by Daniel Jeudy
Benny’s face twisted in on itself as the manifestation of dread inside his eyes charred a passage through to his core. The Old Man briefly considered butchering him right away.
“Why, mister?” Benny howled, “What have I done to you? Please let me go. I won’t say a word about this if you release me. I promise you I won’t.”
The Old Man faked like he weighed up the boy’s request.
“But how do I know I can trust you, Ben?” he teased.
“Sir, you can trust me all right. I couldn’t give a hoot about whatever’s going on here. I just want to get back to Philly so I can score a bump and go find a bridge to sleep under.”
The Old Man’s right hand closed around a hunting knife in his belt, his left on a pair of slip-joint pliers as he leaned in closer to the cage. I’m going to enjoy this.
“Stick your tongue out through this hole. I want to make sure you’re telling the truth.”
“I am telling you the truth, mister; I promise you I am.”
“Then do as I have asked.”
Benny gaped up at him with reluctant enthusiasm while presenting his tongue before the Old Man grabbed it with his pliers and brought down the knife in a whipping motion. Benny’s screams echoed along the corridor as the Old Man inspected his flesh.
“Now, I can be certain you won’t speak again. But you won’t be returning to Philadelphia, I’m afraid. I’ll finish this game of ours once the infection starts setting in, and someone I know is sure going to enjoy feeding on this warm offal you’ve provided.”
The Old Man whistled “Dixieland” while walking back toward Annie’s enclosure. He was satisfied that Benny’s whining had been taken care of. His screams continued to bounce off the walls like a composition from the darkness—a terrible sound so delightful to hear.
Thirty-Eight
Addison thought about taking a drive to the Public Health building in Newark when Rick Sharp called with news about Sarah Cross. He would have liked to ask a few questions to verify they had the right woman but didn’t want to seem arrogant, so he confirmed they’d be there shortly and told Jed to meet him downstairs with a car. It took them fifteen minutes to get to the FBI building on Wilshere Boulevard, and Sharp was waiting to greet them when they stepped out of the elevator. “Howdy, boys.”
The two detectives returned his greeting.
“We sure appreciate getting the call on this,” Addison said.
“Not a problem. As I said, this asshole needs to be brought down quickly, and working together seems our best shot … The woman is an interesting piece of work.”
Sharp led them down a long, brightly lit corridor.
“How’d you manage to find her so fast?” Jed asked.
“When we put her name into Social Security and the National Drive Register, nothing came back for Riverside County. I’m guessing you boys encountered similar frustrations.”
“Yeah, we did,” Addison confirmed.
Sharp unlocked a closed glass door with a swipe of his keycard.
“I was attempting to formulate a plan on what we might do next when Katy walked through my door with a big happy smile. She decided to enter the name Sarah Cross as an alias in the NIBRS, and it returned as a hit. Right age, right location, right time frame. We jumped straight in the car and drove out to the address where we picked her up this morning.”
“What was she arrested for?” Jed asked.
Sharp shook his head as if he were still surprised by the answer. “Animal cruelty.”
“For real?” Jed said.
“I kid you not. She was apprehended in 1991 and charged with supplying dogs to an underground pit fighting ring. Her name at the time was Sarah Randall. She married Joey Parker in 1994, divorced three years later, and she just held onto his name. I was expecting we’d find her someplace on the other side of the country, but it seems she returned to Riverside County in 1999. Have you boys ever been to Cherry Valley?”
Addison’s ex-wife had a niece who resided nearby.
“A small town on the edge of the city,” he remembered out loud.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Sharp confirmed. “So, you’ve been out there?”
“Not for a few years.”
They continued through a section of work cubicles similar to the ones used at LAPD headquarters. None of the agents engaged in open conversation or time-wasting activity as the constant tap of keyboards created a metronome-like drone. Sharp directed them past a row of modern offices and down a hall toward a conference area where a group of agents sat around a table. They didn’t notice the detectives pass by, maintaining their focus on a woman who pointed calmly at charts of data on a projection screen. Sharp stopped outside a steel door at the end of the passage, where he waved them inside. Agent Pearce was standing in front of a one-way mirror, studying Sarah Parker in the next room.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said casually.
They acknowledged her while moving in to get a look.
Sarah Parker appeared to be aged in her mid-fifties. She had stringy gray hair, a pallid complexion, and spiteful features. Her patchwork dress made her look like a witch as she stared down absently at a steel table and fidgeted with her thumbs.
“You get any gut feelings about her?” Addison asked.
It was Pearce who responded to the question.
“She’s uneasy. But we haven’t spoken to her yet. We just said her name popped up in a police matter, and she needed to come in and clarify a few things.”
“She just agreed, no questions asked?” Jed asked.
Pearce shook her head, smiling.
“Not exactly. She certainly wanted to know what it was about. I thought she would demand legal representation, but Rick persuaded her to come along by saying we just needed to clear her name as standard procedure.”
Pearce turned and gave Sharp a wink.
“He may have led her to believe it has something to do with dogfighting as well. She eventually agreed to cooperate after we promised her a ride home.”
Addison admired the approach. “Anything else you were able to pick up on?” he asked.
“There’s something off about her. You agree, Rick?”
Sharp tilted his head and folded his arms. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to put a finger on what Katy’s referring to. I wouldn’t say she presents as dangerous, but her demeanor comes across a little numb. Like maybe she’d be indifferent to nasty shit going down in the house across the street so long as it doesn’t affect her personally. Put it this way, the animal cruelty charge feels like a perfect fit.”
Addison nodded thoughtfully.
The red light on the camera inside the interview room was already on. All that remained was for Sharp to flick the switches to the audio recorder, and they’d be good to go.
“Who’s going in to speak with her, then?” Addison asked.
Sharp extended an arm toward his partner.
“Either of you can go in with Katy. I want to let Parker know we’re working together on this. It might prove helpful to mix things up in case we need to come at her hard.”
Addison looked at Jed, who nodded. “All righty, then. Let’s do this.”
“Sure thing,” Pearce replied, already heading for the corridor.
Addison followed her out to an adjacent door, where she swiped her card across the lock, waiting as the familiar clunk of double bolts disengaged before entering the room. As they made their way to the table, Sarah Parker gaped at them like they were impressions from a past that had come back to haunt her. It took Addison a matter of seconds to comprehend what the agents had been attempting to describe moments earlier. Parker’s eyes displayed a kind of vacancy that suggested she was long attuned to disassociation.
“Hello, Sarah. I’m Detective Addison Mowbray from the Homicide Special Section of the LAPD, and I believe you’ve already acquainted yourself with Special Agent Katy Pearce. Do you have any idea why we’ve brought you in here today?”
When Parker narrowe
d her face in consideration, it gave her the appearance of a rat. Everything about her was edgy as she entwined her limbs to become a human knot.
“Dunno, maybe ’cause you’ve got nothing better to do with your time and want to ask me something about dogfighting, even though I haven’t been anywhere near a pit for more than twenty years?” Her voice remained steady, and she seemed pleased with the response.
“Your name has come up in a current homicide investigation, Sarah. What can you tell us about a group who used to go by the name In Paucis?”
A flash of panic spread across her face, but she quickly averted her gaze down into her lap, and when she lifted her eyes, none of the anxiety remained. She stared back at them with a somber gravity one might expect to see in a penitentiary-hardened felon.
“What’s the name?” she asked, feigning confusion.
“In Paucis,” Addison replied. “Would you like me to spell it for you?”
Parker made a valiant attempt to look baffled but came up short.
“I’ve never even heard of them,” she spat. “What makes you think I’d know anything about whoever they’re supposed to be?”
Addison allowed a few seconds to pass while examining her eyes.
“Because we’ve been informed you have a cousin who’s had some involvement with them in the past. We’re aware that you know who these people are, Sarah. It’s not going to do you much good pretending like you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about.”
Addison expected her to continue with the farce, but the blast of terror behind her eyes was as evident as the sun is bright. She looked like a deer caught inside the blinding glare of a hunter’s headlights, preparing herself to be shot. Parker attempted to restore her composure by unfolding her arms and uncrossing her legs.
“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Not a freakin’ clue. Whoever’s provided that information is full of shit. You’ll need to go back to the drawing board and start over again.”
Addison heard Pearce scratching her thigh.
“No, I don’t think so. I’m certain the information we received is good. It hasn’t come from a single source. You’ll have to do better than that.”
There was nothing wrong with embellishing the facts when it helped put the squeeze on someone like the woman sitting across from him. Parker had given up attempting to conceal her apprehension and started chewing her nails feverishly instead.
“You can’t keep holding me here,” she said. “I’ve got no idea who those people are. So, if you intend to continue asking me questions, then I will need to see a lawyer.”
Pearce touched Addison gently on the arm while she slapped a hand down on the table. Her harsh expression contravened her natural beauty.
“No fucking problem, Sarah,” she declared, running a hand across the fabric of her pants again. “You can go right ahead and lawyer up if you want to. But we haven’t even accused you of anything at this stage, so I don’t get what your reasons are for demanding legal representation. I will say this, though: if you continue bullshitting us, then we’ll be forced to find your cousin. I don’t imagine it will be a difficult task—we are the FBI, after all. But when we do discover your relative’s whereabouts, I’ll be sure to let them know you were the one who dished out their details. I might also allow them to presume you gave us the name In Paucis as well. How’s that sound?”
Pearce’s smile was menacing while Parker rocked in her chair like a child. The skin around her face tightened, and her thin lips disappeared. It almost made Addison feel sorry for her. The mere mention of their name has filled you with terror.
“You fuckin’ bitch!” Parker screamed. “Why would you do such a thing? This has got nothing at all to do with me. I’m not even one of them.”
Pearce grinned like a poker player with all the right cards. “I’m doing it because I can, and you have something to do with it, Sarah. The fact their name scares you so much is indicative of your responsibility. Don’t be mistaken, ’cause I’ll just throw you in front of a fucking train without giving it a second’s thought. Besides, I adore pit bulls. My family owned three of them when I was a little girl. They were once considered a nanny dog until assholes like you came along.”
Pearce had identified the woman’s fear as her main weakness and was using it against her to tighten the screws. There was an almost suffocating horror now seeping out from inside her, a complete gut-wrenching dread, the kind that made breathing difficult.
“Shit, shit, shit …” she cried while pulling at the hem of her dress. “Please, you’ve got no idea what they will do to me if you give them my name. You just can’t, okay?”
Pearce looked at Addison and shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s go, Detective. She’s made her decision.”
Parker threw her arms out. “Wait! Wait a second.”
Addison didn’t bother moving, watching as Pearce came to a stop and eased back into the chair. The young agent was a ruthless interrogator.
“I really can’t give you my cousin’s name; they’d know it was me, and it wouldn’t do you any good even if I did. He’s never been a part of their organization, but when word gets out about you wanting to speak with him, they’ll kill us both. I don’t know who it is you think you’re dealing with here, but these are not insignificant fucking people. They’re connected in super high places and are aware of everything going down before it can eventuate. You’ll discover as much for yourselves soon enough.”
Addison took note of the fact that Parker had referred to her cousin as he. It was evident she believed what she was saying, yet Pearce just shrugged, all matter-of-fact.
“We’re gonna need something good from you, Sarah. I couldn’t give two fucks about what happens to you or your cousin. As I said, I love pit bulls.”
Addison understood why Sharp had wanted Pearce to be inside the room during the interview. The last time he participated in a joint interrogation with the FBI was in 2015. Addison walked away thinking Agent Bren Perry was the kind of person who might enjoy passing the time by counting match sticks. The guy had talked in all the moments where he should have been listening, wasting far too much time on irrelevant details. Perry probably would have said he was employing a little divergent thinking to the situation; however, a straight-down-the-line approach was where they’d needed to be. Working with Pearce was sure making up for the experience.
“There’s only one person I know of who’d be prepared to speak with you about them,” Parker replied eventually. “There’s nothing more I can give you other than his name. If you go after my cousin, then I might as well shoot myself in the head and get it over with.”
Addison and Pearce glanced at one another.
“Do you know anything about the dead girls in the hills, Sarah?” Pearce asked.
Parker appeared utterly mystified. “What? Why the hell would I know anything about them?”
“Well, you know about your cousin’s group of friends.”
Parker remained genuinely puzzled. “Whoa, wait a sec. Is that the reason why you’re looking into these people? Because you think they might be responsible for killing those damned girls on TV?”
Addison decided to cut in. “What, you don’t think they could be?”
Parker laughed through contorted lips. “You guys are heading down a dangerous path, even for law enforcement. That’s your prerogative. Still, there’s no way in hell the people you’re asking me about are responsible for what happened to those girls. They would never dream of drawing that kind of attention to themselves. Not in a million years.”
Pearce responded to her statement immediately. “This is what we’re going to do, Sarah. You’ll give us the name of this person who you said might be willing to talk to us, and we’ll visit them. But should this turn out to be a waste of our time, then you need to prepare yourself for what we’ll do next. I’m not one to make bullshit threats, and I sure as heck don’t care much for people who think it’s all right to look the other way.”
>
Parker’s desperation subsided. “It isn’t a waste of your time. I think he scares them somehow.”
“What’s his name, Sarah?” Addison asked.
“Tony Anders. Reverend Tony Anders. He’s a Baptist minister who runs a small church on Pico Boulevard with his wife.”
Addison couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.
“You’re kidding, right?” Pearce said.
“No, I’m not fucking kidding. If you want to talk to someone who knows about the people you’re referring to, then he’s your man.”
Addison looked at Pearce, who opened her hands with raised eyebrows.
“Why are they scared of this preacher man?” Pearce asked.
“I don’t know why, precisely, but it might have something to do with a woman who got caught up in their affairs. Anders provided her sanctuary a while back, and they’re both still breathing. Maybe the potential backlash of wiping out an entire church congregation saved their asses.”
“What do you mean?” Addison asked.
“Exactly what I just said. Perhaps the people you’re looking for didn’t want to kill every member of his congregation and decided to leave him be. They even allowed him to hold onto the woman, and that isn’t how they would normally do things as far as I’m aware.”
Addison rubbed his eyes while he tried to make sense of things. He felt like he was trapped inside some nightmare within a dream, waiting to wake up.
“What makes you so sure he’ll talk to us?” he asked dubiously. “If these people are even half as dangerous as you claim they are, then why would he speak of them?”
Parker’s eyes darkened before she smiled in a soulless kind of way.
“Because that’s the type of person Anders is. A real do-gooder. If you show up on his doorstep, he won’t turn you away. He might not have reached out to the police, but I’m quite sure he will at least try to help you however he can. Why don’t you go to West Pico Holy Baptist Church and find out for yourselves?”
Pearce pointed in the direction of the door.
“We’re going to head outside to check a few of the things you’ve told us,” she explained. “Just to make sure you’re not feeding us horse shit. After that, you’ll be free to go home. But you best be remembering what I said, Sarah. If this turns out to be nonsense, then we’re going to find your cousin; his door will be the very next one we’re knocking on.”
