Redemption (15 page)

It was Jane’s turn to let out a hard, frustrated sigh.

“Hey, I hear you,” Sawyer softly responded. “This case will make you sigh a lot.”

Jane looked through the double glass doors of the health food store and saw Kit standing in the checkout line. She knew her time
with Sawyer was limited. “Anything else about the case stand out to you as significant?”

Sawyer gave a thoughtful pause. “When I saw the photos of Ashlee’s body and the crime location, the first word that came into my head was ‘sacrifice.’”

“Sacrifice?”

“It looked like some perverted offering to the gods. Do you know the story of Pico Blanco?”

“No.” Jane was feeling edgier as she watched Kit move up one place in line.

“It’s known as The Sacred Peak. There’s a story about Pico Blanco that involves the destruction of the world in a great flood. Very Biblical in nature, although it’s told from the Native American point of view. The story goes that when the waters rose, the summit of Pico Blanco was the only land that remained exposed. At that place, the sacred birds met.” Jane’s attention was suddenly focused on Sawyer’s words. “The Eagle, Crow, Raven, Hummingbird, and....“

“Hawk....” The words spilled out of Jane’s mouth before she could contain them.

“Yeah. You know this story?” Sawyer sounded duly impressed.

“No. I just—” Jane felt a strange shift around her. “So the Hawk?”

“Well, Hawk is the main character in the story. Hawk plucked a magical feather from the head of Eagle, and carrying it, dove to the bottom of the sea. He then planted the feather in the earth. This caused the waters to recede and recreated the world. Hey, I’m no scholar in Native American beliefs, but I do remember reading something about how Hawk is the messenger and signifies paying attention to signs....”

Jane was silent. It was too bizarre. Certainly there was a viable explanation for this odd callback to that damn story Kit told her. And The Red Tail Hawk Bar
....
No, the whole thing was a convoluted coincidence, Jane thought to herself as an electrical pulse ran up her spine.

“Anyway, like I said, it looked like an ancient sacrifice to the gods of Pico Blanco, the way Ashlee was laid out on the rock.”

There was a thick silence between Sawyer and Jane. Jane caught a glance of Kit paying the cashier. “So,” Jane said in a last ditch effort to drag information out of Sawyer, “you think Lou killed Ashlee?”

“I wouldn’t put money on it. But I also wouldn’t want to be alone in the same room with him.”

“So, say he killed Ashlee. Given what you know about him... what does your gut tell you? Could he do it again?”

“Again? What do you mean?” Sawyer’s voice was suddenly agitated.

Jane was afraid that her driving desire to learn more had forced her hand. She retreated. “It’s just a hypothesis. I have to look at all possibilities given the retrial that’s coming up for Lou.”

“Oh, I see. Okay.” Sawyer seemed satisfied with that answer. “I don’t know. Given the right circumstance...the right prodding... maybe he could kill again.... That’s saying if he indeed killed the first time.” Sawyer let out a soft chuckle. “God, I envy you,” he said in a confidential tone. “I hear the fire in your voice and I get that gurgle in my belly again. Jesus, I hope my wife didn’t hear me say that. She’d have a fit if she knew I was shaking loose old ghosts from the past.”

“Hey, I always say that I’m the job. But only another cop understands that.”

“I hear you!” Sawyer chimed in with a familiar camaraderie. “You know what I say? I tell people I worked the job until the job worked me.”

Jane related well to that statement. “Nightmares?”

“Sure. But then you figure out how many shots it takes to make them stop.”

Jane felt the unintentional sting of Sawyer’s words. “How many does it take now that you’re off the job?” Jane asked in an uncharacteristic familial tone.

“Zero,” Sawyer replied in a proud tone. “I have thirteen years.”

Thirteen years?
Jane couldn’t imagine being sober for thirteen years. She was a day shy of six months and still felt that she was struggling to crest a very steep hill. Jane sensed her professional guard slipping. The only other time she let herself do this was during conversations with Sergeant Weyler. There was something comfortable about Sawyer’s voice, like a soft place to fall. “Thirteen years,” Jane said, her words stumbling out of her mouth. “That’s a goddamn lifetime.”

“Yeah. But it’s a life worth living, Jane.” Sawyer hesitated, sensing a greater need from the person on the other end of the phone.

Jane saw Kit heading for the glass double doors. “I gotta go. Thanks for returning my call.”

“My pleasure. You got me thinking again. It feels good.”

“All right, well—” Jane started to hang up when Sawyer spoke up.

“Hey, you know who you should talk to? Dr. John Bartosh. He headed The Lamb of God Congregation. There’s something about him.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. When you talk to him, you’ll see what I mean. You gotta do it.”

“Okay.” Jane turned around as Kit exited the health store. “Thanks again.” Jane hung up and stealthily slid the cell phone into her coat pocket, unbeknownst to Kit.

“Ready to go?” Kit yelled across the parking lot.

Jane turned around and nodded. As she walked to her car, she realized she hadn’t asked Sawyer for his impressions on Kit. Still, she mused, if Sawyer had any misgivings about Kit, he certainly would have offered them. Climbing into the car, Kit took a sip of her carrot juice and gingerly placed a bag of groceries behind her seat.

“I got us some healthy treats for the road,” Kit said with a joyful ring. “Carob covered almonds, yogurt sticks, sesame crunches, spirulina energy balls—”

“Spirulina energy balls? What the—”

“They’re better than coffee and they’ll do wonders for your colon! Your shit will be green and glorious!”

“Lovely,” Jane muttered as she retrieved a phone book from under her seat.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Dr. John Bartosh. He’s in Grand Junction now, right?”

“What in the hell are you doing?” Kit’s demeanor turned suspicious.

Jane continued to flip through the phone book. “We’ll be in Grand Junction in less than three hours. I want to talk to him face-to-face.”

“Why would you want to bother with Bartosh?” Kit’s tone was becoming increasingly indignant. “You’d be matching wits with an unarmed man! Jane, trust me, spending time with Bartosh is like being awake during your own surgery.”

“I’ve got a high pain threshold.”

“He’s as much fun as root canal without the positive outcome!”

“Positive outcome?”

“At least with root canal, the agony eventually stops.”

“Kit, in order to work this case, I have to get to know all the people who are involved. Bartosh fits into that category.”

“He won’t talk to you when he finds out you know me.”

“So I won’t tell him.” Jane slid her finger down the page of names and found Bartosh’s phone listing and address.

She had to look twice at the name of the street: Eagle Road.

CHAPTER 10

“Jane, Bartosh will not agree to talk to you! He doesn’t trust anyone in the secular world!”

Jane’s attention was still drawn to Bartosh’s street name: Eagle Road. Was this another one of those coincidences that had been occurring rather frequently lately? Ten minutes before, Detective Charles Sawyer had described the legend of Pico Blanco where Ashlee’s body was found. There were the sacred birds: the Eagle, Crow, Raven, Hummingbird, and Hawk who helped the waters recede after the great flood. Bartosh could have lived on any street. Why did he happen to live on Eagle Road?

“Jane?” Kit said, sounding like a schoolmarm.
“Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” Jane said, coming back to her senses. “He doesn’t trust the secular world. Fine. I’ll pretend to be someone else. I’ll play a role. I’m good at that.”

“What types of roles have you played in the past?”

“A hooker, a junkie, a drug dealer. I played dead in a morgue once so I could hear a conversation between two perps who came to view their dead brother.”

“Dear, I don’t think any of those roles will be helpful in dealing with Bartosh. We could possibly use the playing dead one, but it would be a stretch.”

“For Christ’s sake! I can figure out a workable angle so he’ll agree to see me!”

“Not with your sailor’s mouth, you won’t! All it’ll take is one slip-up of ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ and you’ll blow your cover! And
then
what?”

Jane sat back and looked at Kit intently. “I thought you had faith in me.”

“I do,” Kit replied without reservation. “But you don’t know the born-again Christian lingo. They have their own way of speaking so as to properly identify one another. Just like African Americans and Texans.”

“You’re shittin’ me!”

“Do you know the difference between a Fundamentalist, an Evangelical, and a Protestant?”

“We’re doing Christian riddles?”

“You don’t know, and yet you’re willing to go into Bartosh’s lair unprepared! Fundamentalists are Christians who believe the Bible is the
literal
, inerrant word of God, and is correct not only in its religious or moral teachings, but also in its scientific and historical claims. God
literally
created the world in six days. God
literally
created Eve from Adam’s rib. Jesus
is
God. Evangelicals are Christians who say they have a more personal relationship with Jesus. Bartosh is a Fundamentalist and he’s as
literal
as they come! His Fundamentalist dogma allows him to be unburdened by introspection.”

Jane smiled at Kit’s clever observation. “And Protestants?”

“Protestants are middle of the road, wishy-washers who aren’t committed to Jesus with the proper fervor that’s needed to spread God’s Word. Fundamentalists and Evangelicals believe that it’s not enough to say you believe in Jesus. It’s every
true
Christians’ mandate to talk about Him by ‘The Great Commission of Christ.’ Protestants are known as the ‘sidelines.’ To Fundamentalists and Evangelicals, Protestants are a dying sect of Christianity; a group with no firm mission statement. Protestants keep their faith private, whereas the New Christian constantly witnesses for Jesus. Then there are the secular elitists.”

“And they are?”

“Also doomed because they have no real religion at all. Secular elitists are usually East Coasters. The gin and tonic crowd. Daddy’s old money. You’ll hear the words ‘secular elitist’ coming out of Bartosh’s mouth a lot
if
you get in the door!”

“What else?”

“Oh, there are too many to list. ‘Wonder-working power.’ It’s from the Bible. It’s also a line in an old gospel hymn that sings of changing the world through divine, not human, intervention. The New Christian carefully drops it into conversations. Some believe that by saying ‘wonder-working power,’ it’s a sort of wink-wink code to let others know you are part of ‘the chosen.’”

Jane was impressed by Kit’s grasp of the subject. “How does a pseudo Buddhist like you know all this stuff?”

“Well, when I’m not chanting, burning incense, or designing intricate sand mandalas, I actually read outside my scope of spiritual interest. In order to know the beast, you must study them.”

“You mean, in order to
hate
them?”

“I don’t hate them!” Kit’s said. “I don’t
trust
them. There’s a single-minded, arrogant attitude that many of them possess. I wouldn’t accept that behavior from anyone—a Jew, an Arab,
or
a Buddhist! It just so happens that Jesus got tagged as the sacrificial lamb two thousand years after they sacrificed him the first time!” Kit continued to clue in Jane with additional lingo: “Witness for the faith,” “Divine mission,” and “Having the heartbeat.” “Isn’t the true purpose of talking to Bartosh so you can find out about Lou? Well, how can the subject of Lou Peters logically happen without it looking suspicious? Bartosh is desperately paranoid. Bring up Lou and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Why is he so paranoid?”

“Bartosh truly believes that secular society is out to get Lou. He’s firmly
committed
to Lou’s innocence. If you make one wrong move, we’re screwed!”

“How are we screwed?”

“By Bartosh delaying us! We need to get to California as quickly as possible!”

Jane turned and stared out the car window, quickly thinking of angles. She would need to create a win-win situation where she appealed to Bartosh’s sensitivities. “What trips his trigger?” Jane asked out loud. “God, right?”

“Yes,” Kit answered uneasily.

“What else?”

“Youth. The destruction of the moral fiber that is tearing apart families—”

“So, engaging him in a thoughtful exchange about society and the plight of our young people might spark his interest?” Jane said as she started to melt into the character she needed to become to nail a one-on-one tête-à-tête with Bartosh. “Our young people are at risk, Kit. It is only through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, that we can salvage their future.”

Kit shifted in her seat. “Okay, you’re scaring me. Stop it!”

Jane dropped character. “You believe I can do this now?”

“I believe you can parody a religious role. But I’m not sure you can get your foot in the door and maintain that role for longer than a few minutes.”

“Kit, I went undercover and played a child’s mother for over one month. I had an entire town hoodwinked by the con.” Jane said with a proud grin as she pulled out her cell phone. “If I can play a kid’s mother, I can sure as shit play a goddamned, Godfearing, Christian woman for a fucking hour!”

“We’re screwed.” She let out a weary sigh. “I can’t talk you out of this?”

“Why should you? You afraid I might learn something pertinent to your case?”