Into the Light (15 page)

“Sara, I’ll come and get you once service is over. Sister Raquel will take you to Sister Elizabeth. Sister Ruth is seated in front of your seat. They’ll all be there for you and watch over you.”

Raquel smiled in my direction as she squeezed Sara’s hand.

“Thank you,” Sara replied. “I’ll be fine.” She turned toward Raquel, understanding that she could speak to others who she knew. “Thank you too,” she said.

Raquel nodded toward Brother Benjamin and me. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”

Murmurs filled the large room with the sound of normal preservice chatting as Benjamin and I made our way to the Assemblymen’s seats. Once we were in our places, I glanced out to the congregation of followers. Sara and Raquel were making their way to the Assembly wives’ seats, where Elizabeth was waiting. Though Sara tried to hide it, each time she sat or moved, her expression revealed her discomfort. After a while I watched as Sara’s and Elizabeth’s heads went together, and Elizabeth held Sara’s hand. The two appeared to be speaking quietly between themselves. I wondered if Sara was confessing her punishment.

Just before service began, Brother Timothy leaned toward me. “I see Sister Sara made it here tonight.”

“Yes, Brother, Father Gabriel invited her.”

“Oh, I know. I just wasn’t sure if she’d be able to walk, but it appears as though sitting is more her issue.”

My body temperature rose. “Brother, she informed me of what occurred while you and Father Gabriel were in her room. I’ve taken care of my wife’s impudence.” I lifted my brow and settled my eyes on Lilith. “Perhaps you should follow suit.”

Though I listened to Father Gabriel, my gaze never left my wife. Not being able to sit with her increased my anxiety. While I trusted Raquel and Elizabeth, they weren’t me, and I was ultimately responsible. Nonetheless, as the evening progressed, my apprehension waned. If someone hadn’t known the truth, they’d truly believe Sara Adams was back following her incident.

The word
incident
filled me with dread. Father Gabriel still hadn’t pronounced his decree for Sara’s perceived part. It was essential to the plan, the timetable, and the protocol, but that didn’t mean I liked it or was comfortable with my wife suffering more correction. After closing prayer Brother Daniel came to me.

“Brother Jacob, I’m very pleased with Sister Sara’s presence here tonight. You should be proud.”

A little of the tension left my shoulders. “Thank you, Brother. I am.”

“Father Gabriel would like to speak to us for a few minutes.”

“Now?” I asked nervously, looking out toward the moving people.

“Yes.”

As he passed by, I reached for Benjamin’s arm. “Brother, I need to speak with Father Gabriel. May I ask you—”

He didn’t let me finish. “No need to ask. I’ll get the ladies and escort them to the conservatory. We’ll wait for you there.”

Luke stepped closer. “Would you mind including Elizabeth? I’m part of this meeting we’re about to have.”

Benjamin nodded, unquestioning. “I’ve got your backs,” he said with a grin as he walked toward our wives, still seated where they’d been.

Luke’s elbow hit my ribs and he whispered, “You’ve got it bad.”

“What?” My eyes opened wide. “Do you know something about this meeting?”

Laughter rumbled from his throat. “No, I don’t know anything about the meeting. What I mean is that you’ve got it bad for your wife.”

I shrugged. “Shouldn’t I?”

“Eventually. Things are a little early. She could still . . .”

My heart stopped beating as I mentally finished his sentence.
She could still be banished.
Her probationary period wasn’t complete. Truthfully, no one was ever completely without that threat. It didn’t happen often to established members, but it could. Though I’d never been told, I had the feeling that had been the fate of the pilot I’d replaced.

Luke patted my shoulder. “Hey, forget I said that. Sara did great here tonight. I think you’ve got this covered.”

I reached for his arm and stopped his steps before we neared Father Gabriel’s office. “After this meeting I need to speak to you about something that happened earlier today.”

The corner of Luke’s mouth moved upward into a lopsided, knowing grin. “Elizabeth told me.”

“Vulgarity? Prideful?” I asked, letting go of my grasp and repeating the words Sara had used earlier today.

He nodded. “New followers. It’s my job. Elizabeth and I see and hear things like that often. It’s not the end of the line for her, and besides, I watched Sara tonight. I believe you took care of it. Am I correct?”

“I did.”

He patted my shoulder again. “Then we’re good. It was dealt with, and according to The Light, it is as if it never happened.”

I sighed with relief. “Wait a minute. Elizabeth told you? Were you planning on telling me?”

“I was. But Elizabeth said she encouraged Sara to tell you herself. We wanted to give her the chance. Again, we do this new-follower stuff all the time. Believe me when I say I only bring the bigger issues to the Assembly. We’d be there all day if I brought every detail. Of course I’ll report this to your overseer, but I know Brother Daniel, and I bet he’ll feel the same. The infraction happened. You took care of it. The issue has been resolved.”

“Thanks.”

“What about the memory she spoke of?” Luke asked.

“What memory?”

How much shit is going to be thrown at me tonight?

“Listen,” Luke said, reaching for my arm. “You and Sara obviously had an eventful afternoon. As her husband, what you do is at your discretion. As the new-follower coordinator, can I offer some advice?”

I nodded.

“Sara mentioned to Elizabeth that she had a memory of recreational running. She said she had the memory one of the first days after the incident. It happened before she was allowed to speak, and she’d forgotten all about it, until Elizabeth mentioned running.”

His words echoed with the beat of my erratic heart. Surely Luke could see the way my chest pulsed.

What other memories has she had?

Luke went on. “Sara also said that she hasn’t had any other memories and has been taking her medication. Elizabeth encouraged her to tell you if any more memories returned.” He rested his hand on my shoulder. “Here’s my advice, you had a lot to deal with this afternoon. It doesn’t matter how many times we tell Sara that none of this is new, it is. The memory was probably not her biggest concern when you returned. She not only had her transgressions with Elizabeth but her one with Father Gabriel. Sara doesn’t understand the significance of recalling a memory. If she’s punished for not relaying that particular bit of information to you, she’ll learn to fear memories; more accurately, she’ll fear telling you. It’s your choice, but remember that’s why Brother Daniel and I are here. We’ll be happy to give advice, and we want you both to succeed. The Light isn’t a singular journey. You’re not in this alone.”

I sighed. “It’s more difficult on this side than sitting on the Assembly.”

Luke nodded. “I was there once. Well, Elizabeth wasn’t acquired, but she still had to be indoctrinated. We’re here for you, and for Sara. Now, let’s see what’s happening in there.” He inclined his head toward Father Gabriel’s office.

I nodded. Taking a deep breath, Luke and I entered the office.

From behind his desk, Father Gabriel looked up. Brother Daniel was already there, seated at one of the chairs facing him. Beside Brother Daniel were two empty chairs.

“Brothers,” Father Gabriel greeted us. “Have a seat. Before we meet with the Assembly and Commission in the morning, I want to discuss my decree regarding Sara’s retribution for the incident.”

CHAPTER 16

Stella

Dylan’s voice had that edge, the one that said he was serious. “No. I didn’t call you to have you run to Highland Heights. I called to tell you to stay away.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I replied. Though I wasn’t fazed by his tone, I was concerned about letting him know that I was already there. I’d been in Highland Heights most of the morning, not far off Woodward Avenue, sitting in my car parked in the lot of one of the few open businesses.

“What doesn’t make sense is you wanting to come here. It’s dangerous!” His voice was getting louder by the minute. “This is body number three in less than two weeks.”

“Same house?” Sirens sounded from the phone and outside my open window. I quickly pushed the button to raise the window, hoping that Dylan would think the sounds were all occurring around him.

“No. I shouldn’t even be telling you this. I need to get back to work.”

My mind raced with questions as I turned from side to side, searching for the source of the sound. The sirens’ roar grew louder and then softer, but they were nowhere to be seen.

How close is he?

“Where, Dylan? Is it near where the other two bodies were found? Is it a woman? A man? What’s her age? Is she blonde?”

“Seriously?” he asked in disbelief. “Stay away from Highland Heights. The DPD will be covering the entire area today and tonight. If one patrolman, one detective, or hell, even a Highland Heights traffic cop tells me that he or she saw you or your car here, so help me . . .” His sentence trailed away.

My shoulders stiffened as my brows rose. The temperature inside my car wasn’t going up only due to the closed windows. “Finish your threat, Detective Richards. I’d like to know exactly what you planned to say before I tell you to stick it up your—”

“It wasn’t a threat.” He exhaled. “Listen to me and I’ll make you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“You stay away from here today, and in the morning, I’ll escort you to the crime scene.”

The opportunity sounded too good to be true. My curiosity was piqued. “Why? What are you hiding from me?” My hand moved to my suddenly racing heart. “Oh my God, do you think it’s Mindy?”

“No. I know it isn’t. Stella . . .”

I sighed. “Thank God. Then why? Why would you be willing to do that?”

More voices, growing louder, came through the phone, mingling with the sirens. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Just shut up.” He paused.

Though my lips came together, and my rebuttal was on the tip of my tongue, I stayed silent since his time was obviously short.

Dylan continued hurriedly, “I’m offering because I know you. You’re not going to listen to me unless you know you’ll get to see this. Call me a controlling ass, I don’t care. I don’t want something to happen to you because you’re in the wrong place. Just let the DPD handle it today. Tomorrow early, after dawn and before all the idiots hit the street, I’ll bring you to both houses. That way you’ll get a look at the crime scenes, satisfy your curiosity, and I’ll know you’re safe.” He lowered his volume. “I’m hanging up. Tell me we have a deal.”

Shit!

“OK, we have a deal.”

“Good-bye.”

“Bye—” I didn’t have a chance to say it before the phone went dead. I shook my head. Turning on my ignition, I cranked the air conditioning and smoothed back my hair. Inhaling the cooled air, I lifted my ponytail from my neck and redirected the air-conditioning vent. Though it was past Labor Day and autumn was approaching, it hadn’t stopped the heat. I’d lived in the area long enough to know that it could, any day. Seventy degrees one day and thirty the next. Welcome to autumn in Michigan.

I contemplated Dylan’s warning. I drove a gray Ford Fusion, an inconspicuous car, for a reason. There had to be hundreds of them in the Detroit metropolitan area. Besides, it was only ten thirty in the morning.

If I leave this parking lot now, even to leave Highland Heights, will Dylan or one of the other officers see me? If they do, will they know it is me? How am I supposed to wait almost twenty-four hours before I learn more?

Waiting wasn’t my thing, but then again, neither was surveillance, and I did it. Waiting was a big part of my job. The investigators on television had it easy. They parked their car and then boom, their suspect would walk right in front of them. That wasn’t the way it worked in real life. I’d been sitting in this parking lot since before the sun came up, around six this morning, and my legs were beginning to feel it.

I grinned. Maybe it wasn’t the surveillance my legs were feeling. Maybe it was the aftereffects of last night’s activities. Dylan had made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Oh, I could have, but I hadn’t wanted to.

At first I’d decided to cancel our evening plans. I was getting nowhere fast on my research, and I needed to jump in with both feet. Over the last two-plus weeks, I’d made it through all Dr. Howell’s cases more than once. I’d even deciphered Bernard’s sketchy information regarding drugs and missing persons. There were a few unsolved cases as well as people who crossed the border with increased regularity. That wasn’t in itself a crime, but some of their information was questionable. Could that connect them to the drugs?

None of it made sense. There were dots to be connected; I just couldn’t make out the picture they formed. Plus I’d promised the Rosemonts, once again, that I wouldn’t stop. It was one thing to say it on the phone or in an e-mail, but the week before I’d said it while holding their hands. They’d been back to Detroit for the second time since Mindy’s disappearance. I didn’t blame them. Even though I’d promised to do everything at this end, they felt helpless in California and needed to feel involved. I didn’t hold much hope that a solution would materialize from the flyers they’d put all over the city, but then again, who was I to fault them? I wasn’t making progress either.

With that search for answers at the forefront of my mind, I’d made the decision to go straight home from work and forgo Dylan’s house. Imagine my surprise when thirty minutes after I arrived home, he showed up at my door. Though I wanted to be mad, as soon as my gaze met his I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t only the way he stood outside my door, his long legs barely covered by torn jeans, biceps bulging from his sleeves, and that smug sexy grin that turned my insides to jelly. It was what I saw as I scanned lower. My stomach growled as I saw the six-pack of beer in one hand and a pizza in the other. However, what sealed his fate was the package of time-release fish feeder blocks on top of the pizza box. Even now I had a difficult time keeping a smile from sneaking across my weary face. Shaking my head at the memory, I knew Detective Dylan Richards was getting to me.

I still wasn’t sure if I was the relationship type. This was the first time I’d ever been with anyone as long as I had been with Dylan. That didn’t mean I was ready to become more serious. However, it was becoming increasingly clear that if I didn’t want it to go that way, I’d need distance and a Teflon coating for my heart.

It didn’t bother me that others warned me about his hard-ass ways. The Dylan Richards I knew wasn’t a tough detective. The one who was getting under my skin was the one who drove across the city to support me at the morgue and brought me fish food. Granted, the fish food was time-released, which allowed me to leave Fred on his own for a few days, but still, when I combined that with his sexier-than-hell grin and the bedroom-blue eyes, my pulse pitter-pattered and my insides tightened. The mere thought of him not only beside me, but inside me, had my mind replaying scenes that were probably illegal in some states.

I sighed and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

The building I’d staked out all morning appeared as empty as it had when I’d arrived. Bernard’s contact had shared the address, saying three different vehicles from there crossed the Canadian border almost every day. The vehicles were driven by different people, but all the passport information included this Gerald Street address. The obvious problem was that the address wasn’t a home. It was some big abandoned building.

Over the past four hours, with the help of my hot spot, an Internet search, and my imagination, I’d constructed a story of a bustling neighborhood. In 1907 Henry Ford had built an automobile plant not far from where I sat. In the next thirteen years the population of this area had grown to over forty thousand. Five years later Chrysler was founded here. This area had thrived.

Then, during my lifetime, the latter decades of the twentieth century, Highland Heights experienced the same problems as Detroit and many other cities. Declining population led to loss of tax base. That, along with loss of employment opportunities, created increasing crime. At its peak this city within a city had boasted over fifty thousand residents. Today there were barely ten thousand.

Unfortunately, the exodus had left an excess of unused and abandoned buildings. Though the cities of Highland Heights and Detroit tried to keep the buildings boarded up or demolished, as long as they stood, they were magnets for illicit use. That the woman I’d seen at the morgue, as well as two more people, had been found dead inside one of them wasn’t hard to believe.

I knew my imagination was running wild. Spending all my spare time dissecting Tracy Howell’s “compilation theory” was getting to me. Every death and disappearance didn’t have to be related. Though this neighborhood was a melting pot for crimes, so were other areas of the city. High-risk behaviors made areas like this good spots for deaths from self-inflicted causes, such as drug use. Unfortunately, they also made good dumping grounds. There were too many reasons for death among Dr. Howell’s cases to assume that all, or even a large number, of them were related.

The area needed more places like the building I was sitting behind: a health clinic. Dr. Howell was right. New businesses wouldn’t be willing to set up shop here if it was publicized that just down the street dead bodies kept surfacing.

The building I watched used to be a school, and the one next to it had once been a fire station. As I sat, I imagined what they were like in their heydays. Instead of being desolate, the area would’ve been filled with people. At one time children had run along the streets and played in the attached lots. Instead of dirt and debris, there had been grass, trees, and playground equipment. As I scanned the area, I knew that Dylan’s concern was warranted. Going purely by the number of abandoned buildings in this neighborhood, it wasn’t safe. However, the way I saw it, it was daylight, and I’d left my trail of bread crumbs. Bernard and Foster knew exactly where I was.

With each minute of nothing, I considered calling Bernard. His earlier suggestion to use Dylan as an informant might have been a test, but it had pissed me off. Now I wondered whether, if I told him about Dylan’s offer, he’d think the sharing of information went both ways. Shrugging, I decided it could wait until after I received my tour tomorrow morning.

Therefore, instead of Bernard, I dialed Dr. Howell’s cell phone. I was ready to leave a message when she finally answered on the fourth ring.

“Hi, Charlotte,” she answered. “I’m surprised you’re calling me at work.”

Charlotte?

“OK,” I replied, “I get it, you can’t talk. Did you know another body’s been found in Highland Heights?”

“Sure did.” Tracy’s upbeat tone combined with the morbid subject made me grin. She was obviously in the presence of someone she didn’t want to include in our conversation.

“It was found in the same neighborhood as the woman from a week ago,” I said softly, hoping my voice didn’t transcend the phone and reach the unintended listener.

“Sounds about right. I’ll call you after I get off work. I’m not sure if we can meet for a drink, but I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, I’ll be waiting for your call.”

When the phone disconnected, I wondered who
Charlotte
was—I mean, besides me.

Unlike with my wasted morning, at least with that brief conversation I’d learned something. The ME’s office had already received the call. Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait until tomorrow for details. Maybe I’d get them this evening from Dr. Howell.

As I was about to give up on the abandoned building, a late-model black Suburban pulled up and around to the front. It stopped near the neighboring building, the one that looked like an old fire station. Though there were three large garage-type doors, the two men who got out of the SUV walked between the buildings.

I reached for my camera. While my phone took good pictures, my Nikon was capable of much more. With the two-hundred-millimeter-focal-length lens, the zooming abilities were superb. I pointed and snapped a rapid series of shots. The two men who walked between the buildings were white, average height, wearing dark jeans and white T-shirts. If I were to guess, I’d have put them roughly in their thirties. As I continued to take the photos, the word
nondescript
came to mind. The driver remained in the vehicle. Seeing him through the windshield, I couldn’t get a great picture, but I saw that he was African-American and wearing a similar white T-shirt. From my angle, I couldn’t make out much more.

Whatever the men did between the buildings didn’t take long. In less than five minutes, they were out, and the Suburban pulled away, past me and toward Woodward. Ignoring Dylan’s warning, I backed out of my space and pulled out of the parking lot, just in time to watch the Suburban turn right on Woodward. Justifying my decision—the SUV had turned in the direction in which I would need to go to get back to WCJB—I followed.

Since Woodward Avenue was a main thoroughfare, I wasn’t concerned about the occupants of the SUV questioning my presence. That was, until we turned right onto Glendale Avenue. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled in warning. For a warm late-summer morning, the streets were very quiet. While I waited at a light at Second Avenue, the Suburban turned right. Once the stoplight changed, I followed. I turned just in time to see the black SUV pull into a parking lot behind a white brick building.

I continued to drive and circled the block.