When Alexander walked me to the door, he turned my way. “Are you ready for this?”
“Yes. I just feel bad.”
“You’re too close to the case.”
“Closer than I ever thought I would be.”
“We need evidence. Right now, this is just theories. We can’t go to Pastor Miller and start making accusations.”
I let out a long breath. “Maybe, I can slip in Vernon’s bedroom.”
“Too dangerous. I’ll do it.”
“You sneaking through Pastor Miller’s house? Not even possible.”
“I did it though Sean’s place.”
“That’s because I was the distraction. While you’re in the Miller’s house, their eyes are always going to be on you.”
He frowned. “And they may not notice your absence.”
“They won’t. They’ll be too busy barreling Agent King with questions and theories.”
“You must be careful.”
“I will.”
“He’s only a teenager, but a dangerous one.”
“Trust me. I won’t forget.” I let go of his hand. “This will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“Welcome to ViCAP.”
Chapter 23
Pictures of the Past
Haven
We arrived at Pastor Miller’s house with no problem. The two-level home was blue and white. I’d been here hundreds of times.
Alexander parked across the street.
My phone buzzed.
I checked the screen.
More missed calls from Sean. When is he going to get it? We’re done.
Turning off the phone, I spotted my mother’s car in the driveway right behind the Pastor’s. Aunt Judy’s Dodge sat in front of the house. A couple more church members were parking their cars on the block.
I sighed. “It’s going to be a packed house for this Sunday dinner. Pastor knew you were coming. Mom confirmed it with him yesterday. Everyone’s excited to get a close up of the big FBI agent.”
“I’m not that big.”
“You tower over everyone.”
“Well, at least I have you as backup.”
“Absolutely not. I never go head-to-head with the Pastor and my mother combined. No way.”
He frowned. “And you will be busy.”
“Yes.” I turned back to the house and gazed at the second level. “I’m going to sneak into Vernon’s bedroom and hopefully. . .”
“You don’t want him to be the killer?”
“No, even though there’s so much evidence that points to him.”
“Yes. Although it is theoretical.”
“He hurried out of church.”
“It was boring.”
I shook my head. “Be sure not to voice that opinion at dinner.”
“I did love the choir.”
“It’s the best one in the south.”
“That I believe.”
I continued to study the house. “Damn. If it’s Vernon, then this will rock the community.”
“But we’ll have our Unsub and more girls will be safe.”
“You’re right. What am I saying? It’s more important that there are no more victims.”
“Exactly.”
I looked back at him. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Alexander took my hand and squeezed it. “Be safe. I know Vernon is a teenager, but he's dangerous. Even if the room is empty, prepare for the fact that he might be hiding in there.”
I widened my eyes.
“I don’t want him to surprise you with a slam to your head.”
I swallowed.
“Take your gun.”
“I can’t take a gun into Pastor Miller’s house.”
“Then, I’ll check the room.”
“You wouldn’t get up to that level without someone noticing. Besides, I’ve been all over that house many times when I was a kid. I used to spend the night there on my parent’s anniversary and sometimes for Valentine’s day.”
“You should have your gun with you.”
“I won’t need it.”
“And if you do?”
“I’ll scream for you.”
He gazed at the house and then turned back to me. “Get in and get out. Don’t touch too much. We need enough reasonable cause to come back with a search warrant.”
I closed my eyes.
He rubbed my palm with his thumb. “I know this is going to be hard, Haven.”
“But in the end, this is about saving little girls.”
“Yes.”
I opened my eyes. “I understand.”
How ironic was this situation? Pastor Miller had begged my mother to convince me to come down. And I did, but now I would be tearing his family and the community apart.
This isn’t about Pastor Miller or his family. This is about the Fullbrooke Six and more girls.
Alexander let go of my hand. “Everything will work itself out.”
“I hope you’re right.”
We left the car, crossed the street, and went up the stairs.
Mrs. Mable was heading out, right as Alexander was going to knock on the door. “Look at you two. I thought you might not come.”
I smiled. “I had to come for your biscuits.”
“That’s why I was walking out now.” Mrs. Mable put her view on Alexander. “Vernon done disappear with his young arms. Now I need these big ones over here to get the biscuits out of the car.”
Alexander grinned. “My big arms are at your service.”
“Oh yeah? Well then, maybe I’ll take you over to my house so you can work on painting my walls and fix that creaky pipe in the basement.”
“Mrs. Mabel, don’t steal my partner from me.” I shook my head and walked inside.
Alexander and Mrs. Mabel went off in the other direction.
Mrs. Mable asked, “Do you have a wife or girlfriend, Agent King?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Oh, you need somebody.”
The door shut behind me before I could ease drop anymore. But it didn’t matter. His response wasn’t as important as today’s mission.
Mrs. Mabel said that Vernon was still gone. Would he return? He must’ve known that we would be at the house. Surely, the Pastor and his wife discussed it the night before. It must’ve made Vernon nervous to think that we would be there.
At least, I can sneak in his room while he’s gone.
The house was welcoming from the open door to the wide hallway. The floor was an old-fashioned wooden one with a blend of deep browns.
Photographs of the Millers hung on the blue walls. The first framed image was black and white. Dressed in their Sunday best, two kids sat in front of their parents. I stared at the kids’ faces.
Wait. That’s Pastor Miller. Who’s the girl next to him?
Ponytails hung on the side of her head.
Pastor Miller had a sister? I don’t remember hearing anything about her.
I made note of it and walked on.
The next frame was a family picture of Pastor Miller, his wife, and three daughters—Barbara, Eartha, and Julia. The girls had been very young. All three wore pink dresses and had huge smiles.
I stopped and stared at the next image. It was another family picture from the past, but this one was different. The girls were now teens. While Barbara and Eartha smiled next to their parents in white blouses and blue pants, Julia stood a few inches away and was dressed in black. They smiled. Julia frowned.
Did your uncle touch you? Is that what changed your whole life? What sets you apart?
I wished I’d known all of this when I was younger. Mom had told me to keep away from Julia as if she was a bad influence. Granted, she was, but she also had been lost and in desperate need of help and understanding. With all my psych degrees, I knew that the whole time Julia was in an unimaginable pain that she could not comprehend with words. Therefore, all she could do was act out.
Poor Julia.
I walked further down the h
allway.
The next photos displayed an adult Barbara with her own family. I remembered Pastor Miller said she was a principal at Fullbrooke elementary. She’d married David Jefferson. They’d been dating the whole time in high school and then in college. From all looks of things, it was a perfect marriage. Two cute kids stood in front of them with huge grins and neat clothing.
I walked over to the picture of Eartha and her family. She was the doctor, now pregnant with twins. This was on her second marriage. Seven kids sat around her husband and her. I had no idea how many kids she or he had brought into the family, and which they had birthed together.
I moved to the last photo near the living room opening. It was a large picture of Vernon and his little sister.
Leaning closer, I studied the image. Wearing a gray suit, he looked to be around eight or seven. His sister was a little toddler. She had a red and white lace dress on. Red and white ribbons decorated her two ponytails.
Oh my god.
My body stilled.
The little girl held a red pillow in her lap. Someone had sewed gold angel wings on the front.
A voice sounded behind me. “Kela never did anything without that pillow.”
I jumped and turned around.
“Sorry to frighten you, Haven.” Mrs. Miller held a sad smile. “I noticed you were looking at the picture. And it made me think of Kela and that pillow.”
“She liked it a lot?”
“Carried it everywhere she went. The counselor said she used it as a form of comfort. I never understood it, but we made sure she had her pillow with her no matter what.” She blinked as her eyes watered. “And when we buried Kela, we put the pillow right next to her in the casket.”
So full of emotion, I hugged her. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller.”
“Oh, Haven. It’s been a long time.” She still took the hug from me.
“I know, but. . .”
“It’s okay, Haven.”
I stepped back. “I didn’t even know about this. Mom happened to tell me today when I was asking about. . .your daughters. It’s been a while since I’ve caught up with them.”
“It’s so hard to catch them all anyway. They’re always busy. Don’t you worry about that. You have this case to focus on.”
I looked back at the picture. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“It’s been five years. We celebrated her birthday seven months ago.”
The Angel Maker had begun taking girls seven months ago. Could his baby sister’s birthday celebration had been the trigger to start grabbing and suffocating girls?
I swallowed. “Seven months ago?”
“Yes.” She let out a long breath. “We always do a cake and candles for her.”
“I think that’s good. Do you do this every year?”
“Yes.” She guided me to the living room. “It’s usually just us three. Vernon, Bill, and me.”
Bill was Pastor Miller.
Several men sat in the living room. A football game played on the screen. I recognized most of them as deacons from the church. Feminine chatter sounded from the dining area and kitchen. Everyone would be heating up the food and preparing the table.
I got to Mrs. Miller’s side. “What was different about this year?”
Heading to the dining area, Mrs. Miller looked over her shoulder and widened her eyes. “Oh. Did I say something was different?”
“No. I was just wondering. It was more your tone.”
“Well, Julia showed up to this birthday. And. . .she wasn’t her best.”
“No?” I hoped to get more out of Mrs. Miller before we arrived with the other women. “What was different?”
I could tell she didn’t want to say too much.
Thankfully, she shook her head. “Julia came here with some man in a suit. She said she was cleaned up. I don’t know if your mother has told you, but Julia has been dancing with the devil.”
“Yes, ma’am. I heard a little.”
“This man had a fancy suit and she said they were married and was coming for Vernon.”
“Oh my.”
“Yes. We’ve been fighting him and Julia ever since. Got a lawyer and everything.”
“Let me know if you need any help.”
“Don’t you worry about that. The church has put together a legal fund for us. So far, it has covered the payments.” Mrs. Miller walked me into the dining area.
My mother, Aunt Judy, and two deacon wives moved around the table, setting plates and silverware down.
My mother looked up and asked Mrs. Miller, “Did you see her?”
Mrs. Miller chuckled to herself. “No. I forgot about Mrs. Mabel when I started talking to Haven.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Haven will do that.”
“Really, Mom?”
“Now, where is Mrs. Mabel?” Mrs. Miller head back to the living room. “Did she go out and get those biscuits? I told her not to bother. Vernon will be here shortly.”
“Oh, Alexander went to get them.” I got in front of her. “He’s with Mrs. Mabel now. I’ll go get them.”
“Okay. I don’t want Mrs. Mabel to fall on the steps, trying to get all those biscuits into the house.”
“She won’t.” I gave her a dramatic stance. “Don’t worry, ma’am. The FBI is here.”
“Lord Jesus.” Mrs. Miller waved my comment away and went off to the kitchen. “Haven, always been crazy.”
I rushed away. “I’ll be right back.”
My mother eyed me. “Stay out of trouble.”
You would think I’m eleven or something.
I shook my head and left.
More men filled the living room. None glanced my way. All had their attention on the game.
Even Pastor Miller raised his fists. “Come on, Jesus. We need a touchdown.”
I kept my chuckle to myself, left the living room, and headed up the stairs. My stomach twisted, but I kept a calm expression on my face. If anyone asked, I would just say that someone was in the bathroom and I decided to use the one upstairs.
And what if Vernon catches me in his room? Which bedroom is his anyway?
I made it to the top and passed the first bedroom.
I remembered that was the Pastor and his wife’s room. Julia would always complain that it was impossible to sneak out of her house due to their room being right by the stairs. The few times I’d stayed there, all three girls had their own rooms. Each evening of spending the night, the girls would fight over whose room I would sleep in. I didn’t think many people could come over. Pastor Miller never let the girls stay over anyone else’s house either.
You did your best to protect them, and then a family member comes in and hurts one of the girls. That’s so messed up.
I went to Barbara’s room. Pastor Miller had changed it into a small office. There was a huge desk with a computer on top. A bookshelf stood in the corner full of several religious texts.
I closed that door and went to Julia’s old room.
Did Vernon want to stay in his mother’s bedroom?
The room smelled moldy. Everything was in its place from long ago. Old posters of actors from our youth were still taped to the wall. I swore I caught a few math and history textbooks from our high school on the shelf. A pink comforter lay on the bed as if the Millers were waiting for their little teenage Julia to come home.
I shut the door.
So, Vernon ended up in Eartha’s room.
Knowing I had already been gone for a while, I hurried to that bedroom and opened the door.
“Hello? Now, where is this bathroom at?” I pretended to be lost just in case Vernon was near. “I thought it was here. Wait, there is a door. Is that the closet or a private bathroom?”
Continuing with my act, I shut the bedroom door behind me and walked through the space, taking in every detail. I checked my watch to make sure I didn’t stay gone for too long.
I don’t know. This doesn’t look like the bedroom of a teenaged boy.
Seve
ral paintings hung on the wall. All were typical scenes from the Bible, but with ethnic characters. Had I not been researching and discussing these moments with Alexander, I may not have recognized them. I stood in front of the first painting that hung right over his bed.
A black Jesus stood in the center of a river. Three angels watched from above. John the Baptist held a shell over his head. Water dripped from the shell and touched the top of Jesus’ head. A white sparrow soured in the sky. Sunlight glowed on its spread wings.
Jesus’ Baptism.
The Angel Maker had kidnapped Felicia Drake after church on the day Jesus was baptized.
I ran my fingers through my hair. My heart ached as I turned to the painting on the left. A black woman’s face stood in the center of the painting. A man’s hand touched her forehead. He looked to be smearing ashes on her skin and forming it into a cross.
Ash Wednesday.
Karen Brookes was taken on Ash Wednesday, right before she went to her ballet class.
Is this enough to get a search warrant? A judge may say that it makes sense a Pastor’s grandson would paint these images. Especially if many believe he is possibly walking into his grandfather’s footsteps. But the days. . .are too much of a coincidence.
I walked over to the small painting above his dresser.
Another black Jesus sat on top of a donkey. Along the path, crowds of people held out palms to welcome him.
Palm Sunday. That’s when Ariana Waterson was taken.
A cold shiver ran up my spine. My hands shook. I checked out the other paintings, confirming what I already knew.
Easter for Emma Tucker. Pentecost for Shelly Darby. Trinity Sunday for Melody Luther.
I turned to his desk. An easel stood next to it.
Vernon had been working on a new one.
Is that Mary?
A large black woman hovered above the earth with a halo behind her head. Gold and blue robes swirled around her. In the puffy white clouds, seven angels held a large gold crown and soared above her. Tiny black cherubs flew near her bare feet.
Thinking about Alexander and my conversation days ago, I gulped down fear. We had been driving away from Sean’s house. The theory of the Angel Maker picking the girls on religious holidays had come.
Alexander looked away from the steering wheel. “Then, Shelly was taken on Pentecost Sunday and Melody on Trinity Sunday.”
Missing Hearts Page 22