The Gathering Man (A DI Erica Swift Thriller Book 7)

by M K Farrar

  “That’s right. The trouble with a charismatic person, is that their lure doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with appearance. Take Charles Manson, for example. He certainly wasn’t anything to look at but managed to convince multiple women to share a bed with him at the same time. However, not all cults are extreme and dangerous. The vast majority are New Age, or simply religious groups, and they don’t cause the sort of harm you’re talking about. Of course, there are also some that do go to these sort of extremes, such as the Manson killings.”

  She considered his words carefully. “Do you know of any local cults that would fit anything we’ve seen here?”

  He exhaled a breath and shook his head. “We have the Jesus Army, here in London, who are now known as the Jesus Fellowship Church, who recruit the homeless and financially exploit them. There are numerous court cases currently underway against the church.”

  “But none of them murder,” she said.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you know of anything smaller? Most likely, a more underground, secretive cult?”

  He put his hands out either side of him. “If they’re secretive, it’s unlikely I’d have heard of them.”

  “That’s the problem.” She bit her lower lip. “How am I going to find these people?”

  “They’d have a place where they gather, but that’s as likely to be their leader’s home as much as anywhere else. A house where the neighbours are reporting multiple adults all living under one roof—most likely predominantly female.”

  “That could be describing almost any student house in London.”

  He gave her an apologetic smile. “You’re not wrong there.”

  She’d worked on a case where a property had housed numerous illegal immigrants as well and suspected there were many more such properties all over the city. Just finding a house with lots of people living there wasn’t going to be enough to narrow things down.

  “What about how they recruit people? You said before that it was like a pyramid scheme and the leader would send his people out to pull others in.”

  “That’s right, but ultimately it’ll be down to the leader to gather everyone together and keep them there. It’ll be his charisma that binds them all, giving them a sole purpose and focus.”

  “If he killed this girl, or convinced her to do this to herself, do you think he might do it again?”

  “It’s certainly a possibility. There must be a reason behind it, but what that reason is completely depends on whatever story he’s spinning to his followers. For example, the Heaven’s Gate religious group committed mass suicide in nineteen-ninety-seven because they were convinced suicide was the only way a UFO would take them to ‘a level of existence above human’.”

  “Wait a minute. Did you just say a UFO?”

  “That’s right. There were thirty-nine of them in total, and unusually they were an almost equal mixture of women and men.”

  The more he told her, the more insane all of this felt. Erica was someone who liked to see the world through the eyes of facts and evidence, and stuff like this just went beyond her way of thinking. Believing in a god was one thing, and she did her best to respect all individual’s beliefs, as long as they weren’t harming anyone else, but she struggled with the thought of wanting to kill yourself because you thought it meant an alien spacecraft would come and take you away.

  Professor Hauge glanced at his watch.

  “Sorry, I’m keeping you,” she said.

  “I have a lecture to get to. Apologies for rushing you off.”

  “Not at all. I appreciate your time.” Erica picked up her bag and got to her feet. “This has all been very useful.”

  She wished he’d been able to give her a couple of names of local cults, but like he’d said, they were secretive by nature. She doubted, even if he had, it would have been much use. Would any members of a cult even talk to them? It would be unlikely.

  Even so, she wished she had something more, a place to go to now where she could ask further questions. This felt like it was coming to a frustrating dead end.

  “Like I said, I’ll keep the pictures,” he said, rising with her. “I’d like to keep working on them.”

  “Not at all. You’ve got my number, haven’t you? If you find out anything, no matter how small, please call me.”

  “I will. I hope you find the person you’re looking for.”

  “So do I.”

  She left his office and retraced her steps out to the lift, taking it back down to the ground floor. Students passed by, probably taking her for a faculty member rather than a detective. She remembered how it was to be that young, to have your whole life ahead of you, and feel confident in almost everything you were doing.

  Stacey Ford should have had had that future, too, but some arsehole with a god complex had stolen it from her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Back in the office, Erica pulled together what they’d learned. Stacey Ford had been assaulted two months earlier, which accounted for her change in behaviour, but didn’t explain where she’d been going all this time. Were the men who’d assaulted her also the ones responsible for killing her, or had someone taken advantage of her vulnerability because of the assault?

  She stopped by her boss’s office to keep him updated and get his thoughts on how the investigation was going so far.

  Gibbs sat and listened to her findings with his eyebrows raised.

  “You think the leader of some cult here in London killed Stacey Ford?” he said when she’d finished.

  “Yes, I do. The outfit, the symbols cut into her skin, the people we caught on CCTV, all point to it being a cult. According to the professor I spoke to this morning, we’re looking for a man who is charismatic, manipulative, and most likely a narcissist. He could be living in a house with a number of women, and people will be coming and going all the time. Now we’ve learned about the assault on Stacey Ford, it’s clear that she matches the profile of a vulnerable person. It all fits.”

  “Is it possible one of the two men who assaulted her is also the ringleader of this cult?”

  She shook her head. “I doubt it. We haven’t been able to find out which club she went to the night of her assault, and without that information, it’s going to be virtually impossible to track down the men who assaulted her. It’s more likely that is simply what made Stacey susceptible to being manipulated. What we need to focus on now is finding out where and how Stacey might have met this man, and where she’s been going for these past couple of months. Her mother thought she might have had an unsuitable boyfriend, but it might be more than that. Her laptop is still with digital forensics, and I’m hoping to hear from Karl Hartley about that soon. Maybe he’ll find an address on there that’ll help us.”

  “Let’s hope,” Gibbs said.

  “I know it’s a stretch. I’ve also asked for any CCTV footage from around Stacey’s home, to see if we can pick up on her heading in a certain direction, or maybe being picked up by a car. A couple of detectives did a search of the room, but it didn’t reveal much of interest. The clothes inside her wardrobe were all skimpy dresses, or baggy jeans and tiny tops—certainly nothing like the item she was wearing when she was found. They’ve taken photographs and uploaded them.”

  “It sounds like you’re doing everything right.”

  She appreciated the support, but she wasn’t finished yet. “My theory also fits the fact that there weren’t any defensive wounds on Stacey’s body. If she trusted this cult leader, she might have just let him do whatever he wanted.”

  “Even kill her?” he said in disbelief.

  “Believe me, that’s not even the craziest thing I’ve come across since I started researching this. Did you know almost forty people in America killed themselves because they thought a UFO was going to take them to Heaven? Believing that one girl might have fallen under the spell of a charismatic man to the point where she has allowed him to hurt her seriously isn’t that unlikely.”

&n
bsp; Gibbs shook his head. “The world’s gone mad.”

  Erica continued. “We haven’t been able to locate her phone. It was switched off and possibly destroyed or the battery removed several hours before she died. I’ve requested her phone records, though, so hopefully we’ll get a lead from that.”

  “Sounds like you have everything under control, Swift.”

  She blew out a breath. “Maybe, but we still don’t have a main suspect.”

  “You ruled out the park warden then?”

  She nodded. “I think so. He’s hardly the charismatic type. I can’t see him convincing a seventeen-year-old girl that it’s a good idea to let him kill her.”

  “Fair point.”

  A knock came at the office door, and Shawn stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt. Digital forensics are done with the laptop.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” Erica rose from her seat and addressed her boss. “I’ll keep you informed about any developments.”

  She left Gibbs’s office to find Karl Hartly lurking by her desk.

  “Hi, Karl. What have you got for me?”

  “We got through the computer password, and there are a few things on there that might be of interest. I found lots of Google searches on higher entities, and higher powers. She also seemed to have an obsession with energy, and if it can be created or destroyed. I printed them all out for you.” He slid a piece of paper towards her.

  “Thanks. Did you notice anything specific to cults? Any strange names you didn’t recognise?”

  “No, sorry, but she did have an online calendar, and almost every day she put in the initials P.W.”

  “A code perhaps, in case the parents logged on to her laptop? Does it mean anything to you?”

  “My first thought for P.W. is password, but really it could be anything.”

  “And it’s showing up most days on her computer?”

  “Yes, normally scheduled at about seven p.m.”

  Erica nodded. “That must be where she was going or who she was meeting. Are there any map searches on her computer, or any address searches?”

  “No, sorry. Nothing like that.”

  “Place names?” she asked hopefully.

  He screwed up his face. “I wish I could say yes, but they were all around spiritual or paranormal things. I was able to log in to her social media accounts and emails, but there was nothing suspicious there either, just the usual sort of thing I’d expect to see from a teenage girl.”

  “Nothing on dating apps?”

  “No, and when I dug deeper, I couldn’t find anything she might have deleted either.”

  “Okay, thanks. I appreciate your help.”

  “No problem at all.”

  She waited until he’d walked away and then put her head in her hands. She’d been really hoping the laptop would at least have pointed them in the right direction, that there might have been emails or messages from the person she’d been meeting, or an address search they could have followed. But it had given her nothing. Where the hell had Stacey Ford met this man?

  Shawn’s voice came from over her shoulder. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m just getting frustrated, that’s all. Everything seems to lead to a dead end.”

  “Maybe you need a break.”

  She released a sigh. “You’re probably right. Do you want to come over this evening? I’ll cook some dinner. Poppy would love to see you.”

  “Sorry, I can’t. I’m already meeting someone.”

  She tried to ignore the strange lurch in her stomach. “Oh, yeah? A date?”

  He laughed. “Hardly. I’m having a pint with a cousin I’ve haven’t seen in a while. He wants to talk to me about something.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  “I’m hoping not, but I haven’t spoken to him for years, so it’s strange him reappearing out of the blue.”

  Erica shrugged. “Maybe he does just want to catch up.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bethany had survived another horrific day at school. She’d done her best to keep her head down and not speak or make eye contact with anyone else there, however much she might have wanted to, but it hadn’t helped. They’d cornered her in the bathroom and thrown wads of wet toilet tissue at her, claiming they were soggy with urine, and laughing as she cowered and ducked.

  When the last lesson finally came to an end, and she’d made it home in one piece, her mother had been in a foul mood about something her father had done—no surprise there then—and had immediately taken it out on Bethany, finding fault in everything she’d done, from where she’d put her bag, to her not putting the lid back on the milk properly. Everything was done with a huff and a stomp, and Bethany started to wonder which of the two of them was supposed to be the teenager. In the end, she’d sought solace in her room, lying on her back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Most girls her age would be on their phones about now, probably messaging their friends and bitching about their parents, but she couldn’t even do that.

  The card she’d been given burned a hole in her pocket. Maybe she should just go along. Where would be the harm?

  She sat up, her heart picking up pace. She could do it, couldn’t she?

  Moving quickly so she didn’t change her mind, she shoved her feet into her trainers and grabbed her hoody from the hook on the back of her bedroom door. She hurried down the stairs and stuck her head into the lounge where her parents sat in front of the television.

  “I’m going out for a bit. I won’t be long.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just to meet some friends from school. We’re working on a project.”

  “Oh, right. Okay. Don’t be too late.”

  “I won’t.”

  Eager to be out of there, she slipped out of the house and hurried down the street, her hands in her pockets. The address on the card was a good twenty-minute walk from her house, but she was used to walking places, and keeping up a good speed also kept her warm.

  She reached what she thought was the correct house and double-checked the card to make sure she had the right address. Warm light effused from the windows, but she couldn’t see anyone else around. Maybe this was a mistake.

  No, she’d come this far.

  Her heart felt as though it was in her throat, it was beating so hard and fast. She lifted her hand to the door, only to notice it trembling. She squeezed her hand into a fist and forced herself to take a breath. He’d said they were friends here, that she wouldn’t be judged. But she hadn’t been able to step out of her bedroom for years without feeling as though someone was judging her. Even her parents got frustrated with her now, not understanding why she couldn’t just stop it, why she couldn’t just be normal.

  She’d witnessed her mother crying out of frustration of her daughter’s compulsion, seen her encouragement when Bethany had managed to stop herself for a week or two, and the fine hairs had started to grow back again, only for Bethany to lose control once more and send herself back to the beginning. Bethany was filled with guilt that her mother didn’t have a pretty, perfect daughter who she could show off on social media—it hadn’t escaped Bethany’s notice that her mother rarely took photographs of her anymore. The only time she did was when her little sister was with her. Not that Bethany minded—she didn’t want to be photographed either, and definitely not have her picture on Facebook like all the other mums did with their kids. She would just about die at all the questions—mostly nosiness disguised as concern—that would generate.

  Maybe she shouldn’t go in.

  The front door suddenly opened, and he filled the space. “Bethany! I’m so pleased you made it.”

  Damn, it was too late now.

  “Umm, hi. I actually wasn’t sure I’d stay.”

  He ushered her through into a room full of people. “Of course you’re going to stay. You’re here now.”

  God, it looked like she was walking into an AA meeting or something.

  “You must be Beth
any!” A girl jumped up excitedly and ran over and, to Bethany’s surprise, enveloped her in a big hug. “I’m Melissa. I’m so pleased you’re here.”

  Bethany’s cheeks heated with a combination of self-consciousness and pleasure. The others had stood as well, and approached, wanting to greet her. He’d been right; everyone here really was pleased to see her. No one even seemed to notice the bald patches peeping through her carefully arranged hair, or that her eyes were free from lashes, or that her eyebrows had been drawn on. Her eyes swam with tears, but for once they weren’t because someone had upset her. No, she was happy.

  “So, what is it we do here?” she asked, once she’d learned everyone’s names. It was only a small group—just eight of them—and most of them were younger, like her, but there were a couple of older people, too. One of the young men seemed different, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason why.

  “Chat, hang out, that kind of thing,” he said. “Then at the end we do our affirmations.”

  “What are affirmations?”

  “Our way of sending energy out into the universe. The universe is always listening, Bethany. We get back whatever we give out. Does that make sense?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Think of it like energy, but on a much higher path.” He took both her hands. “The universe rewards us if we feed good energy into it, and if we only give it bad energy, it punishes us as well.”

  Warning bells sounded inside her. Uh-oh, she knew this was going to be some kind of trap.

  But he laughed. “I know it sounds like a load of mumbo jumbo, but just give it a try. What have you got to lose?”

  He was right. She didn’t have anything to lose, did she? She had no friends, no social life. She didn’t even have a life online ’cause she couldn’t face having a phone due to the bullying. She took in all the friendly, smiling faces. Could these be her people? She’d often thought that her life would be bearable if only she had a friend she could share her problems with.

  Amber, one of the girls who bullied her, used to be her friend. They used to be close, but then Amber had got boobs and learned how to do makeup on YouTube, and before Bethany had realised it, Amber had become pretty and popular, and no longer wanted to be friends with strange little Bethany. Had that been when she’d started pulling out her hair? No, it had started before that, but hadn’t been so obvious or all-consuming. Her parents’ fighting had been the start of that. But losing her friend and the bullying had definitely made things worse.