The White Lily

by Susanne Matthews

  Jacob didn’t even seem to be breathing, but she imagined he was caught in the same terror gripping her now. She reached out her hand but pulled it back before she touched him. For five years, she’d run from a faceless demon, always worried he’d be nearby waiting to spring again. Jacob had known his torturer, but the man had been half a world away. Was the fear of confronting him, of being at his mercy once more the reason he hadn’t come back for Eloise?

  Pierce was a cagey adversary who’d managed to manipulate the Harvester investigation and how many others? He was also a brutally sadistic killer. She’d seen the photograph of Tina Jackson’s body. All that woman had done was confess to planting false information on Rob’s desk. The Richardsons and Winchesters had done nothing but care for those children, while she’d angered him.

  She straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t on her personal demon’s radar, but if Pierce got his hands on her ... She gulped. Rob was right. Shoot first.

  • • •

  Jacob watched Lilith closely. The flowers disturbed her far more than she was letting on. The message accompanying them had struck terror in his heart. His first reaction when she’d read the threat had been to grab her and put his arms around her. Although she’d probably have kneed him if he tried. The only reason she’d let him hold her when she first saw the flowers was because she’d had no idea it was him. He wanted to book her on the next plane to Australia with him, but he didn’t think she’d go for that either.

  “Let me play devil’s advocate and assume that Pierce is the bastard working for the Prophet. These flowers and my gut tell me I’m right,” Rob said. “We’ve got a picture of Pierce. Let’s see what happens when we match it with the picture we handed out to the press yesterday.”

  “Okay,” Trevor said. “Here’s what we do. Tom, fax the file photo of Pierce to the sketch artist in Baltimore. Ask him if it could be the same man, if he thinks it might be, have him enhance the photo, and then get someone to show it to your witness. She’s still under police protection. If it pans out, and like Rob, I’m damn sure it will, have Connors and King go through all the traffic cam footage in the Baltimore and Boston areas as well as from every toll camera on I-95 between here and Baltimore. Check every dark van’s driver. The bastard’s not going to do it to us again. His cockiness will be his undoing this time. As soon as we’ve got that updated sketch, I want it in everybody’s hands, especially in the towns where we’ve got potential victims.

  “Rob, get over to Boston Harbor Florists,” he read the name stamped on the back of the envelope. “Find out who ordered this bouquet and check all the traffic and security cameras in the area. As soon as that sketch is ready, I want it in the hands of every reporter in the country. Get someone at the Boston Examiner to put it on the wire service. That bastard isn’t going to hide from us again.”

  “There’s something else,” Tom said. “Whether we like it or not, the Prophet has eyes everywhere, just like he did before. He knew where those kids were before we did. How?”

  “You’re right,” Trevor agreed, “and I believe that person got into CPS records. I’ll talk to Mrs. Douglass. When I’m done with her, I can assure you she won’t be a happy camper.”

  “Do you think my uncle’s infiltrators have seen me?” Jacob asked. His presence might somehow be adding to Lilith’s danger.

  “If we had another mole on the task force, I’d say yes, but we don’t. The members of this team are above reproach, and I’d stake my life on any of them. We do daily sweeps for listening devices, and there are more antispyware programs on our computers than at the Pentagon. Connors, King, and Jessup were handpicked from the newest batch of academy graduates. For my money, the leak’s at CPS. In the meantime, just to be safe, I suggest you continue wearing that ball cap and avoid talking to anyone not on this team. The special gun permit I requested should be here sometime today. Washington’s expediting things.”

  “You’re giving him a frigging gun? Are you crazy? What if he shoots someone? Do you know the red tape involved? He’s a civilian. Americans may have the right to bear arms, but he’s a foreigner ...”

  Jacob was about to defend himself against that callous comment and his abilities when Trevor cut him off.

  “Special circumstances, Lilith. The approvals have come from the highest levels. Besides, what good would an unarmed partner be?”

  “It’s on your head.” She turned on her heel and headed down the hall. “Come on, partner,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ve got work to do. The sooner you know everything about the crimes themselves, the sooner we can get this bastard and his coconspirators off the streets. And Jessup, get rid of those flowers. They’re making me sick.”

  The officer who’d stood forgotten near the elevator stepped forward. “Yes, ma’am.” She reached for the bouquet and pressed the elevator call button.

  Jacob followed Lilith to the interrogation room.

  “What was it about the flowers that frightened you so much?” he asked quietly when they were alone.

  She licked her lips. “I was the object of a suspect’s unwanted attention five years ago. I don’t care to repeat the situation.”

  From what he knew of Pierce’s work, the last place he wanted to see her was in that man’s hands. He sensed her fear went deeper than that but wouldn’t pry.

  • • •

  Almost seven hours later, Lilith found herself alone in the car with Jacob, heading into the Boston suburbs. Despite having Rob by her side, Faye had been unable to stay in her Cambridge condo, the place where she’d been drugged and assaulted, and Lilith could empathize. There were some things you just couldn’t get past. Rob and Faye had sold her loft and bought a home in Lexington.

  She’d plugged the address Rob had given her into the GPS and was following its directions to the letter through the late rush hour traffic. Getting lost tonight would be more embarrassing than ever, especially with a blue and white police car following her every move. It would take another twenty-five minutes or so to reach the house, and she didn’t know how she’d fill the silence. She couldn’t very well play tour guide since she had no idea what sites they were passing and whether or not they were significant. Lexington was of historic importance—it had figured in the Revolutionary War—but that was the extent of her knowledge. If she’d been smart about it, she’d have left her car at the station, and she and Jacob could’ve gotten in with the uniformed officers behind them.

  Still, the situation meant she could focus on the road rather than interacting with the attractive man by her side. And her mind was flitting from one aspect of the case to another, so perhaps it was a good thing they were moving as slowly as they were.

  Lilith understood why Faye was reluctant to meet Jacob. Seeing him would bring back memories of her ordeal, but since that was precisely the point of this visit, Lilith’s heart went out to her. Lilith had never seen her tormentor’s face, only those eyes—cold, gray eyes. She blinked to erase the memory.

  Glancing over at Jacob, she noticed his furrowed brow. He looked worried.

  “Relax,” she said in an effort to lighten the mood. “I’m really not a bad driver, despite what Rob said. He likes to pick on me. I think I remind him a lot of his wife.”

  “You two seem to get along well. How long have you worked with the BAU?”

  “Almost five years now. I transferred from San Diego to Quantico, Virginia, and the BAU after my parents died.” That was almost true. It had been another reason to leave the area.

  “So, you’re a California girl? Beach Boys, Malibu, and surfboards.”

  “You’ve got it. San Diego, not LA and not tall or well-endowed, but I manage. Love the sun and the beach. I can even surf.”

  “You’re selling yourself short—no pun intended.” He chuckled. “Surfing is ace. Snapper Rocks on Queensland's Gold Coast has some of the world’s best and longest waves. You’d love it.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I haven’t surfed in five years. I miss it, b
ut I’d probably wipe out on the first wave.”

  “I’d be glad to help you. It’s like riding a bicycle—you’d get back to top form in no time at all.”

  The light turned red, and she stopped the car. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to ride the crest of a wave with him by her side. Then a horn sounded.

  “If I ever get to Australia, I’ll take you up on it.” A wetsuit hid a multitude of sins.

  The light turned green, and she took her foot off the brake and moved through the intersection.

  “How come Trevor trusts you with a gun?” As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. Sharing secrets implied just that. If she expected one, she had to be ready to give one.

  “No secret,” he answered as if he’d read her mind. “In the Northern Territory, whether you’re in the outback or in the plains close to Uluru—you call it Ayers Rock—or down the coast in the mangroves it can be dangerous. I’m also an auxiliary police officer.”

  “Bullshit. I ran your name, and that didn’t come up.”

  “That’s because I work primarily undercover on an ‘as needed’ basis. That’s what Trevor discovered when he made those extra calls and why I’m on this task force. There are times when being a millionaire playboy is excellent cover. At other times, I’m a miner or a swagman on walkabout. It depends on the case. The Australian Federal Police are part of Interpol, as is the FBI. I’ve been seconded to the AFO and from them to the FBI for this case. I get to carry a badge and a gun, Lilith. You’ll be safe with me, I promise.”

  She didn’t doubt the sincerity of his words, but the fact she’d been left out of the loop annoyed her. “I suppose Rob and Tom know this?”

  “Some of it.”

  “Why not tell me?”

  He laughed, and she remembered how much she liked the sound.

  “I just did. I’ve told you more than Rob and Tom know. In spite of what Trevor said about moles, we’re keeping this very quiet. It’s for my protection as well as yours. There are a lot of dangers in Australia, and I don’t need to be someone’s target if I don’t have to. I’m a good shot. I have to be to stay safe from the more dangerous animals and insects.”

  She giggled. “Insects?” His explanation made sense, and she was comforted by the fact that he hadn’t set out to deceive her.

  He joined in her laughter. “Well, we do have some pretty large spiders.”

  “What? A big man like you afraid of the teensy, weensy spider?”

  “Go ahead and laugh, but I’d like to see you handle some of our larger specimens.”

  “Hell no. I use half a can of bug spray on the little ones I find around here.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t shot a spider yet—tempted, yes, but shot, no. I still help out the police on search and rescue missions. The last time I joined them was on a manhunt for a killer. Mind you, I usually use a rifle, not a Glock like they’ve given me, but if I need to use it, you can be sure I won’t miss.”

  He said it like an oath, and Lilith understood what he wasn’t saying. He had her back.

  Traffic thinned, and she increased her speed to match the flow. Despite everything that had happened, she was attracted to Jacob even if he did make her madder than hell at times. It really was a shame they couldn’t be more than colleagues, but the last thing she needed was to get involved with someone who’d be gone in no time. It would be hard enough spending almost every waking moment with him as they worked this case.

  It had been a long time since there’d been someone in her life she could trust, someone who understood what she’d been through, someone who might not be repulsed by her scars, no doubt similar to his own. Jacob was a decent man; he could easily have opted to return to Australia early instead of helping them. They had so many things in common—some he knew, some he didn’t—and she’d have liked to get to know him better, maybe surf those waves he mentioned. She might even offer to kill a spider for him, too.

  They’d spent the bulk of the afternoon going over every shred of information in the files about the Harvester case, stopping only long enough to eat the deli sandwiches Trevor had ordered. After reviewing that case and consuming more coffee today than she did in a week, she’d probably have trouble sleeping again tonight. Who was she kidding? Until the Prophet and his new Harvester, Pierce, the man who’d ostensibly threatened her, were safely behind bars, sleep was a commodity that would be in short supply.

  The more time she spent with Jacob, the harder it was to deny her interest in him. He’d blanched again when he’d seen the artist’s updated sketch, the one they’d made using Pierce’s photograph. Even she’d found the sketch unnerving. She didn’t doubt for a minute the hatred in Jacob’s eyes was real and deep. His reaction, based on his memories of the man, clinched their opinions. Garett Pierce was their killer. Now, all they had to do was find the son of a bitch before he killed again. Whether or not to reveal his name publicly was something the team had yet to agree on.

  Jacob had clenched his jaw, trying to control his anger when he’d seen the photos of women posed like marble angels in death. She’d chosen not to show him the pictures of his sister, but he’d insisted on viewing them, and as much as he’d tried to keep a stoic look on his face, his hands shook and unshed tears gleamed in his eyes.

  He’d examined all of the grisly pictures in the file, including the Williamsons, whom he’d recognized. He’d mentioned how much he’d enjoyed Mabel Williamson’s Toll House cookies. While Jacob hadn’t recognized the body the task force found buried on the farm in Slocum—the one they’d identified as Nathanial, the person they believed had panicked and murdered Faye’s friend Lucy Green—he agreed he’d seen Pierce gut and slit the throats of animals in much the same way.

  In the background of the grainy, black and white picture of James and his uncle was a panel van, the one James had used when he’d kidnapped Faye from the cabin in the Adirondacks. Jacob asked if it had been recovered during the raid. When the answer was negative, she’d had that section of the photograph enlarged—Vermont plates with the first two letters, FN. They couldn’t see anymore because of the angle of the photograph, but it was a place to start. Someone had driven that van off the farm before the raid. It could easily have been Pierce. And a van could be repainted.

  What had upset and confused him most had been the report from NBCI. They had no record of any of names Jacob had provided. Even his own name—Jacob Lucius or Jacob Colchester—had revealed nothing. He didn’t exist and neither did they. Someone had erased those records. So what name was Duncan Lucius using?

  “In one hundred feet, turn left,” the disembodied voice she’d nicknamed Carol, after a friend of her grandmother’s who’d always bossed everyone around, spoke loudly.

  Mechanically, she turned on her left turn signal.

  “Lilith,” he said, and she jumped, so lost in her thoughts she’d forgotten he was beside her.

  He chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to apologize for foisting my presence on you like this. I know you don’t want to spend any more time with me than you have to, and I’m sorry you feel that way. If circumstances were different, I’d like to think we could be friends. I may look like him, but I’m not the enemy.”

  Had she been quiet so long he’d sensed her discomfort?

  “I know that. You didn’t foist your presence on me. I actually suggested you could be an asset in the first place. It’s not what you think,” she said, trying to figure out exactly what to say. She couldn’t very well say she was attracted to him and didn’t want to be. “I don’t play well with others. Since my parents died, I’ve been pretty much a loner. I’ve dedicated my life to stopping people like Pierce, your uncle, and James, and this case is like an octopus with too many tentacles. I worry we won’t be in time to prevent the next murder.”

  “I can understand that and appreciate your honesty, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me. Earlier, when you told me
to relax, it wasn’t because I was nervous about your driving. I was thinking about that photograph you showed me of my uncle and James. Duncan Lucius hasn’t changed much in eighteen years, which makes me wonder why you haven’t been able to find him.”

  “Until you identified him, we couldn’t be sure the Prophet was the man in that photo. Pierce laid down a lot of false trails, and now, even though we have a name, it’s a dead end. We assumed your uncle moved around from place to place, using disguises. Facial recognition should find him. He has to have documentation of some sort. Money doesn’t seem to be a problem for the cult, and yet we can’t find anything that they own directly. They pay taxes on certain things like their land in New Mexico, but the Williamsons paid twice—once as themselves in New Mexico and a second time as the Smiths in Boston. That money has to come from someplace. Did I tell you we checked out the house you mentioned in Cambridge? It was bought and paid for in cash! Who has access to almost two hundred grand, just like that?” She frowned. “I suppose you do, but not too many people I know can do that.”

  “The commune didn’t believe in banks. They were a cash business. Maybe they’ve continued the same way. Who bought the Cambridge house?”

  “A law firm acting on behalf of B. E. White, who likewise paid them in cash. They’ve identified Isaac Williamson as the man they dealt with. Where did he get that kind of money? I got the impression he wasn’t very high up the totem pole.”

  “He’d have been given money to set up an identity, I suppose, but he didn’t have a disguise, so why do you think my uncle does?”

  “Because he’s invisible. That picture of him with your brother is the only one we have. Rob thinks Pierce doesn’t know Trevor copied it. There are so many ways a person can change his or her appearance—subtle changes, such as shaving the head, growing a beard or the reverse. Long hair, short hair, different-colored wigs, glasses, contact lenses, cosmetics, you name it. And of course, there are synthetic masks now that are very realistic. There are even fat suits people can wear to alter their entire body silhouette.