to his cup while saying, “This should cover Special Agent Mandalay’s breakfast. Keep the change for yourself, Stella.”
Constance began to object. “I’m afraid that…”
“I insist,” he replied, cutting her off. Then he brought his eyes up to meet hers once again. A look of apology creased his features, and when he spoke his voice was filled with what sounded to be sincere compassion. “ When an evil spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it… I’m sorry I was too late to save you, Special Agent Mandalay… So very sorry…”
He fell silent again as he carefully placed the wallet back inside his coat. Then, turning deliberately on the stool, he stood up and walked to the door. Once there, he looked back, and as if nothing had transpired, he smiled, then called out, “Merry Christmas, everyone.”
With that, he left. The bell above the entrance rang out a double chime as the door opened and then closed in his wake. Constance stood and stepped over to the doors, watching him through an unfogged section of the glass. He climbed into a familiar looking four-door sedan, then slowly backed it out and drove away.
When she turned and came back to the counter, Stella was still there. The waitress shook her head and looked at her with what actually seemed like mild compassion for a change.
“I’m sorry about that,” Stella apologized. “I’ve never seen him get so worked up. He usually just recites a few Bible verses and then goes on his way. He doesn’t really bother anyone. We’re all sorta used to it.”
Constance shook her head. “I guess I’m just the lucky one.”
Stella continued, “He’s harmless. I really think he’s just lonely.”
“What about his congregation?”
“He doesn’t have one.”
Constance shot her a puzzle look. “You mean nobody at all comes to his church?”
“Oh, he doesn’t have a church, ma’am. He’s not even a real minister.”
CHAPTER 19
Constance pulled the double layer of wool scarf down from her face while she waited at the front counter. She’d only had to walk a short distance across the street to get from the diner to the sheriff’s office, but the icy wind already seemed to be more brutal than it had been just an hour ago.
Clovis looked up when she came in, making eye contact and nodding to acknowledge her presence. She was currently occupied with the phone pressed up against her ear.
“Yes, yes I know,” she said into the handset. She listened for a minute, then looked up at Constance again and made a quick motion with her hand to indicate that the person at the other end of the line was a rambling talker. Eventually, she said, “Okay… Well, thanks so much for letting me know… I’ll send someone over to check… Yes… Yes… I will… You too… Bye…”
Once she had managed to hang up the phone she let out a quick sigh and shook her head, then turned her attention to the counter. “Good morning, Special Agent Mandalay. Sorry about that.” Her tone was businesslike, but she came across somewhat less standoffish than she had on the first day they’d met.
“No problem,” Constance replied. “Good morning, Clovis.”
“What can I do for you today?” the woman asked.
Constance looked past her to the darkened office windows on the back wall of the room. “I take it Sheriff Carmichael isn’t in yet today?”
“Been here and gone already,” Clovis answered. “He started early because of the snow. He’s out
running a few errands right now.”
“Do you happen to know when he will be back?”
The woman shook her head. “Not for sure, but I can try to get him on the radio if you’d like.”
“Hmm…” Constance hummed thoughtfully for a moment before shaking her head and saying, “No, that’s okay. I just wanted to check in with him about the surveillance tonight.”
She nodded. “He mentioned that before he left.”
“To be honest, I’ve actually got a few things I need to take care of myself, so I’ll be tied up all day,” Constance told her. “When you speak to him, could you do me a favor and just let him know that I’ll meet up with him here this evening?”
“Sure, I can do that. Any particular time, or does he already know?”
The petite federal agent clucked her tongue then grimaced. “I’m not exactly sure on that just yet.”
“That’s okay,” Clovis replied. She glanced over her shoulder. When she looked back, her lips had arched into a tight frown, and it seemed as if the color had drained from her cheeks. The pained expression that resulted easily tacked ten years onto her face. With a heavy sigh she said, “It’s Christmas Eve. He’ll be right here waiting. He always is.”
“Yeah…” Constance muttered, not quite sure what else to say. “I imagine he is.”
Clovis fiddled with her hands for a moment, looking down at them as if lost in thought. Her face eventually began to soften, allowing a blush of life to return. Finally, she looked up and asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you, Special Agent Mandalay?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Constance replied, giving her gloved fingers a soft drum on the edge of the counter. “Thank you very much though.”
“No problem at all. Stay warm out there.”
“I’m definitely trying.” Constance reached up and began tugging at her scarf in order to pull it back around her face. She was just hooking it over the bridge of her nose when she furrowed her brow and pulled the fabric back down. “You know, there might be one other thing you can help me with…”
“Pastor Reese?” Clovis replied.
Constance froze for a second and cocked a questioning eyebrow, but her brain was already doing the math. “Ahh… That was Stella on the phone when I walked in…”
Clovis nodded.
“That was quick, but then I suppose I shouldn’t be all that surprised,” Constance said.
“She saw you walking over here and wanted to make sure we knew what had happened in case you were going to file a complaint.”
“Well… An official complaint really wasn’t my plan. If it was I would have arrested him myself.
“I actually told her that.”
Constance canted her head to the side. “Although, it might bear mentioning that he did voluntarily confess to stalking me.”
Clovis gave her another nod. “I’m sure. If it’s any consolation, it’s not the first time. He followed all of the other FBI agents too.”
“Really…” Constance allowed her voice to trail off as her brow dipped and creased of its own volition. Here was yet another thing that hadn’t been mentioned in the official case file. “Were there any altercations?”
“None that I’m aware of,” she replied. “I know that he did speak to each of them, but that was about it as far as I know. From what Stella said he was quite a bit more wound up with you. Sort of pushy.”
“Just a bit…” Constance said with a nod. “Maybe he didn’t perceive me as intimidating since I’m female, so he thought he could get away with it.”
“I suppose that could be,” Clovis replied, pausing for a moment before adding, “Honestly, he’s harmless. He’s just addled in the head. Has been for years. He goes off his medication now and then, but he’s never hurt or threatened anyone.”
“I see…” Constance cocked her head to the side as she digested the new information. “So what’s the problem? Some sort of dementia?”
“Seems like it. Nobody’s really sure. One day he just snapped, more or less. He spent some time in the hospital over in Mais…” she shrugged. “Poor man. He never recovered from it. His wife couldn’t take it. She tried for a while, but she finally divorced him and moved away.”
“Does he have anyone to take care of him?”
“Us,” Clovis returned, making a small sweep with her hand. “That’s the other reason Stella called. To let us know he’s probably skipped some pills again.”
“One of the many hidden advantages of living in a small town, I suppose,” Constance mused.
“We do try to look out for one another,” Clovis agreed. “We’ll probably send Mel over to his house to check on him like usual. She seems to have a way with him when he’s off his medication.”
“That’s good… So…what else can you tell me about him? Stella said he’s not even a real minister.”
“She’s right, he’s not…” She paused and gave a halfhearted shrug. “Well, not that we know of, anyway. He’s lived here all his life and nobody in Hulis has any recollection of him even going to church, much less becoming an ordained minister of any sort.”
“Well, he’s apparently spent some time studying the Bible,” Constance offered. “He was quoting verses to me.”
Clovis nodded. “Let me guess, they all had to do with Satan.”
“Yes. They did. I suppose that’s not unique, then.”
“Not really. That’s what he does. When he’s been off his pills for a while, he gets convinced that everyone here is possessed by the devil himself.”
“Any idea why?”
“Don’t know. Like I said, he’s addled. He has been for years now.”
“Well, thanks for filling me in; I appreciate it.”
“No problem, Agent Mandalay. Thank you for being so understanding about this. I really don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.”
The wind was at Constance’s back during her return walk to the Greenleaf Motel. However, that didn’t keep it from stinging the exposed portions of her cheeks, because she couldn’t stop casting a wary eye over her shoulder.
Something about Clovis’s explanation regarding Pastor Reese wasn’t sitting well with her. She didn’t think the woman was necessarily lying about anything she had said, but something down in her gut was telling her that there was more to the story.
The truth was, it seemed like everyone in this town was hiding something. Except maybe for Merrie Callahan, but at the moment-for reasons Constance didn’t even want to imagine-she wasn’t talking either.
CHAPTER 20
10:06 A.M. – December 24, 2010
Greenleaf Motel
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
“Mmnnmm…Yemm…Thizizstrrmmm…” The mumbled mish-mash of syllables issuing from the cell phone sounded like the owner of the voice was still firmly attached to his pillow. As it happened, there was a very good reason for that.
He was.
Constance felt a rush of envy well up in her chest as Ben’s barely intelligible greeting flowed into her ear.
She wanted sleep.
She desperately needed sleep.
But here he was getting the sleep instead of her, and illogical as she knew it was, that just made her resentment grow. The monster’s eyes turned from green to red as the jealousy began to quickly morph through dangerous phases. An instant later it had become a quick burst of anger that escaped the bonds of discretion.
“Dammit, it’s already after ten,” Constance barked into her cell phone. Playful was definitely not an accurate description of her tone. “Get your ass out of bed!”
“Whoa…” Ben grumbled in return, his voice sounding far more alert this time. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you too…”
Constance emptied her lungs with a violent exhale, then sat down hard on the corner of her ravaged motel bed. It didn’t give much, so she groaned as the unexpected thud sent a dull ache shooting up her spine and radiating out through the muscles of her back. Pitching slowly forw
ard at the waist, she rested her free elbow on her knee then dropped her forehead into her palm. Taking in a deep breath, she started gently massaging her temples with her thumb and fingers.
“You okay?” Ben’s concerned voice rolled out of the cell phone speaker after a lengthy pause.
“Yeah… I’m fine,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
He was definitely awake now. “I forgive ya’. I’m sure I prob’ly deserved it for somethin’ else. Sure you’re okay? I was sorta expectin’ ta’ hear from ya’ last night.”
“Yeah, sorry about that too. I got a little sidetracked.”
“I can relate. Been there… So…who pissed in your cornflakes this mornin’? Besides me, I mean.”
“Actually, I had to start a list,” she replied. “Unfortunately, I also had to put myself at the top of it.”
“Ouch. Been there too. I hate when that happens.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Me too.”
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.
“Yes… No…” she stammered. “I just don’t really know…”
“Okay… That’s a start I guess,” he said. “You sleep okay? You sound like crap on a stick.”
“Thanks.” Her reply was liberally frosted with sarcasm.
“Just bein’ honest.”
“Yeah, I know…” she said. “Truth is, not really. I got some, but not nearly enough.”
“Guess that’d explain the nasty ‘tude, huh?”
“Don’t press your luck, buddy. I’m not over being jealous that you were still in bed when I called.”
“Yeah… My bad. I shoulda known better’n ta’ sleep,” he fired back a sardonic volley of his own.
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