The Killing Edge (24 page)

“Oh, wait!” Jim said, and stood, then brought her a piece of paper. “This is from Harry Lee, the big honcho at Bryson. He’s been trying to get you—even came by, but I refused to hand out your home number. The man is still planning the calendar shoot. In Myra’s memory, no less.” Jim was indignant. He obviously didn’t believe it was to honor anyone’s memory. He was certain it was for the big bucks.

And it probably was.

“When does he intend to start?”

“Same days—you need to be on the island by Friday morning, a week from now.”

“All right, thanks.”

“Are you going to do it?” Jim asked her.

“Actually, yes,” she said, and escaped into her office at last.

She’d walked the puppy right before she’d come up, but he piddled a few seconds after she put him on the floor. At least he’d avoided the Persian rug and gone on the tile. She cleaned up the mess and told him that he was going to have to learn better control of his bladder, pronto, if he was going to come to work with her. He just wagged his tail.

She started on paperwork, and in a few minutes, the intercom buzzed.

“Farley Astin is on his way in, and Mindy Sutton has an appointment just after lunch.”

“Super, thanks.”

Farley arrived in less than half an hour. He gave her a sympathetic hug, then stepped back, as if he was afraid he had overstepped his bounds. “I’m sorry. I heard about the murders, and I knew that you worked for the Bryson people sometimes. But I shouldn’t have hugged you. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Farley, and the hug was very nice. Now, how about coffee or a soda or something?”

He didn’t want a soda. He did want to talk, and to hear her talk. He played with the puppy for a while first, then wandered around the room. He picked up one of the sketch pads and looked over at her. “I wish I could draw the way you do.”

“Actually, you’re pretty good.”

He smiled, pleased with the compliment, sat down at the far end of the couch and started drawing.

“What are you sketching?” she asked him.

“Oh, the strangest thing. I was heading home last night when I got detoured all over the place. Parts of Biscayne Boulevard were closed off. Anyway, I wound up stopped in
traffic in front of that weird cult place. I was just sketching what I saw.”

“Oh?” Chloe rose and went over to see his sketch.

He had done a caricature, showing the police everywhere, the media held back behind barricades, and the church itself, with all the carefree “picnickers” in the garden. The biggest face belonged to Brother Mario Sanz, and Farley had drawn dollar signs for his eyes.

“Do you think they were involved the other night?” Farley asked her. “Oh, man, I’m sorry. I forgot that you…you know. Survived that massacre ten years ago….”

“Don’t be afraid to talk about it, Farley. I’m not. As far as the Church of the Real People goes, well, I don’t think we know enough to make a judgment. Lots of religious sects asked for tithes from their practitioners.”

“But these guys—they’re scary,” Farley said.

“It’s a free country—including freedom of religion,” she reminded him.

After that, they finally talked about his problems rebuilding his life after a false accusation of rape.

At last, he left, scratching Theo’s fuzzy ears before he went.

Jim came in a minute later. “I ordered sushi,” he told her. “It should arrive shortly. Since Mindy Sutton is due in so soon, I thought it would be what you wanted.”

“You are the eighth wonder of the world,” she assured him.

“I do try. Anyway, after Mindy and a session for the school board—which I managed to get in this afternoon at three—you’re patient-free until after the shoot.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Yeah, I deserve a raise. In fact, you’ll make a few bucks on that shoot, so I think I
will
pencil myself in for a raise.”

She laughed. “I guess you’re due.”

A little while later, over sushi, the conversation turned to Luke Cane—or Jack Smith, as Jim knew him.

“That…designer will still be going to the shoot, right?” Jim asked her.

“Yes.”

“Good. Though I don’t think he’s a designer.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t reply, only stood, throwing the sushi container in the wastebasket. “I’m going to go call Harry Lee and let him know that I’m still participating.”

“All right. Let me know when to send Mindy Sutton in.”

As she waited for Harry to pick up, she studied Farley’s picture of the church potluck. The dollar signs in the eyes of Mario Sanz were particularly intriguing.

Harry came on the phone at last. “You’re a hard woman to reach,” he told her; then his tone softened as he said, “How are you? I understand you were there when the bodies were discovered.”

“I’m all right,” she said.

“And you’re still game to go on the shoot?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what Victoria told me this morning, but I’m glad you called. I’ll be handling everything personally, of course. Myra will be all but impossible to replace, so for now I’ll be taking the helm.”

“That’s good to hear.” Was it? Her answer had been entirely rote.

“Victoria said your friends Brad and Jared are still planning to be there. And Jack Smith is still going to be shooting his catalogue.”

There was really nowhere for the conversation to go after that, and he was about to hang up, when she said, “Harry, wait. What about the—the funerals?”

“They’ll have to take place after the shoot. The police haven’t released the bodies yet.”

She thanked him and hung up. A minute later Jim buzzed her to say that Mindy was there.

“Send her in.”

As Mindy talked, she played with the puppy, and Chloe found herself thinking that maybe Theo would make a good therapy dog one day.

But while Mindy continued talking, Chloe found her thoughts wandering to Coco-lime—and Maria.

After Mindy came the members of the school board, but as soon as they left she scooped up Theo and went out to the waiting room, where she was uncertain whether to feel pleased or cranky at being caught off guard.

Luke was there.

She might not know exactly what their relationship was—other than awkward, at the moment—but he was a great guardian, that was for certain.

“Hey there,” she said.

He stood and walked over to her, taking Theo from her arms. “So you like the pup, huh?” he asked.

“He’s—adorable.”

“You should always start with a dog,” Jim offered from
behind his desk. “If you can’t handle a dog, you’re never going to be able to handle children.”

“Thank you for that bit of wisdom, Jim,” Chloe said, grinning to take the sting out of the words. Then she turned back to Luke.

“Are you parked?” she asked him. “I mean, in the building? I can stamp your ticket.”

He laughed. “No, I’m not parked in the building. I was dropped off.”

“Oh.”

“By a police cruiser.”

“I see. No, wait. I don’t see at all. What have you been doing all day?”

“Going through a lot of public records. And now I’m famished. Where can we go where they’ll allow dogs?”

“Outside in the Grove,” she told him. “Or the beach.”

“I vote for the Grove. It’s closer to your…place.”

He wasn’t angry with her, she realized. Or if he was, at least it wasn’t keeping him away. She understood his point of view, but didn’t he realize she never would have gone to the potluck supper if she hadn’t been sure she and Victoria would be safe?

He held the dog while she drove. “I’m thinking,” he told her, “that I’d like to pull things together tonight and tomorrow morning, then head down to the Keys.”

“This soon? Officially, I don’t think anything’s happening until Thursday night, and then it’s just people coming down and getting settled.”

“I want time to talk to Maria. Somehow everything’s
connected through the Church of the Real People, I’m sure of it. We just have to find out how,” Luke said. “Maria isn’t going to volunteer anything. She’s afraid—and so is Ted—that she’ll get in trouble somehow, even be in danger again. I need to spend some time with them, get them to trust me. I want to show her that pamphlet the group gives out, see if she recognizes Brother Michael. Besides, I want a little time to explore the island. I want to get a head start,” he told her. “And I talked to Jim, so I know your schedule is clear for the week.”

“I thought you’d be more involved here, working on the murders,” she said. “And…I still don’t know what you found out in New Orleans.”

“A lot, I think.” He looked at her intently. “Chloe, right now all I have are pieces of the bigger puzzle. I’m still trying to put them together. But I’m afraid for you and Victoria, so trust me for now. Please? Don’t make any moves I don’t know about. Harry Lee has managed to get five guys from Miami-Dade and Monroe Counties to take some vacation time—for a substantial financial incentive, of course—and come along for the entire shoot. This is not a stupid killer. I think it’s someone who stays out of sight, who watches people coming and going, and strikes only when his targets will be vulnerable. And he may be religiously motivated, but not necessarily, if that makes any sense. I think you’re right and that someone involved with the Teen Massacre is still alive. He hasn’t been an angel for the last decade, either. He’s moved around and found victims in other places, so no one here would get onto him. What we did today was try to
trace the movements of every member of that church and align them with missing-persons cases and murders in other states.” He hesitated for a long time, then said, “I believe that our killer murdered a woman in New Orleans. Her name was Jill Montague. She was missing for a long time, and then they found her body with the help of a—nightwalker.”

Chloe glanced over at him curiously.

“What’s a nightwalker?”

“Someone who sees ghosts.”

She almost veered off the road, but she quickly brought the vehicle back under control.

“You—
you
—met with a psychic?”

“I met with a cop. He took me to a…a faith shop, I guess you could call it, where I met a woman named Mama Thornton. And then he took me to meet some people from an agency run by a man named Adam Harrison. They’re psychics.”

“I see,” she said.

He grinned. “No, you don’t. But you will. I’ve invited two of them down here. They’re a couple, Brent and Nikki Blackhawk. She’s the one who showed the police where to find the body after the dead girl’s ghost appeared in front of her.”

“The ghost didn’t mention who killed her?” Chloe asked.

His grin deepened. “My first reaction, too. No, she never saw his face, so all she could do was ask for help. Like when you see your ghosts.”

She jerked the wheel again.

“That’s it,” he said. “No more conversation while we’re driving.”

“But—you didn’t believe
me
when I told you that…
I
see ghosts.”

“I’m still not sure what I believe. But these people seem legitimate. They’ve even done a lot of work for the government. And at this point…I’ll take any help I can get.”

“But if you’ve invited people down, how can you leave?”

“The wonder of computer technology,” he told her dryly. “And I’m concerned about Maria, with the weekend coming up. It’s better for me to be down there. Besides, I made Brent and Nikki a reservation at Coco-lime, so they’ll join us soon enough.”

“Maybe we should wait. I mean, why are you suddenly so worried about Maria?”

“Why was Myra suddenly murdered now?” he asked. “Maybe it was because someone knew that she had been found out as a onetime cult member. So someone could be figuring out the truth about Maria and her connection to the cult, too. And with so many people coming and going for the shoot, it would be easy for our killer to blend in and get close to her.”

“Oh. I never thought…”

“Don’t worry. She’ll be all right. The cops are on alert—and so is her family. But I still want to get down there.”

They reached the Grove and decided to go on to Greenstreet’s. Theo was allowed out on the patio where he sat in her lap, exhaustion making him angelic, while they ordered. Surrounded by so many people, Luke kept the conversation to the weather, boats and designer swimwear.

When they reached the house, she thought she would
question him further, but then George bounded out to give them a hearty welcome, followed by Leo, who accompanied them into the carriage house, where he made himself a drink.

She realized that her uncle had talked to Luke at some point during the day, when he asked, “So you still intend to leave tomorrow?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. Chloe will promise that she’ll never be alone. She’ll stick with me, and if I can’t be there, Victoria and Brad and Jared,” Luke assured him. “Or Brent and Nikki.”

“When are they arriving?” Leo asked.

Luke looked at his watch. “Any moment.”

“I can’t believe you’d never heard of Adam Harrison,” Leo said.

Luke shrugged. “It’s not really my…field of interest.”

“Wait. Uncle Leo, you’ve heard of Adam Harrison?”

Leo nodded. “A year or so ago, someone was trying to pull a murder off by pretending one of the old houses in the Grove was haunted.”

“And those psychics proved that it was haunted?” Chloe asked.

“No—they proved it wasn’t. The murderer had been doing the haunting so the neighbors would believe the guy who lived there had been pushed out a second-story window by a ghost, or that he’d jumped to get away from a ghost.”

Chloe heard the gate bell chime, and George started to bark furiously. “That must be them now,” Luke said.

He rose and left to let them in. Chloe stared curiously at her uncle, who ignored her and followed Luke out. She
hurried in their wake and found Luke calming the dog while he opened the gate.

She stood back as an extremely attractive couple—the man obviously Native American, the woman blonde and elegant—paid their taxi driver and walked onto the property. They smiled and met George, petting him while Luke announced that they were okay.

Then it was Chloe’s turn to meet them.

They certainly
looked
normal.