***
INT. – KINSEY’S CAR – LATE AFTERNOON
Kinsey felt weird having this conversation in the front seat of her little red convertible with the top up, hiding in the dark of the parking garage down the street from the precinct. But Gerri seemed wild enough around the eyes the privacy was warranted. Maybe if she did this where they couldn’t be overheard, Gerri would be more talkative.
After all, she’d just witnessed something remarkable in her friend upstairs at the 9th. Kinsey watched the agony on Gerri’s face, almost felt her pain as she struggled with something. But the most revealing part was the crawling color through her eyes. Like something else was inside Gerri, asking to be released.
Maybe Kinsey should have been freaked by what she’d seen. Anyone else surely would have been. Or found a way to pass it off as nothing, to make an excuse their brain would accept. But Kinsey knew better and, seeing her friend’s struggle, actually felt happy.
Gerri was like her and Ray. She just refused to admit it out loud.
Kinsey wanted nothing more than to hit her friend with what she knew, to badger her to tell her everything, including the reason Gerri wouldn’t talk about it. But, instead, knowing if she pushed too hard too fast she’d lose the detective completely, Kinsey chose the safe route.
The moment they were both settled in the front seat, Kinsey pulled out her laptop and balanced it on the stick shift, supporting it with one hand so she could scroll on the trackpad with the other.
“You need to see this.” When Kinsey stumbled on the website two days ago, she could hardly believe it. She wanted to call Gerri right away. But her friend was reticent as usual and then the murder investigation started this morning… this time, Gerri was going to listen.
Her friend seemed relieved to focus on the computer. Did Gerri worry Kinsey was going to grill her about what happened upstairs? Maybe she’d be more open then, a relief response. Kinsey hoped so. She really needed her friend to listen.
The Collective of All Souls Church website looked innocuous enough, with trite inspirational sayings scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Gerri’s soft frown and head shake told Kinsey she didn’t get it. Not yet. But, she would. Gerri was clever, far too clever, to miss it for long.
Kinsey grinned, unable to stop herself, when Gerri’s green eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening, both hands rising to grasp the sides of the laptop in a death grip.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” She met Kinsey’s gaze with shock and anger in hers. “I thought we shut those fuckers down.”
Kinsey sighed, nodded. “So did I,” she said. The same church Reverend Russell Sterling ran. Or, they thought he ran. The same church, from what they knew, condoned the brainwashing and torture of gay men and boys. That created Curtis Alexander and led to not only his death by Jackson’s bullet, but that of the two Starlet Lounge dancers, Aisling and Roxy. Kinsey still refused to think of them by their male names. While only Aisling identified as female, Roxy’s life revolved around her drag queen persona. Kinsey wasn’t about to defile their memories even in her own head. Especially now they were gone.
“This site is closed, private,” Kinsey said. “I had to dig deep to find it. It’s linked to the symbols, Ger. That’s the only way I found it.” She showed her friend, pointing to the banner on the sides of the page, watermarked with the six main symbols. Gerri let out a puff of angry air, nostrils flaring. “It’s less church and more cult, from what I can tell. But, there’s more. Look who some of the members are.” A list of the city’s rich and powerful, as well as some out of state Senators, Congressmen and even the Bishop of Los Angeles.
“How did you get in?” Gerri leaned back, still frowning, but paying attention at least.
“Hacked it.” Kinsey shrugged. “Not hard if you know what you’re looking for.” Relief flooded her. Gerri was actually listening! She had so much to tell her, wanted to rush through all of it just to be sure her detective friend didn’t suddenly have a change of heart. Since she began her research into Simone’s artifacts, Kinsey uncovered the Collective and its rather exclusive membership. And started to wonder if maybe the paranormal encounters they’d been having weren’t isolated after all.
What if the whole city was riddled with weird? And the Collective was part of it? Kinsey’s mind boggled. But, she had to take it slow with Gerri. Including her suspicions about Simone.
“Do you think the Sonnickers were members of the Collective?” Where was Gerri’s mind taking her? Kinsey hadn’t even considered the possibility. A few clicks of her mouse and the last name typed in and they both stared at the smiling faces of John and Emma.
“I’d say that’s a yes,” Kinsey said while Gerri grinned at her, a tight and wicked expression.
“You just gave me more suspects, Kins. I should kick your ass.” Gerri sighed out her tension, rubbing at her temples like they hurt her and she wanted them to just stop already. “Got an address we can visit?”
Kinsey nodded.
Gerri reached for her seatbelt. “Road trip. You’re lucky I’m letting you drive.”
Partners again? It was hard to contain her excitement. But Kinsey managed.
Just.
***
INT. – COLLECTIVE OF ALL SOULS OFFICE – EARLY EVENING
Gerri chewed the inside of her cheek raw by the time Kinsey parked her car on the street directly across from a high rise downtown. Uber modern, all glass and steel, it towered over them, the front of the building glowing with light, though most of the upper floors seemed to be in darkness already.
A simple flash of her badge at the watchman in the middle of the lobby got her access to the elevators. Kinsey selected the floor, somewhere around sixty-five. The placard on the wall claimed the ASC had ownership, the acronym’s lack of subtlety not lost on Gerri even for a heartbeat. Especially when the logo for the “company” was a mesh of the six symbols all woven together.
Part of her clenched in anticipation for a fight, though she had no reason to expect a battle waited for her. The rest of her felt relief. Was she going to get answers, at last? Normal, logical, cop answers instead of the stupid, frustrating and oddly frightening paranormal ones she was sure Kinsey hoped to uncover? Her gut whispered she should be careful what she wished for.
Muzak hummed at them, a rendition of an old 80’s favorite making Gerri grin despite her tension. No matter what they were getting themselves into, there was always tacky elevator music to set the mood.
The vague idea this little jaunt might be a bad idea didn’t strike Gerri until the doors opened and Kinsey stepped out into the wide hall on the other side. She hurried after her friend, left behind for once, unconsciously reaching to feel her gun in its holster before dropping her hand. Wouldn’t do for the prim, bespectacled older woman behind the wide, steel desk to see her holding the butt of her weapon.
Glass and wood and steel. The place felt cold, even outside the blasting air conditioning, almost sterile while trying to appear natural. Made her think of the flash of iciness inside Natalie all over again. Gerri held back as Kinsey approached the unsmiling woman at the desk, her perky nature showing through in her jaunty, bouncing walk. Let her give it a go. For some reason, Gerri was suddenly hesitant to show her badge. Not that this was a place of worship or some nonsense. She hardly believed that. It felt too much like a corporate headquarters and left a bad taste in her mouth. Religion as a business, how charming. But, honest, at least. No, she felt exposed, the desire to turn and leave so strong she stopped in her tracks twenty feet from the desk and forced herself to breathe.
The sound of a door closing softly to her left broke her stillness. Gerri turned her head, just in time to catch Simone Paris departing down a side corridor, heading for the glass. Kinsey’s sometime boss—at least, according to the college who’d lent her out to the creepy woman—didn’t acknowledge Gerri at all, simply turned and headed away from her, toward the far end of the side hall. Impulse drove the detective to swerve
and follow. Her chest tightened and understanding woke in a burst of fear. Kinsey was connected to the Collective through Simone. And this place already gave her the heebie jeebies.
Gerri’s stride lengthened, her need to confront the woman growing with every stride. But, the black-bobbed beauty seemed to speed up without her own steps increasing in depth, disappearing around a corner ahead, stiletto heels clicking softly, A-line skirt swishing. By the time Gerri reached the spot, Simone was long gone, only the faintest trace of her subtle perfume left behind.
More than that, to Gerri’s utter shock, the dead end she’d turned into was empty.
No way. There had to be a secret door of some kind. Still, the woman’s vanishing act sent a creeping hand of ice up Gerri’s back. With her hackles up, she retraced her steps to the lobby, gaining a glare of anger from the receptionist who, from the irritated look on Kinsey’s face, had just turned down her request to talk to someone in charge. Likely with a bitchy attitude.
Whatever had been holding Gerri back shattered, leaving her shaking and her stomach churning. Simone was playing Kinsey, and this damned church had information that could help her find the murderer of the Sonnickers. Only this trollish old witch behind her prissy counter with her bun and her pinched expression, black eyes staring down her thin nose with pursed lips, was standing in Gerri’s way. That pissed her off. She embraced her temper, reaching for her badge, thrilled to have something normal to do, to center herself.
Before she could pull her bully cop routine, the phone on the desk rang, a discreet vibration. The receptionist answered, brow and lips puckered. She whispered into the receiver, frown deepening, but nodded and replaced it on the desk before folding her hands in front of her.
“Very well,” she said, hoarse voice sounding harsh in the quiet lobby. “The Grand Prophet will see you now.”
***
INT. – COLLECTIVE OF ALL SOULS OFFICE - EVENING
Gerri followed Kinsey who, in turn, tread in the path of the receptionist. The whole place felt corporate, that feeling undiminished as they passed through the large, wooden doors behind the woman’s desk and down a glass and stone hallway. More of the same simple elegance that screamed business, not church.
Though, Gerri had to admit, these days there seemed to be little separation. How often did her father tease her mother about attending Catholic services? Something he refused to allow her to pressure their three kids into. Gerri went, as a child mostly, at Christmas and Easter, even toyed with catechism. But, though both of her younger siblings became Catholics, Gerri chose to stay at home on Sundays with her dad.
How much of his influence colored her opinion of the Collective? She wasn’t naïve enough to think not at all, or even a little. In fact, as she walked that long, pristine hallway, lined on one side with doors and with a glass balcony on the other, she could hear retired Sergeant Dutch Meyers’s voice in her head.
He was laughing.
Gerri focused on the tall, metal door at the end of the corridor, the subtle overhead lighting giving her a vague headache, air conditioning pumping out just a little too much cold for her liking. For once, she was grateful for her suit coat and jeans. The prim receptionist paused, one manicured hand on the tall, round bar that served as a door handle, one thin, penciled eyebrow raised at the two of them.
“Grand Prophet’s time is valuable,” she said, as though they’d already wasted enough of his time as it was. Her gravelly voice didn’t get any more dulcet with use, Gerri noted. “I expect you to be succinct and precise.”
Was she his mother or something? Gerri pushed her way past Kinsey, already tired of this charade. “The SCPD,” she flashed her badge in the woman’s unsurprised face, “will take all the damned time we think appropriate.” Gerri jerked on the metal bar, pulling the tall, silver door toward her, forcing the receptionist to back up with a scowl so tight, black eyes sinking to two glittering black marbles of anger, Gerri wondered how she kept her whole face from collapsing in on itself.
A rush of slightly warmer air hit her in the face, flavored with the scent of expensive cigar tobacco and the honey amber taste of excellent scotch. If her father taught her anything, it was to appreciate both divine cigars and scotch so smooth it felt like velvet on the throat. And, in contrast to the industrial chic of the hallway, the interior of this huge office seemed cozy, wood paneled walls and large, elaborate chandelier feeling a bit like a hunting lodge.
The odd dichotomy caught Gerri off guard and she halted just past the threshold, inhaling the smells of the room, eyes roving the towering portraits on the walls, over the expensive Persian carpet covering most of the lush, dark hardwood floor. A full wall of bookshelves filled the space at the back, the sky exposed to the room through a massive skylight that took up the majority of the ceiling.
Expensive place to do business. Gerri took a step forward only when the receptionist slipped past her with a sniff and stiff-walked her black suited way to the center of the room and the massive wooden desk dominating the enormous space.
Gerri’s apartment would have fit in one corner, she was positive of it.
She caught Kinsey at her elbow out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t take a peek at her expression. Either the blonde was pissed at her for being rude or she was in a state of stunned silence. Gerri personally didn’t care which at the moment. Not while a tall, white-haired man with shoulders like a defensive end and dressed in a suit she would have to blow a month’s salary to buy turned from a long, low buffet with a sparkling crystal tumbler in one hand, a glowing cigar in the other.
“Ah, Constance.” His booming voice would have been more fitting on a football field, though it served him well in his sizable office. Almost the same dimensions, after all. Gerri shook off her disquiet at the unexpected and strode forward, Kinsey keeping pace after a jerking start. The big man nodded to them both before gesturing at the door. “Thank you, Constance. That will be all.”
“Grand Prophet.” The small, wiry woman hesitated, hands tight together in front of her, nails long and red-painted, reminiscent of claws. “I’m happy to show our guests out if you’re too busy.” She sounded not only like she’d relish the job, but that she might even think she could win. Gerri held back a snort of derision as the big man clapped one huge hand on the slim, straight backed woman’s shoulder and guided her gently toward the exit.
“Not at all,” he said, jovial good nature reminding Gerri suddenly of Reverend Sterling. Did they teach all of their “ministers” to use their charisma to their best advantage? Obviously. Only, Sterling was a pale copy of this man, at least in Gerri’s estimation. She could feel the good vibes emanating from him, positive and forceful. No wonder he had the head honcho’s seat.
Not that being nice would work on her. Quite the contrary. As Constance left, backing out of the room, pulling the door shut with a glare for Gerri, the wide-shouldered head of the Collective of All Souls turned with a beaming, handsome smile, showing his perfect, white teeth and soft tan that made his rugged good looks all the more attractive. White hair cut stylishly short or not, advanced age or not, he was one hell of a specimen.
Gerri couldn’t wait to dissect him and see what he was really made of.
“Detective Geraldine Meyers.” He offered one large hand, a huge, gold ring studded with diamonds catching the light. Gerri’s eyes flickered to it, a memory flashing. Where had she seen a ring like that before? His giant grip engulfed her hand, shook with firmness but warmth to match the sparkle in his clear, blue eyes. “And Doctor Kinsey DanAllart. A pleasure to meet both of you in person.” He released Kinsey’s hand, still smiling, moving toward the buffet. “Can I offer either of you some refreshment?”
“Thank you, no.” Kinsey glanced sideways at Gerri, face tight. So, she hadn’t fallen for his charisma, either. Good to know. A tiny spark of guilt lit up inside her for underestimating her friend. “We’re here to ask you a few questions about the Collective.”
He nodded, smile fadi
ng, topping up his scotch before crossing to the far side of the buffet where four large, leather chairs waited. Gerri followed him without being urged, sinking into one of the wingbacks, crossing her boot over one knee while Kinsey settled more delicately into another. The leader of the church sat with a sigh, setting his cigar into a matching crystal ashtray before shaking his head with a small laugh.
“Forgive me,” he said. “It’s been a long day. I have, as yet, to introduce myself.” Gerri’s foot twitched on her knee as she realized she’d failed to ask the most basic of questions. What the hell was wrong with her? She was acting like a damned rookie for some reason, her mind feeling almost muffled. Her gut churned slowly as though unable to come up with a deliberation on the man. Had his energy gotten to her after all? Or, just the uneasy feeling she had about this entire situation? “Gideon Orter, at your service.” His blue eyes settled on Gerri, his small smile kind, but one you might offer a troubled child. “I am at your disposal, Detective.” His smile faded, perfectly timed with the rising pain in his eyes. “I understand you’re leading the investigation into the deaths of John and Emma Sonnicker. If I can be of any assistance, I’m happy to help bring their murderer to justice.”
Somehow, she doubted it would be that easy. “We’ve been coming across references to your church in a number of murders, Mr. Orter.” She caught the barest flinch of his eyebrows, the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly at the salutation. “Or is that Prophet Orter?”
His smile didn’t alter. “Gideon will suffice, Geraldine. If I might be so bold.”
Whatever. She didn’t care what he called her, as long as he told her the truth. Of which she doubted a man like him was capable.
“Rather a large title, Gideon.” Kinsey’s soft voice broke Gerri’s concentration, but when he looked away, she wasn’t angry. If anything, he seemed disarmed by the anthropologist’s comment, almost embarrassed. An affectation, perhaps, but one Gerri’s cop instincts filed away for later consideration.
Stolen (Episode Three: The Nightshade Cases) Page 6