Danger in Numbers

by Heather Graham

  “Oh, no, Billie is twentysomething. Maybe just twenty-one, but...well, she wouldn’t be in this group. I have older teens in this.”

  “Mind if we peek in?” Hunter asked her.

  “Peek in?”

  “I’d love to see your youth group. It’s so inspiring to see young people in church,” Amy told her.

  “Well, just—”

  “Actually, I’d like to ask them to be on the lookout for Billie. Would that be okay?” Hunter asked her.

  “I, uh, I don’t know. I mean, if Billie is hiding...” Karyl let her voice trail and looked at them a little weakly.

  “We need to find her. Before someone else does,” Hunter said flatly.

  “Well, still, I’m not sure what Pastor Colby would say.”

  Amy smiled at her sweetly. “Pastor Colby has made it clear he wants to help us in any way.”

  “Yes, of course, yes, sure. Uh, we’re down in Classroom B.”

  She made her way past them and then waited until they were out to lock the office door behind her.

  “I’m surprised you have to lock up around here,” Hunter said pleasantly.

  “You never know who might drive by,” she said, and then she winced, looking down. “Driving by or stopping just north of here to kill a woman. You—you don’t know who she is...was...yet, do you?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Hunter said. “If anyone is missing from this area, it hasn’t been reported. Police are out canvassing, doing door-to-door questioning, Detective Mulberry assured me.”

  “On the one hand, we’ve always been so easy around here... It’s a friendly place. On the other hand, so many people do just drive through. I have always locked the doors,” Karyl said.

  “Locking up is always a smart thing to do,” Amy told her.

  Karyl looked down and her sandy bob wagged along with the shake of her head. “I still can’t believe that this...that this happened! Our biggest crimes are usually bar fights.” She shuddered and started down the hallway toward her class again.

  Amy suddenly paused, reaching into her pocket for her phone. Hunter hung back, waiting. Karyl did the same.

  She gave her attention to the call quickly, thanked someone and ended the call.

  “Be right there!” she told the other two.

  Hunter nodded; Amy had to be getting good information. He smiled at Karyl. “Shall we?”

  6

  It was John’s daughter on the phone again. John had asked Brenda to call her.

  “Dad says he’ll behave and lie in his hospital bed and let me help him at home—staying low and calm and healing—as long as we let him use his friends and resources to help the investigation. I guess it’s better than him getting anxious,” Brenda said wearily.

  “Yes, I know your dad.”

  “I know you do—you’re like his third child,” Brenda said. “Anyway, he talked to some friends in Miami. Jared Colby’s daughter, Casey, has been down in the Greater Miami area several Sundays in the last few months, attending a church down there. The pastors at the Miami church know Pastor Colby—the churches are all different but have a loose association because they are Unitarian. Anyway, Dad found out that a Pastor Marino down there was worried about Casey, so, Dad thought you might want to find out what you could about her, or about what might be bothering her.”

  “Thanks—and tell your dad thanks for us, too, okay? Tell him it’s a deal—he can talk on the phone and do research, as long as he behaves.”

  Brenda laughed softly. “Will do.”

  Amy ended the call quickly. The door to the classroom was slowly falling closed, so she hurried down and entered the room just in time to see Karyl setting a folder on a chair at the front and center of the group.

  The young pastor’s youth group seemed to be composed of older teens in their last years of high school or first years of college.

  They were chattering and whispering as she entered, and fell silent as they saw not just Karyl but Hunter and Amy enter behind her.

  “Good morning, all!” Karyl said, nodding toward Amy, as if pleased Amy had managed to join them before they began. “We’re going to get back to our Bible study and how it can affect the way we choose to live our lives in just a minute. But first, I wanted to introduce you all to Special Agent Amy Larson of the FDLE and Special Agent Hunter Forrest of the FBI.”

  “FBI!” an older boy with a thatch of dark hair over one eye echoed. “Oh, yeah, the murder.”

  “Right,” Amy said. “But we’re here because we need your help. You know about the murder that occurred just north of here. Police were out to most of your homes, I know, looking for anyone who might have seen anything unusual.”

  “Yeah,” another boy, eighteen or so, wearing a band T-shirt said. “My dad was talking about it. He said whoever did it was smart. They made sure they were north enough so there were no houses near—just state forest and sugarcane fields. We’re close to that area, but we didn’t hear anything or see anything.”

  “No one did,” a girl with shaggy blond hair said.

  Hunter pulled out his phone to show them all the picture of the sketch that Amy had done of “Billie.”

  “We’re looking for this young woman,” he said.

  “She was in church—here!” the blonde girl said. “She was in one of the back rows.”

  “Have you seen her since?” Hunter asked.

  “Oh, my God—do you think she killed someone?” another teen asked.

  “No. We think she might be in danger, and we’d like to help her,” Amy assured him.

  They were met with blank faces.

  “If anyone does see her, please make sure you get ahold of us right away,” Hunter said. He pulled a stack of cards from his pocket and set them on the chair he assumed Karyl would be taking to begin her class.

  “Please,” Amy said. “Any help is welcome.”

  “Should we be afraid?” the blonde girl asked.

  “Should you be afraid?” Hunter repeated, weighing his answer. “We don’t believe the victim was from near here, so I don’t believe any of you would be targeted by this...killer or these killers. But there’s being afraid, and there’s being smart. No one should ever have to walk through life being afraid. But everyone, anywhere, needs to be smart. Think about what you’re doing. Pay attention to your surroundings. Especially out here where we have miles of brush and trees, and night can bring the deepest darkness, so don’t be out alone right now. Remember to lock doors, and again—be alert to things happening around you. That’s the way to be smart—not just here and now, but everywhere and always.”

  Amy noted the group had grown silent. A few of the young women were watching him with starry-eyed wonder.

  But the boys in the group also seemed to pay attention. Even with his impromptu words, Hunter was a powerful speaker.

  “And be wise,” Hunter added. “One of our biggest dangers is not believing with our rational minds what our instinct tells us is true. Then again,” he added with a softening grin, “that goes with being smart! Thank you. Thank you all for your time and your attention. And don’t forget, you can reach us if you need to—my cards are up there.”

  The group broke into applause and Hunter lifted his hand. “Thank you. Please, just be careful and wary and observant, okay?”

  He turned and gravely thanked Karyl again and headed out of the room with long strides. Amy quickly followed him.

  “That was excellent,” she told him.

  He let out a sigh. “I didn’t mean to turn into a teacher. We do go out—you must know. I’m sure FDLE does it to, talking to high schools, even younger kids sometimes.”

  “We do. But for a two-minute off-the-cuff, that was good.”

  He glanced her way. “Thanks.”

  “Pastor Colby still isn’t due for several hours. I say we need to know
more about him and his family—and Ethan Morrison.”

  “What was the phone call?”

  “Brenda Nelson. I guess we’ve made a deal with John. He’ll be a good patient as long as we let him use his mind and his research abilities, and his relationships. Colby has three kids, two boys, Jayden and Chase, and a girl, Casey. The daughter, Casey, has been showing up at a church in Miami. The pastor there was worried that she might be upset. Then again, maybe she was just visiting friends in Miami.”

  “We need to know so much more about these people.”

  “Yes, we do need to know more. When this happened, Detective Mulberry sent men out, searching for witnesses. The story was always the same—no one saw anything, and everyone was horrified this could happen here. Thing is, I still don’t believe this could have happened with no one knowing anything.”

  “We can’t bring everyone in the area in for questioning. We haven’t the time or the resources.” Hunter shook his head. “But for now, I know where we can go to find out more, or at least try to get in on some gossip.”

  “True—gossip is an amazing help. But where is that we’re going?”

  He laughed. “I say we stop in at the diner. Ryan will be happy. I’m sure he needs some company by now.”

  “People do talk, and a local café is great for gossip. But I’d like some hard facts on this, too. And more on all the groups out here.” She hesitated. “You know, when I was a kid, my parents encouraged me to find out about different religions. My dad believed good people just took different paths to the same place. I can’t believe any legitimate rabbi, pastor, priest, imam or other leader of a legitimate church is doing this.”

  “Ah, but on that side, you do have fanatics. And any fanatic is terrifying,” Hunter said. “I’m going to agree Pastor Colby looks suspicious—if this friendship with a man like Ethan Morrison is real. But it doesn’t brand him a murderer. Nor does it mean the man is anything other than what we see—a good man who is the head of a church. Sects can happen, though. And it’s terrifying and mind-boggling how one man can seize control of the minds of others. Thing is, a leader like that has an agenda. Sometimes money, sometimes power. We can all be fooled, but I don’t see Jared Colby as that kind of a man.”

  Both of their phones buzzed simultaneously.

  “Probably John or Brenda—with John having figured out he should just give us both anything he comes up with,” Hunter said.

  She looked at her phone; yes, John had sent a message.

  “Okay,” Hunter said. “So, the two priests and the rabbi check out as lily-white. But so does Jared Colby. We can’t condemn him just because of his associates,” he warned. “So far, no one has been able to prove anything against Morrison.”

  “Innocent until proven guilty. Too bad it’s difficult to prove guilt when witnesses wind up dead. But there’s something else, too, Hunter, that’s been nagging at me.” She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid this is nowhere close to being over.”

  After a pause, he said, “Four Horsemen.”

  “Right. I’ve been doing a lot of reading. And the main thing is the text of the Bible is a matter of interpretation. And there are so many theories around it. But the first horse brings death by the sword, pestilence, famine and disease.”

  “Yes?” He paused to look at her, frowning. “I see what you’re saying. We’re not even going to need a second horseman. Our first victim was struck through the heart—she wasn’t killed with a sword, per se, but with a metal-tipped stake. You’re afraid we’re going to find someone dead due to starvation, insect infestation or poison—and through sickness, brought on by a lethal disease.”

  She nodded.

  He met her eyes, gaze serious. “And I’m very afraid you might be right. We need to move quickly, and that could mean a trip north up the peninsula—back to what I’m convinced is a practice victim. And I want to talk to Dr. Carver again. Knowing more about our victim might help.”

  “I’ll drive. You call Carver.”

  He didn’t protest and Amy was glad; she was afraid he was going to be the type who insisted on driving. She was a good driver, and she’d managed a few high-speed chases without causing damage or injury.

  She remembered when she’d started out with John; he had insisted on being the one behind the wheel all the time. When he’d hurt his right foot during an arrest, he’d had no choice but to let her drive.

  Then, she thought, lowering her head with a smile for the memory, he’d decided she should drive most of the time. But she had been patient with John; he’d been a father figure in a way. An older man, experienced with the FDLE, while she had been a rookie—even if she had spent four years with Metro-Miami-Dade.

  Hunter Forrest was certainly no father figure.

  She listened as he spoke to his headquarters. He was speaking to someone named Special Agent Sheila Garcia, and Garcia went off on something of a heated rant when the name Ethan Morrison was mentioned.

  Many people seemed to think the man should be in prison, and thus far, law enforcement had been thwarted.

  “Sheila, we do our best to uphold the laws—we don’t make them,” Hunter said, glancing Amy’s way.

  She smiled. She couldn’t hear the rest of the woman’s words, but the conversation settled down.

  He ended the call, shaking his head, and then smiling at Amy as she glanced his way, waiting.

  “Well, you heard some of that.”

  “Yes. She thinks Ethan Morrison is a scumbag.”

  “A good majority of Americans do, I believe, but he’s a smart scumbag. She did know one thing I consider interesting.”

  “Oh?”

  “Morrison owns a lot of land around here—he’s a sugar baron.”

  “I should have known that.”

  “Nope. Because he owns the land under another company name.” He shrugged. “That’s why we have brilliant agents—in the FBI and FDLE—who never leave their offices but sure as hell help solve the crimes. Sheila is the best.”

  “Does he—does he own the land where the victim was found? I thought it was actually state land.”

  “Where she was found is state land. But just a half a mile down, part of the old Sweetly Naturally Sweet sugar plantation lines up to the main road. Of course, Sheila also told me Ethan Morrison was seen on national television the day our girl was killed.”

  “She was killed in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning, however you want to look at it.”

  “He was seen on the news in Texas. It’s really unlikely he could have made it out here by then.”

  Amy shook her head. “We know more than one person killed her. Here’s my theory, for what it’s worth. He’s involved—and I think he may be finding people at the border. Maybe not immigrants, but perhaps the homeless...turning them, using them... I don’t know. But we still don’t have identities on either victim.”

  “I know,” he said quietly. “And you know things aren’t solved in a day.”

  “I don’t think your ‘white horse’ is going to take long to act again.”

  “I agree.”

  She parked at the diner.

  “Be really friendly with Ida,” he said as they both got out of the car.

  “Oh, you betcha,” she said.

  Inside, Amy slid into the seat next to Ryan at a window-facing booth and Hunter took the seat opposite. A pretty young waitress came over. Amy noticed a slight frown on the girl’s face as Hunter whispered to Amy, “She was working yesterday, too.”

  “Hi, welcome. What can I get you? Coffee?” the waitress asked. She looked at Amy, and Amy realized that she was slightly put-off, maybe thinking Amy had chosen the seat next to Ryan because there was something between them.

  “I would love coffee,” she said.

  “Special Agent Forrest?” she asked Hunter.

  “Co
ffee here is great,” he said.

  “So, you two have met?” Ryan asked Hunter.

  “Not officially. But you served us yesterday, right?” Hunter said.

  “And I must admit, I heard Rabbi David call you by name at some point,” the waitress said. She had her very dark hair pulled back in a bun, but little dark tendrils escaped and fell against her forehead. She was in her early twenties, Amy thought, with dark eyes and a quick, slightly nervous smile.

  “Oh, well, then, let me perform the introductions,” Ryan said. “Special Agent Hunter Forrest and Special Agent Amy Larson, please meet the lovely and charming Miss Kaila Franklin. Kaila knows I’ve just been kind of waiting around this morning, and she’s kept my coffee cup full.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kaila,” Amy said.

  “Oh, so, you’re a fed, too?” she asked Amy, apparently pleased Amy was one of Ryan’s coworkers.

  “No, I’m with the Florida Department of Law Enforcement,” Amy told her.

  “Oh,” she said, slightly confused. “Detective Mulberry has been in here, too.”

  “We’re all working together,” Hunter said.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s so terrible! I can’t believe it. Things like that—well, they just don’t happen around here often.”

  “Thankfully, they don’t happen anywhere often,” Hunter said.

  “Oh, I meant—” Kaila began, sounding distressed.

  “It’s okay. We know what you mean,” Amy said quickly. “This is such a friendly community. We understand.”

  “Of course,” Hunter agreed.

  “Um,” Kaila said. “The boss is looking at me. I think the couple in back are ready to order. Excuse me. Please look at the menu. Take your time, and I’ll be back with your coffee.”

  She moved on down the row of booths.

  Amy noted Frank was working back in the kitchen; she didn’t see Ida.

  “So, how’s your day been?” Ryan asked them.

  Hunter shook his head. “We’re getting around, but nothing solid. What about you? Have you learned anything?”

  “Yep,” Ryan said.