The 7 She Saw (Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thriller Book 1)

by Elle Gray

  “Screw you,” he hisses, his voice tight with pain. “I don’t answer to the laws of men. Only God can judge me.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s not how our judicial system works, so roll onto your belly and put your hands behind your back,” I say.

  He glares at me, pain etched into his every feature. “You broke my knee.”

  “That’s entirely possible. But if you roll over onto your belly and let me put these handcuffs on you, we can see about getting you some help for that knee.”

  He hesitates but finally complies. I move in quickly, planting my knee in the middle of his back, and clap a pair of handcuffs on him, saying a silent word that this gorilla of a man doesn’t snap them.

  I get to my feet and dust off my hands to find Astra leaning against the doorway, her arms folded over her chest, a broad grin on her face.

  “Thanks for the help,” I say.

  “Help? You had the situation well in hand,” she offers. “It was impressive. Really. The guy is like four times your size and you destroyed him. I was too in awe to help, to be honest.”

  I laugh. “Shut up and call it in. I think we’re going to have to take him to the hospital before we question him,” I say. “I heard something in his knee pop. Probably tore some ligaments or something.”

  “Well maybe if you weren’t such a brute…”

  I laugh and turn away as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and walk back over to Tony. I squat down in front of him, my expression suddenly dropping.

  “Tell me about this little murder cult you’re part of,” I say. “Who else is a member? Who’s in charge.”

  “We are Manus Domini Dei. We are legion, and we do not answer to the laws of men－”

  “Yeah, I got that the first time you said that,” I cut him off. “But who’s your Jim Jones? Who’s leading this cult?”

  “I want a lawyer,” he spits.

  “You don’t answer to the laws of men, but you want a man who practices the laws of men, to defend you from having to answer to the laws of men? Is that about right? Is that what I’m hearing?”

  “Lawyer. Now.”

  “Who’s your leader, Tony? Who gives the kill orders? Who picks out the targets?” I ask.

  “Are you deaf, woman? I said get me a lawyer,” he demands. “Get me a lawyer now. That means, stop asking me questions.”

  I sigh and get to my feet, looking down at him with contempt. “Well, shockingly, you’re not as dumb as you look. Unfortunately.”

  Thirty-Five

  Pacific Crest Motor Court; Briar Glen, WA

  Darkness has fallen by the time we finish up at the hospital with Sheriff Morris. Tony got his public defender who promptly shut us down and kicked us out, citing his client’s emotional and physical exhaustion as a reason to postpone the questioning. Said his client would not be answering any questions under duress, and not until he was feeling better. He even hinted at filing a lawsuit against me for excessive force as the cherry on top.

  I’m frustrated. I feel like we’re so close to cracking this case. All we need to do is crack Tony. But that’s something I feel might be easier said than done. I have a few cards up my sleeve to play though. I just need to get into his room to play them.

  “We’ll get him. Don’t worry,” Astra says. “The guy is going to fold.”

  “I wish I had that kind of confidence,” I mutter, keeping my eyes on the road ahead.

  “He will. We’re going to make him fold.”

  “We will,” I say, but without much conviction in my voice.

  “Oh hey, I meant to tell you. Dr. Carville is off the hook,” Astra says. “I heard from my friend and he found evidence that her records had been tampered with after she’d keyed them into her computer. My guess is that if you look at her handwritten notes, they won’t match what’s in the system.”

  “Great. Another apology I owe Sheriff Morris.”

  She shrugs. “Look at it this way, you’ve had enough practice that you should be pretty good at it by now.”

  I laugh. “Shut up.”

  We ride in silence for a few minutes, each of us thinking about today, and what it means. Snatching up Tony could be the key we need to turn the lock that opens this thing and gives us a look behind the curtain. He could be the key to figuring out who’s calling the shots and taking him down.

  “I’m beat,” I sigh. “I need a shower. And some sleep.”

  “You and me both.”

  “So how do we attack this guy? I’m not sure threatening him with prison is going to help. Pretty sure he’s been there before and it doesn’t scare him anymore,” I say.

  “I don’t know. The thought of spending the next, oh I don’t know, lifetime behind bars might be enough to sway him to give up his leader.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I say. “That guy is ride or die with his little murder cult. I saw it in his face. He’d rather cut out his own tongue than rat on his boys.”

  “Well, we could always give him that option, of course.”

  I laugh as I take the turnoff that leads into the parking lot of our luxurious home away from home. I cut the engine and climb out, still pondering how we’re going to attack this guy and get him to fold.

  I’m already heading for the door when I hear the sharp crack of the shot. I yank my sidearm and throw myself to the ground, then roll back behind the car.

  “Astra,” I call out. “Astra, answer me.”

  I don’t hear her. Panic floods through me, but I shove it down. No time to freak out. I have to respond. I get to my knees and raise my head just over the hood. The crack of the rifle repeats, forcing me back down behind the car again. There’s a hard thump and I see splintered wood flying as the bullet tears through the column that fronts the bungalow.

  “Astra! Call out, dammit! Astra!”

  That she’s not answering can’t be a good sign. That ripple of fear only surges even faster in my veins. Who in the hell is out there shooting at me? A dozen different names go through my head, including Sheriff Morris tying up loose ends. I want to doubt it, but right now I don’t know anything other than the fact that I’m taking fire and I’m positive that my best friend’s been hit.

  I need to get to her to see how severe her injuries are. I need to get her to the hospital. But before I can do anything, I need to get rid of that shooter. I raise my head again and hear the report of the rifle followed by the heavy thud of a bullet slamming into my car. I quickly jump to my feet, assume a shooter’s stance, and start firing off rounds in the direction the rifle shot came from.

  I empty my clip and squat down to reload when I hear the crashing through the undergrowth of the forest. I slam the magazine home, chamber a round, and get to my feet again. No shots come, but I can still hear somebody crashing through the shrubs and trees out there, running away as fast as their legs can carry them. It’s a shame. I much rather would have put him down.

  Rushing around the car, I fall to my knees beside Astra. She’s not moving. I lay my hand against her and can’t feel a pulse in her neck. My heart is thundering in my chest and my stomach is turning over on itself. The taste of bile is strong in the back of my throat and my vision is obscured by the shimmering quality of tears that are streaming down my face. But I push it away. No. Not now. I can’t panic.

  I flip her on her back and immediately start CPR on her chest.

  “Somebody help!” I cry out.

  Suddenly remembering that my phone is in my pocket, I pull it out and call emergency services. Once the bus is on its way, I call Sheriff Morris and tell him what happened, still frantically pushing, compressing, checking for a pulse, listening close for a heartbeat. He’s not out of breath from running, nor does it sound like he’s outside, so he couldn’t possibly be the shooter.

  I’m still performing CPR when the bus rolls in, its lights rotating, creating a wild, strobing light around the motel grounds.

  The EMT’s run over and try to pull me away, but I can’t fo
rce myself to let go of Astra’s hand, cold and clammy though it is.

  ‘Ma’am. You have to let her go. Ma’am You gave to let go of her.”

  A second EMT grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me away as they go to work on her. Slowly and reluctantly, tears still streaming down my face, I get to my feet and step back, watching in horror as they tend to her wound. There’s just so much blood－too much blood－and I instinctively know it’s not good.

  I sink to my knees, tears streaming down my face, my hands covered in Astra’s blood, saying a silent prayer to anybody who might be listening for her to make it. For her to live.

  Thirty-Six

  Industrial District; Briar Glen, WA

  The room is filled with our brethren. There is fear and tension in the air for the first time. We’ve donned our robes, and torchlight gleams off all of our masks, but there is no celebration to be had tonight. Our ritual of purification and renewal has been interrupted by the rash and foolish actions of two men. Everything we have worked for – the utopia we have made of this town – has been jeopardized, if not outright destroyed, by two stupid men.

  He stands in the middle of the circle, all eyes fixed on him. He’s not in his robes or mask, and his eyes are wide and filled with fear. As they should be. I step forward, pulling the cowl of my robe down, and take off my mask. I glare at him with every ounce of contempt I can muster as I step to him, our faces scant inches apart.

  “What have you done?” My voice is low, but it echoes around the vast open space of the factory floor.

  “I did what had to be done,” he replies, his voice quavering. “We couldn’t just sit back and hope this problem went away. We had to act.”

  “We had to do nothing. The situation was well in hand,” I spit. “You have destroyed everything we’ve built, Mayor O’Brien. This town you’ve ruled like your own personal fiefdom for the last twenty years will now fall, and everything we have done in His name will be torn asunder. It is all for nothing now. Because of you.”

  “We can still salvage this. I can－”

  I lash out, delivering a vicious backhand that rocks his head to the side. A thin rivulet of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth and he looks at me, his eyes wide with shock.

  “How dare you lay hands on me,” he mewls.

  “How dare me? I told you to do nothing. I told you the situation was well in hand,” I roar.

  “Well in hand, was it? Then how is they got to Tony?” he argues. “It was only a matter of time before they connected Tony to the rest of us. Hell, he would have flipped on all of us to cut himself a better deal. You know that’s true.”

  “We will never know now, because you have taken the choice out of our hands,” I fire back. “You have made a decision for this entire group. And what makes your stupidity even worse is that you didn’t even kill them. Both of those FBI agents are alive. Well, the other one may still die, but Blake Wilder wasn’t even hit. You took this upon yourself, without our knowledge or consent, and you failed, Mayor. You failed and doomed us all in the process.”

  “I had to do something. We had to do something.”

  “You broke faith with us, Mayor O’Brien. You broke faith with our people.”

  He straightens up and looks at me. “Well, I’m sorry you’re not going to get your old job back, Sheriff Montez.”

  I grit my teeth and clench my fists, feeling the rage surging through me. I want to lash out and beat this man to a pulp. All of my plans have been destroyed because he let his fear overcome him. I had perfectly set up Morris and his secret lover, Carville. Years of careful planning, setting up the perfect frame that would ruin them both, and allow me to step back into my old position atop the Sheriff’s department, gone. Like a puff of smoke on the breeze, it’s all gone.

  And there is only one man to blame for it.

  I look around at the circle. Even though their faces are hidden by masks, I would know my people anywhere. Members of the city council. Doctors. Lawyers. The people in this room are the ruling elite of Briar Glen. We made this city what it is today through our shared grief and pain. Through our sacrifice, determination, sheer will, and above all else, honoring our God and doing what He commands of us.

  He showed the seven of us the way, that day He brought us all together in that dingy warehouse. St. Bernard’s hosted a support group for survivors of violence. My own wife had just recently been murdered. She was so young and so beautiful. The love of my life. And she’d been snatched away from me in the prime of our lives.

  But I was not alone. My story was echoed by the others in the group. Each one of them had lost somebody they loved to the animals that once roamed the streets of Briar Glen. But with God’s vision and the determination and will he’d gifted to us, we took our city back. We got rid of the vermin in our town. Cut out the cancerous rot. We delivered God’s true justice to the criminals and evildoers.

  Oh, there were many shaky, fearful days early on. We always feared that we would be caught and that our dreams would be over. But the seven of us soldiered on, steadfast in the belief in our work. In our mission. In our faith in one another. And today, Briar Glen is one of the safest, most beautiful cities in a country that’s rotting from the inside out.

  We had even bigger plans in mind. Things we wanted to do and changes we wanted to make. But that’s all over now because of this man. Because of his fear and his lack of faith in us, and in our good works.

  “A chain is only as strong as the weakest link,” I say. “And tonight, you have proven that the weakest link is you, Mayor. You have condemned us all because they will come. Now they will come.”

  “I did what I had to do to protect this town, and protect this group,” he says haughtily.

  “You failed. And your failure has cost us everything,” I say. “You did not keep your faith. And now, it is time to deliver God’s justice upon you.”

  O’Brien’s eyes widen comically large and his mouth falls open. Before he can utter a word though, I pull the gun out from beneath my robes, press it to his forehead, and squeeze the trigger. The recoil vibrates my arm, all the way up into my shoulder, and I watch as a spray of red mist bursts from the back of O’Brien’s head. His eyes remain wide open but become unfocused.

  He stands there wobbling on his feet for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. He takes a staggering step toward me but falls to his knees. O’Brien’s eyes are on me, but I’m not sure he’s actually seeing me, as a low keening sound comes from his throat.

  With a sound like “gah” bursting from his mouth, O’Brien slumps over, hitting the concrete floor with a meaty thud.

  He says no more. He doesn’t move. And is still. As he will be forevermore.

  I turn to my people. I can smell the fear wafting off of them. The uncertainty. They don’t know what comes next. But I do.

  “They will come for us, Brothers and Sisters,” I intone, my voice reverberating around the room. “It is only a matter of time now.”

  All of them are looking at me, beseeching me with their eyes to provide them with deliverance. With the way forward. But there is no way forward. There is only now. And now is when we make our stand.

  “We have two choices. We can run. We can be cowards and break faith like this man at my feet,” I call out. “Or we can stand and fight the forces of darkness. Perhaps we won’t win. But we can make sure they know there will be others like us. Others who will take up our mantle and fight the darkness. We can make this world a better place for our kids, and their kids after them, by showing the world that the darkness can be fought and beaten.”

  As the echo of my voice fades away, the only sound is the crackling of our torches. I can sense a sadness that our dream of utopia is over. But I also sense a grim determination in all of them. Nobody has left and I can feel everybody gearing up for the coming fight.

  “I love you all, my brothers and sisters,” I call out, my voice ringing true and bright. “And it is my honor to
meet the enemy with you. Now. Steady your nerves. Calm your heart. Put your faith in your brethren. And arm yourselves. Nos servo fidem.”

  “Nos servo fidem!”

  The eruption of applause and cheers of joy, of salvation, ring out through the night. It is a balm to my soul. If this is to be our end, it will be an end unlike anything the world has ever seen before.

  I pull out my cellphone and make the call.

  Thirty-Seven

  Pacific General Hospital; Briar Glen, WA

  I sit perched on the edge of the chair in the waiting room, my hands clasped in front of me, rocking back and forth. The surreal nature of it all washes over me yet again. I can’t believe I’m sitting here waiting to hear whether my best friend is going to live or not. I never in a million years thought I would be here, in this position right now. I mean, I know we work for the Bureau, and there are always the chances something like this could happen. I just never thought it actually would.

  “How are you holdin’ up?”

  Sheriff Morris sits down in the chair next to me, his face etched with concern. I bite my thumbnail, which is a nasty habit I’ve had since childhood. But it’s one that only rears its ugly head in times of great stress. And I’d say this qualifies. It beats smoking. Or drinking myself into oblivion.

  “About how you’d expect,” I tell him.

  “They tell you anything yet?”

  I shake my head. “They’re not telling me anything other than she’s in surgery.”

  “She’s a tough one. I’d lay money on her pullin’ through just fine,” he says.

  We sit in silence for a moment as my emotions churn inside of me. Morris’ presence is comforting and I’m glad he’s here. More than that, I’m glad that all of my questions and concerns about him were wrong. I look over at him and give him a shaky smile.