No Place In Heaven, page 23
“Yeah. It might at that,” Mia agreed.
Chapter Twenty-four
Before they’d gone to sleep, Mia had begged Roman not to wake her no matter what.
“If Clary comes to me again, I need to see the vision through even if it’s awful. She might give us another clue. And if it’s just a plain old dream, something could bubble up from my unconscious mind to help make a connection I’ve so far missed,” she’d said.
Roman had reluctantly agreed, but he’d still tried to draw a line in the sand. “If it gets to the point you’re screaming or crying, I don’t think I can just leave you be. It’s too hard seeing you like that.”
“Remember, we’re not even close to saving Clary. You haven’t found anything we can use against Pastor Jim. Kevin said it could take a day or so to do all the checking on his end. What if Clary doesn’t have that kind of time? I can still see that damn bomb counting down in my mind.”
Mia had laid it out so neatly there was little else to say. So, when she whimpered in the night, he held her and rocked gently, hoping she would feel some comfort despite whatever the dream or vision was forcing her to live out in her mind.
She went rigid then let out a series of muffled cries, unintelligible words to his ear. When the trembling started, he barely stopped himself from shaking her awake. And though it ripped at his heart, he stayed the course and prayed he was making the right decision.
It seemed like hours later—though it was likely only a few moments—before she struggled against his hands then finally stilled.
“It’s fine now. I’m awake,” she said, her voice raspy from sleep and whatever else she’d endured.
“Are you okay?” he hugged her close and breathed in her scent, so familiar and comforting.
He could feel her nodding against his shoulder.
“Yeah. I guess I am. It was intense. Clary came to me again same as last night. She was…I don’t even know how to describe her. The rage was gone, and she mostly seemed sad. As if she knows she’s dying and doesn’t expect us to save her. She was naked like before. Really skinny. Her flesh didn’t melt away this time—thank God—but her bones were sort of poking out in places.”
Roman rolled over and switched on the bedside lamp. When he turned back to Mia, he saw her face was pale as milk and those expressive hazel eyes showed a sorrow so deep it stabbed a knife straight into his heart.
“Hey, come here.” He wrapped his arms around her again and laid a soft kiss on her cheek. “You’re still trembling. Let me warm you, then you can tell me everything.”
She relaxed into his arms and sighed heavily. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He rocked her for another moment before she pushed herself upright and nodded.
“Did the vision give us anything we can use?” he asked.
“Sort of. I saw Clary and Pastor Jim together. Hey, guess what? She called him PJ too.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Funny coincidence. What else?”
“They were at Immortal Light, in the church late at night and they had sex right on the altar. Another time it was a hotel room—I think maybe a Hilton. PJ was not holding back, let me tell you. And he has a really dirty mouth too. Very unchristian of him. I also saw flashes of them in a house—I assume it’s his. It looked nice from what I could see.”
“That’s awesome.” He stopped and blew out a breath. “You know, for our case. But was there anything we can use to nail him? Any proof?”
“Um…well…Clary snuck a naked picture of him, which would be pretty damaging, but we don’t have her phone.”
Roman pushed to his feet and paced across the bedroom. Mac watched him with sober eyes before turning back to Mia and pressing his nose against her arm. The other dogs, who’d all come alert during Mia’s vision, were now bedded back down and drifting into sleep.
“Maybe we could use it somehow though. I’m gonna need to think about it for a bit. Was there anything else she showed you?”
“Another man—I think someone here in Dalton, but I don’t know who. I only saw part of him, and it certainly wasn’t PJ because this guy was husky. Mostly though, I saw food. Plates of French toast swimming in syrup, heaping bowls of buttered popcorn, mashed potatoes covered with gravy, and lots of chocolate desserts. I’d say she favors Black Forest cake and chocolate eclairs. My guess is she’s starving to death. The vision felt unfocused and a bit dreamy as if she’s too weak to concentrate.”
Roman stopped pacing and swung around to face her. “But you think she’s still alive?”
“I think maybe. When she came to me last night, she had so much energy. Vitality. This time she felt washed out. But the visions were only twenty-four hours apart. How could she have declined so quickly?”
He sank back onto the bed beside her. “I don’t know, babe. But it doesn’t sound good. Looks like we’re entering the final inning. We’ve gotta figure this out and fast. Did you get the sense PJ was our man?”
She sighed heavily. “I don’t know. She wasn’t really talking to me this time. Not like before. Just showed me the scenes with the pastor and the flash of the other guy…then it was all food. I could feel her hunger and desperation.”
He shook his head and studied Mia’s face. “You know, it’s easy to forgot how incredible you are. The fact you get these visions, can point us in the right direction, it’s crazy and amazing. Without you, I’d be lost and all but chasing my tail on this case.”
“We basically are lost. Where do we start looking? Clary is out there somewhere dying—even as we speak—and we don’t have the first clue how to find her, so what good are these visions?” she said, her voice tinged with anger.
“They’re plenty good. Trust me. All we have to do is somehow connect the dots.”
Roman switched off the light and pulled Mia to his side, stroking her hair rhythmically. After a time, she drifted back into sleep. A peaceful sleep from what Roman could tell. Meanwhile, he lay awake staring at the ceiling and straining to see Clary’s case from a higher vantage point.
On the one hand, they had a girl—maybe a bit snotty and full of herself, by all accounts—but young and brimming with promise. She has huge dreams and a boatload of ambition and wants to get out of this small town. And she’s figured out a way to use a bunch of men to fund her plan. Of the three they’d found, it didn’t look like the first two had taken her.
He figured in a day or so, Pastor Jim’s alibi would be fully vetted, and they’d know one way or the other if he’d had the opportunity to make the snatch. Probably needed to look into the church…would they be called leaders or elders...he’d just say New Christian clergy for now. But whatever their collective name, he needed to drill down on the faith as a whole and see if there’d been any similar instances of pastors involved with minor-aged members of the church. If so, how was it handled?
Something tugged at him, but he couldn’t pin it. The thought was elusive, showing itself on the edge of his mind while he mulled over various aspects of the case but fleeing from sight whenever he turned to look at it straight on. Was it something Timothy Greer or Brad Parks had said yesterday? What about the Immortal Light members they’d talked to? Maybe it stemmed from the conversations he’d had there.
His mind floated to Frannie and her disclosure that the Parsons’ move to Dalton was precipitated by Clary being bullied. It still felt false to him, but maybe it was somehow relevant to her disappearance. He blinked his gritty eyes closed and tried to settle his thoughts. Within a few minutes, he floated on that gorgeous edge between the conscious and unconscious world and felt the tug again but still couldn’t pin it down.
“Go away and stop teasing me,” he thought before finally dropping all the way down and into sleep.
***
Roman slept later than he’d intended. It was already after nine o’clock when he came down the stairs to find Mia and her faithful pack of companions in the work room at the front of the house. He walked straight over to her and laid a kiss on her head then looked down at the table.
“Nice,” he said, studying the collection of small orange stones she’d woven together with a twisted copper and silver wire to make a bracelet.
She smiled up at him, but her eyes were still sad and there were pale blue shadows under them. It made him want to drop Clary’s case and bundle Mia up, whisk her away to somewhere—anywhere—far from the visions. But, in reality, there was no place far enough away—and no matter what he did—the visions would find her and fill her with this dragging sorrow.
“Thanks. I don’t normally like working unless my mind and spirit are clear, but I’m so behind I figured I’d better push on regardless.” She lifted the bracelet and held it out to him. “Here. Hold this for a sec and tell me how it feels.”
“Sure.” He cradled the jewelry in his cupped hands and blew out a breath. “Um…it makes me feel sort of energized, and I guess, determined. Is that good?”
This time her smile reached her eyes. “That’s very good. It’s for a client who’s stuck and needs to make some major changes in her life. I figure carnelian is the perfect stone because it helps bring confidence in one’s abilities and the courage to take action. I was a little worried some of my low, dark energy had transferred over but apparently not.”
She took back the bracelet, picked up one of the metal tools and began twisting the two wires together at the end.
“Did you sleep much—after?” he asked.
“A little. Clary didn’t come to me again. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I was thinking a lot about Pastor Jim. He’s our only viable lead right now, so we might as well investigate the crap out of him. Even if he didn’t hurt Clary, he shouldn’t be heading up a church, that’s for sure.”
“No question. What’s your plan? And I know you have one. It’s written all over your face.”
“Two pronged. We dig into exactly where he was when Clary disappeared. See if he has any sort of alibi. Then there’s the financial angle. If Clary was having sex with him, there had to be money involved. We haven’t found anyone, so far, she was sleeping with just for the hell of it. Given what we know about her, I expect she squeezed him the hardest for cash since he had the most to lose. I know in the Catholic church, priests don’t really get huge salaries. I wonder if it’s the same in the New Christian religion?”
“Okay. Just give me a sec to finish this, and I’m ready to go.”
He put a hand on each of her shoulders. “No. You stay. Chill. Hang with the dogs. Make more jewelry if you want. You need a break. I can see how much this is affecting you. I’m going to head into town and hit my office for a few hours. I still have a couple of other cases left hanging and might as well get some background checks running while I push on PJ.”
“Fine. But call if you need me,” she said.
“How about a kiss for good luck?”
He waited until she’d placed the bracelet and tool back on the table then spun her chair around. When he leaned down, she wrapped her arms around him, and he lifted until she came up off the seat and stood in front of him. She angled her face to his, and he laid his mouth softly over hers. The kiss was simple and sweet with no urgency. Nothing beyond basic comfort.
But when her lips parted and she pressed her body against his, everything in him heated and pulsed. He dove into the sensation. His tongue pushed between her lips to stroke hers. His hands cupped her ass.
She made a small sound, a sort of a whimpering groan, and he went hard as granite. Her hands reached down to stroke over the front of his jeans, and he sucked in a ragged breath before moving to her ear and nipping his way along the side of her throat.
“Oh man, that feels good,” she breathed.
Her hands kept stroking, harder now, and he flexed his hips into the pressure. He moved to the other side of her neck, laying a line of kisses back up to her ear then took her mouth again. This time his lips were hard and hungry. Her hand snaked down inside his jeans, and she closed over him, skin on skin, and squeezed.
He guided her across the room to the couch while the lust rose up from his belly and his vision went hazy. She had his jeans unbuttoned and pulled down in the next second and both hands wrapped around him, pulsing, pumping, and making him all but lose his mind.
For a frantic moment, she released him and stood to strip off her yoga pants. Gloriously naked from the waist down, she dropped onto the couch and reached for his hand. Her eyes mirrored the same hunger he felt, and her face was flushed.
Her plump lips parted on an unsteady breath. “Come on, baby,” she whispered. “I need this.”
He knelt beside the couch and kissed her knee before moving up a few inches. He nipped the outside of her thigh then the inside, alternating side to side and slowly moving up her leg. She gyrated her hips and grabbed his face between her hands, urging him to move higher, faster. But he refused to alter his methodical route.
“I want to make sure you’re ready. I want you begging,” he said.
“I already am. Come on,” she said, her voice tinged with desperation.
“Good. Now just lie back and enjoy the ride,” he said before returning to her thigh.
She honestly thought she might explode if he didn’t get a move on. Her body hummed and every muscle in her core was coiled almost painfully tight and ready to spring. Every time she dragged in more air, she felt the sensation all the way to her toes.
It was as if she existed on a different plane. Everything was stripped away, and only physical touch mattered here. Her skin was electric, registering a million different things it didn’t normally bother pointing out. She felt the slightest wisp of air flow across her when Roman exhaled. The brush from the short hairs of his arm against her belly were tiny points of excitement. The warmth of his mouth on her thigh was gorgeously wet.
Somewhere far, far in the back of her mind the word abstinence flashed in weak grey letters—all lower case—but she ruthlessly pushed it to the side and let the hot red lava of passion pour over and burn it clean away. She wasn’t an abstinence girl. It was too much to ask. Going through this hunt for Clary had only solidified the belief that life was meant to be lived in the here and now because the future was ever uncertain.
When Roman levered onto the couch and pushed into her, she cried out in relief. This moment, right now, was what she needed. Screw Pastor Jim and Father Francis and their insistence on abstinence before marriage. If what she and Roman were doing wasn’t a holy and loving act, then she wanted no part of any religion.
Together, they raced up the mountain while his eyes stayed locked on hers and his hands roamed under her T-shirt to capture her breasts. She matched his pace, squeezing around him, flexing her hips, and urging him faster. When she teetered on that one sharp point at the summit, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her tight until she crumpled into a shuddering, gasping release. Seconds later, he plunged straight down after her.
They lay in a collapsed heap. Arms and legs twined while systems slowly returned to normal. His face was buried at her neck, and his breath a lovely warm caress across her still sensitive skin. She closed her eyes and traced lazy circles on his ass while her mind wandered in a sort of dream state.
Eventually he rolled up onto his hands and gazed down at her. “Hey. You still awake?”
“I’m not sure. I might be dead for all I know.” She opened her eyes and studied his face. “I guess the abstinence thing didn’t really work for us.”
His finger stroked gently down her cheek. “Yeah. About that. I sort of remembered but then decided not to bring it up.”
“Me too.”
He grimaced. “Is that bad?”
“I don’t know.”
She shifted, and he rolled off her until they sat side by side on the couch. After a minute or so of silence, he took her hand.
“What’s going on in that fascinating mind of yours?” he asked.
“It’s just that…with the abstinence…well, we barely lasted two days. It seems kind of ridiculous we can’t wait because really, what’s a week or month or whatever, in the grand scheme. And I guess it got me thinking about how Shawn and Brad were fighting the same battle. I know.” She nodded quickly. “It’s not exactly the same but still…it kind of is.”
“I guess I see your point. Still, just because we caved in doesn’t mean we’re bad people.”
“No. I don’t think we’re bad people either. Neither are Shawn and Brad though, if you look at it from a certain angle.”
He shifted onto his elbow. “Except they broke the law, plain and simple. No matter how much Clary laid the groundwork and threw herself at them, they knew it was wrong but still did it anyway.”
“I know. But the punishment feels too harsh. They’re going to lose everything. Their whole lives are ruined. And when we find Clary, she’ll walk away scot-free.”
“Unless she’s already dead. Then she’ll pay a might steep price, wouldn’t you say?”
Chapter Twenty-five
At his office on Main Street, Roman opened windows to freshen the stale air and booted up his computer. After answering a couple of email inquires about his services, he quickly pulled up files on two current cases to refresh his memory of the jobs.
With credit and police checks set to run, his attention returned to Pastor Jim. Otherwise known as James Adam Daniels. Born in Brooklyn New York. Forty-three years old. Well, that was a surprise. Roman would have pegged him to be somewhere in his mid-thirties.
His mother, Gwen, had died when he was twenty. Kidney disease. Father, John, still alive and kicking and living at the same address in Brooklyn. Retired from the printing business three years ago at the age of sixty-five. He’d been cohabiting with a woman fifteen years his junior for almost a decade. Frieda Alonzo. She had a child, Maria—from her first and only marriage—who was twenty-nine and lived in Los Angeles with her husband and two children.
