The FBI Thrillers Collection

by Catherine Coulter

  “We’re not looking at her body,” Miles said, his attention never wavering from Reverend McCamy. “I’m waiting, Reverend McCamy. Why does Sam belong to God?”

  Reverend McCamy’s mouth was a thin pale line. Suddenly, he shouted at them, “You’re not worthy, you godless cretin! Why God gave such a son to you is beyond me. But His ways are not always clear to those who worship Him. It is not our right to question Him, for we are nothing compared to Him. The Lord showed me that I must take Samuel, to teach him to understand that he is one of God’s favored ones. You don’t understand, do you? Sam is an ecstatic! He must learn to accept the sublime suffering he once showed as a small child. He will learn to accept it again. He will throw himself into the well of God’s mercy and greet this suffering with great happiness because he was chosen by God.”

  Reverend McCamy walked around the desk until he came right up into Miles’s face. “Don’t you understand, you fool? Sam is a victim of love—God’s love. He has shown the stigmata! He will experience sublime suffering for all mankind, and his suffering will be radiant in its ecstasy. His very soul will know the beauty and sacrifice of our Lord!”

  Miles felt as though he’d fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole. He plowed his way through all the mad words. He stood back from Reverend McCamy, studying him. “What are you talking about? What nonsense is this? So you think Sam has shown the stigmata? Is that what this is all about? There is no such thing, you fool!”

  Suddenly, Elsbeth stiffened and jerked free of Katie. She ran right at Miles, her fists swinging, screaming, “Leave him alone! Reverend McCamy, they don’t understand. They never will. Say no more. Make them leave. They don’t belong here. Make them leave!”

  “She’s right, you’ll never understand,” Reverend McCamy said, coming around the desk to his wife, reaching out his hands, for what reason, neither Miles nor Katie knew. Then he slammed both fists onto the desktop. “Sam—it is not his name! His name is Samuel, his biblical name. He can’t die! Save the boy, oh Lord, he is part of You, he is Your beloved victim. You must save him!”

  Reverend McCamy was shaking so hard that he appeared to be having a seizure. Tears streamed down his face. “Elsbeth is right. Get out, both of you!”

  A man’s voice came from the doorway. “I can’t let you do this to him, Sheriff, I just can’t. Back away from Reverend McCamy.”

  Reverend McCamy screamed, “Are you crazy? What are you doing here, Thomas? Get out!”

  Katie turned slowly around to see Tom Boone, a local postman for twenty years, standing just inside the library door holding a rifle on her. She smiled. “Well, I think there walks my proof on the hoof. Is there anyone else getting ready to come through that door? Or was it just you, Mr. Boone?”

  “It was just me, Sheriff, and I’m enough to deal with you. I’m sorry, Reverend McCamy, but she’s got a gun, you know. It’s right there in her belt holster. I didn’t want her to hurt you. You, Mr. Kettering, you get away from Reverend McCamy!”

  Miles stepped away.

  Katie remembered seeing Mr. Boone on Sunday, at the Sinful Children of God. She said, “Do you believe in this madman enough to try to kill me and Keely and Mr. Kettering to get to Sam?”

  “I didn’t try to kill nobody.”

  “Just be quiet, Thomas. Go away from here.”

  “No, Reverend, not just yet. I’ve got to tell her how it really was, that I wasn’t there to hurt anyone, then she’ll leave you alone. I did what I had to do, Sheriff, what the Reverend and God commanded me to do.”

  “What are you talking about, Mr. Boone? God doesn’t have anything to do with this. It was this madman who gave you your marching orders. It was this madman who ordered you to take Sam. Didn’t you hear what happened to the other two men he sent to get Sam?”

  “I heard, Sheriff. You killed both of them. You, a woman, killed two men. You’re an abomination.”

  Katie could only stare at him and shake her head. “And just look at what you did. You threw gas bombs into my kitchen and fired at me in my truck. Then you stayed around and tried to kill me again. What were you thinking?”

  Mr. Boone, asthmatic all his life, panted hard now because he was scared. The drizzling rain and cold air had gone into his chest, he could feel it, choking off his air. He looked at the man who had helped him before, the saintly man who’d laid his hands on his chest and prayed and had eased his breathing. Thomas had known it was a miracle. He looked over at Reverend McCamy.

  “It was God’s orders as well,” Reverend McCamy shouted. “I promised that you would be rewarded, Thomas. I promised that I would heal your asthma forever, but only if you finished what you started.”

  Katie asked, “What else did the Reverend here offer you as a reward, Mr. Boone?”

  “He promised me that I would be his deacon. I’ve always wanted that and now I’ll have it, and I’ll be able to breathe free and easy for the rest of my life.”

  Katie had dealt with teenage gang members, drug dealers, homicides, and rapes in Knoxville, but never had she heard thinking as bizarre as this.

  She drew in a deep breath, and held out her hand to Mr. Boone. “Did you think even once about your mother and your grandmother, what this would do to them? Listen to me. This man isn’t holy, he’s insane. Do you have any idea what deep trouble you’re in? Now, put down that damned rifle.”

  But Mr. Boone held on to the rifle like it was his lifeline, and perhaps, in his mind, it was. He kept it steady on her chest.

  Katie said to Reverend McCamy, “I believe that in Hollywood they would say the jig’s up, sir. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me before I take you to my cozy jail?”

  “Damn you, Sheriff, why don’t you believe me?”

  “Of course I don’t believe you,” she said, warning signs going off in her head because he was losing it fast. “I’m not mad.”

  “You stupid woman!” He lurched away and ran to the bookshelf behind his desk. He jerked books off the shelf, hurling them to the floor, reached in and pulled out what appeared to be a videotape.

  “I’ll prove it to you! Look at this tape! This proves what I’m saying! I’m not insane—it’s on this tape!”

  “What’s on the tape, Reverend?” Katie asked.

  “You’ll see,” Reverend McCamy said, tears still running down his face, his voice feverish, trembling, quite mad. “You’ll see. God, through His infinite grace, through His desire to use me to teach others, has brought me this miracle. I saw the miracle and I clasped it to my soul and swore to God that I would bring Samuel to understand and accept God’s mission for him in this life.”

  He shoved the video into the machine slot, turned on the TV and there it was, without his doing anything else. He obviously kept the TV set to video, ready for this tape.

  There was a hissing sound from the tape, and then the grainy sound and squiggly lines faded away. The focus wasn’t very good, and there was motion because the camera wasn’t being held steady. Miles realized that it was a home movie, of sorts. Of what? The camera came to a stop on Sam, a younger Sam, maybe three years old, lying on his old bed in his child’s bedroom in their first house in Alexandria, wearing only his pajama bottoms. He was thrashing around, moaning, or delirious. He was heaving, arching his back, his arms and legs flailing. The jerking camera moved in closer. Miles thought he heard a person crying, probably the person videotaping his son. Was it Alicia?

  Miles knew nothing of this, nothing. He watched Sam’s arms fly over his head, watched the camera zoom in on his fisted hands. Then his small hands opened, slowly.

  There was blood on Sam’s palms. And it was running down his wrists.

  Miles stopped breathing. Blood? Sam had been bleeding? When? Why hadn’t Alicia told him?

  The woman was crying loudly now, and the camera was shaking so badly everything went blurry, then suddenly, it went to black.

  Reverend McCamy hit the stop button, but he didn’t look away from the blank TV screen. His breath was coming fa
st and hard, and his dark eyes were glazed. It was almost as if he was in some sort of ecstasy. Miles watched as his hands slowly unfurled, the palms open, just like Sam’s had, and now he was panting, shivering, as if he were in that film with Sam, as if his body wanted desperately to simulate what had happened to Sam.

  Reverend McCamy whispered as he continued to stare at the blank TV screen, “Did you see? The child, like Christ, is God’s victim and God’s sacrifice, here to make the world know His power, and through Samuel’s ecstasy, understand God’s love and His limitless compassion.

  “Samuel, in those moments, those precious moments, was as close to God as any of us will ever be in this life.”

  33

  Reverend McCamy stared at the screen, his wild eyes seeing what was no longer there, but was only there in his mind, so deep that he’d made himself mad with it. Or maybe the madness had come first.

  There was a moment of stark silence.

  Miles didn’t move, just said to Reverend McCamy, his voice calm and steady, “You’re telling me that you had Sam kidnapped because you saw a video of an obviously sick, delirious little boy, who, for whatever reason, had blood on his hands?”

  Katie felt as if someone had smacked her upside the head and she’d never seen it coming. When Reverend McCamy had spoken of the stigmata, she’d thought of it as another of the ravings of a fanatic, certainly nothing to do with Sam.

  What was all this about stigmata? From what she’d read, which wasn’t much at all, the people who’d supposedly displayed the marks of the Cross seemed very ill, both physically and mentally. But why was there blood on Sam’s hands in the video? Was that his mother taping this? It was obvious Miles didn’t know a thing about it. Why in heaven’s name hadn’t Miles’s wife told him about this?

  “This must have happened about three years ago, Reverend McCamy,” Miles said. “Why did you wait three years to take Sam?”

  Reverend McCamy looked suddenly at his wife, and his eyes went even wilder. “Elsbeth, stay back! Close your robe, woman, you’re showing your body to these people, to this man!”

  “I’m looking at you, Reverend, not your damned wife.”

  “I’m sorry, Reverend McCamy, I’m so sorry.” Elsbeth turned away, frantically tying the sash on her silk robe again.

  Reverend McCamy looked back at Miles. “Taking the boy, it should have been so simple, but I hadn’t yet seen the boy, and so how could he understand? He managed to escape. Don’t you see? God wants the boy to be with me.”

  Miles said slowly, “I have never seen that tape. I never even knew about it, don’t even know who shot it. I don’t remember Sam ever being that ill. He was obviously delirious, very sick. Where did you get that tape, Reverend?”

  “I won’t tell you. You’ll hurt the people who gave me the tape, and they were only doing God’s work.”

  Miles rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

  “Very well, at least tell us what you were going to do with Sam?” Katie said. “He’s six years old, not a toddler.”

  “I was willing to leave my ministry here, to take Samuel to Phoenix with us. I’ve already bought property there. It wouldn’t take me long to teach Samuel what he is and what he must do with his life.”

  “Sam is to be your successor,” Katie said.

  “Of course, I must go see Samuel. Now.” He was suddenly the leader of his flock, decisive, full of resolve. He stepped back from Miles and shook himself. “I am going to see Samuel. I will pray for him. I will intercede with God to save him. I will lay my hands upon him.”

  And he turned to walk out of the room.

  “Reverend McCamy,” Katie said quite pleasantly. “You, sir, aren’t going anywhere.”

  In spite of Mr. Boone with his rifle pointed at her, Katie pulled her SIG out of her waistband. He said, “Please, Sheriff Benedict, put that gun down.”

  Katie turned as she slowly lowered her SIG to her side. “Surely, Mr. Boone, you can’t think God is ordering you now to kill both me and Mr. Kettering, to go with Reverend McCamy to the hospital and try to steal Sam away again? Don’t you realize that you would be sending that innocent little boy into a life of slavery and madness? Listen, Mr. Boone, I can still help you if you don’t hurt anyone.”

  “No! That’s not what the Reverend said!”

  Reverend McCamy said, “Thomas, they said the boy was injured. How did that happen?”

  “I was going to throw the bombs in the kitchen to get them out of the house. It’s just that the sheriff was there, and I really didn’t want to kill her like that. And then Mr. Kettering came into the kitchen and I believed they were going to fornicate right there, on the kitchen table! I watched them, but you know what? Before anything happened, she sensed something, I swear it, she knew something was wrong. Maybe she saw me, but I don’t think so. I was real careful. She yelled at Mr. Kettering to get the kids, that they were getting out of there. They got to the truck before I could grab Samuel. He drove off with Mr. Kettering, and he was fine.”

  Reverend McCamy’s face turned red with rage, the pulse pounding at his temple. He shook so hard he had to hold on to the edge of the desk to keep his balance. He yelled, “God will strike you dead, Sheriff! You twisted, perverted woman. You lied!”

  Katie even grinned as she said to Reverend McCamy, an eyebrow arched, “I’m a perverted woman? That language isn’t particularly nice, Reverend.”

  “Samuel isn’t in the hospital! He wasn’t hurt. Where have you hidden him? Where is the boy?”

  Miles knew he had to keep calm with that idiot still holding the rifle on Katie. He leaned back against a bookshelf, crossed his arms over his chest and said, “My son is safe in jail, Reverend McCamy. I believe four deputies are guarding him and he’s playing poker with Mort, the cleaning guy. I’m sure the sheriff will let him out when you show up in handcuffs.”

  “This is the man you obeyed, Mr. Boone,” Katie said. “Take a good look.”

  “Kill them, Thomas!”

  It was obvious to Katie that Mr. Boone finally realized he was in way over his head. He was holding a rifle on a law enforcement officer, obviously so scared sweat was pouring off his forehead, and he looked ready to faint.

  “Kill them!”

  Mr. Boone started wheezing, bad. He gasped through the precious breaths he was able to draw, “No, Reverend McCamy, I can’t, sir. I can’t, sir, I know her mother!”

  Everything froze for one long moment.

  Then, Elsbeth McCamy grabbed the rifle from Mr. Boone’s lax hands. She whirled around and aimed it at Miles, who dropped to the floor behind the desk just as she fired. Katie was on her instantly. Elsbeth screamed, trying to wrest the rifle free, but she couldn’t. Katie slammed her fist into Elsbeth’s stomach and took a huge handful of her gorgeous hair, pulling it until Elsbeth’s head was nearly bent back over her arm. She said very quietly against her ear, “Drop the rifle, Elsbeth, or I’ll pull out all that wonderful hair of yours.”

  Elsbeth moaned but kept struggling, trying to bring the rifle up. Katie turned her and kneed her hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of her.

  “Leave my wife alone!”

  Reverend McCamy lurched forward, grabbed the rifle from where his wife had dropped it on the floor, and ran, knocking Mr. Boone over a chair in his escape from the library.

  They heard him running upstairs.

  Miles said, “I want him, Katie. I’ll get him.”

  She started to go with him, but then she looked at him, really looked, and knew he wouldn’t do anything stupid. He had a cop’s training and a cop’s instincts. He’d pulled out her ankle gun. The derringer looked absurd in his big hand, but up close it could stop a man, even a madman.

  “Take care, Miles. I’ll get help.”

  She’d picked up her SIG Sauer and motioned Mr. Boone and Elsbeth to the sofa. She pulled out her cell phone and called Wade, who had to be outside by now.

  But there wasn’t time for Wade to even make it through the f
ront door. Overhead, there was a huge explosion. The whole house shook with the shock and force of it.

  Elsbeth screamed. Mr. Boone said, wheezing so hard Katie wondered how he could still breathe, “The Reverend’s thrown one of the gasoline bombs. Why would he do that?”

  Elsbeth ran out of the library. Katie wasn’t about to shoot her, so there was no choice but to go after her. As for Mr. Boone, where could he go? She shouted over her shoulder, “Mr. Boone, go outside where it’s safe!”

  She ran out into the hallway to see Elsbeth taking the stairs two at a time. Katie stayed right on her heels. She rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and saw Elsbeth running toward the master bedroom.

  Katie heard the crackling and popping of the flames before she saw them billowing out of the master bedroom, the hallway carpet already smoking. She had to get everyone out, fast.

  Katie headed after Elsbeth. She saw her run into the master bedroom and yelled, “Elsbeth, don’t go in there!”

  But the woman disappeared into the room.

  “Miles, where are you?”

  Katie ran into the huge bedroom, saw the door open to the closet, and watched Elsbeth disappear inside.

  “Miles!”

  She heard a gunshot, not loud, just a popping noise, and she knew it was from her derringer. She started coughing from the incredible heat and the smoke. She grabbed a pillow from a chair and clamped it against her nose.

  She saw Miles, breathing hard, standing in the doorway to the sex room, her derringer dangling in his right hand. “Katie, get out of here!”

  “Where are Elsbeth and Reverend McCamy? My God, what happened to your face?”

  “We need to get out of here. I don’t know where Elsbeth is. I had to shoot Reverend McCamy. He’s dead, I checked. Come on, I don’t want Sam or Keely to be orphans.”

  But Katie had to try. “Elsbeth! Where are you? Come out or you’ll die!”

  There was no answer. Katie started to run toward the sex room, but Miles grabbed her hand and dragged her from the bedroom. He was right, she thought, there was no choice. She pressed the pillow she was holding against her face and ran with him down the long hallway. She stumbled on the stairs, and Miles picked her up and pulled her against him to keep her on her feet.