"So…something came up at work," she says.
I nod again. I can't find a way to create words, but it doesn't sound like my consent or opinion is needed.
"I was offered a very important, which requires me to go undercover. I can't go into it…but I think I should take it. I think it would be a huge step up for both my career and my personal goals."
This sounds like she's giving me a business presentation. Maybe she did want my opinion. She's a hard woman to read.
"That's…great," I say. "I'm happy for you. Uh, congratulations."
This is possibly my worst acting job and I fell over in my kindergarten play—I was a pineapple. I rolled down the aisle. This is just as bad. I wish I could ramp up my enthusiasm, but I can't find the energy.
"What do you think I should do?" she asks.
I shrug. "You should do what you think is best for you. Do what will make you happy."
"So, you're okay if…I can't talk to you for months?"
"It's…your choice." I bite back the obvious question—would that mean our relationship is over? We need to talk about something else. Something happier. Cheerier. "Have you found out anything new about LaPonte's murder?"
"LaPonte's murder?" she asks, as if confused by the change in topic. "Um, the medical examiner, Dr. Ulvo, has good reason to believe there were two murderers. Likely one female and one male."
"Am I still a suspect?"
She tilts her head. "Not to me."
"But I still am to your supervisor?"
She frowns. "Look, Aaron, we're checking out a big pool of suspects since he was the Representative of Alaska. He was an important figure. We have to pursue every possible lead. Rhoda will probably want to check out anyone LaPonte came into contact with who doesn't have a solid alibi."
"Really? Because it feels like the FBI is trying to blame me for any murder they can't find a suspect for. There's no evidence I was even there! How can she just assume—"
Teresa's cell phone begins to vibrate next to her hand. She glances down at it.
"It's the office. I have to take this," she says, picking it up. "I'm sorry."
She clicks Answer on the screen and holds it up to her ear.
"Hello? Hey, Donovan. Yeah. It's fine. Really? Okay. Okay. I'll swing by and check it out. Yeah. I'll be there in about forty minutes. I'll see you soon. Thanks. Bye."
She sets the phone down.
"Sorry, I have to go," she says, standing up and putting a few dollar bills down. "I know I called you here and I'm sorry, but I just wanted to tell you about the job offer.
"That's fine," I say. "I know you're busy."
She leans forward and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. We've done it a hundred times before, but her lips are too dry and her mouth is sealed shut. This is not the kiss of a lover, but the kiss of someone who doesn't want to give the wrong impression.
She walks away from the table without another word and I hear the door snap shut behind her.
Of course, that's when the waitress decides to walk up to the table. I don't even recognize her. Has it been that long since I've been here.
"Hey, welcome to The Charcoal Grill. Have you decided what you want to eat?"
"I'm not hungry." I stand up. "I'm sorry, I need to go."
I keep my head down as I leave the restaurant. Once I'm outside, the sun seems blindingly bright, except for one thing—a shitty little bar called Holy Smokes and Spirits. I cross the road and walk into the bar. There's only two other people there, both of them watching a football game.
"Can I help you?" the bartender asks.
"Could I have a beer?" I ask. "Just whatever is on tap."
"We have our own homemade beer called Sweat and Stuff."
"Sure. Whatever."
He grabs a glass and begins to fill it. I've been sober long enough that I can handle a beer. I could drink a six-pack of beer before. This should barely affect me at all.
Chapter Fourteen
Teresa (Sunday night)
Donovan is eating from a box of doughnuts at his desk. White powder covers both corners of his lips.
"Sampling some drugs from evidence?" I tease, as I walk up to him.
"Only the good ones."
He hands me a piece of paper.
"So, this shows that LaPonte was taking out one thousand dollars every week. He first began doing this in November of two thousand and three. If anybody thought that was weird at the bank, they won't talk about it or there isn't any information about it on their computers. There's no sign that he spent it on taxes, personal expenses, insurance, debt repayment…anything. He just has it…and then it's gone."
"Maybe he was saving up for an emergency fund?"
"Twelve years, twelve months, four weeks in a month…that's a huge amount of money and he had enough money in his bank account that he didn't need any emergency fund," he says.
"It's strange. Usually it's mysterious money that goes into politician's accounts while companies try to bribe them into voting how they want them to vote," I say.
"Maybe he wanted to bribe someone else? An opponent? No, that wouldn't last for twelve years. Maybe he desperately needed somebody's support for all of his campaigns, so he began bribing them twelve years ago?"
"He was just a lawyer then. He didn't start campaigning for a few years after that," I say. "I remember Judge Latham was at his press conference for governor. Maybe he had some trouble with the law and was paying Latham off to get it erased from his record?"
"What is so bad that he would pay that much for twelve years?" he asks.
"I don't know. Nearly everything for politicians. Sex scandal. Drunk driving. Assault. Murder—"
Murder. Of course.
"What is it?" Donovan asks. "You look like you've been struck in the head."
"Aaron thought that LaPonte could have been the one who killed his sister, Zoë…which happened twelve years ago. And if I remember correctly from when I was researching about Judge Latham, Judge Latham helped to get the state police off the case. Of course, of course. So, he was paying Latham to help cover it up…"
"I don't know," Donovan says. "I mean, both of them sociopaths? And they continued to live without doing more…I don't know…murdery stuff?"
"Maybe he really hated his sister."
"I hate my sister. I've managed to not kill her over the last four decades. There's no telling if it will happen soon, I'm just saying…most people don't kill their sisters. Well, I suppose, statistically, people kill people that they know, but I mean…both of them wouldn't have gotten away with it for so long."
"You know what? Aaron will support me." I pull out my phone then press "1," speed dialing him. The phone rings and rings as Donovan begins to eat another doughnut. It finally switches to his voicemail, so I hang up. I hope he's not mad at me. I'm only trying to do what I think is best. "All right, Donovan, can we at least go to Latham's house to question him about his relationship with LaPonte?"
He gestures to his doughnuts. "I just bought these."
"You can eat them in my car as long as you don't make a mess," I say. "It's like you don't care at all that there's murders happening left and right."
"I care. I just also care about my doughnuts."
I sigh. "I'll be in my car."
He stuffs the doughnut in his mouth. "Ehm comffing."
I roll my eyes, but I can't help but think that once I go undercover, there won't be times like this again.
* * *
Judge Latham lets us into his house and leads us to the dining room. Their dining room table is a made of a beautiful red-hued wood with a piece of glass over it and a large chandelier above it. There's a china cabinet with more expensive items in it than I could imagine ever being able to afford. Could Judge Latham have made multiple deals with murderers in order to become so rich?
I hear the sound of dishes clinking against each other. I look over Judge Latham's shoulder, as he sits across from me, to see Vanessa, Latham's wife, and Sarah
, his daughter, washing the dishes. Sarah glances back at me, but doesn't seem fazed that we're there. Vanessa, on the other hand, seems nervous. A plate slides out of her hands into the sink, causing water to splash both women.
"So…what is this about?" Latham asks. "I'm assuming LaPonte's murder. I just heard about it. It's terrible. I can't believe anyone would be that malicious."
"Yes, that's why we're here," I say. "I was wondering if you could tell us about your relationship with LaPonte—I just want to get an idea of his personal life and I remember seeing you at his announcement that he was running for governor."
"Yes…I was at his press conference because I support him for governor. Our relationship is purely professional."
"So…" I say, leaning forward. "LaPonte didn't pay you one thousand dollars a week?"
His face scrunches up in confusion. "No…."
His body language seems genuinely confused, but in the corner of my eyes, I see Vanessa's head turn as if the number caught her interest. That's interesting. Could the wife be more loose-lipped than the judge?
Barrett stares at me, waiting for me to ask another question, but I've already decided that Vanessa would be easier to interrogate since the judge is clearly prepared to lie.
"So, uh, Judge Latham, you've never received any money from LaPonte?" Donovan asks.
He shakes his head. "No. Never. I don't need his money."
Sarah walks out of the kitchen and up to her father. She wraps her arm around his shoulder and kisses the top of his head.
"I'm gonna go to Jessica Barterson's house for the night. We're going to study and then I'll just crash at her house because it's only a few minutes' walk to school."
Actually, it might be easier to get Sarah to talk since I was one of the people who saved her from the abandoned mine. It might not be ethical to get Sarah to talk about her father by reminding her that she owes me, but it could be effective.
"All right, Sarah, drive safely," he says.
She smiles at Donovan and me before walking toward the door.
"You know what? Agent Donovan and I should get going, too. It's late and clearly you don't have any personal information about LaPonte, so we should figure out who else he knows."
"I wish I could help, but the only person I ever saw him hang out with was Junior," Latham says. "And since you can't talk to Junior…"
"Don't worry, Judge Latham, we'll figure something out." I grab Donovan's arm. "Let's go."
I half-drag him toward the door. Once we're outside, I see Sarah starting her car.
"Come on." I hiss, walking as quickly as possible toward my car while trying to not appear suspicious.
"Why are we in such a rush?" Donovan asks. "Before you were begging me to come with you to question Latham and we only asked a few questions."
"Shut up and get in the car," I tell him, jerking open the driver's door of my SUV. Once we're both in, Sarah is already driving away. I turn on my car, shift it into drive, and begin to follow her.
"Are…are we following Sarah Latham?" Donovan asks.
"Yep."
"Why?"
"She'll be easier to get information out of than her father."
"Oh. Good. We're chasing after teenagers now."
After almost fifteen minutes have passed, and we have one car between us, I notice Sarah's directional flip on. She's turning right.
"The only way she would be going right is if she's going on the thruway," I mutter. "I'm thinking her friend Jessica isn't that far away from here."
Donovan shrugs. "Kids lie to their parents all the time."
"But where is she going?"
"You're seriously going to follow her? For all you know, she's trying to escape into Canada."
"Why would anybody need to escape from Alaska?"
"Ask the polar bears. They're the ones moving farther north."
"Do you know facts about everything?"
"Nearly," he says.
We continue to bicker as I keep Sarah in my sights. Over fifteen minutes pass before she takes an exit. We follow her for another fifteen minutes as the industrialized area changes into farmland.
She stops and parks in front of an area with a large gate. I continue to drive, so she doesn't realize we're following her. Donovan is half-asleep in the passenger seat. I stop the car about a block away.
"Just so you know…" he drawls. "It's going to be your responsibility to explain to Rhoda what we were doing this whole time. And you'll need a better explanation than…we were following the judge's daughter to question her about her father on the hunch that the he was blackmailing LaPonte for money."
"I'll tell her you had diarrhea." I jump out of the car. We rush back toward the fenced area. Once we get there, I notice the dome-shaped building and the tiny huts. "What the hell is this place?"
"I have no idea, but it gives me the creeps. It's like where hell would be if it rose up to the surface," Donovan mutters.
I grab his arm then indicate toward the left of the temple. "There's Sarah."
Sarah walks up to a young female child with black hair that's styled into two pigtails. A young man—in his midtwenties—with black hair waves and he smiles at her as if he loves her. It's a weird feeling—curiosity over who these two are—it couldn't be her kid, right?—and a urge to have the same relationship as Sarah does with this man. This man loves her. This man would die for her.
I glance over at Donovan to ask him what he thinks is going on, but he's staring at the dome. It's strange, certainly, with the mixture of steel and windows, but he still seems too intrigued with it.
"Are you remembering being in hell?" I tease.
He shakes his head. "Those symbols on the church," he says, indicating two engravings on either sides of the door, "there was once this pastor at the funeral home who liked to draw them while my father chatted with him. One means alpha and the other means omega in Greek. Usually when those two symbols are together it stands for how Jesus is the beginning and the end….it usually refers to Jesus in the book of Revelation."
"So…is this just another factoid you're throwing out at me?" I ask.
He groans. "How did you become an FBI agent? Come on, Teresa. The book of Revelation. Revelation, chapter six, verse two, 'I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror—'"
"'Bent on conquest,'" I finish. "The verse carved on LaPonte's body. We have to go question them."
I stand up to go toward the fence, but Donovan grabs my arm.
"No," he says. "We should find out more about this church and at least wait until daylight before we go question anyone. The last thing we want is some crazy murderers who use religion as their motive surrounding us while we know nothing about them.
"That's smart." I try to get one last peek at Sarah, but she's already gone. How did the judge's daughter get involved with a cult? Could she be blind to the evil dwelling inside it or could there be an evil inside her I've never noticed before?
Chapter Fifteen
Sarah (Sunday night)
Inside the temple, it's almost pitch-black with only a dozen of candles set up in a large circle at the altar. Jonah is in the center of it with his head bowed. Elijah and I walk up to it. We dropped Anna off at her mother's hut, but now I wish she were still around because I find her presence comforting. Jonah, on the other hand, is scary as hell. Literally, as scary as hell.
"Father," Elijah says. "Sarah thinks some FBI agents followed her here. We need to prepare in case they come back with a warrant."
Jonah raises his head. "Of course. Of course. This is Satan's work. Who else would Satan work through other than government workers? He is trying to stop us from our mission." He presses his index finger against his bottom lip. "They must know we're closing in on the Apocalypse. I already killed the Black Horseman of Famine, and you two killed the White Horseman of Conquest, so all that is left are the two who represent the Red Horseman of War and the
Pale Horseman of Death. All four must be killed before Jesus will begin opening the seven seals to unleash the real Horseman. 'Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority, and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.' The First Epistle of the Corinthians, chapter fifteen, verse twenty-four to twenty-six. We must serve Jesus by getting rid of all these rulers and oppressors. And the Pale Horseman of Death must be the last one to be killed. He is the last enemy."
If Jonah wants two more people to be killed, I might as well use this delusion to my advantage.
"I found out something…" Both men turn to look at me. "After my father found out that LaPonte was dead…he confessed to me that he was involved in Zoë LaPonte's murder and he killed Patrick Duff Jr."
I'm not entirely sure why I tack Junior onto my lie—since I'm particularly proud of that one—but I might as well get the rumor started if I plan on my father being dead soon.
Jonah turns to Elijah. "Didn't you tell me she's Judge Latham's daughter?"
"She is."
He nods, looking solemn. "Yes. A judge would make sense for one of the Horseman. There is only one judge and that is God. This likely makes him the Horseman of War…he pits two lawyers against each other and watches them fight for his approval…"
I stop listening to his gibberish as I notice Anna in one of the windowpanes. She waves at me with as much enthusiasm as any child can muster with a piece of paper in her hand. I can see various colors on the paper, but I can't make out what it's supposed to be because she's whipping it back and forth over her head.
"Anna!" Jonah shouts, standing up. His face is deep red. He stomps down the center aisle of the temple. Anna stops moving and her whole face turns white. Elijah and I follow Jonah outside. Jonah moves around the dome, reaches Anna, and jerks her by the arm, forcing her an inch away from his face. "You do not interrupt people when they're talking. How many times have I told you that? Do I need to find a switch to beat you with? Will that make you understand the words coming out of my mouth?"
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