Message of Murder Trilogy Complete Collection, page 31
“This psychic garbage is not a tool, it’s a distraction. Your fascination with that woman makes us all look bad. We are trained police officers, we don’t need a crystal ball to solve crimes.” He sits back in his chair dismissively.
“Yes, sir. I understand.” The words taste ugly on my tongue.
“You’re a good detective, Hartley. Don’t let her ruin your career.” He turns back to his computer, dismissing me.
I feel chained to the hard plastic chair. I want to say more, I want to explain how Gabby is important, is useful.
Simmons sends me a you’re still here? look.
With my teeth clenched painfully, I leave his office.
My anger simmers as I stare at the cracks in the ceiling above my desk. For years, I’ve defended Gabby against narrow minded people who don’t understand her. In high school, one of my baseball teammates ran his mouth one too many times. He found himself slammed against his locker, as I threatened him to say just one more word about her.
Gabby never knew about that incident, or the other, less violent, incidents over the years. Snide comments, open hostility, vandalism of her home. I’ve dealt with those quietly, under her radar. There’s nothing I can do against Captain Simmons, no matter how much I wanted to climb over his desk and make him apologize for calling her gift garbage.
Frustrated, I take my eyes off the ceiling and sit forward at my desk. I need to file the paperwork on my interview with Gabby from earlier. I busy myself with the tedious task and let my anger fade.
A while later, my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. The ID says it’s my ex-wife, Amber. I sigh heavily and answer.
“Hi, Daddy,” my eight-year-old daughter, Olivia’s, happy voice changes my mood instantly.
“Ollie-bug, hi baby.” The tension in my shoulders floats away, and I feel them physically sink into a more comfortable position.
“Happy Halloween,” she says.
“It is Halloween, isn’t it?” I ask. “Are you going Trick or Treating tonight?”
“I get free candy, so yes I’m going. Mom’s taking me to the fancy neighborhood with the big candy bars.”
“That’s my girl. Save some for me, will ya?”
“If I don’t eat it all first,” she giggles. The notes dance into my ears, the most beautiful music.
“What are you going as? A monster?” I tease. Olivia is all pink and sparkles, a monster would be the last choice of costume.
“Ooh, no. I’m going as a princess. I have the most beautiful dark pink dress and a huge tiara.”
“Princess? What a surprise.” Olivia has gone as a princess for the last four years. “Make sure your mom takes pictures.”
“I will, Daddy.”
Dustin walks into the station and takes a seat at his desk. I can tell by his face he has news. I hate to get off the phone with Olivia, but duty calls.
“And save me some candy. Love you, Ollie-bug. I’ll see you next weekend.” Olivia says her good-byes and I hang up. The tension in my shoulders climbs back and a wistful longing for my daughter slithers through me. I’m used to the feeling and practiced at pushing it away. I can’t change things, so why dwell on them.
“You look like you have news,” I say to Dustin.
“Addlynn’s real name is Claire Margaret Dawson.” He says without preamble.
Excitement tingles. “How’d you find that out?”
Dustin raises his eyebrows and shrugs one shoulder, but doesn’t say it out loud.
“Is there anything she can’t find out?” I ask.
“It was a group effort, actually.” Dustin sounds a little hurt. He tells me about the epiphany at Grandma Dot’s and the name of the man with a matching scar.
“Finally, real clues,” I say.
“Technically, it’s conjecture and gossip, but we have something to work with.” Dustin turns to his computer. “I’ll look into the Claire Dawson case. You track down Mac Plamento and get him in here for another round of questions.”
I reach for the phone on my desk to contact Mac Plamento. It rings before I touch it. “Hartley,” I answer.
“Detective, I have a Preston on the line,” Regina from dispatch says. “He’s adamant to talk to you. Says it’s an emergency.”
“Preston? Put him through.” Dustin recognizes the name and looks up, worried.
“Detective Hartley?” The man’s voice shakes just a little. I put him on speaker phone so Dustin can hear too.
“Preston, is Gabby okay?” I ask in a rush.
“Yes. Well, no,” he stammers. Dustin comes around to my side of the desk and leans closer to the phone.
“Preston, Detective McAllister here. What’s wrong with my sister?”
“She broke into the cult compound.”
“What?” Dustin’s voice is sharp and angry.
“There was a meeting going on and she said she had to go to it.” He sounds scared.
“You let her go alone?” I snap.
“I tried to stop her, but she went anyway.”
I don’t understand what Gabby sees in this man. “Where are you?” I demand. He gives us the address.
“Stay there, we’re on our way.”
I punch the phone to end the call.
“He just let her go alone?” My blood boils. “She’d better be okay, or he won’t be.”
Dustin has the good sense not to respond.
“Simmons called me into his office today,” I tell Dustin as we drive to the address Preston gave.
“Me, too. Said he wasn’t happy about Gabby’s involvement.”
“He even said the whole Lacey Aniston mess was her fault. Said she makes us look bad.”
Dustin just looks out the window.
“You agree with him?” My voice raises.
“I just wish she’d mind her own business. Like this right now. She went barreling into a dangerous situation by herself. A normal person would call us to look into it. She just goes and gets herself into trouble. Then we have to save her.”
My earlier anger has been simmering for hours, it boils now. “Why don’t you ever cut her some slack? You always look for the worst in her.”
“I don’t look for it, she just brings it out.”
I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.
“You don’t even try to see things from her side. Do you have any idea what life is like for her? People treat her like a freak. She has no friends to speak of. This boyfriend is useless. Even her brother doesn’t like her.”
“I like her,” he tries to defend himself, but it sounds false.
“You have a strange way of showing it. She just wants to be accepted for who and what she is. She just wants someone to care about her.”
Dustin continues to stare out the window. “She has Grandma Dot,” he says to the glass.
“She needs her family, her whole family.” The dark countryside holds Dustin’s attention. His silence fans the flames of my anger.
“You’re an ass, Dustin,” I mutter.
He finally looks away from the window. “What did I do?”
“I would give anything to have my own sister back. Your sister is right in front of you, but you don’t seem to care.”
“I care,” he protests. “I’m going right now to get her out of this crazy mess she’s in.”
I blow air in exasperation. “You don’t get it. She needs you as a brother, not as a cop.” I try to stop the words from coming, but I can’t. “You have Alexis and Walker and Grandma Dot. You have a sister you ignore and mom in prison you don’t even acknowledge. You don’t appreciate any of them.”
“Where the hell do you get off judging me?” Dustin snaps.
The words I’ve held back tumble out. “You keep trying for this shiny perfect family. It can never happen unless you accept the family you already have for all they are and all they’re not. Including Gabby.”
“You’re just in love with her,” he snides. “Don’t deny it.”
“This isn’t about me.” My cheeks grow hot and I’m glad it’s dark in the car.
“We’ve been friends a long time, Lucas. Let’s drop this and forget we ever had this conversation.”
My head spins a little. I’m shocked at all the things I said out loud. Wish I could shove the words back inside. It’s really none of my business what Dustin does or doesn’t do with his family.
“I’m just worried about her.” The quiet truth. “Guess I got a little carried away.”
Dustin smacks my arm good-naturedly. “She makes us all crazy. I get it.”
The tension in the air clears and we drive in silence. Both of us put our feelings back where they belong and focus on the job ahead of us.
“I think this is the place.” Dustin points to a gravel track cutting through some heavy woods.
I turn the cruiser down the lane and crawl along the narrow drive.
“Man, they’re really hidden back here,” I say.
My headlights land on a car parked in front of a gate. “That’s some fence,” Dustin says.
Preston waits by his car, gives us a nervous wave. I turn off the engine and lights, and the woods go dark.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Preston says as we join him.
“Where is she?” I ask, cutting him off.
“We followed the fence until she found the hole where Addlynn and Nolan escaped. Don’t touch that,” he yells as Dustin reaches for the gate handle. “It’s electrified. Gabby got shocked real bad earlier.”
“Wow, friendly people.” Dustin backs away from the gate, looks up at the tall fence with barbed wire strung on the top.
“Show us where she went in,” I tell Preston. We follow him along the fence. Preston seems jumpy and it makes me nervous. I’ve never completely trusted the man. It crosses my mind he’s lured us out here into the woods, and we have no proof Gabby is even here.
I touch the gun on my hip and feel better.
“How much further?” Dustin asks after we turn a corner and continue into the wilderness.
“Not too much longer now. There’s the house,” Preston points through the trees to a large oddly shaped building in a clearing. “The meeting room, or church, or whatever you call it is just down here.”
The building comes into view across the clearing. Pale lights shine through the windows onto the grass. Occasional words drift to us. “Some kind of meeting going on?” I ask.
“That’s what Gabby said was happening. Right before she climbed through the hole and left.”
The chain link is pushed back near the ground, just large enough for someone to squeeze through.
“It’s not electric here?” Dustin asks.
“Guess not, because she went in.”
Occasional shouts reach us from the meeting. “How do you want to do this?” Dustin asks. “We don’t have a warrant.”
More shouts ring out across the clearing. “Probable cause?” I ask.
“Are you guys just going to stand here and talk?” Preston says.
I turn on the man. “You should have gone with her in the first place. We can’t just break into private property without cause.”
“Does that count as cause?” Preston motions to the building.
Chapter 24
Gabby
Zeke’s bulk rushes me with the knife raised high. I don’t know what “by the blade” means, but the threat of the glinting knife is obvious. Tied to the cross, I’m powerless to fight him off.
“Zeke, this isn’t what we agreed to,” the leader yells and grabs Zeke’s arm. “Killing her wasn’t part of the plan.”
The leader’s small frame is no match for Zeke’s bunched muscles. “Get off me, Jacob.” Zeke pushes the leader away. Jacob lands on his rear in front of his followers. Twitters of surprise fill the room. “You always were weak,” Zeke sneers. Jacob looks at him with surprise. “Lock the doors,” Zeke commands.
A few young men stand up, obviously ready for the order. One goes outside, and the sound of a board locking into place on the other side reaches us. A young man tries to open the door, but it’s locked from the outside.
“It’s good,” he calls to Zeke.
The crowd rustles, nervous energy flowing down the aisles.
Zeke’s eyes burn with a terrifying zeal. “Now we do things my way,” he says.
“You can’t do this,” Jacob says, climbing to his feet. “This is my church, you can’t take over.”
Zeke laughs in his face, and Jacob recoils.
“Sit down, old man,” he says.
Jacob hesitates, then makes a decision. “I won’t let you do this.” He rushes Zeke again.
Zeke is ready for the attack and swings the knife at Jacob.
It plunges into his chest in one fast arc of shining blade. Jacob falls to the ground and Zeke still holds the knife. He raises it high, blood dripping from the metal.
“By the blade,” he screams again, his voice wild, his eyes turned heavenward.
“Jacob.” A woman in the front row springs from her seat and plows into his bulk. I recognize her from my visions as the woman Addlynn called mother.
Unprepared for her attack, Zeke stumbles backwards, struggles to regain his footing. The woman keeps pushing. The knife falls from his hand as he falls into the bank of candles on the ceremonial table at the front.
He squeals in pain as the flames catch his clothes, singe his hair. Lit candles tumble everywhere, catching the heavy drapes behind the table on fire.
The flames spread quickly up the drapes. The stupefied congregation watches in horror as Zeke regains his feet, flames consuming his clothes. He squeals and stumbles, a halo of fire surrounding his body like a demon. He falls to the ground, rolls on the flames.
The congregation suddenly realizes the danger they are in and rush the door. A sea of bodies climb over the benches, over each other to escape. They beat on the door, but it won’t open.
We’re trapped.
And I’m tied to the cross.
The flames have spread to the wooden walls and roll across the ceiling in hungry fingers. Thick smoke swirls through the room.
I buck against the cross, twist to get away. The ties continue to tear into my wrists, but I ignore the pain. “Help me,” I scream trying to be heard over the room full of similar screams.
Smoke burns my eyes. Tears course down my cheeks. I pull and shake and flail, but I can’t get loose.
Someone breaks a window, and the back draft from the new oxygen causes the flames to expand in a rush. I close my eyes and try to duck away from the sudden heat. Someone else breaks the other window. Even lost in my own terror, I’m happy to see the congregation escaping, scrambling through the windows to safety and air.
“Help me,” I creak out against the smoke choking me. “God, please.” I pray.
The heat of the flames presses close, the pain in my wrists stings. I pull against them anyway. I close my eyes against the smoke, against the heat, against the horror coming for my life.
I listen to my tattoo for instructions. Open your eyes.
I force my eyes open against the smoke. A very young girl stands before me, long reddish braids hand down her back. Her face is smudged with black streaks.
At first, I think she is a vision, or a hallucination. Then she speaks.
“Can you take me home?” Her sweet voice out of place in the horrible chaos surrounding us.
“Can you cut me down?” She cocks her head calmly, questioningly. “I’ll return you to your family, I promise. But you have to cut me free first.” I explain, motioning with my head to the ties at my wrists.
Seemingly oblivious to the flames and smoke surrounding us, the girl walks a few steps to where the knife had fallen to the ground. The knife is huge and awkward in her tiny hands, but she manages to slide the blade against the ties.
With a snap, my arm is free.
I take the knife from her and cut my other hand free.
“Let’s get out of here,” I tell the girl. “Let’s go find your mom.” I take her tiny hand and pull her towards the window.
Most of the congregation has escaped into the night by now, a few men still wait for their time to climb through. I pick the little girl up and hand her to the man closest to the window.
He looks at me surprised then looks at the empty cross. He seems frozen in fear at my escape.
“Take her,” I shout and shove the girl into his arms. He takes the girl and helps her out the window, then follows her to safety.
I scan the meeting room as the last few men clamber out the windows. The cross burns, and I shiver thinking how close I came to being part of that fire. Zeke’s still form lies near the cross, flames sputtering on his chest.
The windows behind me beckon, but I need to let the innocent members out first. I cover my face with my thin t-shirt and rush to Zeke’s side. He might have killed Nolan and tried to kill both Addlynn and me, but I can’t let him burn if there’s a chance to save him.
The heat pushes hard against me, but I kneel next to him. One look at his face and I know he’s beyond help. The fact brings me no peace.
Through the smoke, I see movement nearby. Addlynn’s mother leans near Jacob, pulling on his arm.
I rush to help her. “You have to get out of here,” I shout over the crackling of burning wood.
“I won’t leave him,” she says, her eyes wild with terror and resolve.
I grab his other arm, and we pull him down the aisle towards the open windows. Jacob moans at our rough handling of him. The sound so sweet, he still has a chance. But only if we can get out.
Everyone else has escaped and Jacob is too heavy for us to shove out the window by ourselves. Not knowing what else to do, I beat on the door, scream for help.
Miraculously, the door swings open. Smoke billows into the open and it gets a little easier to breathe.
“Over here,” I tell the mother and we drag Jacob towards the waiting door. Someone takes Jacob’s arms from us, drags him out into the open. I sink to the ground with relief and crawl towards the door.
Freedom and safety is so close.
“Help me,” a voice says from nearby, stopping my scramble.
