by Stacy Green
I couldn’t help the smile. “Preacher saved me the trouble of requesting it. My guess is for an easy escape if he needed it. Like I said, he set himself up.”
“The rig is around the corner.”
“You didn’t have any trouble getting it?”
Chris shook his head. “It’s an old one no one will miss. But just enough not to draw attention.”
His offer to provide the ambulance had surprised me. “You’re awfully calm. I expected you to be running around the room.”
“Yeah well,” he turned to me with an imperceptible gaze, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?”
He rolled out his sleeping bag, revealing the black body bag.
“Something else you stole?”
“You can buy these online. Seriously.”
“Gross. Okay, so you’ve dealt with bodies as a paramedic. I’ll let you take the lead.”
Chris laid out the body bag next to Preacher. The sound of the zipper made me shiver. He arranged the plastic bag so that it was open and then motioned for me to take Preacher’s ankles. “He’ll be heaviest at the top.”
“Wait.” I’d nearly forgotten. “We need to check his pockets, make sure we take his wallet. I’ll get rid of it somewhere, but it will make him a lot harder to identify if he’s found.”
“Fine. You do it.”
Preacher’s left pocket was empty. In his right was a fine gold locket I recognized. “Sarah’s. Just what I need to have on me.” I tossed it in my bag. Chris rolled him over, and I wrestled his wallet out of his back pocket. Whatever hope I had of finding all the answers quickly faded. Nothing but cash and IDs. One of them was Riley’s. At least I’d have that to bargain with when I went to find her.
“You ready?”
I nodded.
“On three, we’ll lift him.” Chris crawled on top of the bed and positioned himself at the front of Preacher’s body. He stared down at the dead man’s open eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Me either, but we need to get it done. And I’ll owe you my life.”
“My mother?”
“Yes. The second I’m not a wanted fugitive, we’ll go after her with everything I have.” I grabbed Preacher’s ankles while Chris shoved his hands under Preacher’s shoulders.
“One, two, three.” We lifted, my back straining to maintain his heavy weight. The bed shifted with our efforts, and the bag dropped to the floor. “Put him down,” Chris said.
I let Preacher’s heavy legs fall. “What now?”
“I’ll lift him up at the waist, you slide the bag under. Then we’ll do the feet.” His tone was all businesslike now. He pushed at Preacher’s shoulders until the dead man was sitting up. I glanced back at the mirror hanging directly across from the bed. Preacher’s dead eyes stared back. Behind him, Chris’s blue ones were nearly as vacant.
I slipped the bag in place. Then we worked at his feet. In five minutes we had him zipped up and we were both panting.
“Now,” I said. “There’s only one guy on duty downstairs and one elevator. You bring the ambulance around and park at the fire escape. We know there are no security cameras, but you don’t want to be seen. Keep your hood up. I’ll stand watch at the elevator while you get him into the ambulance.”
Chris’s head bobbed up and down as I spoke. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he looked ready to bolt.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You walk away now and the harm is minimal. I’ll get rid of him myself.”
“I can handle it. You’re going to need my help with Mary, and this is a good test run. Besides, he wanted to put his hands on you and treat you like trash. That’s enough for me to compartmentalize.”
“Right,” I said. “You see death on the job. You know how to block it out. Compartmentalize like you just said.”
“Something like that.” He looked at his watch. “It’s nearly three a.m. Let’s get out of here before people start waking up.”
Preacher was loaded into the ambulance twenty minutes later. I wiped the room down with a strong disinfectant before we left, stripping the sheets and bringing the covers with me to burn.
“You’re right, this sucker is old.” I climbed into the passenger seat and glanced behind me. Preacher was strapped to a gurney. In the darkness, I couldn’t see if the ambulance was fully loaded, but we wouldn’t need medical supplies. “Where are we going?”
“Northwest. Lots of forests up there. We can dispose of his body, cover him with snow. The bears will find him in the spring before the park rangers.”
“Good idea.”
We drove silently for a while, lost in our own thoughts. Chris seemed resigned to becoming an accomplice to murder. I guess he’d accepted that’s what being the closest part of my life meant.
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“I already told you.” We got out of the city just as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Maybe the temperature would climb above zero today.
“You already had my promise to help with Mother Mary, so it’s more than that.”
“I can’t handle you going away,” he said.
“To prison?”
He nodded. “That means doing whatever it takes to keep you out.”
“How’d I become so important to you? I’m not special. I’m dangerous. Unstable.”
“You’re the only person who understands me. Or at least comes close to having some real comprehension of what I’ve been through. I trust you.” His voice softened, his face flushed. His eyes remained fixed on the road.
The serenity from killing Preacher began to wear off, and my emotions started to roll out of their prison. “I’m not sure I’m worthy of that trust.”
“Too late,” he gave me a weak grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”
I rubbed my stinging eyes. “Guess so.”
By the time we reached the national forest, I’d recounted all of Preacher’s confessions to Chris.
“Ketamine,” he whistled. “Who knew it was basically like a truth serum?”
“Forget about that. What do you think about Dietz going to all this trouble to have me arrested instead of just pulling a good old-fashioned power play and threatening me?”
“Maybe it’s not his style. Or maybe he’s planning on swooping in once you’re incarcerated and offering to save the day if you comply.”
“That fits with a man like him.”
We drove through a back entrance with so many trees the ambulance barely fit through. I could only hope there were no rangers around to ask what we were doing. I wasn’t sure how we’d explain a morning drive in the state forest with a dead body. Chris finally stopped at the top of a hill where the brush was thick and the decline steep.
Preacher rolled down easily. I stood watch while Chris slid down the hill and pried the body bag off him. He covered Preacher with snow and icicles and fallen dead branches. He worked efficiently, moving with ease among the cold, dead things. I admired his ability to cope and wished I’d handled Brian Harrison’s death as well as Chris had Preacher’s.
Then again, he hadn’t administered it. And just two weeks ago at an accident call, he’d pulled a dead teenager out of a pickup truck. Surely this had to be easier.
He returned sooner than I expected, and we used more fallen branches to maneuver the heavy snow over our messy tracks.
“That’s the best we can do.” Chris’s fair skin was pink. His lips looked like he’d applied gloss. “With any luck, he’ll be under until spring.”
“The bears will do their jobs.”
“You did clean him off before I zipped up the bag, right?”
“Wiped him down completely.”
He led the way back to the ambulance. We rode in silence once again until Chris turned into the county landfill. I dumped the body bag and everything that had touched Preacher’s body into a black bag, and we paid in cash to have it tossed into the burning pile at the landfill.
“Good idea,” I said. �
�Getting rid of that in the city would have been a pain in the ass.”
“Thanks.” He drove several miles before speaking again. “So you know what I’d like to know? Where’s Sarah’s mother?”
“What?”
“Preacher said her mother gave Sarah that locket. But both Kelly and Todd say there’s no next of kin for her. Nothing anywhere. No one to even claim the body. So where’s Mom?”
I hadn’t even thought about the implication. I retrieved the locket from my bag. Small and delicate, it was a simple square shape with an ‘S’ engraved in the fourteen karat gold. It opened easily, but the inside was bare except for the serial number.
“Preacher’s boss told him to mention Sam,” I said. “When he did, Sarah became totally compliant. What does that tell you?”
Chris glanced at the locket. “There’s more to her past than anyone’s digging up. What now?”
“Riley,” I said. “She knows everything we need to.”
“What about Todd? You going to tell him about Dietz? If he had the guy’s name, maybe he could start looking for proof of this affair. Something to play ball with at least.”
My biggest dilemma of the day. I didn’t want to leave Todd out of the loop, not after what he’d done for me. But I was afraid he would simply be steamrolled by Dietz. “Not yet. I think I need to go to the Senator first. He’s the only person who might have more pull than the U.S. Attorney. But first, to Riley.”
Chris’s phone vibrated on the plastic dash, startling us both. He snatched it up. “Hello?”
My eyelids began to droop, and I yawned wide enough to make my jaw hurt.
“I see.” Chris’s voice sounded guarded. “I’m not sure I can help you.”
I forced my eyes open. “What?”
The ambulance swerved as he mouthed, “Do you know a John with Senator Coleman’s office?”
Nodding, I snatched the phone from him before he wrecked us. “Hello?”
“Lucy.” John didn’t sound any more enthused than he had the last time we spoke. “The Senator would like to speak with you right away. I’ll give you directions to his private retreat outside of King of Prussia. And don’t worry, the police aren’t involved.”
28
Chris wanted to go with me, and since John had his phone number, I figured he was already involved. We traded the ambulance for the shiny Audi, and I brushed my teeth in the ladies room of a gas station just north of King of Prussia. Senator Coleman’s place was about ten miles north of that, and John waited for us at the top of the winding drive.
Shuttered from the cold by an impressive thatch of evergreen trees, the Cape Cod-style house looked cozy and warm, the perfect place for a mild mannered politician with a noble crusade.
Who just might be the big bad general I’m after.
We followed John into the bright foyer. Signs of a woman’s touch were everywhere: flowers and soft pastels, strategically placed candles, delicate lace tablecloths. Coleman waited in his office, a large room that overlooked the frozen lake.
“Lucy,” he shook my hand and then turned to Chris. “You must be Mr. Hale. I know your uncle. He speaks highly of you.”
“That must be how you got my cell number.” Chris grudgingly returned the shake.
“Oh no,” Coleman said. “I have other resources.” He sat down, switching off the droning National Public Radio station emitting from the computer’s weak speakers. Chris and I took the other two chairs in the room, while John lingered near the door. I suddenly felt like we’d entered the mob’s lair.
“So what’s going on?” Exhaustion robbed my patience.
“I hear the police are looking for you regarding Sarah Jones’s murder.”
“Looking for is a nice way to put it,” I said. “They want to charge me. And I’m trusting you by coming here. Did I make a mistake?”
“No,” Coleman said. “Quite the opposite. I believe I can help clear your name.”
I recognized the tone of an exchange. Coleman certainly had interesting timing. “What’s the catch?”
“You leave the human trafficking investigation to us,” he said. “Go back to your normal cases. My office is more equipped, we can operate within legal parameters, and we’ve got a lot more reach.”
“I thought you wanted my help.”
“You’ve got a bit of a tainted history,” he said. “It’s come to my attention that in recent months, Detective Beckett posed the theory you murdered two brothers, both convicted child molesters, after their release. He doesn’t have the evidence to prove it, I gather. But it’s not something I want associated with our task force.”
There was more to it than that, but I kept my mouth shut. Let the Senator believe he had the upper hand.
“Did you get this information from the same U.S. Attorney who wants me convicted of Sarah’s murder? A murder I didn’t commit?”
If the Senator noticed I didn’t deny the Harrisons’ murders, he didn’t show it. “Mr. Dietz. Yes, he’s a very imposing man with quite an influence on the investigation.”
Showing any part of my hand was dangerous, but the Senator liked his information. He wasn’t going to help unless he was sure I’d given him everything I knew. He’d get about ninety percent. “Dietz and Sarah were having an affair,” I said. “He’s got money and a reputation to lose, and because I took the phone, he thinks I’ve got proof. What I can’t figure out is why he hasn’t just confronted me. Why go to all these lengths?”
“Because Dietz is dirty in more ways than the marital bed.” The Senator was about to spill his secret. I recognized his tone, the way he sort of hunched down in his big chair–all signs of a man preparing to divulge something he really doesn’t want to.
“Sarah and Attorney Dietz were having an affair,” he confirmed. “And yes, his wife is very rich and there is a prenup. But Sarah was smart. She collected information like other people collect change. In this life, she never knew what might keep her alive.”
“You knew her.” I hadn’t expected this. Why was he telling me this part? So I’d back off and he could soak up all the glory of bringing down the traffickers, or because he was the man I was really after?
“She’s my wife’s cousin by marriage.”
“So you knew she was running kids?” Chris spoke up. I’d nearly forgotten he was there.
Coleman held up his hand. “Let me explain. Sarah had a boyfriend that was, quite frankly, crazy. After they broke up, he stalked her for months. Slashed her tires, broke windows. Nothing the police did helped, and they couldn’t get hard proof it was him. But she was terrified when the threatening messages came in, and she asked my wife for help. I brought her to Philadelphia from Ohio, helped arrange for a new identity. She used all her savings to start the salon under an assumed surname.”
“His name was Sam,” I said. Preacher’s ramblings made sense.
“Yes.” The Senator raised an eyebrow. “Sam Townsend. How did you know?”
“I have my resources.” I smirked. “But I didn’t know what the name meant until now.”
“Well,” he continued, “somehow, whoever Preacher works for found her. Knew she was vulnerable, and you know the rest.”
“Blackmailed her with the threat of telling Sam where she was,” Chris said. That’s the piece I’d been missing. It had been about much more than money.
“Right.” Coleman sounded tired. “But as I said, Sarah was smart, and her experience with Sam taught her to write down everything. So she did, and her information collecting became almost obsessive. She knew I had the task force, and as soon as she felt it was safe, she came to me.”
“You guys were working together to bring down Preacher and his boss.”
He nodded. “Whoever employs Preacher is very good. Sarah hoped she could get close enough to him to find out a name, but in the end, she didn’t believe Preacher knew who he worked for.”
I didn’t tell him he was correct. I could tell him about the Candy Market site, give him all the info
rmation his task force would need. But something held me back. Perhaps I just wanted to kill all the sick bastards myself. Or I didn’t think the task force could move fast enough. And then there was the matter that while she was giving the Senator the information, Sarah was still actively sex trafficking and collecting a paycheck from it.
But what really bothered me was Sam Townsend. How did Preacher’s boss get the name if the Senator was the only person in the area who knew? More importantly, what had turned the boss onto Sarah in the first place? How had he known she was vulnerable?
I stared at the Senator with fresh eyes. If he really were the boss, his task force was the perfect cover. And he’d kept Sarah running in circles until she became too much of a liability. “So if she trusted you, why didn’t Sarah call you after I threatened her with the phone, before we met at Maisy’s?”
“She did.” He sounded torn. “She left me a message saying she had an urgent problem. I was in committee meetings all day and didn’t return the call until very late. She never answered.”
“Did she ever wonder how Preacher and his boss found out about Sam in the first place?” Chris asked.
“Of course she did. We’ve had many conversations on it. She told no one the name, but she did attend a support group for stalking victims. I can only assume she was spotted there and marked as a potential target.”
Maybe. Men were stalked too. But very few of them felt the need for any sort of counseling. “I think there are other lieutenants.” I used John’s labeling system. “Maybe one of them picked her out.”
“That was our theory as well,” Coleman said.
“So what about this Dietz?” Chris asked.
“As I said, Sarah was sleeping with him. But she had her reasons. She believed he or someone in his office might be Preacher’s employer, or at the very least, funding part of the operation.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because she followed Preacher and saw him having dinner with U.S. Attorney Dietz at a restaurant called Ward 8. She waited around outside and saw money exchange hands.”
And you were there too, I wanted to say. I could just as easily substitute your name for the U.S. Attorney’s.