Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 01 - The Sex Club (26 page)

“The initials NC were on the card. They could mean anything.”

Fouts nodded. “Still, we’re both trolling in the same pool of suspects—the Baptist church members—so I’d like to see the information your team has gathered.”

“We’re happy to share it. Why don’t you join our task force meeting Monday morning?” Jackson took a step toward the house.

“I’d rather have the information right now.” Fouts looked irritated, his brows bunched up in the middle.

Jackson set his black bag on the roof of the car and dug out his case file. “Here’s a list of church members. And you should also know that I’m likely to arrest someone for the homicide very soon. So this theory of overlap may be moot.”

“Is your suspect a church member?”

“Yes. But he’s also Eugene’s mayor. And I don’t think he had anything to do with bombing the clinic or poisoning Kera Kollmorgan.”

“Hmm.” Fouts seemed disappointed. “I think I’ll talk to him anyway.”

“No. Not yet. I’m very close to making an arrest. I don’t want to spook him.”

Fouts was unmoved. “I need to rule him out if he’s not involved with the clinic attacks.”

“This is my case. My suspect.” Jackson heard his voice get loud, but was too tired to care. “I’m just asking you to back off Fieldstone for now. There are plenty of other church members to look at.”

Fouts was silent for a moment. “What time is the meeting on Monday?”

“Ten sharp. See you then.” Jackson walked away.

Sunday, October 24, 6:05 a.m.

When a young blond nurse named Isaac roused her to take her pulse and blood pressure, Kera felt as if she had hardly slept. The hospital had been a cacophony of night sounds: squeaky wheels, muted conversations, doors opening and closing. She could not wait to leave. How did anyone get any rest here?

She put up with the unnecessary medical attention because Isaac was sweet and there was no point in taking out her ill humor on him. But she also requested that he bring her clothes.

“I don’t think you’re scheduled to leave this morning.” He was soft spoken and polite too.

“Then this will be an unscheduled exit.”

“I’ll get your clothes, but I’m sure a doctor will want to see you first.”

“He’d better hurry then.” She smiled to let him know she had no hard feelings for him.

Kera stayed long enough to have a weak cup of coffee, an unsalted soft-boiled egg, and tasteless toast. None of it was satisfying, but she needed something to go on. Her doctor, whom she had not seen since the day before, never made it to her room to give her any parting advice.

She called Andrea, then got dressed and headed to the nurses’ station. When the floor supervisor couldn’t talk her out of leaving, Kera agreed to sign a paper saying she had checked out against medical advice.

Kera started to leave, then turned back. “Can you find out how Rebecca Dunn is doing?”

After a minute on the phone, the nurse said, “I’m sorry. She died yesterday.”

Kera’s throat, sore from the intubation tube, closed up completely. She walked away, biting back tears. On legs that felt like lead, she dragged herself to the elevator, each breath a sting to her injured lungs.

In the parking lot, a cold wind charged her weary body with a little surge of fresh energy. Damn, it was good to be outside. Patches of blue sky peeked out through the clouds, and Kera was grateful to be alive to see it.

After sleeping for a few hours at home, she woke with cottonmouth and a groggy brain. Aspirin, water, and strong coffee revived her enough to think she could go out. Kera dressed in black slacks and a black turtleneck. It would be more appropriate to wear a dress to Jessie’s funeral, but she wasn’t in the mood to totter around on heels.

Halfway down the hill on Chambers, her legs started to shake and she almost turned the car back. The thought of sitting through a memorial service so soon after Nathan’s terrified her. So much grief concentrated in one room could tear a person to pieces.

Yet Kera felt compelled to go, even though she didn’t really understand why. Was it regret that she hadn’t been able to help Jessie? Sometimes she thought that if she had only said something different—something better—to Jessie that day in the clinic, or in the e-mail later, that her young client might have made a different choice and not met up with the man who had ultimately killed her. But that wasn’t really rational. Jessie’s fate was a complex tapestry of many choices and many circumstances, and Kera knew she had been only one small thread in the weave.

The red brick of the First Bible Baptist Church glinted in the harsh afternoon sunlight. Puddles from yesterday’s rain were still evident in the parking lot, and a few black-clad mourners made their way up the front stairs. Kera moved slowly through the lot and into the church without directly encountering anyone. Apprehension gnawed at her stomach the moment she saw the church, and now that she was inside, she felt trapped. It was more than just the dark, windowless interior. A religious crackpot had just tried to kill her, so it was reasonable to be a little frightened of the faithful.

But in this case, the crowd—and its many witnesses—probably made her safe. The lobby was filled with men in dark suits, and a small group of elderly women stood near the double doors. Bits of conversation buzzed in her ears as Kera passed through the foyer into the main sanctuary.

…can’t be true…I’ve known him for years…Judy hasn’t been to church in weeks, but Jessie was here…where has Paul been while this was….

The spaciousness of the main sanctuary surprised her. So did the turnout. The chairs—in a semi-circle of tiered seating—were mostly full and faced a red-carpeted stage below. A pink and white casket stood in the center surrounded by a dozen floral arrangements.

Women and children were clustered in groups, quietly talking, praying, and crying. Kera glanced left and saw Jackson standing in a back corner of the room. His eyes moved slowly through the crowd, but his expression didn’t change. She wondered if his daughter had come. If Katie was involved in the sex club, then she had most likely known Jessie well.

Kera decided it would be inappropriate to approach Jackson under the circumstances, so she took a seat in the opposite back pew, near the center and the exit doors. Kera always sat near an exit if she could, but today it felt more important than ever. A group of young girls around Jessie’s age were seated two rows in front of her. Did any of them go by the screen names
perfectass
or
freakjob
she wondered? From the back, the girl on the left, with the long silky dark hair, could have been Nicole.

Ruth had just turned around to ask Joanne if she planned to attend the CCA meeting that evening, when the abortionist-whore waltzed into the church as if she owned the place. Her heart missed a beat and she stopped mid-sentence. It was all Ruth could do to keep from rushing up there and dragging the woman out by her hair. How dare she violate the sanctity of God’s house! What was she doing here? First, she had propagandized Nicole at the school, and now she was here at Jessie’s funeral.

Had she known Jessie?

For a moment, Ruth was confused. How would Kollmorgan know both Nicole and Jessie? What was going on? Then her head cleared. The abortionist did not know Jessie. Or Nicole. She was here looking for converts. She was an opportunistic vulture who sought out young girls to become advocates for her way of life. Ruth knew all about Planned Parenthood’s teen outreach program. The way they used other teenagers to teach their peers about promiscuity.

She would put a stop to it immediately. The ricin had apparently been too subtle. Ruth made up her mind. The next bomb would be just for Kollmorgan.

“Ruth? What’s wrong?” Joanne twisted her head around to see who Ruth was looking at.

Ruth leaned back over the pew, and Joanne met her halfway so Ruth could whisper in her ear. “See that woman in back? With the long reddish-brown hair?” They both stared. “Her name’s Kera Kollmorgan. She’s with Planned Parenthood.”

Joanne looked at her with disbelief. “Why is she here?”

“She’s recruiting.”

“In church? At a funeral service?” Joanne’s voice was no longer a whisper.

Ruth shook her head. “Kids are vulnerable when they’re grieving.”

Just then, Nicole got up from her seat, scooted into the aisle, and headed toward the back of the room.

Nicole hurried up the aisle, wishing she had gone to the bathroom sooner. The service was about to start, she could tell, because all the men were moving into the sanctuary. But she couldn’t wait. Then she saw Kera, sitting in the back row, looking gorgeous and out-of-place in her snug turtleneck. What was she doing here? Nicole tried to look away, but Kera saw her, smiled, and lifted her hand in a small gesture of “hello.”

Nicole was mortified. Angel and Rachel could be watching. Even worse, her mother could be watching. Nicole regretted talking to Kera that day at school. It had made her feel better at the time, but the feeling hadn’t lasted. Her guilt had resurfaced as soon as stepped into her home and spent five minutes with her mother. Then the cops had come to her house and accused her of poisoning Kera. Nicole had been a nervous wreck ever since. She was glad to see that Kera was okay, but she prayed the nurse wouldn’t try to talk to her here.

Nicole moved through the foyer and trotted downstairs to the restrooms, her intestines feeling like a pot of soup that was about to boil over. She desperately wished she could move forward in time a few years, past all the conflict and hypocrisy, to a point in her life where she could just be herself without any pressure from anyone.

Yesterday after the cops left, if Rachel hadn’t been there to stop her, she might have lost it and told her parents everything. Of course, she was glad she hadn’t. Her parents controlled her life so much already. If they knew the truth about Teen Talk, they would take away her cell phone and never let her out of the house by herself again. Nicole thought she might kill herself if it came to that. But she hated living the lie. She was trapped between two unacceptable situations and didn’t know how to escape.

As she was leaving the bathroom, she heard the music start and she hurried upstairs. As she neared the top, Nicole heard her mother’s voice—the familiar shrill whisper she used when things weren’t going her way.

Kera felt lightheaded. This woman—with her high forehead, tightly wrapped hair, and bulging eyes—was so vehement that her voice felt like a stick jabbing Kera in the chest. Kera had no idea who she was.

“How dare you come here to God’s house! And at such a time, a memorial service for a child.” A fine spray of spit flew from the woman’s mouth, and her breath smelled like stale coffee and garlic. “You’re immoral and disgusting.”

Kera was too stunned to speak. As she struggled to draw air into her lungs, the woman’s eyes tried to burn holes through her face. Finally, Kera said, “I’m here to pay my respects to Jessie.”

“Respect? What do you know about respect? Just get out. And stay away from Nicole.”

Ah. Nicole’s mother. Kera tried to pull together an intelligent response, but her brain just wouldn’t work. Dizziness overwhelmed her. She decided to skip the service and go home to lie down. As she turned, her knees went weak. As they were about to buckle, a strong arm went around her shoulders and held her up. She knew it was Jackson before looking up. His sea-breeze deodorant was becoming a comforting smell. He didn’t speak until they were outside.

“You looked like you were going to pass out,” he said. “Was it her breath?”

“The combination of garlic and self-righteousness can be overwhelming.” Kera started to laugh, which made it even harder to breathe.

“You probably shouldn’t be out wandering around just yet.”

“You’re probably right.” She took several deep breaths, and the fog cleared a little.

“I think I should drive you home.” Jackson was staring at her intently, as if looking for signs of something.

“I’m all right. But thanks.”

“I’ll follow you. If you start to feel compromised in any way, just pull over. I’ll get you home.”

“Thanks.” Kera typically didn’t like being fussed over, but the events of the last week had left her feeling vulnerable. And right now, she felt physically weak. It had been foolish to come here.

Sunday, October 24, 3:20 p.m.

Jackson followed Kera out of the parking lot, glad for the excuse to leave the service early. Although he had been to almost as many funerals as autopsies, he never became immune to a family’s grief. Even the riffraff who were killed over bad drug deals had people who cared about them and depended on them for emotional support—and it was disturbing to witness their pain.

By the large turnout of mourners, it was clear that Jessie had been well loved, and the weeping would soon begin. His main objective in attending the service had been to see if the mayor would show and to scan the crowd for any known sex offenders. But he hadn’t seen any. And after his front-page photo, Fieldstone was not likely to make any public appearances.

He tailed Kera home without incident. She got out of her car and turned to wave and smile at him. Jackson could have waved and driven on, but he didn’t. He parked on the street and joined Kera in the driveway, where she waited and watched him approach.