Eleven (Brandon Fisher FBI Series #1)

by Carolyn Arnold

  “The perfect malignant narcissist,” Zachery said. He got up and put his plate on the table.

  Paige straightened her legs out beneath her and dialed a number on her phone. “Nadia…yes I know you’re working on it. I have something I need right now. I’ll hold on the line.” She glanced around the room at us as if to say, you’ll see. She turned to face out the window and spoke lower. Minutes later, she hung up. “Amanda Knowles is the daughter’s name. Her background check comes up spotless, and she lives right here in Sarasota. She’s a teacher at a local theological school.”

  Jack looked to Paige and me. “I want you two to go and see what she remembers about Bingham. Maybe he slipped up with her and mentioned something he shouldn’t have, like another name or at least something we could go on.” Jack pulled a pack of cigarettes off the nightstand and lit up.

  “Isn’t it a non-smoking ro—”

  His glare silenced me.

  “I always get the job when a woman’s involved. It’s almost like Jack admits males and females don’t communicate properly.”

  “I think it’s just Jack that doesn’t communicate properly with either sex.”

  “Leave it to you to say that.”

  We had dropped Jack and Zachery off at the car rental for another set of wheels. With us headed different directions, it was needed. They were going to the police station to ask more questions of Reggie Knowles. Paige and I were en route to the Bible College where Amanda Knowles worked as a theological scholar. According to the file, she had never married, wasn’t living with anyone, and rented a bungalow in the east end which wasn’t far from her father’s house.

  I looked over at Paige from the passenger seat. “I still question whether this is a good use of our time. It just seems there’s something else we could be focused on right now.”

  “Hey this was your idea. Besides we’re still waiting on the church list from Nadia. It should be coming through soon, hopefully. At least I hope so or Jack’s going to do a back flip.” Paige glanced from the road to me. “But we’ll have you back to him before you know it. Don’t worry.”

  I smiled and faced out the window.

  “So I guess we’re not even going to talk about last night.”

  I turned back to her. “What about it?” Her eyes narrowed but opened fully when I smiled at her. “It was great.”

  Paige returned the smile. “It was.”

  “Then what else is there to talk about?”

  She bobbed her head side to side. I watched as her expression changed from one of light-heartedness to a serious nature. “Maybe talking about where we go from here wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Her arm rested on the window ledge, and she put a hand to her forehead. She pulled into the driveway of the college at a fast speed causing the Cruze to heave over the one-inch curb.

  I didn’t say anything because there wasn’t anything to say. We had a case that deserved our focus. I had a marriage that had crumbled apart, but still held out a faint hope of reconciling. When Paige showed up in my room last night, she knew the risks and that there would be no promises.

  “This is a non-denominational Bible college. Our purpose here is to unite people of all ages, ethnicities, and backgrounds to Jesus Christ and to produce spirit-filled disciples.” The woman behind the front counter spoke as if rhyming off the contents to an information brochure. Her nametag said Maureen, and she couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Her dark hair flowed in wild curls over her shoulders.

  I glanced at the brochure that I had pulled from a plastic display holder.

  “You will find all of this in there.” She pointed at the brochure. Her smile showcased teeth. “What can I help you with today?”

  It only took a five minute greeting and brief orientation to come back around to why we were there.

  Paige held up her creds. “We need to speak with Amanda Knowles. We understand that she’s—”

  “Yes.” Maureen smiled. I wondered if the expression ever changed. She probably scowled when she went home. At the very least her smiling muscles would be sore. “She’s teaching her class right now but—,” she looked to the computer monitor on her desk, “—another thirty minutes and she’ll be available. Would you like to wait?”

  Paige nodded.

  “You can take a seat over there, and I will let her know.”

  Paige and I walked to a bank of about ten chairs. “She didn’t even blink when you showed her your creds.”

  “Weird wasn’t it? I’m used to some sort of reaction.”

  “I think the lady just smiles to get through her day. Can you imagine manning that front desk?”

  We both looked back at Maureen who sat there watching us. She smiled and gave us a little wave.

  “I’d shoot myself.”

  The lady who walked toward us was lean and tall. She wore a black business suit with a red blouse. Her hair shot like flames from her head, wild fizz, as if she had washed and blow-dried without any aid of hair products. Her green eyes were deep and hard to read. “I’m Amanda Knowles, and you are?”

  We both held up our creds.

  “The FBI?” Amanda glanced back to Maureen from the front counter, who smiled at her. “What could the FBI want with me?”

  “We just have a few questions about a family friend. Lance Bingham.”

  Her arms went like they were going to cross, but instead she slipped both hands into her jacket pockets. The pockets were only deep enough to cover her fingers, her thumbs latched over the fabric. “Why would you think I’d have anything to say about him?”

  “We understand he was a good friend—”

  “Of my father’s. They were of the same age, both involved with the church.” Defensiveness sparked in her eyes.

  “We’re not implying anything improper here,” I said.

  “I would certainly hope not. Bingham was a good man.”

  “Was or is?” Paige interjected.

  “These days I wouldn’t have a clue. But he was a good friend years ago.”

  There was something underlying this awkward conversation. Amanda knew something she preferred to keep a secret. At first Bingham was her father’s friend, and now she referred to him as a good friend as if implying he was one of hers. I also noticed how when the mention of an improper implication came up, it was Bingham she defended.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  “I don’t see why—”

  “We’re looking into the murder of your mother as well as the other ten bodies found in ’86.” Paige fed her the relevant information and avoided disclosing the finding in Salt Lick.

  Amanda’s eyes fixed on mine. Seconds later, she spoke, “We can go to the conference room in the library.”

  She led us down some hallways and slid a security card through a reader to gain access to the library.

  “Good day, Miss Knowles.” A young girl, with her hair tied back in to a French braid, smiled at Amanda.

  “Good day, Monica. How are your studies coming along? I’m not taking it easy on you just because you’re my best student.” Amanda winked at the girl but kept walking.

  Inside the conference room, Amanda sat at the end of the table. Paige and I sat across from each other.

  Amanda tapped the table with her index finger. “What is it you want to know about Mr. Bingham?”

  I counted as she tapped her finger. One, two, three…

  “We want to know what kind of a person he was?”

  “Why are you looking at him? He had nothing to do with any of this. Police never even considered him a suspect at the time. He is a decent man.”

  Four, five, six…

  “You still keep in contact with him?”

  Seven, eight…

  “I never said that. I just assume he is because he was.”

  “You teach theology here?” Paige changed the direction of the conversation. “What is that exactly?”

  “It educates minds to open up and explore the world around them,
to assign meaning to the greater being of the universe. Really all of us do this in our ways, agents. You find your work to be the Lord’s—”

  Paige shifted in her chair.

  “This makes you uncomfortable?”

  “I just don’t consider it the Lord’s work.”

  “Au contraire. You bring the wicked to justice.” Amanda looked at me. “You are learning the way.”

  This woman had almost an uncanny sense of perception. With her eyes on me, my skin tingled. I tried to discount it as paranoia.

  Nine, ten…

  “Let me show you two something.”

  Eleven…

  She tapped the table one last time before getting up. “It’s a little drive from here though. Is that alright?”

  Amanda looked at me when she asked the question, and despite instinct telling me to say no, this woman knew something.

  CHAPTER 39

  We followed behind Amanda’s Kia for about thirty minutes. She led us north outside of the city to the east and pulled into the parking lot of a country church. Boards were on the windows, and a padlock secured an outside basement door.

  I turned to Paige. “We should have called in and let Jack and Zach know where—”

  Amanda rapped her knuckles on the driver side window. Paige put her window down a sliver.

  “Don’t worry it’s a friend’s building. I know it doesn’t look like much but Bingham brought me here all the time as a little girl. It used to be glorious at one time.” When Paige and I didn’t move, Amanda said, “It will only take a minute. Call it in if you like. I watch them cop shows.”

  Paige reached over and put a hand on my forearm. I knew Amanda had noticed the action. I wondered if Amanda picked up on the underlying connection between us.

  “Alright we have a few minutes,” I said.

  We got out of the car and followed Amanda to the basement door. She pulled a key out of her jacket and slipped it into the padlock.

  “You said a friend’s place. Is it Bingham’s?” Paige asked the question, even though we knew Bingham didn’t show any properties registered in his name except the one in Salt Lick, Kentucky. Paige glanced at me as if to say, we should have called in.

  And we should have, but we were wrapped up in a heated conversation about what last night meant and where it would go from here. For a good portion of the drive, we weren’t even speaking to each other.

  Amanda smiled at us. “Not sure what that matters.” She pulled the lock off and swung the door open. “If you want to follow behind me.” She phrased it more as a directive than an invitation.

  I wasn’t looking forward to descending into the basement of an abandoned church. With this case the two married together too well—the isolated burials and the religious connotation.

  “You said Bingham brought you here when you were young?” Paige took the stairs slowly with well-placed hands on the walls for balance.

  A few steps down, my heart sped up and my breathing became labored. The smell of dirt filled the air transporting me straight to the burial chambers in Salt Lick.

  Amanda opened another door at the base of the stairs and flicked on a light. “Lance also had a fond place in his heart for this place. He said this is where he really learned about God and became enlightened.”

  I pulled my cell from its holder and brought up the messaging screen. Jack and Zachery needed to be notified of where we were. We were careless and stupid for not calling it in.

  “Enlightened?” Paige pulled from Amanda’s statement.

  “Yes. It’s when you know what God has planned for you. You realize where you fit in and what differences you can make in this world. In a sense you were enlightened when you chose to become FBI as I mentioned a bit at the college.”

  I had only a few more steps to text the words I needed to before it would have Amanda’s attention. I pushed a few keys but working in a hurry my thumb was too large for the small keys.

  “What about you?” Amanda looked around Paige to me.

  I quickly tucked the phone behind my back. “About me?”

  “Why did you become an agent?”

  “To make a difference.”

  “You could do that being a police officer, a teacher, or many other things. That answer is very vague.” Amanda kept walking into the basement but faced us.

  All I needed was a few seconds of her attention on Paige to finish the message and send it. “My father served for his country.”

  Paige glanced over a shoulder, her eyes saying, I didn’t know that.

  “He was FBI?” Amanda asked.

  “Navy.”

  “Impressive. He knew that in order to bring peace, people must sometimes fight.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Still doesn’t answer about you.”

  The conversation held the veneer of new friends getting to know each other over a drink. Yet the situation was much different and any interest was expressed to extract and manipulate.

  With each step further into the cellar, the intensity in Amanda’s eyes deepened, and she watched our every move.

  I would have to play along. “I like to travel. Speaking of which, have you ever been to Kentucky?”

  Paige turned to face me, and the impact was so quick, I never saw Amanda lift the gun. Paige crumbled to the dirt floor of the basement.

  My training kicked in. I went to draw my gun, but my cell was in my right hand. I hit what felt like the send button.

  My God, I hoped it was the send button.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Amanda glared at me from the other side of a gun I had no doubt was loaded. Her green eyes were clouded with rage.

  I looked down at Paige wanting to see evidence of breathing, and with a raise of her shoulder it brought hope.

  “Don’t worry about her. She’ll wake up. It was only the butt end of the gun. You’d only have to worry if I had used the other end.”

  “What are you—”

  “Hand me your cell phone and gun—now!”

  I assessed my surroundings and my options. The basement was unfinished. Its walls were brick blocks and the floor was flattened dirt. On the wall to the right was a marker board with scribbling on it, none of which I could decipher. Beside it was a large golden cross and a poster of the coinherence symbol. There was an inset in the wall that I assumed led to another room. To the left of the space we were in, there was a coffin. My breathing froze for a few seconds.

  Why was there a coffin here?

  I tried to rationalize it was an old church, and maybe it was left behind.

  I looked down at Paige and back up at Amanda. I knew what my next step would be. I tossed the phone.

  With her attention on it flying toward her, she didn’t catch me drawing my gun. Amanda caught the phone and connected eyes with me. Her gun rose and aimed on Paige. “You put your gun down now or she dies. You have eleven seconds!”

  Eleven.

  My chest compressed. The height of the ceiling only hovered above my head a few inches. I didn’t want to become her eleventh victim, and I didn’t want Paige to either. I lifted my hands in surrender, realizing that if there ever was a time to turn to God now would be it. I watched Amanda as I bent down and laid the Glock on the dirt floor.

  “Now step back ten feet.” Amanda waved her gun.

  As I stepped back, I assessed her weight at approximately one hundred ten pounds, shy a hundred of mine. Her structure was petite and compact. I had spent time at the gym lifting weights, and boxing was a pastime for me. There was no doubt that in a physical altercation I would overpower her.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” Amanda smiled.

  The facial expression brought me back to Bingham in prison, and how he smiled when there was no reason to, how he latched eyes with mine and tried to read my thoughts. His words slammed to the forefront, repent and be forgiven, or don’t and be punished. “Are you here to exact punishment on me?”

  Amanda l
aughed loudly.

  I watched as she picked up my gun, tucked it into the waist of her pants, and closed the distance between us. I studied the grip she had on her gun. She held it tight enough her knuckles were white.

  “On Paige?”

  Amanda kept moving toward me.

  “Why did you break into my house?”

  As she came closer, my breathing tightened, even though I knew the odds were in my favor if we were both unarmed, but in reality Amanda was. My mind replayed the crime scene in Salt Lick. The bodies and how they were mutilated, how they were tortured for days before having the final incision be the one that claimed their life.

  “Only those who ask the right questions get them answered.”

  “You’re a smart woman.”

  “Flattery only works on the vain and simple-minded. I am neither.”

  “You killed people.”

  “Only those who deserved it.”

  That was a confession, yet it made me sick to realize one normally confessed when they felt they would get away with it. “You’re going to kill me.”

  “You are arrogant and cocky. You are proud. Scripture says pride comes before a crash. That too is a punishable sin. But there are greater sins, namely hypocrisy.”

  I wouldn’t die without a fight. I studied her movements, but her eyes followed mine.

  She stopped walking a few feet from me. Her eyes faltered from mine for only a fraction of a second. I moved forward and grabbed the barrel of her gun. She struggled to gain control of it, pulling back and to the side.

  “Let go—”

  A bullet whizzed by my head. It bit the upper tip of my ear. Adrenaline infused my bloodstream. My strength grew. I would kill her if that’s what it took. She fought back with the power of a man. She punched me in the left eye, and I hit her in the abdomen.

  She wailed.

  I thought I broke a rib with the blow, but it didn’t stop her fighting power. Instead the pain seemed to have empowered her.

  I tried to pull the gun from her grasp, but I had to be careful that a stray bullet didn’t get fired again and somehow wind up striking Paige.