Shadow of Death, page 5
“Right,” Hunter agreed.
Meyer smiled suddenly. “Good luck getting into a respectable hotel! You look like a kid who’s been rolling in the mud on a wet day at the playground.”
Hunter nodded, grinning. “Yeah. But Andy Mason had us all set up. We’re good.”
“Good thing. Try not to scare any kids in the lobby. Oh, wait. I think it’s three in the morning. Shouldn’t be too many people awake at this hour.”
“Right. Okay. Good night,” Hunter said.
Amy echoed his words and turned to make her way to one of the little boats. A man quickly jumped on it, ready to take them back to the bank. There, a police officer was ready to drive them to the hotel Andy Mason had already checked them into.
It wasn’t until they were alone in the hotel room that Amy turned and threw herself on Hunter to hug him tightly.
“I’m sorry, Hunter, but I was so scared. So damned scared when I couldn’t reach you.”
“And I’m sorry, but Amy—”
“Of course, I had just been with Carey, and she was so panicked about that place and her friend, her crush, Donald Blake. And really! What if it had been the other way around? What if you hadn’t been able to reach me? Come on now!”
“And that’s why they generally don’t let couples work on the same team,” Hunter said.
“Ah, but I’m not FBI. I’m FDLE on loan!” she reminded him. “Yes...anyway, go take a shower. You’re a mess.”
“You just hugged me. So now you are, too.”
“Good thing we at least changed into hiking gear. Our clothing may need burning.”
“So they may. Good reason to take it all off, huh?”
She grinned, dropped her bag and walked toward the bathroom. Even though there was a lock and a bolt on the door, she still carried her Glock with her into the bathroom. Hunter looked around their room quickly. Andy Mason had seen to it that their bags were delivered, and they sat on the racks provided for luggage. There were bottles of water on a small refrigerator, and the room also offered coffee and a coffeepot. Typical, perhaps—but he was grateful to his old coworker. Andy would have made sure they had immediate necessities like water.
And for the following morning—yeah, coffee.
He followed Amy into the bathroom, set his own Glock on a towel shelf and peeled off his clothing. He figured he was pretty ripe.
Amy was studiously scrubbing her hair when he stepped behind her. He edged around her and let the hot water sluice over him. He could see the dirt that pooled at his feet and before touching Amy, he grabbed one of the little bottles of liquid soap and poured the whole thing over himself, scrubbing furiously.
Amy laughed, easing a washcloth over his shoulders.
“Don’t remove any flesh!”
“Look at the tub.”
“Yeah, well, some of that was me!”
She was behind him, smoothing the washcloth down his back and then pushing him aside to rinse out her hair. She eased around him again, running her fingers provocatively down his lower abdomen whispering, “I’m squeaky clean and drying off. And...hmm. The bed is just a way more promising venue than this icky shower!”
She stepped out and he grinned. He’d never thought he could share such a bond with anyone. He loved her, and he was in love with her. And while the physical was damned amazing, it was something more. Something in their minds or souls perhaps.
“On my way in a split second,” he promised. “Okay, maybe a minute.”
He scrubbed and rinsed his own hair, rinsed again and again, and finally stepped out and grabbed a towel.
Still drying his hair, he took his Glock from the shelf and made his way to the bedroom, setting the handgun on the bedside table.
Amy was already in bed, curled beneath a sheet, damp hair stretched out on a towel on her pillow. She had turned the lights off and tuned soft music on the clock radio.
He curled up next to her and reached for her.
Then discovered she was sound asleep.
He smiled. That kind of thing could happen when you worked endless hours in a row. A couple grew comfortable.
He didn’t think they had let go of an iota of the excitement they shared in being together. He found her extraordinarily beautiful. And sensual.
But it would take him some time to get to sleep.
And there was no way in hell he would wake her now. Because they would have their private time together, time that allowed them to savor what was beautiful in life—after watching so much of what could be so horrendously ugly.
He eased down at her side and pulled her against him.
And eventually, sleep did come.
* * *
“This room has never been this busy...this fully occupied,” Dr. Adler told Amy and Hunter as they stood with him at the doorway to a large room where a half-dozen medical examiners and their assistants were busy working at silver-toned gurneys throughout.
“Anything yet that might help us?” Hunter asked.
Adler nodded grimly. “I believe we do. At least, we’re connecting bodies with names. Sad, but still better than not knowing. Wondering is crushing.”
“Yes, it is,” Amy agreed. “But—”
“So far,” Adler said, “it does appear the victims starved to death, or in a few cases, perished due to heart attacks or heart failure. There were very few broken bones, considering the circumstances. This all leads me to believe they were lured or brought to the caves and forced down into the pit and left with the bodies of those who came before them to suffer the same fate.”
“Is that why some resorted to cannibalism?” Amy asked.
Adler frowned. “No, that’s one of the strange anomalies here, and we’ve only just begun our work. Normally, we wouldn’t have started until morning but due to the circumstances, we called an all-hands-on-deck and began the minute we had the bodies back here and washed. No easy task, I assure you.”
“I saw some of the corpses,” Hunter said. “They were gnawed on by something; and I couldn’t help but assume it was another human being since a creature couldn’t have crawled out, either, and the bite marks were not those of rats.”
“No, no, you were right. But we haven’t found a fragment of an ounce of human flesh in any of the stomach contents of the victims thus far.” He winced. “With those victims...the gnawing was done before death, before they arrived in the pit.”
Amy winced inwardly.
“They weren’t bitten because someone was starving to death?” she asked.
Adler shook his head.
“Thanks,” Hunter said. He turned grimly to Amy. “We’re dealing with a very strange puppet master again. Someone who has convinced others terrible things must be done in preparation for the coming Apocalypse.”
“A religious fanatic?” Adler asked. “I’ve had a body or two drained of blood because of a so-called vampire cult, but biting is new for me.”
“Oh, I doubt the head man—or woman—is a fanatic. I’m imagining someone with a goal in mind—but someone charismatic who can sway and manipulate others. And I’m hoping we will discover a link between victims.”
“Lists of those we’ve identified with approximate dates for their deaths and causes are ready for you at the reception area,” Adler said.
“We’ll be teaming with local agents and the police and start immediately,” Amy told him.
“I hope you catch this monster. Before you find another mud pit,” Adler said.
“I’m hoping there isn’t another one out there already,” Hunter said.
He looked at Amy; they silently agreed they needed to go and get to work. There was little more they could discover at the morgue now. They knew Adler would keep them up to date on any discovery.
In the car, Amy drove and Hunter put a call through to Andy Mason and asked if any progress had been made in the search for Carey Allen’s friend Donald Blake.
“All right, so,” Andy told them over speakerphone, “Don Blake had the day off when he went hiking with Carey Allen. He was not reported missing at work because he was supposed to be heading out to Las Vegas for a sales meeting. He did not make the meeting. At this time, his whereabouts are unknown. His phone goes straight to voice mail, and police did a wellness check at his home. Nothing is out of order and his car is not in his driveway. There is nothing to suggest he met with any foul play at his residence, but neither is there anything that suggests he’s all right.”
“Okay, I know teams are tearing apart the caverns. If he’s in there, they will find him,” Amy said. “We’ve gotten lists of the identified victims. We’re heading to your offices—we’ll see what is known about them. According to our lists, the police are notifying the next of kin. It will be brutal news for people to take in, but we’re going to have to start interviewing them.”
“Andy, have your heard anything about strange cults in the area?” Hunter asked.
“Cults?” Andy asked.
“The medical examiners haven’t found human remains in the stomach contents of any of the victims. They were bitten by human beings, but not by any of the people they were with while in the pit,” Amy explained. “You’ll be getting Adler’s reports. He’s getting them out to our offices and the police departments. Strange behavior like that suggests the victims might have been part of a ceremony, something with a leader who appears to be a messiah of sorts preparing his flock for the days to come.”
“Wait. People bit the victims—not just in a fight, but as in biting to take a chunk out?” Andy asked. “And not because they were desperate in the pit, but desperate—”
“Right,” Hunter said. “We’ll be in soon to find out what we can about the various victims, and then we’ll start interviewing family and friends.”
“Good,” Andy said. “I’m here, conference room three, and I’ll have one of our amazing tech researchers in here with me. What she can find on social media is extensive and awesome. She has helped us out many a time.”
“Great,” Hunter said. “We’re almost there.”
They ended the call, and Amy saw Hunter staring straight ahead. He shook his head and glanced her way. “I—I should understand. My parents aren’t stupid people. My mother was naive and caring, but where we were...the bad happened undercover. And when they knew the truth, they were ready to get out. And I guarantee you, my folks would not have gotten involved with anything that had to do with human sacrifice. But there are people out there...”
“Who will believe anything. If it’s on the internet, and it agrees with what they think, they accept it—against any display of fact and logic. We know that,” Amy said quietly. “And usually, there’s someone out there who knows their every word is a lie, but if you repeat a lie often enough—”
“You make it a truth. Not the truth. But a truth as seen by many,” Hunter said. “I think we need to concentrate hard on the victimology. I don’t believe random people were chosen. If this is a cult at work—and you’d seldom get a group of people who wanted to take chunks out of other people—there would have to be an underlying reason, a belief, as in a reason brought to them by a charismatic cult leader.” He hesitated and grimaced. “Remember during the witchcraft trials, hanging a witch was a good thing. And torturing someone into admitting they were a witch wasn’t a bad thing. People can believe they’re doing something ordained, no matter how horrible it is, if they believe they are involved in a righteous cause.”
“And now we know they were either crazy or happy to believe because of land deals or whatever else,” Amy said.
“The point is, there were people who were true believers and they thought Satan was trying to infiltrate their lives,” Hunter said. “Then,” he said with a shrug, “it was probably the norm. But again—”
“People often believe what they choose or what works for them,” Amy said. She let out a soft sigh. “I wish we had something on Donald Blake. I’m going to need to go by the hospital and see Carey Allen again. I promised I’d keep her in the loop on everything happening.”
“You don’t have anything good to tell her.”
“Well, in this, I’m going to need to stick with the truth—the truth—and not a truth,” Amy said. “But I said I’d keep her informed. And... I don’t know. Maybe there is something else she’ll think of at some point that might help. I think we need to find out if anything else was going on at their work. At Barrington Advertising.”
“Of course. Let’s meet with Andy. We’ll stop at the hospital after, and maybe take a cruise by Barrington Advertising and see how cooperative folks there want to be. If he wasn’t taken at the caves—and he is involved somehow—he might have slipped up with a friend at the company. Or maybe someone at the company is involved. Anyway, we’ll get what we can at the offices and then move on.”
“Perfect,” Amy told him.
They reached the offices and were quickly led to the conference room where Andy Mason was waiting, a large screen already showing images projected from a computer being controlled by a young man in the room. Andy quickly rose and the young man rose as well, shaking hands as they were introduced. He was in his early twenties, wearing a suit and tie, but still looking boyish with a shaggy haircut and clean-shaven cheeks.
“Jay Hughes, agents,” the young man said.
“Young and brilliant. The young and brilliant manage to do great things with tech,” Andy said.
“I don’t know about brilliant, but I try—and I work in an office. You guys in the field have my utmost admiration.”
“Thank you,” Hunter told him. “But the field work couldn’t exist half the time without the leads you find, so we make a team.”
“Sure. Great,” Hughes said. “Anyway, I obviously need more time for deep digs into these people. But so far, we’ve identified five of our missing persons. We’ve got the most recent pictures they had taken before their deaths, have their work info, etcetera, more on some than on the others. If you’re ready?”
“We are,” Hunter assured him.
“Take a seat. It’s like a movie with commentary,” Andy said.
Amy grinned and took a seat opposite the screen and then Hunter did the same. The picture of a man with shaggy hair, a mustache and trimmed beard appeared on one side of the screen with a lineup of writing on the other.
Jay Hughes read aloud. “This is Gavin Peterson. Forty-six years old. He was a professor at the local community college, married, two children, but recently separated. His secretary is the one who reported him missing; but his wife, Loretta, lives in the area and works at the library. Both children, Ted and Candy, go to out-of-state colleges. Adler’s report suggests he was one of the first to go into the pit—he disappeared almost six months ago.”
Amy glanced at Hunter.
This—whatever this was—had begun some time ago.
Jay Hughes hit a button on the computer, showing the man’s driver’s license, social security card, and even a likeness of his insurance information.
“Has the family been notified?” Amy asked Andy.
He nodded grimly. “The detective on the missing persons report informed the estranged wife and the man’s kids and his college.”
“I think we need to see Loretta Peterson and find out why they were separated,” Amy murmured.
Andy nodded. “I figured that was something you wanted to do yourself. As far as Jay has found so far, the man wasn’t into groups of any kind, and he had a stellar work record.”
“Okay, second victim identified—” Jay said and then paused and shot another image and info up on the screen “—is Rodney Marks. He’s a contractor, no children, fifty-five, known to be a bit of a man about town. Liked to party—I was able to get onto one of his social media sites. No criminal record, a few parking tickets, and that’s it. He wasn’t reported missing until a woman complained of an odor coming from his house. Poor cat died trapped in there. His car was in his driveway, no sign of foul play—he was just gone. Medical examiners’ office estimates he’d been in the pit approximately three months.” Jay flicked another key on the computer. “Our third person is Estelle Benedict, forty-nine, rising in political circles. Again, she had no children and was not married. She was a bonds attorney and earned a place on the city council and was aspiring to go much further. She was reported missing by her partner. I don’t know if this is relevant in this day and age, but partner is a woman. She didn’t hide the fact she was gay, but she didn’t put an emphasis on it, either. Her focal points in her political career had to do with insurance and medical attention for all and fair wages that allowed for even entry-stage workers to afford living quarters.” He was quiet for a minute. “I would have liked her. Oh! Sorry, I know, that’s neither here nor there—”
“Hey!” Amy said softly. “It’s okay to admire the woman. She must have been great. What about her girlfriend?”
“Brenda Hayes, freelance art restorer. She must be good. Most of the major museums in the west have used her artistry at one time or another.”
“We need to see her, too,” Amy murmured.
Hunter nodded. “And Dr. Adler estimates she was killed approximately seven weeks ago,” he said as he read the screen. “There seems to be a month between killings. Of course, there are many more bodies to go, but I’m curious if they don’t coincide with religious holidays or others,” Hunter said.
“I’ll study that this afternoon,” Jay said solemnly.
“And if this does have anything to do with a purist cult, her sexuality could be important. It could be why she is dead, why she was chosen,” Hunter murmured. “Jay, have you found any dirt on the two men you showed us?”
“Not yet. I can dig.”
“Well,” Amy said, “we can finish out the day with a few trips. We can see Loretta Peterson and Brenda Hayes. Mr. and Mrs. Peterson were separated. If there was something, Loretta might be willing to tell us. And it sounds as if Brenda and Estelle were close—Brenda may know something about Estelle’s activities.”
