by Rain Trueax
“You are Reverend Donovan?” she asked sure he had to be as she held out her hand, which he took. His grip was firm, his palms rough.
“Call me John.”
“I am Elke Hemstreet.”
He let out a whistle. “Is Maria a relative?”
She nodded and smiled. “My mother. I hope that is in my favor.”
“Of course. Come on in. I have some iced tea if you’d like it.”
“I would like.”
He had a small room in the back where a cot, one burner stove and small refrigerator told her it was where he lived. The table had mismatched chairs, but everything was clean. It was also blazing hot as the only cooling was a fan overhead to move the air but do nothing for its temperature.
“What can I do for you, Miss Hemstreet?” he asked as he sat across the table from her.
“I wanted to meet you. I had heard about your work. I know your sister-in-law from her paintings.”
He grinned. “The beautiful Rachel, yes. She does wonderful work. You haven’t met her though?”
“No, but I think some of my family has.”
“I was separated from my brother, Jake, for years, blamed him for what I had done. Fortunately, we are now restored. The prodigal son and all that.”
“That’s wonderful. I know how important family is.” She tried to think how to broach what she most wanted to know. It seemed only directly would do. “Are you aware of a movement in Tucson who is trying to drive witches out of their businesses. Of course, we all know witches don’t exist.” She smiled. “Despite that, it’s been my family where the effort has been directed.”
“Now, how could anyone think that about such a nice family?” There was something about the gleam in his eyes, which turned his comment ironic.
“I didn’t realize ministers could have a sense of humor,” she retorted.
He laughed. “Can they?”
“Some it appears.”
“I am teasing you. I am also maybe not the usual preacher. I value spirituality in whatever form it comes and see those who do good may come from many walks and ways.” He smiled again.
“I had heard there were two pastors working in this neighborhood. You are, of course, one.”
“And Martin Jefferies is the other with Faith in Action.”
“That is the name I heard. I suppose pastors never speak ill of each other.”
Again, that gleam. “Loyalty to the brand.”
“Of course.”
“Since I am not your traditional preacher, I don’t have that. I have met Pastor Jefferies. He does not think much of my ministry nor do I of his.”
“I plan to meet him next.”
“Don’t expect it will change his mind when you do. Some people need an enemy. Witches are good for that purpose—especially after the Potter books attempted to make it more acceptable and now, of course, Vislogus.”
“You read it?” She was surprised.
“I read them both.”
“Well, it may not help to talk to him, but I do want to try.” She didn’t mention her other reason—the murder of Debbie Johnson. Her reasons for thinking there might be a connection were nothing she could discuss with this minister.
“Of course, one can always try.” He smiled again. She liked him and was glad her mother had been involved in furthering his ministry. It seemed a positive element for the barrios. His energy was not that of the man who had placed the body in the wash.
Before heading for Faith in Action, she called Torre’s cell. “Find anything useful?” she asked.
“Debbie went to University of Arizona but dropped out her freshman year. She’d been working at a local church as a secretary for two years.”
“Faith in Action.”
“Yep. She also has been very involved on several social media sites, hundreds of friends if having names there means friends. There were the usual interests of young women as to hot men and sexy clothes, good shoes, many hopes for the future when she’d be a big star. From her photos, she was pretty, which you knew. Unfortunately, for her dreams, besides being murdered, there are many pretty women out there. She was trying to get parts in other theater productions but had only been a secondary player.”
“Was she a member of the congregation where she worked?”
“She didn’t list it, if so. Most of her likes were rather innocuous, the sort you do because everybody else does, if you know what I mean.”
“Okay, thanks. I am heading to that church next.”
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Maybe.” Elke laughed. “And look up Chuck Carter. Or Charles. See what you come up with—especially if he ends up on Debbie’s friend list.”
“Okay.”
“I met John Donovan just now. He seems nice. I guess Mom donates to his work.” She knew Torre was more into the Hemstreet charitable work than she had been.
“That and two others who help the homeless.”
“Okay, if you don’t hear from me by seven tonight, come get me because I will not be willingly converting.” She laughed with Torre but wasn’t sure it was actually funny.
She had considered getting an appointment to speak with Pastor Jefferies but opted instead for surprise. She wanted to get a sense of his energy when he was not expecting her. She had seen the outside of the church but hadn’t thought much of it other than it was a large building with few ornamentations. Where she saw two cars parked, she decided was most likely the office. Again, she felt for energies. This time she was blocked. Something was around or that would not happen.
Getting out of her car, the heat was like a blast that threatened to cook everything in its path. It felt even hotter than south of town? The pavement looked melted. The door opened at her light touch. She began to feel uneasy about her plan. There was no turning back.
“May I help you?” An older woman was behind a desk. Her hair was cut short. She wore no makeup. The long-sleeved, green dress completed a Spartan look. Air-conditioning, running hard, kept the room at maybe 70º. It was a bit of a shock to her system.
“Would Reverend Jefferies be available today?”
The woman studied her. “May I say the purpose for which you are asking?”
“I knew Debbie Johnson.”
The woman’s face twisted. “The police were here… It was so tragic. Just a moment, let me see if he is able to speak to you.” She punched a number. “There is a young lady here to speak to you about Debbie.” She nodded. “You may go in.” She pointed to the door behind her.
After the very plain reception room, the pastor’s office came as a shock. It was painted a vibrant burgundy with a plush sofa and two stuffed chairs as well as a large ebony desk. A bookcase behind the desk was full of books with matching covers. The air was warmer than the outside office but still pleasantly cool. This church didn’t mind spending money on more than protests.
“You were a friend of Debbie’s?” he asked as he extended his hand. She took it, finding it strange that she got no information regarding his energy.
“More an acquaintance. I saw her last night at the theater.”
“Theater?”
“Stage Left. She was there along with your brother, David, and several other actors as we discussed a possible play for the fall.”
“And your name is?”
“Elke Hemstreet.”
“I see. Are you the owner of the shop and the bookstore?”
“My family.”
“So it’s not about Deborah that you came.” His smile was close to a sneer.
“It was, as I knew she worked for you.”
“Yes, she had.”
“Had?”
“She had quit the day before. We hadn’t even run the papers through. I told the police all of this. I feel very badly for her, but it seemed she was heading a way that this was the likely end. Her desire for theater… well, you can see the conflict.”
“Theater is evil?”
“Some of them.”<
br />
“Your brother’s?”
“It wasn’t just that. Women who dress to provoke often find the result is someone being provoked.”
“Debbie wasn’t wearing anything that provocative when I saw her at the theater. She was dressed like many young girls.”
“I am afraid I cannot help you. You and I are on separate paths.” There was something in his eyes that let her know a warning had been given. “Short skirts like yours, bare arms, flowing hair, well, it does lead to trouble. I hope you will see that—before it’s too late.”
“Is that why you believe my sister and I are witches?”
“Oh no, that came as the result of hours of prayer.”
She tried but could not resist. “Prayer to whom?” He looked blankly at her, as she rose. “I am sorry to have bothered you.”
“Sorry I could not help you,” he said as he walked her to the door.
“I did have one more question.”
“Of course.” His smile was repugnant.
“Is Chuck or Charles Carter a member of your congregation?” she asked before she went into the searing heat.
“Never heard the name. Good luck, my dear.” His expression gave away nothing.
As she got into her car, Elke knew her family had an enemy, a directed and dangerous one. Although she’d never seen the face in her vision of the man carrying Debbie’s body, Jefferies fit the body type, but something in that office had blocked her ability to read his energy. None of which proved anything. Neither did the way he had looked at her. She would have to double the wards around her home from now on—at least until they found Debbie’s murderer.
><><><
“Hell,” Mitch growled as he shoved the last bag into the bed of the truck. He had planned to leave with dark. He put the hitch onto the back of the truck feeling even more angry and frustrated. His horse trailer was at the ranch where he would get Ranger before heading north. His mind was on none of that.
“What’s wrong?” Adolph asked, letting the rabbit go, that he had only been half-heartedly chasing.
It was too hot. Maybe that was all Mitch was feeling. Except he knew it wasn’t. “It’s that woman,” he said finally as he straightened and stared toward the city.
Adolph gave a wolf smile. “The beautiful one?”
“You know which one.” Mitch was disgusted and angry at himself. He couldn’t let it go. She was in trouble—more than she knew. It wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his problem. Ever since he’d read the morning paper, seen a third woman had been killed, he’d had a bad feeling. Throughout the day, as he’d readied the house to be left, his premonition had grown.
He could feel energies building-- ugly and dark, threatening. He needed to leave Tucson, to go north where he could think more clearly and better protect himself. He had sent Buck and Sofia ahead to ready the house. It was time for him to go. Elke Hemstreet wasn’t in danger.
Except he knew she was. The dark elements were growing. She had already made herself a target. She didn’t have a clue what she would soon face. Swearing under his breath, he told Adolph, “Get in the truck.”
“You aren’t in a good mood. Don’t do something with that woman that you’ll regret.”
“I won’t.” He headed down the driveway pushing the remote to close the gate behind him. He hoped his home would be there when he returned.
“How do you know where to find her?” Adolph asked, when he turned south not north when he reached the main road. In the distance, a thick lightning bolt slammed into Wasson Peak.
“I know.” That made him mad too, that he did know. That ever since she had come to his home he had wanted to know more about her, about what she did, where she lived. He knew and knowing infuriated him.
Driving across Tucson, the storm seemed to be staying in the Tucson Mountains, as it slammed again and again to one or the other of the peaks. Overhead it was a clear sky filled with stars while the opposite mountains were being hammered. The blackness above was enhanced by no moonlight. Its sliver wouldn’t rise until 3 am.
Beyond downtown Tucson, he turned into the old barrio. He didn’t need to read the street signs. He knew where she was by scent. He stopped the truck in front of a two story, older home. She would be in the upper level. There were no lights on. Fine, he had no intention of knocking. “Stay with the truck,” he told Adolph as he got out. A figure walked out of the shadows and headed toward the gated entrance. At the metal grill, the male pulled a knife and began to jimmy the lock.
Mitch smiled. “Looking for something?” he asked quietly, as he walked up behind the man, who turned with the knife in his hand. Mitch reached out and grabbed his wrist, twisting it hard enough to force him to drop the knife before he heard the bone snap over his knee. The man let out a yelp of pain. “Worse happens if you don’t get out of here,” Mitch warned. The man grasped his broken arm, wheeled, and sprinted out of sight. Mitch kicked the knife into the oleander.
Directing his powers toward the lock, he heard it click open and walked through. At the top of the stairs, there was a door. Again, the lock was no problem, and he walked into the silent apartment. Small kitchen to the left, living room in front of him and a door down a short hall that had to be to the bedroom. He stalked toward it angry and ready to tear something apart that he was even doing this.
As he opened the door, a flare of energy shot toward him, which he blocked with his hand, throwing it to the ground. “Now was that nice?” he asked realizing that she wasn’t quite as defenseless as he had assumed.
“Neither is breaking into someone’s home,” she snapped. She was sitting in the center of her bed wearing a filmy gown. Without light, he saw only the shadowy shape and thought that was a good thing as what he was thinking now took his anger to a different level.
“You’re coming with me,” he said.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you aren’t safe here. Did you know someone was breaking in when I got here?”
“I had heard the sound and was ready.”
“For anything?”
She gave a little laugh. “Apparently not.”
“Get dressed, grab some clothes, and hurry up.”
“I am going nowhere with you.”
“You have a choice of packing some clothes and walking out of here, or you can be carried with just what you are wearing. That’s your only choice.”
She glared at him. “To where?”
“Verde Valley and my ranch there. There is a problem here in Tucson. I want to be where I can figure out what is happening and maybe why.”
“And that will be easier when not here? Seems it’d be the other way around.”
“Lady, I’m done arguing.” He headed for her.
“Wait. I’ll get dressed. Turn around.”
“Why? So you can throw another plasma bolt at me?” he asked.
“I didn’t know it was you when I threw it.” She got off the bed, and he turned around, heard the rustle of clothing as the fabric dropped, and then she was pulling on clothing. “I think I’d be safe here. My family is here.”
“For now they aren’t the target. Do you want to change that?”
“Good point.”
“Make sure you include jeans and if you have them boots.”
He heard her opening drawers and throwing clothing into what was probably a bag. He concentrated on what was outside. Adolph would warn him if another came, but he wanted out of this neighborhood, away from Tucson where he could think clearly. That is if clear thinking was ever going to be possible around her. What he was doing made no sense but then that wasn’t new.
Chapter Seven
Sitting in the truck alongside Mitch, with Adolph moved to the back seat, Elke found it difficult to comprehend how abruptly things had changed. She was with the man she wanted to be with but not as she had imagined. She had realized someone was trying to open the lower gate but never imagined it was Mitch.
“It wasn’t me,” he said as he tu
rned east, away from town.
“You read minds?”
“When needed, but in this case, you logically might’ve wondered. I don’t know who it was, but he has a broken arm now.”
She wasn’t surprised. Mitch was a powerful and even deadly looking man, especially when he was in the mood to be. “Recently,” she said, “you didn’t even want to talk to me. What changed?”
“I’ll tell you later if that’s okay.”
“All right, but at least, where are we going? This isn’t heading north.”
“I have to pick up Ranger. I think your foreman has gone as far as he can with him.”
She settled back trying to decide how she felt about any of what had just happened. “I knew you had a horse there but didn’t know why. Luke wouldn’t help me find your address.”
“He’s a good man.” She saw a faint smile but wasn’t sure it was genuine. He was clearly troubled. Coming to her, as he had, showed the caliber of the man, where he would put someone else’s needs ahead of his own. She supposed she could use that knowledge to try and convince him to let her use his book. Even the thought felt unethical. Maybe she could find another book that would accomplish the same purposes—not as good, of course.
“He is skilled with horses,” she said as they turned onto the road to the ranch. Behind them, the storm was moving up the valley but strangely had left the east side mostly alone.
“Ranger is jittery. He doesn’t like wolves.” He gave a little laugh.
“And you like to ride with Adolph.”
“It is one problem.” She knew there was more but again, she could wait. She was going with him wherever that was. She’d let him think he was forcing her. She could have put an end to that if she had wanted- she didn’t want. Suddenly, she very much wanted wherever they were heading.
“I need to let my mother know where I am. The family will go nuts without my telling them.”
“They won’t just know?” It wasn’t much of a question.
She considered that. Since she had not been in danger, her mother might not have recognized what was happening. “I guess they would eventually but why worry them.”
