The White Lily

by Susanne Matthews

  Jacob laughed bitterly. “Not really, when you consider—” The door opened suddenly, cutting him off, and Detective Halliday poked his head into the room.

  “Sorry, to interrupt, Lily, but you’ll have to finish this tomorrow. We’ve got to roll.”

  The short form of her name seemed to suit her, but from the scowl on her face, Jacob gathered she didn’t like it.

  The detective turned to him. “Agent Clark has arranged for you to see your sister’s body in the morning. Can you come back around ten? I promise you won’t get the same reception. An officer is waiting to take you to your hotel. And sorry about what happened.”

  “It’s okay, Detective. Agent Munroe apologized nicely. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He picked up his suit jacket and followed them out of the room.

  As promised, one of the uniformed men, now dressed in jeans and a golf shirt, waited for him in the hall. Jacob turned to say goodbye to Agent Munroe, but she and Detective Halliday were halfway down the hall. It was probably just as well. Sooner or later, she’d figure out who his uncle was. He’d been about to tell her when the detective had interrupted them. Maybe it was just as well. If he were lucky, he’d be back in Australia before they put it all together. Having sampled their hospitality, being arrested for withholding evidence wasn’t something he wanted. Turning right, he followed his escort to the elevator.

  “Do you mind making a stop on the way back to the hotel?” he asked the man as the doors slid shut.

  “Not a problem, sir. I figure we owe you. Where do you want to go?”

  “Liquor store. I need a bottle of scotch.”

  Chapter Four

  “For God’s sake, Halliday, slow down. My legs aren’t as long as yours. Where’s the fire?” Lilith said as she headed down the stairs. “And why the hell couldn’t we take the elevator?” Since Rob was a good foot taller than she was, she was running to keep up, and with the four-inch heels she’d chosen to wear this morning, she was apt to fall and kill herself.

  So this is why they call it breakneck speed.

  “And please don’t call me Lily. I prefer Lilith or Munroe.”

  He slowed slightly. “Sorry, Lilith. I’ll try to remember that. As for the elevator, it would be awkward considering my behavior toward Mr. Andrews this morning,” he said, and she could see the embarrassed flush on his face.

  “It’s okay. He isn’t going to press charges. He’s actually been quite nice about the whole thing. So, where are we off to in such a rush?”

  “We’ve got a multiple homicide on Lawrence. Tom left early—it’s his wife’s birthday. His daughter has been planning this surprise party for weeks. The murder falls under Boston PD jurisdiction, but since the rule of two applies, Trevor said I could take you with me—as an observer, so keep your hands to yourself. That being said, if you have any profiling thoughts while you’re there, feel free to share.”

  Standard operational procedure dictated that two people handle any calls that came in. This was for their protection as well as for that of the victims. Her father, a career cop, had drilled that concept into her. His partner had chosen not to wait for him and had walked in alone on a domestic. The man had gone out in a body bag.

  “Besides, I figured you’d want to come along. You’re still trying to make sense of the Richardson case. The 9-1-1 caller was almost incoherent, but she did mention that there’s a child or children missing. I want you to focus on similarities between those crime scene photos you memorized and this one.”

  “Will do, but you do realize I’ve never actually been to an active crime scene, don’t you?” she asked, hoping her nervousness didn’t show.

  “I figured as much, but you’ve got to lose your cherry sometime. You’re a field agent now, and that means you visit the crime scenes yourself. Just remember, if you’re going to vomit, try not to contaminate anything.”

  Great. Just great.

  “If Trevor’s hunch about the Richardson girl’s paternity doesn’t pan out and there are kids missing here, we could be looking at a child trafficking ring,” Rob said, “and that will make this an FBI case—your case, since you’ll be the agent on record.”

  “Are any of the Colchester children living in the Boston area?”

  “I don’t think so, but Child Protective Services is as closemouthed as the US Marshals and the Witness Protection Program.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that we don’t really know those kids are safe. We’re just taking their word for it. What if Savannah is related to James Colchester?”

  “Then Jacob Andrews has a missing niece on his hands, and we have a hell of a mess on ours. I glanced at the Richardson file. I don’t doubt the Prophet will want his children—I dream of him showing up on our doorstep at least once a week—but I don’t think the Richardson kid is one of them. Trevor’s reaching. That crime scene doesn’t fit with anything we know about the members of New Horizon and the way they do things.”

  Lilith scowled. She’d been doing a lot of digging, especially into Faith Volt, the child her computer software said was a 97 percent match for Savannah Richardson. According to what little she’d been able to get out of CPS, and Rob wasn’t exaggerating when he described them, the child was living in Michigan with her grandparents, but it hadn’t been a happy reunion. The Volts, deeply religious people, had been reluctant to take their granddaughter because of the circumstances of her birth. What if, after they’d gotten her home, they’d decided they couldn’t handle it? What if they’d given her to someone else? It sounded cold-blooded, but after what she’d heard as Jacob described his youth, the child would be better off with someone who could love her.

  Not wanting Rob or Trevor to realize how anal and obsessive she could be, Lilith had spent the last couple of nights at home searching for a connection between the Richardsons and the Volts. The only thing the two families seemed to have in common was religion, but considering 23 percent of the American population was Roman Catholic, that didn’t count for much.

  Loose ends, unanswerable questions. She hated it when things didn’t come together, something that happened too often with cases like these. Like her niece’s.

  Trying to maintain her balance on the metal stairs, Lilith grasped the railing for all she was worth. Jacob Andrews had had a hell of an experience at the hands of his uncle, but the guy was a jerk. How dare he presume she didn’t have the right to judge him? She’d been to hell and back, too. There was no excuse for leaving that child there, abandoning the poor thing. With his money, he could have searched for her long before this. Eloise could be alive and well on his fruit farms in Australia, but he’d wiped her from his mind eighteen years ago, as easily as he’d changed his name. She wouldn’t abandon Rose, Kelly Kirk, or Savannah Richardson. She’d keep looking for them the rest of her life if that’s what it took.

  Jacob’s mention of Utah had thrown her. Was it possible the Prophet and the man who’d controlled the FFOW had known one another? If that was the case, the cult members who’d escaped the raid five years ago could have sought sanctuary with New Horizon—people like Kelly Kirk and her tormentor. As much as Lilith would rather not see Jacob again, she needed to talk to him and find out everything he could tell her about the Utah connections. If she mentioned the name Cliff Rivers, it might ring a bell. If it did, she’d have a lead on Kelly Kirk, although since the New Horizon followers were missing, it would probably be another dead end.

  “What do we know about this case?” she asked, shoving thoughts of Jacob and Kelly to the back of her mind.

  “Not much. Two dead, two kids missing. We didn’t get any details. I’ve had it easy the last six weeks. Time to earn the big bucks they pay me, but don’t worry, the night shift will meet us at the scene and take over. I don’t like leaving Faye alone any longer than I have to.”

  “I understand. I’m not worried about working late, I just hope this is some kind of a domestic issue and the children are safe.”

  Rob was hypervigilant when it came t
o his pregnant wife and her safety. The Harvester didn’t know the child Faye carried wasn’t his, which meant when he did decide to reclaim what was his, she and her baby were on the list.

  “Tell me more about that Richardson case—not Trevor’s theory but what you actually know.”

  “A young couple was executed in Baltimore and their year-old daughter taken, but as I mentioned before, it was strange. We couldn’t find anything, other than one photograph, to prove the child existed. I checked the Internet, but the Richardsons avoided social media. We didn’t find any cell phones or computers either, although the house had Wi-Fi. We assumed the killer took them with him. There was an eyewitness, but all she could give us was white, tall, average build, bald, bearded, wearing glasses, and driving an older model dark utility van. She thought there might have been someone else in the van with him, but she couldn’t be sure.” Lilith huffed out a breath. “At one point, I even considered the Richardsons might’ve kidnapped the child themselves and her real family had come to collect her, but that didn’t pan out either. That’s it. Dead end.”

  “You have no idea how many times I felt that way during the time Faye was missing. We’ll get a break. They always make a mistake.”

  “I know. I haven’t a clue where to go from here on that case. As far as the Harvester case goes, we might have something to work with after all. I need to spend more time questioning Jacob Andrews to be sure, but he may have critical information we need to find the cult members.”

  “I thought you said he was in the clear?”

  “He is. He covered his ass and got out of there eighteen years ago, leaving James and poor Eloise to fend for themselves. But his uncle may know something,” she said, gasping for breath. Thank God this was the last flight. “We just have to convince Jacob to help us find the man. If I’m correct, he’s one of the Prophet’s top advisors. He certainly wielded a lot of authority when Jacob lived in the commune. His word was law.”

  Rob turned so abruptly he almost knocked her over.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Jacob’s grandfather founded the commune with a few other Vietnam vets. When he died, Jacob’s uncle took over.

  “His grandfather was Thaddeus Lucius? And we let the son of a bitch go?” he yelled, his fury palpable.

  “We did,” she said, bristling at his accusatory tone, “because being related to someone isn’t a crime. For what it’s worth, Jacob and his uncle don’t get along. They parted company under pretty gruesome circumstances.”

  “Jacob, is it? Sounds like you two got pretty chummy in there,” he said, continuing down the stairs.

  She rolled her eyes and hissed out a breath between her teeth before moving forward. “Your partner’s right. You can be such a jerk. I may be small, but if you ever even hint I’d behave unprofessionally again, I can guarantee you won’t be fathering any more children.” She took a deep breath. “Think about it. James was one of the Chosen, and Faye mentioned only those men and their children could lead. It makes sense that the sons and daughters, nieces and nephews of the founding father would be in line to replace him. Control in a cult like this one would be similar to royalty and the divine rights of kings and all that. Basically, if the founder is king of the castle, then his offspring are the princes and princesses. No doubt when he goes, the eldest male will inherit the throne.”

  “And where does the Prophet fit in?”

  “He’s the religious or spiritual head of the community, sort of like the pope.”

  “Well, just remember, in England, the Queen does both jobs. How’d you get that information from Andrews? I’m sure he didn’t volunteer it.”

  “He did—sort of. Clark said to ask about that Arizona birth thing. Jacob said his uncle took over from his grandfather following an epidemic that wiped out a lot of the commune. After a decimating disaster like that fever, the people would’ve been ready to follow anyone who had a plan and could protect them. It’s a familiar tune in cults. At least, it was in the one I infiltrated.”

  “And?”

  “And the FBI killed the civil leader in the raid, but the spiritual one and a number of followers escaped.” They’d reached the ground level. “I’ll tell you all about it in the car on the way to the scene. You know, Jacob’s insight could be an invaluable asset on this. He lived with those people for seventeen years. Some of the older ones in custody might remember him.”

  “Right. Sorry, but we’ve already had a team player on the investigation. We don’t need another replacement for Pierce, especially one with a seat at the head table.”

  She gritted her teeth. “It isn’t like that. Jacob has no desire to go back to that way of living. The only reason he came back was to get his sister. He should never have left her there in the first place.”

  Rob shook his head, his disbelief evident in the way he’d clenched his jaw.

  “Look, Halliday, believe what you will. I used to be the agency’s expert on cults before I transferred to the BAU and focused on missing children. The one thing all cult members have in common is their blind loyalty and faith in their leaders. If we can shake that faith, we might have a breakthrough. Whether he likes it or not, Jacob is part of their royalty. They might listen to him and help us.”

  “Whatever you say, Munroe, but I’ll reserve judgment until I hear it all.”

  Entering the garage, they hurried to the unmarked sedan he usually drove. He unlocked the passenger door for her but didn’t open it and walked around to the driver’s side.

  Lilith opted not to argue about the fact Rob was driving again. She hadn’t been in Boston long enough to learn its endless and complex one-way street system, and although she used the GPS for directions, she still managed to get lost.

  Rob pulled out of the garage and turned left. Dark clouds massed on the horizon, promising another storm that night. The outside temperature was in the eighties, and she reached forward, cranking up the AC before the car became stifling. Normally she didn’t mind a good thunderstorm, but the last one had knocked out the power in her area for ten hours, wreaking havoc with the traffic light system in her neighborhood, making her commute into work a disaster. She loved the apartment hotel where Clark had put her, but Boston rush hour traffic, not so much. Road rage was as alive and well in Boston as it had been in DC.

  As soon as they turned onto the street, Rob flipped on the lights and the siren.

  “You’ve got fifteen minutes to bring me up to speed, Munroe. Talk fast. I want to know everything that bastard told you. You’re the analyst. Tell me why you believe Andrews isn’t a credible threat.”

  “Let me explain why he left the States ...”

  • • •

  Lilith finished briefing Rob and answering his questions just as he pulled the car to the curb and turned off the lights and siren. Thanks to Boston’s afternoon rush hour traffic, it had taken almost half an hour to reach the crime scene, plenty of time for her to make her case.

  “You’re right,” he said grudgingly. “He probably has intel we can use, although I think you might be a little easier on him about leaving Eloise with the commune. He was just a kid. If he’d gone back, his uncle would’ve killed him for sure. Men like that don’t like people who flaunt their authority. I’ll talk to Trevor in the morning and see what he thinks, especially about Utah. Polygamy’s nothing new there.”

  “Yeah, and those who still practice it are cults. The Mormon Church, the Latter Day Saints, hasn’t allowed plural marriage for more than 120 years. Not only is it against federal law, it’s against church law. Practitioners would be excommunicated.”

  “I thought excommunication was just a Catholic thing. How come you know so much about religions and cults? It’s not your run-of-the-mill subject for someone with a degree in forensic psychology.”

  “My sister got involved with one. I wanted to learn all I could about them, especially the way they control their followers. There’s a lot of people milling around,” she said, cha
nging the subject. “We’d better get in there.”

  “Yeah. It looks like the gang’s all here.” Opening the door, he got out of the car. “I hate being the last one to arrive at a party.”

  Both the paramedics’ and the coroner’s vehicles, along with two squad cars, were parked in front of the two-story colonial house. Uniformed police officers from the closest precinct had cordoned off the area with yellow police tape. Several people crowded the sidewalk, trying to get a look, but so far, there was nothing to see. This was your average upper-middle-class neighborhood. No one expected this level of violence here.

  All of these “concerned citizens” would have to be questioned, but others would handle most of that. She was just here as a trained observer. Her job was to profile the scene. Tom and Rob would follow up on anything of value in the neighborhood canvass, if the case stayed in their hands. If it ended up in the FBI’s, they’d send other agents to do it.

  “Excuse me,” Lilith said, trying to get through a group of women who’d closed ranks as soon as Rob had passed by. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and no matter how hard she tried not to let it rattle her, it still did.

  “Shoving won’t help, lady,” said one woman. “They won’t let you get any closer.”

  “I think they will.” She smiled, her teeth clenched to prevent her from saying something nasty to the old bitch. Flashing her badge, she walked through the group that now melted out of her way. She’d have a look inside the house before asking Rob if she could get a statement from Miss Personality, who probably knew exactly what went on in this neighborhood.

  Catching up to Rob, Lilith climbed the steps to the front porch, noting the brand-new double stroller parked next to the glider swing. Multicolored geraniums, still in their prime, filled a couple of ornamental vases on each side of the door and hung from the ceiling in peat moss planters along the edge of the veranda above the railing. The gate that would’ve prevented access was open, as was the front door where a uniformed officer stood.