The Gathering, page 24
“Thank you. I have to say you’re more helpful than the usual driver they send from the hardware store. Nice and early, too.”
“Well, I can’t let you go lugging heavy building supplies around by yourself.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Are you sure you don’t need someone to do this work for you? Don’t seem like something a young lady like yourself should be doing.”
The girl had frowned. Young lady. Her Captor was old. Why was he lying?
“Thank you for your offer, but I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” A pause. “Could I ask one favor?”
“What?”
“Could I use your bathroom? I got a load more deliveries to make and, well, I forgot to go before I left.”
A hesitation. Her Captor was suspicious of people. They rarely had visitors. They were isolated and self-sufficient, and it was, of course, all for her own good.
She heard her Captor reply: “Of course. It’s the least I could do.”
“Thank you.”
The voices faded. Going back around to the front of the house. This was where it would happen. Where the plan would succeed or fail.
“We’re not going to hurt them,” her Rescuer had told her. “We don’t want to be hunted for murder. We just need to get the keys and get you out.”
She had wondered at which point they would “make them pay” but didn’t ask. Right now, she had to trust her Rescuer. He was her only chance of escape.
She sat on the bed. She realized she was holding her breath. She could hear floorboards creaking overhead, but the voices were too far away to make out. And then she heard a more distinctive sound: a scream. And a heavy thud. She tensed. More movement upstairs. Different from her Captor, lighter, faster. Then, finally, the sound of a key in a lock. The door to the basement opened with a familiar creak. Footsteps down the stairs.
She tensed. A figure rounded the corner.
For the first time in all these years, she looked upon a face other than her Captor’s.
44
Snow had coated the town in a heavy drape of white. The Christmas lights glowed from within shrouds of ice and cars parked along the street had been reduced to white humps in the drifts. A few trucks and SUVs were managing to plow through the snow, but it was still falling heavily.
Barbara moved from the window and sat down at her desk.
“Guess Jess is right. The cavalry isn’t going to be rolling in anytime soon.”
“No one’s getting out of here anytime soon, either,” Tucker said.
Barbara rubbed at her eyes. “And I’ve just shut down the only place in town to get a beer.”
“You sure know how to win friends and influence people.”
She gave him a look. “You think Carly and Hal were telling the truth about not knowing about the heads?”
“Nope. In fact, I think if we request copies of their bank statements, we’ll probably find some interesting payments going in from Doc Dalton.”
“I’ll put a warrant for bank statements on my list.” She scribbled it down.
“What about our mystery tattooist? Could they be the Doc’s accomplice?” Tucker said.
He had told her about his chat with Jess Garrett. Seemed Jess was more forthcoming with Tucker than with Barbara, which made her wonder if there was some history there.
“It’s a possibility,” she said. “The question is, who is it?”
“Nathan has tattoos,” Tucker said. “Plus, Jacob was running blood for the Doc.”
There was definitely something going on with Nathan Bell, but Barbara wasn’t sure that was it.
“I keep coming back to Kurt Mowlam,” she said. “He was arguing with Dalton the night the Doc was killed, and we still haven’t checked his house out.” She tapped her pen against her chin. “We’ll talk to both of them again.” She made another note then glanced at Tucker. “What do you think about the attack on the church?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. Why would Athelinda want to provoke the town when emotions are running so high? She’s smarter than that.”
He was right. It didn’t make sense. Unless provoking the town was the point.
“Perhaps she wants to push folk into going after the Colony.”
“Why?”
“Because if the Colony are attacked, they have a legal right to defend themselves. There was a case in Maine a couple of years back. Half a dozen men tried to set fire to a colony settlement. Two were killed. Authorization for a cull got turned down because the men had entered a protected settlement illegally with intent to harm.”
Tucker looked at her. “And right now the town can’t call for back-up. If anyone went in there…it would be a goddamn slaughter.”
Barbara’s phone buzzed on the desk. She picked it up and glanced at the caller. Nicholls.
“I’d better take this.” She pressed answer. “Hello, sir.”
“Atkins. How’s it going?”
She was struck by the difference between his clipped, efficient tones and Tucker’s slow drawl.
“We’re making progress, sir. How are you?”
“Bored. I hear you shut down the Grill.”
Carly must have been on the phone pretty fast.
“That’s right, sir. I found vampyr artifacts being stored in the freezer. It’s a crime scene.”
A heavy sigh. “Can’t you find somewhere else to keep the evidence?”
“Well, that’s my intention.”
“Good. And maybe use the meeting this morning to try and make some peace with people. With the attack on the church, they’re going to be scared and angry.”
He knew about the attack, and the meeting too. Rita, she thought.
“I’ll try my best.”
“Tell them what they want to hear.”
“And what would that be, sir?”
“That you’re going to authorize a cull.”
She bristled. “I’m not in a position to do that yet.”
“Hear me out. The storm will keep everything stalled for a few days. No one will be able to do anything till it clears. It buys you time. You can revoke the cull if you find out anything else. In the meantime, it keeps people on side.”
“What if the Colony find out?”
“Make sure they don’t.”
“I’ll give it some thought,” she said reluctantly.
“You do that. Now, excuse me while I go pee in a bottle.”
“Goodbye, sir.”
He ended the call.
Barbara looked up at Tucker. “You hear that?”
“I got the gist.”
“What do you think?”
“I think I know far too much about the chief’s toilet habits.”
“Aside from that.”
“It’s not a bad idea. Like he says, it buys time. Might stop folk acting rashly, especially if what you suspect about Athelinda’s motives is true.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll consider it.” She glanced at the time, “I guess I’d better be going. You coming?”
“I’m not sure my presence will help. I thought I might try and make it. Check out Nathan’s alibi.”
She frowned. “Only one truck.”
“Damn.”
“Tucker can take mine.”
Barbara turned. She hadn’t heard Rita walk in. The woman might be hard to miss (in a bright orange ensemble today) but she moved like a ninja.
“Thanks, Rita.”
Rita smiled. “Least I can do for the new deputy. Even got fresh snow tires on.” She fixed Tucker with her sharp, dark eyes. “You sure you remember how to drive?”
“I was driving before you were born.”
She laughed. “That’s why I’m worried.”
She fished in her pocket and threw him the keys. Tucker caught them.
Barbara stood and grabbed her coat, suddenly feeling like an outsider again. “Any last-minute words of advice?”
Tucker raised his eyebrows. “You’re asking me?”
“Good point.”
Rita looked at Barbara. “You ready?”
* * *
—
The church was packed. Around a hundred people seated, with more standing. Not the whole town by any means, but certainly a lot of people.
The dead pig and writing had gone from outside, but the half-burnt cross remained. Inside, the glass had been cleared up, but the boarded-up windows meant the light was dim. Only a couple of bulbs in the ceiling provided illumination. It gave a gloomy, funereal feel to the scene. Which was perhaps appropriate.
A small wooden altar and lectern stood at one end of the church and, behind, on the wall, hung a large white cross. Three chairs had been arranged next to the altar. Colleen Grey stood by one, talking to Carly. No sign of Colleen’s shadow, Grace. Barbara and Rita walked down the aisle toward them. As one, heads turned in their direction. The murmur of conversation subsided. No pitchforks, Barbara thought, but if looks could kill, she’d be flapping on the floor like a landed trout.
“Rita, Detective Atkins,” Colleen smiled warmly. “Welcome to our gathering.”
Barbara was damn sure the choice of words was deliberate.
Carly gave Barbara a poisonous look. “ ’Bout the only place people can gather right now.”
Before Barbara could reply, she turned on her skinny heels and strode back to her seat.
“Thanks for doing this.” Colleen clasped Barbara’s hand. “The town appreciates it.”
“You’re wel—” Barbara started to say, and then stopped. She stared at the cross. It was constructed of bones.
Colleen saw her looking. “It’s antique,” she said. “Passed down from an old friend.”
“Of course,” Barbara said tightly. “Shall we get on?”
Barbara and Rita took their seats as Colleen turned to address the crowd.
“Thank you for joining us here this morning, in this place of worship. The last few days have been hard for all of us in Deadhart. A child is dead, and a shadow has fallen over our town bringing sorrow, anger and fear.” She paused. “Last night this church came under attack from the Colony…”
A ripple ran through the crowd. Great, Barbara thought. That’ll help.
“But we are not cowed. Darkness always seeks to destroy light. And it will always fail. God will give us strength in our fight against evil.” Another pause. “But many of you want to know how the authorities are going to help us in our battle. That is why I have asked Detective Atkins here this morning, to explain what she is doing to apprehend Marcus Anderson’s killer and keep our town safe.”
Colleen stepped aside and gestured for Barbara to take her place. Fire them up with religious fervor and send out the sacrificial lamb. Barbara steeled herself and walked up to the lectern. She looked around. She couldn’t see Marcus’s parents, but she recognized Mowlam slouched carelessly on a chair near the front. Carly and Hal sat partway back, Carly still glaring at her with undisguised hostility. Barbara had expected Jess Garrett to be here, but maybe she had already said her piece. Other faces she had seen around but couldn’t put names to. They all regarded her with hard eyes and crossed arms.
“Thank you, Reverend Grey.” She cleared her throat. “As some of you already know, I’m a detective with the Department of Forensic Vampyr Anthropology.”
“We don’t care about your fancy title,” a voice called from the back.
“Fine by me, sir. It’s certainly something of a mouthful.” She smiled. “I’m here today to update you on the investigation and try to answer any questions you might have.”
“Where’s Chief Nicholls?” asked an older man three rows back.
“He’s in Anchorage Hospital with a broken leg.”
“I got a question,” another male voice called out from the left. She turned. Bearded, scrawny, mid-fifties. “When are you going to authorize a cull so we can be rid of those damn vampyr scum for good? What are you waiting for?”
“I’m happy to explain what we are waiting for, sir. Culls are not authorized lightly. In recent years, only two full colony culls have been approved. In both those cases there had been numerous attacks and multiple fatalities.”
Disgruntled noises, hollow laughter.
“So we have to wait till another child is killed? That’s what you’re saying?” The bearded man looked at Barbara stonily.
“No, sir. Any loss of life is a tragedy.”
“What about the video?” A younger man at the back. “We heard you got a video of the killer.”
Barbara hesitated and then said: “Upon further investigation, I’m afraid the video was discounted as evidence.”
“Why?”
“I can’t say at present.”
“But a vampyr still killed Marcus, right?”
“From my examination, yes. It is most likely that Marcus Anderson was killed by a vampyr.”
This time the murmur that ran around the crowd was louder, angrier. Barbara gripped the edges of the lectern.
“So, what else is there to know?” The bearded man from before. “A vampyr killed that poor boy. We need a cull. To protect our kids.”
Barbara swallowed. “My title may be different from a normal detective’s, but my job is still the same. To find the perpetrator of the crime. The individual responsible.”
“We all know they won’t give up one of their own, so you might as well just save yourself time and sign the order now.”
Murmurs of assent. She thought about Nicholls’s advice. Tell them what they want to hear. But she had never been good at that.
“I don’t see a murder investigation as a waste of time, sir,” she said firmly.
A woman with short gray hair stood. “Since the Colony returned, a boy is dead and our church has been attacked. How much more proof do you need that the Colony is a danger to this town? We need to defend ourselves.”
“Ma’am, I understand how you feel—”
“Do you?” Carly stood. “Seems to us, you care more about protecting them than you do about this town, or that poor dead boy.”
A few people clapped. Cries of, “Hear, hear.”
“That’s not true,” Barbara said. “I’m here to find a killer and prevent any more loss of life.”
Mocking laughter. She ignored it.
“That means not panicking or acting rashly. Right now, I need everyone to stay calm and continue with normal security measures. Make sure homes are locked at night. If you have UV lights, use them. Don’t let children out alone after dark—”
She broke off as the church door suddenly swung open and a blast of icy wind and snow blew in. A thin, slightly stooped figure entered. Beau Grainger. The man wore no coat, and his white hair was thick with snow. He must be freezing, Barbara thought. He walked slowly down the aisle like a jilted lover about to object to a wedding.
“Beau!” Rita stood. “What are you doing here?”
He ignored her, staring at Barbara. He didn’t look well, Barbara thought. His eyes were bloodshot, and his lips had a blueish tinge.
“Did I miss the meeting?”
Barbara smiled. “No, sir. If you have a question…”
“Questions!” he snorted. “It’s too late for questions.”
He turned to the seated crowd.
“Look at you all, sitting here, like sacrificial lambs. What do you think the Colony is doing while you waste time talking? Why do you think they haven’t run?”
People shifted awkwardly.
“You think they’re up there waiting to be culled? No. They’re planning their revenge. That’s why she’s back.”
“How do you know?” someone called out.
Beau grinned, a sickly leer. “I hear them.” He tapped his skull. “I hear what those damn vampyr scum are thinking.”
Uncertain looks. A couple of people at the back stood and moved toward the door. Barbara glanced at Rita, who gave a tiny headshake.
Beau stared around. “I hear them,” he repeated, louder. “And I saw them too. Outside my house.”
Barbara frowned. “Sir, are you saying some of the Colony came to your home?”
He turned to her. “They were there. Oh yeah. Aaron and his family. They came back. They’re trying to scare me, punish me. They want me to think I’m losing my mind. But I know it was them.”
“All right!” Rita clapped her hands. “I think it might be time to adjourn our meeting. Reverend?”
“Indeed.” Colleen rose gracefully. “Thank you all for coming—”
“NO!” Beau shouted. “We’re not done here.”
But the mood had shifted. More people rose and shuffled toward the door, eyes cast down in embarrassment. Beau glared at them. “Why won’t you listen?”
Rita walked up to him. “Beau, maybe you should sit down a moment? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine!”
But the older man was starting to shiver now. Barbara didn’t like the pallor of his skin. Hypothermia could present with delusions. She stepped down from the altar.
“Sir, did you walk all the way here?”
“It’s not far.”
“Maybe not in good weather, but it’s minus five out there and that wind is like a knife. Here.” She took her coat off, wrapped it around Beau’s shoulders and guided him to a spare seat.
She glanced back at Rita and Colleen. “Someone should drive him home. He’s at risk of hypothermia.”
Rita shook her head. “I lent my truck to Tucker, remember?”
“And I’m afraid I don’t have a vehicle at the moment,” Colleen said.
“Okay.” Barbara sighed. It wasn’t like she was investigating a murder or anything. “Well, if I take Beau back, can you get into town, Rita?”
“Sure. I can catch a lift with someone.”
Barbara smiled at Beau. “Why don’t I drive you home, sir, and make sure you’re okay?”
