Phantom Evil
Page 38

Devereaux looked at him a moment and shrugged. “There are folks out there who are politically correct sometimes because it’s what the world expects them to be—doesn’t mean they don’t have deep prejudice inside. And then, maybe he was telling the truth. Who knows?”
“At the moment, I agree. Here’s what’s more serious,” Jackson said, and he described what had gone on when Angela and he had followed Martin DuPre.
“That’s all crazy,” Devereaux said. “How could DuPre work for the senator, and be part of the group ripping him to ribbons?”
“Either he’s in the Church of Christ Arisen to spy for the senator, or he spies on the senator for the Church of Christ Arisen. I couldn’t hear everything last night, but it sounded like he was making some under-the-table compromises with the oilmen,” Jackson said. “So—there’s that. And then there’s the girl. She was terrified—of something or someone—according to Angela. And Angela wouldn’t have said that if it weren’t entirely true. And that concerns me. Have you heard about anything—anything at all—that had to do with suspicious disappearances and the Church of Christ Arisen?”
Andy groaned. “I know your girl—Gabby’s—folks. They came to us. We had a car escort them to the place, but here’s the thing. Constitution. That place has all the right paperwork. And the girl, Gabby, is eighteen. So when she said that she wanted to stay with the church and be left alone—she had given herself to God, and DuPre, apparently—there was nothing that we could do for them.”
“Is there anything you can do if the girl talks about the church—and DuPre?”
“We can get a search warrant. But, come on, Jackson, you’ve been in the law-enforcement game long enough, and on a federal level. What can I arrest one of those elders or priests or ministers or whatever for? Having consensual sex?”
“It’s statutory rape if the girls aren’t old enough,” Jackson said.
“Yes, but you know that we can’t just burst in and demand to know the ages of everyone living at the church or working there,” Andy said.
“If I get the girl to talk—that should allow for a warrant,” Jackson said.
“Yes, possibly, but it’s interesting that you’re saying that, since you don’t even want the girl to know that we’re trying to watch over her and her family,” Andy reminded him.
“Well, obviously, since she’s terrified, we’re going to have to take it slow.”
“You don’t want to warn the senator about the bastard right away?” Devereaux demanded.
“No,” he said, and hesitated. Everyone—except for Whitney’s great-grandmother—seemed to think that David Holloway walked on water. Now, Jackson wasn’t so sure. But he didn’t know how Devereaux would feel if he cast aspersions on Holloway.
“I want to explore a few possibilities before we report anything to Holloway.”
Andy studied his face and nodded. “All right. I’ll play this your way. But this is my city. I’ll bend over backward for you, Crow, but don’t mess with me. This is my city.”
“Not a chance I’d mess with you Andy—I need your help.”
“All right.”
“I need to know if anything bad ever happened to any of the young women there. Have you had a chance to put together that list of missing women I asked you for? I’d like to see it and learn the particulars. I need to know why Gabby Taylor is so terrified.”
“I’ll get a clerk on it right away. We’ll find plenty of missing women, you know. Notifications about missing women from across the country come just like popcorn. Filtering them is going to be the problem.”
“I’d say you’re looking for young women between the ages of thirteen and twenty-five, maybe as old as thirty, but I’d say younger,” Jackson told him. “Often, the younger, the more easily influenced, maybe unhappy with some aspect of their home life. Cult leaders can usually speak extremely well and they can sway those who are unhappy with themselves for one reason or another. A girl who feels she’s been rejected, that her family doesn’t understand her, or, perhaps, someone who has been floundering—maybe failed out of school, that type of thing. Do some cross-referencing—and see if you can find cases in particular where the parents felt they were losing the children; if they felt their daughters were girls who might have felt lost, alone, misunderstood. They might have been on drugs, though I don’t think the victims targeted would have been thieves or dealers.”
“All right. I’ll get the word out to all our precincts. This is different, I usually have a crime to solve. Now, I’m looking for a crime that might have happened and a phantom girl out there somewhere. Hell, Jackson, you don’t think we don’t have enough crime in NOLA, we have to go looking for it?”
“Thanks, Andy. I’ll get on the federal info systems as well, but I’m looking for just about anything, and just about anything won’t show up on the ViCAP system.”
“You think they murdered someone at that church?” Andy asked him. “Aren’t we stretching it a bit?”
“What else, except the fear of a brutal death, would make a young woman so terrified in life? One more thing, Andy. Did anyone ever corroborate the whereabouts of Senator Holloway and his staff at the time of Regina’s death?”
“You’ve seen the paperwork. They didn’t need alibis. The coroner’s office couldn’t find the least sign of a struggle,” Andy said. “Regina Holloway was dead and buried when Senator Holloway started raising his questions. And he didn’t bring in the police again. He called someone he knew up in Washington, you all came in, and the chief asked me to make sure you were given full cooperation. Maybe Senator Holloway will be able to accept his wife’s death if someone will just say that a ghost caused her to die.”
“Thanks, Andy. I think.”
“Do you want me to go after their alibis now?” Andy asked him.
Jackson said, “I’ll get my guys on it in a subtle manner first. If we hit any stone walls, I’ll call you.”
“If you get anything on the Church of Christ Arisen, I’ll be anxious to get a call, too.”
Jackson thanked him and headed back to the house.
It was just after nine.
Angela hadn’t been certain just how she was going to feel about the night when she woke up in the morning. She hadn’t slept with another man since Griffin had died; she had never fallen into an intimate relationship easily. It was too…intimate.
And there was the fact that they were working together. She’d never considered sleeping with a colleague before. But this had seemed…right. It had been what she had wanted.
And waking up, it seemed like something she wanted all the more. She wasn’t sure where it would lead. And she wasn’t even sure that their team would prove to be something that was viable and useful. That it would be continued after this assignment.
She lay awake for a while, aware that Jackson was gone. What next? She had become obsessed with law enforcement after Griffin had died; she couldn’t fight disease, but it was possible to fight criminals. Sadly, though, talking with ghosts wasn’t as easy.
But now…
That seemed all right. Taking the logical path and hoping that illogic would hop in to help was the right way to go.
She closed her eyes. The children in the room made sense.
Who the hell was the girl in the mirror?
She rose and headed back to her own bathroom. She showered there, creating whirls of steam, but the girl did not reappear in the mirror.
Had she imagined her? Maybe she was susceptible to imagination, too, just the same as anyone else.
Jackson had suggested she start reading the book on Madden C. Newton again.
Showered and changed, she headed back downstairs. She’d left the book in one of the kitchen drawers.
Will was in the kitchen cooking breakfast with help from Jenna, who was slicing and dicing for him, while Jake set out glasses on the table. Just as Angela reached the kitchen, they heard a screech from the grand ballroom entry.
“Whitney! What the hell?” Jake said, hurrying out. Angela followed him, while Jenna and Will came running after her.
“What? What?” Jake demanded.
Whitney had just brought out a cushioned rocking chair to set before her bank of screens. She pointed to one of them. “It’s in the basement again. It’s in the basement!”
They all stared at the screen. Something large and dark that filled the basement like a giant wave reaching over had appeared. It undulated and writhed, and seemed to darken.
“Let’s all get down there,” Jenna suggested.
“Yep, great, let the big bad black thing eat us all up together!” Jake said.
“We have to find out what it is,” Whitney told him.
As she spoke, they all spun around, hearing the key twist in the lock. Jackson was back.
“Look!” Whitney told him.
Jackson walked over to the screen. They turned back to it.
The black cresting shadow-wave was gone.
“It was there! We all saw it,” Whitney said, irritated.
“What?” Jackson asked.
“My old shadowy friend from before,” said Angela.
“All right, Jake, come with me. Jenna, stay with Whitney on the screens…” He paused. Then said, “What the hell is that burning smell? Handle that, Will. And Angela…”
His eyes touched hers, and she saw that he was hesitant about her.
Sleeping with the boss maybe wasn’t such a great idea.
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
“Angela, I’m not sure we should bring you. If there is something—”
“Then I need to be with you,” she said. “I’ll hold your hand.”
He looked at her a moment then, and despite the fact that not a flicker of emotion registered on his features at her quip, she almost smiled. He was weighing his feelings for her against the fact that it was important that they do what they had come to do. Yes, she was most vulnerable and susceptible. And, yes, that was both good and bad. He’d been a good field commander, always, she thought. But he’d also seen his coworkers dead in the field, and one way or another, the decisions he made were going to be hard.