The Gathering, page 26
He pulled up in a space outside the Grill. The street was quiet. Most people were indoors, sheltering from the weather or at the meeting in the church. He climbed out of the truck, bracing himself against the wind. Barbara had stuck crime-scene tape over the entrance to the Grill, but it had blown loose, or perhaps been pulled off?
Tucker wondered if he should just check everything was okay and no one was taking the opportunity to tamper with evidence. He walked up the steps to the front door. Straight away, he could see scratches around the lock. He tried the handle. Unlocked. He stepped inside and the hairs bristled on the back of his neck. A sense, even before he heard a noise or saw a shadow. Someone was here.
He closed the door quietly behind him and looked around. The light in the bar was dim, the air floating with specks of dust. But he could see the particles swirling, like it had been minutely disturbed. Not long ago. He stood still, listening, breathing in the scents of the room. Beer, sweat, food and another scent—human.
Upstairs, the floorboards faintly creaked. Tucker moved across the bar as quietly as a six-foot-six, two-hundred-pound man could, and advanced up the narrow staircase behind the bar. The stairs groaned beneath his weight. It was pointless trying to be discreet.
He moved faster up the remaining stairs. Only one way out of here. He heard more movement in the bedroom to his left. He shouldered the door open, gun raised. A gust of icy wind made his eyes water. The room had been trashed and a message scrawled in red on the wall behind the bed:
WOE TO THOSE WHO CALL EVIL GOOD AND GOOD EVIL, WHO PUT DARKNESS FOR LIGHT AND LIGHT FOR DARKNESS.
A can of spray paint was discarded on the floor and a thin girl dressed in what looked like a turn-of-the-century frock coat and a long dress was perched at the open window, half inside and half outside the room.
Tucker pulled out his gun. “Stop right there. Don’t do it.”
The girl turned to look at him. Her thin, pale face was defiant. A flat look in her eyes. Tucker had seen that look before. In the eyes of the drugged, but also in the eyes of the converted.
“You won’t shoot me,” she said.
“Maybe not, but where are you going to go? You jump, that snow out there won’t break your fall.”
“The Lord will save me.”
Tucker shook his head. “He might save you, but he sure as hell won’t stop you breaking your ankles or legs.” He lowered the gun. “Your choice.”
She glared at him. He waited, every muscle tense. If she decided to jump, he didn’t think he could reach her in time. She shifted on the windowsill. And then, reluctantly, she swung both legs back inside.
“Thank you,” Tucker said.
She snarled at him. “Fuck you, pig.”
He advanced toward her, unhooking the cuffs from his belt. “Your Lord teach you to use language like that?”
She held out her wrists and he got the distinct impression this was not her first time being handcuffed.
She smiled as he put the cuffs on. “He will smite those who are unbelievers and followers of Satan’s path.”
“Well, until then, I’m placing you under arrest for breaking and entering.” He snapped the handcuffs into place. “Amen.”
48
Barbara’s phone rang just as she pulled out on to the road.
“Hello.”
“It’s Tucker—”
“Did you know?”
“Sorry? Know what?”
“That Beau Grainger kept the heads of Aaron and his family as trophies. Stuck up on the goddam fucking wall.”
A silence.
Barbara sighed. “You did?”
“I wasn’t in any position to take them from him.”
“Jesus Christ, Tucker. I thought you were different from the rest of this town, but you’re just as bad.”
“I got shot trying to save Aaron’s life. Back then, I might well have found my own head up there, too. I couldn’t help them once they were dead.”
Barbara seethed, but she knew he was right. It wasn’t his fault. She was angry and taking it out on him.
“I’m getting a warrant to have them repossessed and returned to the Colony,” she said.
“Good.”
“Why are you calling?”
“I have Grace, Reverend Grey’s assistant, in custody.”
“What? Why?”
“I caught her trashing your room and leaving you a message from God on the wall.”
So, Grace was the mysterious message leaver. But was she acting alone, or on the orders of her guardian?
“She say why?”
“She’s not saying anything right now.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Barbara put down her phone and guided the truck carefully down Main Street. She could feel the truck’s tires having to work harder to push through. The windscreen wipers moved slush around the screen but didn’t do much in the way of wiping. She squinted through a tiny patch of clear glass.
A small group of people stood in a huddle outside the café. Talking about this morning’s meeting perhaps, or Beau’s strange behavior. Or maybe just seeking safety in numbers. Ultimately, humans were pack animals.
She pulled up outside the police department, climbed out of the vehicle and traipsed through the snow up to the door. She let herself in. Grace was sitting inside one of the small cells, head bowed, hands clasped in prayer. Tucker was in the office, just putting down the phone. Barbara shook snow out of her hair and looked at him questioningly. “So?”
“I’ve taken fingerprints. She’s declined legal representation—or at least she shook her head—which is just as well, seeing as the nearest lawyer lives in Anchorage.”
Barbara was impressed at his efficiency. “She talking at all?” she asked.
“Only thing she has said is to ask for the Reverend Grey to be here.”
“Oh goody. I take it that’s who you were calling?”
“Yup.”
Barbara let out a sigh of irritation through her teeth. “Any idea how she got in?”
“Found this on her.”
He held up a lock-picking device.
Barbara raised an eyebrow. “Wonder where she got that? Not what you’d expect from a disciple of God.”
She walked across the corridor to the cells. Tucker rose and followed her.
“Hello, Grace,” Barbara said.
The girl half raised her head but remained silent.
“I understand you’ve refused a lawyer.”
Silence.
“And you don’t want to speak to us unless Reverend Grey is present?”
No reply.
Barbara nodded. “Okay. Well, you’re not a minor, so I’m afraid we can’t let Reverend Grey sit in the interview with you—”
Grace suddenly looked up. “I am a minor. I’m sixteen, not eighteen.”
“Sorry?”
“I’m sixteen, not eighteen.”
Barbara exchanged glances with Tucker. “You can prove that?”
The girl turned away. “I’m guessing you’ll find out soon enough.”
Barbara motioned to Tucker to return to the other room.
“You said you took her prints. Did you put them in the system?”
He glanced at the desktop then back at her. “I’m not so hot on the tech stuff.”
“I’ll do it.” Barbara sat at the desk and scanned in the fingerprints that Tucker had taken. Some departments had new-fangled digital scanners, but somehow the DFVA seemed to be last on the list for new tech. She hit submit. Now they just had to wait.
“How long do you think it will take?” Tucker asked.
Barbara shrugged. “Depends on the queue. Could be two hours or two days. I’ve still not had the latents back from Dalton’s or the set from Nathan Bell’s house, but that could just be because there are no matches.”
“You think she’s in the system?”
“I don’t know. Colleen said she had taken the girl under her wing. I’m wondering how they met.”
The front door buzzed.
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Tucker said.
Barbara pressed the intercom. “Police department.”
“It’s Reverend Grey.”
Barbara glanced at Tucker then pressed enter.
The door opened and Colleen strode in. She didn’t look quite as composed as she had earlier. The striking white hair was coming loose from its clasps and her face looked tense. Barbara was struck by how the woman could be anywhere from thirty to sixty.
“Thanks for coming, Reverend.”
“You have Grace in custody?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tucker said. “She was caught breaking into the Grill and vandalizing Detective Atkins’s room. Would you know anything about that?”
Colleen’s lips pursed. “Of course not.”
Barbara continued: “Right now, she is refusing to cooperate unless you are present. She also states she is sixteen, not eighteen.”
To Barbara’s satisfaction, the woman looked uncomfortable, the sheen of serenity cracking.
“Cooperating now could help Grace in the long run, Reverend,” Barbara said. “So how about you tell us the truth about how you met?”
Colleen smiled tightly. “Her name is Rhiannon, she’s sixteen years old and, when I found her, she was about to jump off a bridge. Does that help you, detectives?”
* * *
—
They sat at the desk, Tucker and Barbara facing Colleen and Grace/Rhiannon.
“So, shall we start at the beginning, as Julie Andrews likes to say?”
Colleen and Grace looked at her blankly.
“Okay.” Barbara smiled. “Not Sound of Music fans. Rhiannon, can I call you that?”
“My name is Grace now.”
“Okay, but for the record, can you state your given name and your date of birth.”
Grace glanced at Colleen, who gave a faint nod. “Rhiannon Davis, June 11, 2008.”
“Okay. You have requested that Reverend Colleen Grey be here as your appropriate adult, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Grey, could you state that you consent to this?”
“I do.”
“You have also declined a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“Right. First off, can you just explain how you two met and your relationship.”
“Is that necessary?” Colleen asked.
Barbara smiled. “You are aware, Reverend Grey, that trafficking a minor across state lines is an offense?”
“I am, Detective, which is why I asked Grace’s mother for permission, which she gladly gave.”
“And I presume you have that in writing?”
“I do. It’s at the church. I would be happy to show it to you.”
Barbara mentally gritted her teeth. “So, how did you end up traveling together?”
“Reverend Grey saved me,” Grace said flatly.
“Grace ran away from home at fourteen,” Colleen said. “She was living on the streets. Using, drinking, stealing.”
So that explained how she was so adept at breaking and entering, Barbara thought.
“Satan had me in his grip,” Grace said. “He convinced me to kill myself so he could take my soul.”
Barbara resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“I was walking home from a church service,” Colleen continued, “and I saw a young girl standing on the edge of a bridge. I talked to her for a while and managed to persuade her to climb down.”
“You saw the light?” Tucker asked Grace.
“I saw a different way, with God. I realized there was a gap in my life that had allowed Satan in. Reverend Grey showed me that I could fill it with the light of the Lord instead.”
And that was how they got you, Barbara thought. It was no surprise that drug addicts and alcoholics found God during their recovery. They had to replace one addiction with another.
“And now you live and work with the Reverend?”
“I help her with God’s work, yes.”
“And is that what you were doing this morning in my hotel room? God’s work?”
Grace’s lips tightened.
Colleen cut in. “This is my fault. Grace has been misguided.”
“Is that so, Grace?” Tucker asked.
She stared at him. “Your sort don’t understand.”
“My sort?”
“Those in league with devils.”
“Alrighty.” Barbara was starting to think she preferred it when the girl didn’t speak. “So, you admit to breaking into the Grill and vandalizing my room? Did you also break into the Grill on Monday night, and leave writing on the bathroom mirror and a choker with a cross made of vampyr teeth?”
Grace nodded once.
“For the record, the suspect has nodded.”
“Detective,” Colleen said, “Grace thought she was helping me and our cause.”
“By trying to warn me off.”
“Grace is young, and passionate in her beliefs. I’m sure you did things that were impulsive and irrational when you were young?”
Barbara didn’t meet her gaze. “When I was sixteen, I was in full-time education, ma’am, which is where Grace should be.”
“Grace is educated in the way of God, Detective. There is no higher teaching.”
“Well, I’m sure that will look good on her CV.”
The two women glared at each other. Tucker cleared his throat.
“Perhaps we should stick to the charges at hand.”
“Of course,” Colleen said. “I respect the law. And I don’t want discord in Deadhart.”
Yeah, right, thought Barbara.
“I’ll tell you where we’re at,” she said. “Grace, or Rhiannon, has confessed to breaking and entering, and vandalism.” She paused. “But she is a minor. It’s a first offense, in Deadhart at least. I’m going to give her a warning and release her back into your care, on the understanding that this doesn’t happen again.”
Colleen nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your mercy.”
Barbara leaned forward and snapped the recorder off. “It’s not mercy. It’s practicality. I’ve got enough to deal with right now without any more paperwork.”
* * *
—
Ten minutes later, Barbara and Tucker stood at the door and watched the pair walk back down the street. The wind was whipping up a frenzy and the clouds didn’t seem to be running out of snow anytime soon. Yet Colleen and Grace swept through the drifts in their long coats and dresses, seemingly oblivious to the weather.
“Something not right with those two,” Tucker muttered.
“Yeah,” Barbara agreed. “Maybe I need to get me some of that Godly glow…” She slammed the door shut. “Or thermal underwear.”
They retreated to the relative warmth of the office.
“How did your meeting at the church go?” Tucker asked, easing his frame into a chair.
“Well, I’m still here to tell the tale,” Barbara said, plonking herself down at her desk.
“How come you ended up back at Beau’s house?”
“I drove him home after he burst into the meeting. Didn’t seem well. Claimed he could hear the Colony talking to him.”
Tucker frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Beau.”
“Yeah, well, maybe living with stuffed vampyr heads on your wall affects you after a while.” She gave him a look.
He sighed. “Okay. Point taken.”
“Did you find out anything at the Lame Horse?”
“Nathan wasn’t there on the night Marcus was killed. Even though he paid the bar’s owner to say he was.”
“Really? So, either he’s guilty or paranoid.”
She thought about the tattoos again. Prison tattoos. Maybe he’d done time and wasn’t keen to do more.
“I also found out he’s been hooking up with someone,” Tucker continued. “A young male.”
“So, Nathan is gay or bi. Maybe that’s why his marriage broke up.”
“Looks that way. That’s not all. The male he was meeting, he’s Colony.”
“Any idea who he is?”
Tucker hesitated. “From the description, I think he’s a vampyr named Michael…and he’s Athelinda’s son.”
“He’s what now?” Barbara’s eyebrows shot up. “Athelinda has a son? But…”
Athelinda is a child, she was going to say. But of course she wasn’t. She only looked like one. But still…
“Who’s his father?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But I do know that Michael is a halfling.”
“His father is human? I thought Athelinda hated humans.” She paused, something suddenly slotting into place in her head. “The Bone House,” she muttered.
Tucker gave her an odd look. “What’s that place got to do with anything?”
“You know about it?”
“I’ve heard tales. It burned to the ground in the late twenties. Most of those inside died.”
“Did you know that Athelinda was kept there?”
She could see the shock in his eyes. “No.”
“So, if her son is half-human, maybe that’s where she got pregnant.”
Tucker nodded, trying to take this information in. “Maybe. Damn.”
Barbara let out an irritated sigh. “Problem is, everything I’m finding out just gives the Colony and Athelinda more reason to want to hurt Deadhart.”
“If Athelinda wanted to hurt Deadhart, she’d have done it before now,” Tucker said.
“You think Nathan knew he was meeting a vampyr?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You think Athelinda knew her son was hooking up with a human?”
“Nothing happens in the Colony without her knowing about it. If Michael was meeting up with Nathan, you can bet there was a reason.”
