by Jo Davis
They strolled up the wide stone steps and made their way inside. The vestibule and the congregational seating area beyond were grand, with rich wood, stained glass windows, and soaring ceilings. Shane spotted the good reverend near the altar, perusing a sheaf of papers in his hand.
“William Wakefield?” Shane called. The man in question turned and got a good look at Shane.
And promptly dropped his papers.
It was almost funny, but Shane refrained from cracking a smile. Instead, he and Daisy moved forward to where the reverend crouched, gathering his work with shaking hands.
“I—you startled me,” he said breathlessly. Giving them a weak smile, he stood and clutched the papers to his chest as though they were armor. Nervously, he glanced around and lowered his voice. “Didn’t I meet you last night? What are you doing here?”
“I take it your secret isn’t out to your members?” Shane asked casually.
William’s throat worked convulsively. “Which—I mean, of course not.”
Shane pounced on his blunder. “You meant to ask which secret. Which one do you think I’m referring to, Will?”
“Look, I don’t know what you two think you’re playing at, but I’m very busy,” he snapped, struggling to regain his composure. “I don’t have time—”
“Did you have time for Nikki Thompson?” he drawled. The reverend goggled at him, and Shane let a few heartbeats pass before he went on. “Your secretary, who was found murdered earlier this week. Remember?”
“Of course I do,” he croaked. “Nikki was invaluable to me. To us, I mean. We’re heartbroken that someone could have done such a terrible thing to her.”
“Heartbroken, huh? Is that why you and Allie showed up last night, ready to party?”
“Who are you?” The man’s gaze darted between them. “We are mourning Nikki here, whether you believe that or not. It’s really none of your business that I went to a social gathering with my wife.”
“A sex party,” Shane corrected. “How steamy did things get last night after Daisy and I left? Did you and the pretty wife finally let your hair down?”
“Listen,” he sputtered. “You have to right to come here and pry—”
“Actually, we do.” Shane loved this part. Digging out his wallet, he flipped it open to reveal his shield. “Detective Shane Ford and Officer Daisy Callahan.”
“Oh.” The reverend’s voice was suddenly very small. He appeared about two seconds from passing out cold.
Shane noted the smudges under the man’s eyes. He seemed dazed, and yet they held a trace of desperation. Their rabbit was scared. No, terrified of what he and Daisy might learn. Cocking his head, Shane played another hunch and didn’t bother to mask the insinuation in his tone.
“Just how well did you know Nikki Thompson, reverend? In the biblical sense?”
“That’s it,” the man said in a choked whisper. “I don’t have to listen to this slanderous, nasty talk, and I’m not answering more questions without my lawyer. Not that I have anything to hide, because I don’t. Now you can leave the same way you came in.”
“Is your wife here, Will? We’d like to ask her a few questions, as well.”
“No. She’s out for the day and I don’t know when she’ll return. Good day, officers.” The man turned and hurried away, disappearing down a hallway at the back of the church.
“That went well,” Daisy quipped. Then she paused. “Actually, it went very well.”
“Yep.” Shane bounced on his feet, excitement building. “The reverend has something to hide, for sure.”
“I think there’s a good chance he was playing hide-the-candlestick with the late, unfortunate Nikki.”
“I think you’re right. I don’t think his wife is out for the day, either.”
They walked out, returning to his truck. Daisy slid into the seat next to him. “Stakeout?”
“You know it.” He tapped the steering wheel. “Let’s drive around the block, hit a drive-through and get a bite to eat. Then we’ll come back, find a place down the street to park and watch. I’d like to take a look around when it gets dark and we can’t be easily seen.”
“Let’s do it.”
After they picked up burgers, Shane found a good spot down the street from the church, under the trees. As they dug in, he called Taylor and filled him in.
“Daisy and I both think that Nikki and the reverend were disappearing into the confessional an awful lot, if you get my meaning,” he told his partner. “The guy was dying to get rid of us.” A thrill zinged through him. They were going to nail Wakefield to his own cross.
“So maybe he killed Nikki to keep his wife and the congregation from discovering his sins?” Taylor mused.
“Wouldn’t be the first time in history.”
“Why would Wakefield and his wife join the club group? Once Nikki was dealt with, why start kidnapping and killing the members?”
“Maybe the affair with Nikki, then murdering her, started him down his path,” Shane speculated. “He got a taste and wants more.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Daisy and I will hang out and watch the church, see if there’s any weird activity. After it gets dark, we’re going to take a look around.”
“When you do, call me. Chris and I will meet you there.”
“Not necessary, but thanks. I’ll give you a heads-up when we leave the truck, but stay on stand-by. If you don’t get the all-clear from one of us within half an hour, send the cavalry.”
“Stubborn ass,” his friend grumbled. “Be careful.”
“We will. Talk to you soon.”
Ending the call, he glanced at Daisy. “This is going to be a long wait.”
“Hope it nets us some information we can use.”
“Yeah.”
As the hours wore on, they chatted to pass the time. Finally, the sun went down, but they couldn’t move yet because it was still too early. He studied the church looming in the darkness, and wondered what other secrets it held besides the one they knew the reverend had been keeping. There were bound to be more.
Daisy spoke up. “This area is quiet, no other businesses. It’s more residential than anything.”
“It’s dark here at night, too,” he observed. “Perfect for getting victims in and out with no one noticing.”
“Using a church is creepy and wrong on so many levels. If that’s what they’re doing.” She scowled at the building.
“Look.”
Down the street, the reverend and his wife rounded the corner of the church and got into a plain, dark sedan. After a moment, the reverend started it up and they drove away.
“Super,” Daisy breathed. “Let’s go.”
Shane gave Taylor a quick call to let him know. Then they checked their weapons and started toward the building. Ascending the steps, they checked the main doors at the front, and as expected they were now locked.
Leaving the front, they crept around the side of the building toward the back. Shane wasn’t surprised to find that he hadn’t noticed the building had two levels—an upper floor and a basement. Typical of many buildings in the area, the basement was below ground with windows situated above the soil level. Getting down on his stomach, he tried to peer inside.
“See anything?” Daisy whispered.
“Too dark.”
Reaching around, he grabbed his gun, handle out. Using it as a club, he brought it forcefully against the glass, shattering it.
“What are you doing? You’re going to get us in trouble!”
“Now, sugar, we came back to talk to the Wakefields and found this broken window, so we couldn’t very well leave without investigating a possible break-in. Right?” He grinned up at her.
She snorted. “Sure. Hurry up before someone sees us.”
After breaking out the rest of the glass, he carefully brushed the big chunks off the ledge. Then he turned around and went in feet-first. Dangling over the edge, he tried to touch some sort of stable surface but met
with air. Lowering himself as far as he could, he dropped, and landed hard, skidding back on his ass.
The distance hadn’t been that bad. He could see the light from the window a few feet above. Standing, he positioned himself below it and called up to Daisy. “Come on. I’ll grab you.”
Her silhouette appeared and she scooted over the edge. When her legs were close enough, he grabbed them. “Got you.”
She let go and he managed to get her on the floor without dropping her. With Daisy safe, he fished his cell phone from his pocket and woke up the screen. It gave off a fair amount of light, enough to illuminate a few feet around him as he searched for a light switch.
“Smart,” she said. “Not sure I would’ve thought of that.”
“You would have. Eventually.” She caught his teasing tone and laughed softly.
“Jackass.”
Locating the switch near the door, he flipped it on and was rewarded with a flood of bright light. The basement was surprisingly clean. It was also well-organized with the typical items a church would use for various events—spare tables, chairs, a few standard wedding decorations, shelves of cleaning supplies, and other odds and ends. Nothing ominous jumped out at them.
“We can check the rest of the building, but I doubt we’ll find anything,” he said in disappointment. “Too much traffic from guests and maintenance workers to hide anyone.”
“What about their cottage out back?”
“It’s worth a shot.” It was their only shot. If the victims had been here and had been moved, they might never find them. Assuming they were still alive.
Quickly they finished searching the remainder of the church, but the place was clear. After exiting through a side door, Shane took out his phone again and checked the time. His half-hour was almost up, so he called Taylor.
“Find anything?” his partner asked by way of greeting.
“Not a thing. We’re going to check the private residence behind the church, and if that doesn’t pan out, we’ll start from scratch.”
“Listen, I’m headed your way. If you get done before I get there and came up empty, give me a call and I’ll go on home. Otherwise, see you in ten or so.”
There was no use telling his partner not to come, so he didn’t bother. “See you.”
He and Daisy walked the path to the house, which was about forty yards from the back of the church. It appeared to be an average-sized home. Not too small, not huge. The landscaping was neat, but lacking in flower pots or other trimmings that might make it homey. In short, plain and boring.
What wasn’t boring were the burglar bars on the rear windows—unlike the church.
“What do you make of this?” Tapping Daisy’s shoulder, he pointed.
She walked over and studied a set on one of the windows. “Could be that the reverend and his sweetie are simply extra cautious about burglars. The back does face a wooded lot.”
“Or could be they’re keeping something inside.” He ran his hands from the top of one bar to the window ledge. “They’re cemented in, and I don’t see a safety latch. If the house caught on fire, they’d be in trouble.”
“Jesus.” Walking over, she stopped and raised a hand to the glass. Softly, she tapped several times.
They listened. When no sound came from inside, she tapped again. This time, there was a muffled sound. A thud. And another. Like someone kicking the wall?
Daisy looked at him, excitement shining in her eyes. “That’s enough probable cause for me to get inside. You?”
“More than enough.”
Circling around to a side door that led to a patio, they positioned themselves on either side, weapons drawn. At Daisy’s nod, Shane stepped forward and kicked as hard as he could. The door exploded inward, banging against the wall inside, and he rushed into the darkness.
“Police!”
He was met with muffled sounds, but they weren’t coming from the room he and Daisy occupied. Daisy found a wall switch and light flooded the neat living room. Quickly, they completed a sweep of the living area and kitchen, then Shane cautiously led the way down a hallway toward the bedrooms at the back.
The closer he got, the more apparent it became that someone was there. Maybe more than one person. The first two doors were ajar, and a brief inspection proved them to be a master bedroom and a hall bath. The last two, however, were locked.
Behind the door on the right came a frantic, “Mmmph!”
“Stand back, I’m coming in,” he called.
Daisy covered him as he kicked in the door. And what he found shocked him to the core. Behind him Daisy cried out.
“Oh, my God!”
A woman, presumably Valerie Hall, was hanging naked from a hook in the ceiling, feet touching the floor, suspended by her arms. Her eyes were wide, dark hair falling around her tear-stained face. Her thin body was covered in bruises and cuts, and small red blisters that appeared to have been made by a cigarette.
Like her sister, she’d been tortured. Judging from the table of knives and candles, complete with a crucifix, her end hadn’t been too far off.
Rushing forward, Shane set his gun on the table, grabbed the woman around her middle, and lifted. “See if you can get her loose.”
Using a chair, Daisy stood on it and worked Valerie’s bonds over and off the silver hook. The victim collapsed in a sobbing heap, and Shane lowered her gently to the floor, talking softly as he removed her gag.
“Don’t let them get me,” she cried, body shaking as she clung to him.
“Who? The reverend and his wife?”
“Sh—she’s crazy! She k-killed Vanessa! Oh, God!”
“Shh, we’ve got you now. We’re Sugarland police, and you’re safe now.” As the woman continued to sob, he addressed Daisy, who was prowling the room. “Call this in, will you? We’re going to need the paramedics, forensics, and the captain.”
“On it.”
While Daisy made the required calls, he did his best to comfort the distraught victim. God only knew what they’d find in the other locked room. He prayed the two missing men were there, and alive.
Finished with the call, Daisy walked over and crouched next to him. “Why don’t you let me take care of her while you check the other room?”
Relieved, he handed the naked woman over to Daisy. Much better to have her take Valerie Hall, under the circumstances. With a sigh, he rose and exited into the hallway—
And came face-to-face with a shocked William and Allie Wakefield.
“What are you doing in my house?” she screeched, pretty face morphing into something ugly and damned near demonic. “You’ve ruined everything!”
Shane reached for the gun that wasn’t there. He’d left it on the table. Fuck!
William’s eyes were wide as he eyed the big butcher knife his wife withdrew from her purse. “Honey—”
“Why are you just standing there, you cheating, lying sinner! Kill him, or you’ll never be purged!”
The wife is in charge, not William. Shit.
“No! I won’t do it.” He backed away, expression desperate. “I’ve paid. I won’t help you hurt anyone else.”
Daisy’s voice boomed from behind Shane. “Police! Drop the weapon or I’ll shoot!”
With a shriek of outrage, the reverend’s wife flew at Shane, catching him off guard. He’d expected her to comply, since she had literally brought a knife to a gunfight. But he’d made the mistake of not factoring in crazy.
The woman barreled into him and they slammed into the wall. Pain lanced his shoulder and he grabbed at the wrist holding the now-bloodied knife, off-balance. He managed to shove her off, knocking her into the opposite wall. But she was totally insane, launching herself at him again.
She never reached him. A deafening bang sounded in the narrow space. Allie Wakefield jerked, stumbled backward. She fell against the wall, eyes wide in surprise as scarlet bloomed on her chest. Then she slid to the floor, the knife tumbling from her hand.
“Don’t fucking move
,” Daisy ordered the reverend, gun aimed steady at his head. “Now, nice and slow, turn and face the wall.”
Wakefield complied, almost in a daze. Yanking his hands behind his back, Daisy fished a pair of cuffs from her pocket and slapped them on his wrists. “William Wakefield, you’re under arrest for the murders of Nikki Thompson and Vanessa Hall.”
“I didn’t want to go along,” he whispered. “But Nikki wasn’t the first, you know. Allie made me take those sinners, said it would purge me of my need to have sex with others. We were purging them, too, the demons at the club! We have a mission!”
There had been more murder victims before Nikki? How many? God, what a couple of nutcases.
Daisy delivered the Miranda. “You have the right to remain silent . . .”
Shane was vaguely aware of a dull throb in his shoulder as he stepped over the body of the reverend’s wife. He had one more room to check, and he had to know what was behind that door. After kicking it in, he found the answer.
The two missing men, Dan Peterson and Jason Richards, were bound and gagged, resting against one wall. They were both staring at him in wide-eyed apprehension. Terrified, but alive. Crossing to them, Shane removed their gags.
“Sugarland PD,” he told them, much to their visible joy. “I’m Homicide Detective Shane Ford. Allie Wakefield is dead and the reverend is in custody. It’s over.”
“Thank fuck,” one of them breathed. The other echoed the sentiment. “What a bat-shit crazy pair of assholes. I heard people screaming, being tortured. They killed someone, didn’t they?”
“I’m afraid so. What’s your name?”
“I’m Jason Richards, that’s Dan Peterson.” The other guy nodded, still too shocked to add much.
Taking out his pocketknife, Shane went to work on their bonds. “We’re going to get you both to the hospital to get checked out, and then someone will get your statements about what happened. Probably won’t be me. Out of curiosity, though, how did they manage to get you here?”
“They grabbed us after one of our group meetings at the club. It was dark and nobody saw. Jabbed us with needles, pumped us full of a sedative and down we went. Loaded us into their damned church van and we woke up here. I’m guessing that’s how they got the others, if they were from our group.”