The Lost Orphans Omnibus: A Riveting Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  She looked at the road up ahead and saw the women, waiting for her impatiently. Rachel trailed behind them. The rainfall seemed to let up for a moment and then continued its onslaught. Eventually, they turned down Seventh Street and came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. With water spilling down all sides of her umbrella, Rachel looked up at the Orphans’ final destination.

  Her father’s church.

  6

  Nature Run

  Looking at the large white Presbyterian church building, Rachel had doubts. It seated a few hundred people and had a crucifix-topped spire on its front and arched stained glass windows on its side. Rachel remembered being transfixed by them as a child. Each of the windows told a different Bible story, from the desolation of Sodom and Gomorrah to the resurrection of Christ. Her father would stand at the pulpit, preaching, and Rachel’s mother would squeeze Rachel’s little hand. After her mother snapped and was carted away before Rachel was five, her father turned to the bottle, lost his ministry, and spent a long time getting sober enough that he could guest speak on holidays, focusing his teaching on the forgiveness of past sins.

  Grabbing ahold of the wet metal railing, Rachel hiked up a few steps to the hilly front yard of the church. A bolt of lightning flashed behind the building. Thunder rumbled. Rachel stared at the Orphans guarding the double doors like a band of carolers. Rain passed through them. They stared at Rachel, waiting for her to act.

  “Is he inside?” Rachel’s heart raced as she asked the question.

  The Orphans parted, Martha and Carolina on one side, Anastasia and Jasmine on the other, and Cora climbing up to the bell tower, where her silhouette grabbed ahold of the cross and looked out at the town.

  Rachel sent Peak a text, telling him to come to the church ASAP, and approached the holy building. She tried to tune in with the Sense, but the nearby Orphans were distorting her signal, so to speak. Not knowing what she’d find inside, she hammered her fist on the door.

  Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

  She took a step back, held her hand on her concealed pistol, and waited under the protection of her umbrella.

  The wind changed directions. Rachel felt resistance on her umbrella. Like statues, the Orphans stared at her. Exhaling, Rachel grabbed the door handle and pulled. Much to her surprise, it was unlocked.

  Rachel stepped inside the narthex, a wide room with a few benches and a table with neatly organized pamphlets. A handful of purple and white banners streamed down the walls, showing a dove diving nose first into an open book. Together, they formed a cross. A dark-red carpet covered the floor. Rachel quickly shut the door behind her. She closed her umbrella, collapsed it to its smallest state, and stuck it in the empty metal bucket by the door.

  Keeping her weapon concealed, Rachel moved into the next room. Dead ahead was the sanctuary, and to the right was a hallway with stairs going to the lower floor. To the left was a rising stairway to the sanctuary balcony. She moved straight ahead and peered through the glass window on the sanctuary’s closed double doors. The lights were on, but she couldn’t see anyone.

  She headed upstairs to the balcony that formed a “U.” The floor beneath the carpet squeaked lightly beneath her feet. The only illumination in the upper hall came from the sanctuary. Rachel brushed aside the curtain and stepped onto the balcony, which dipped downward like large steps.

  She reached the railing and looked out across the expansive room. The pulpit was empty, the choir box vacant, and no one sat at the organ bench. Rachel quietly maneuvered through the balcony seats, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything.

  She reached a door with a sign that read Authorized Personnel Only and pushed it open. It led to a tight, twisting stairway that twirled upward to the bell. When she reached the top, Rachel could peek through the wooden slats and see all of Highlands’s downtown, the silhouetted Appalachian Mountains, and a little of the national forest. Lightning touched down in the distance. A few bolts ripped across the behemoth clouds as black as coal. Down the street, a silhouette of a car drove away from the church. Rachel eyed it keenly. Was that him? She didn’t know. The Sense faded away.

  A second vehicle pulled up in front of the church. Peak stepped out.

  Rachel greeted him outside. He drove her to an all-night diner, where they intended to feast on hamburgers, fries, and milkshakes. However, Rachel felt too distracted to eat. She couldn’t find the Orphans. She couldn’t sense them, either.

  “Maybe they were tricking me,” Rachel said. “They are acting particularly strange during this case.”

  Peak took a big mouthful of burger. “You said it yourself, you can’t fully trust an Orphan.”

  Rachel realized Peak was still wearing the day’s clothes. She wondered if he had gotten any rest at all. “Being an atheist, agnostic, whatever you are, what’s your take on it?”

  “I think your sanity is questionable and that you’ve been drinking.”

  “Thanks, Peak. I can always count on you for encouragement,” Rachel said sarcastically.

  Peak studied her with dark eyes lined with dark circles. “You asked for my opinion.”

  “I’m serious,” Rachel said, a little more loudly than she had anticipated. A few of the late-night patrons gave Rachel and Peak odd looks.

  Peak put aside his burger. “The guy you saw could be the killer. Or it was nobody of consequence. The only thing worthy of suspicion is the unlocked front door. Maybe one of your Orphans opened it for you.”

  “They don’t work like that,” Rachel replied, slightly annoyed by Peak’s dry sense of humor this late at night.

  Peak returned to his burger and shake.

  Rachel swirled her fry on her plate, lost in thought. “I’m going to the Sunday service tomorrow.”

  “Have fun with that,” Peak replied.

  “Come with me. We can scout together.”

  “I DVRed a special on evolutionary science that day. Remember?”

  “Nope,” Rachel replied. “You’re coming with me. Don’t look so glum, Peak. Maybe you’ll find Jesus, or at the very least, the Highlands Poisoner.”

  That morning, Rachel forwent her normal black tea for black coffee, rich and savory Appalachian brew, to be precise. It had been a while since she’d been to church, and she wanted to look the part—divorcée Rachel, not Detective Harroway. She searched her closet for the appropriate attire. She found two dresses, neither one of them modest enough for a church. Stroking her chin, she wondered what Peak was going to wear. He’d probably dress the same as always: wrinkled dress shirt, navy-blue windbreaker, and questionably combed hair.

  After much contemplation, Rachel settled on leather boots, a white blouse, black slacks, and a lightweight woven jacket with a draping, collared front and patch pockets for storing her handcuffs. She moved her weapon holster to the back of her belt and spent a little time putting on light makeup and fixing her hair. By the time she was finished, Rachel was already running ten minutes late.

  She pulled up into the church parking lot and found it to be full. After going back and forth a few times, she parked next to the nearby barbecue joint and hurried over. She checked her watch. She was almost thirty minutes late. Great, she thought sarcastically as she hiked up the few steps leading from the sidewalk to the yard and pressed into the front door. The greeter, a small elderly woman with a welcoming face, was about to move into the sanctuary when Rachel arrived.

  “Sorry,” Rachel said, quickly taking the service pamphlet with the list of hymns to be sung and service schedule. She peeked through the glass panes on the doors and glanced at the first-floor pews. They were full of devout old people, love-dazed young couples, and bored children dressed in their Sunday finest. She didn’t see Peak among them.

  The local minister spoke for a moment and then turned the attention over to the choir. The minister exited the stage and sat down beside Liam in the front row. Rachel hiked up the stairs and entered the balcony, where she had stalked around the previous night. There was a selection o
f seats up here and a better vantage point of the entire church. She moved around the back of the rows, behind the standing assembly singing a hymn, and focused on the Sense. She hadn’t felt anything. Maybe the Poisoner won’t show. That was when she saw something she’d never expected; Jenson Peak, dressed in a three-piece suit and with his hair nicely gelled, standing amongst the balcony congregation in the horseshoe-shaped balcony’s far corner. He held a hymnal and sang along with the rest of the church.

  Unable to hold back a smile, Rachel maneuvered through the back row of people and landed next to Peak. He gave her a sidelong glance and kept singing. Much to Rachel’s surprise, he actually sounded pretty good. Taking up a hymnal from the pew, Rachel found the proper page and finished up the song. Another began.

  Peak had chosen his seat wisely. He’d positioned himself in the far corner of the U-shaped balcony, back row, which allowed visual inspection of the entire room, the entire balcony and stage, with a just a single glance. As she sang, Rachel scanned the crowd. No one seemed suspicious. If the Poisoner unlocked the church last night, he might be an elder. Rachel kept her eyes on those in the front row. None of them fit Giovanni’s romantic persona. She focused on the choir box. It was separated by gender; each side was a mix of ages.

  A stranger took a seat next to Rachel. He had neat brown hair and wore a brown blazer with a white button-up and khaki suit pants. He had a strong jawline and a dimpled chin. He smiled at Rachel as he took up a hymnal and started singing. Rachel’s first instinct was to ask why, out of every open spot in the balcony, he chose to stand next to her. The man didn’t look Italian, but that didn’t stop Rachel being suspicious of him. What if he was the Poisoner? What if she was standing right next to the man who had threatened to kill her? With a kind smile, the handsome man sang along with the choir.

  Rachel kept her cool. She couldn’t jump to conclusions. Not yet. I can follow him after, she told herself. She felt eyes on her from the opposite side of the balcony. It was a short, roguish man with black hair and a thinly trimmed beard. He watched Rachel as he sang. Rachel returned the stare, seeing that he fit Winslet’s description.

  Peak nudged Rachel. In the choir box, another figure watched. He was a tall man with rectangular-framed glasses and a soft face. Perspiration glistened on his forehead. He turned his eyes when Rachel looked at him. The song ended.

  Everyone sat. Liam stepped onto the platform, holding the Bible. He noticed Rachel in the crowd and smiled widely before turning his attention to the congregation.

  “Halloween is a very peculiar time of year…” Liam began.

  The man in the choir box sat down in his seat. He tapped his foot anxiously. The bearded man across from Rachel glanced at her as he opened his Bible. The handsome man next to Rachel watched Liam intently, soaking up every word.

  The Sense tugged lightly on Rachel’s front. It was directed to the choir. Keeping his eyes down, the soft-faced man put aside his hymn book and began to subtly slip out of the choir. Rachel and Peak leaned forward in their pew. Her fingers found her concealed weapon.

  The soft-faced man exited the side of the choir box and vanished through a door that led to the back part of the church. On the same wavelength, Peak and Rachel stood. They shimmied by the handsome man and headed for the stairs. Rachel took a final look at the bearded man. His attention was now on Liam. The handsome man, however, watched Rachel leave with a look of alarm on his face.

  Rachel and Peak hurried down the steps. In the entrance hall, they realized that the only way to the rear of the church was through the sanctuary. Rachel couldn’t bring herself to ruin her father’s teaching.

  “We’ll head around back,” Rachel told Peak.

  The moment they exited the building, they took off into a sprint around the side of the church building. They stopped at the parking lot, just in time to see a Toyota truck reverse into the street and take off down the road.

  “That’s him,” Peak pointed out the obvious.

  Rachel looked at the lot across the street where her car was parked. “We’ll take your car.”

  They loaded into Peak’s car. He hit the accelerator and skidded onto the street.

  “Keep it slow,” Rachel told him. “I want to see where he is going.”

  Peak nodded in affirmation and lowered his speed. They hit a red light and watched the truck gain distance down the uneven roads. Rachel prayed that he didn’t see them tailing him. Peak kept four car lengths behind the man. Rachel booted up the dashboard computer and searched the license plate in the database. It belonged to Wesley Times, thirty-two, and his record was spotless. Peak kept after him long after Highlands faded in the rearview. The truck led them up the mountainous road and off to a high-altitude dirt street flanked by nature.

  Peak pulled to a stop at the small gravel parking area near the end of the road. He pulled in beside the empty truck and looked out at the towering oaks and autumn flora. It was a mix of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens. A skinny hiking trail snaked deep within the trees. After briefly searching the parking area to see if Wesley was still around, Rachel and Peak headed down the trail.

  Gnats buzzed, birds cawed, and a cooling breeze shimmied the leaves. The trail’s packed dirt told Rachel it was well traveled. It appeared to be the only path, which was good. Unless Wesley decided to hide amidst the shrubbery. Peak paid close attention to broken twigs and partial footprints. He was much better at that stuff than Rachel. She followed the Sense, feeling it fluctuate. Through the trees in the distance, Rachel saw Carolina carving on a tree trunk with the knife that had stabbed Anastasia. Rachel averted her eyes. She couldn’t afford to have the Delinquent interfere with the current investigation.

  The trail zigged and zagged. Using gestures only, Peak communicated with Rachel. Wesley had stuck to the trail. Good. Rachel and Peak were not dressed for a foot chase through the woods. Then again, neither was the man in the long purple-and-white choir robe. Rachel and Peak rounded a bend in the road and came to a sudden halt.

  Holding a small spade, Wesley stood in the center of the trail. He wasn’t wearing his robe anymore. Sweat drenched his face and hair. Grabbing Peak’s arm, Rachel pulled her partner behind a tree. They squatted and watched Wesley, dressed in a collared shirt and jeans, nervously scan the area. At some point, he must’ve deemed it clear, as he started digging in the dirt. Peak gestured with his hands a way to take Wesley down. Rachel shook her head, intrigued by what the soft-faced man was doing. After he dug the hole, he tossed aside the spade, adjusted his glasses, which were sliding down his nose, and removed an envelope sealed in a Ziploc from his pocket. With mouth slightly agape and eyes wide, he knelt down and gently put the envelope into the hole before using his palm to slide dirt over it. As a final touch, the man put a rock on top of the pile.

  Rachel and Peak nodded at one another. It was time to move.

  Breathing heavily, the man started back down the way he had come. He took off his glasses and wiped them with a corner of his shirt. When the fog was clean from the lenses, he looked up and saw Rachel and Peak standing in the trail about twenty feet ahead of him.

  “Wesley Times. Highlands PD. You’re coming with us,” Rachel said, keeping both hands on her lowered pistol.

  Without a word, the man dropped his spade and beelined to the woods, tumbling through a bush and darting deeper into the Appalachian wild.

  Peak grumbled and hurried after him. Rachel followed. Branches reached out to them while roots tried to trip their feet. Last night’s storm had turned the felled leaves soggy. Up ahead, Wesley veered to the left. Rachel ducked under a low-hanging branch and trailed after him. The world around her blurred as she ran. She felt the beginning of blisters on her heels. The ocean of trees around her stretched endlessly. Wesley ran parallel with a tumbling creek, and Rachel ran parallel with Wesley. With the passing trees, it appeared as if he were blinking in and out of existence.

  “Watch out!” Peak shouted and grabbed Rachel. He pulled her back just in time
before she fell off the fourteen-foot drop off.

  The creek fell over the drop-off’s edge and filled a natural pond only about ten feet across. That was where Wesley jumped.

  Taking ahold of his glasses, he landed feet first in the water and swam immediately to solid ground. Grabbing handfuls of dirt and leaves, he pulled himself out of the water and ran, shivering, deeper into the woods.

  Without time to hesitate, Rachel ran to the creek and took the plunge. Gravity slammed her into the ice-cold water. The chill enveloped her. Her body plummeted toward the jagged boulders at the bottom. She stopped herself right before hitting them and kicked her way to the surface. She burst out of the pond and slapped against the dirt edge. The cold seemed to go through her skin like a thousand hooks.

  Soaking wet, Rachel staggered out of the water and continued her run. Water sloshed around in the bottoms of her boots. Her clothes draped on her body like heavy rags. She left her lightweight fall jacket behind. The water damage to her pistol was unfortunate. Her mind was already on the amount of time it would take to disassemble it and clean the parts. As she ran, she realized that she hadn’t heard Peak splash into the water. He was around the drop-off’s edge, looking for a better way down. Find it quickly, Rachel thought as she slid between two bushes. She slashed through a cobweb with her hand.

  Rachel reached another cliff. This time, the twenty-foot drop-off didn’t land in water but in woods. The mountain behind her jutted straight up another seventy feet or so and curved around a bend that had a two-foot-wide rock shelf overlooking the cliff. Seeing Wesley walking on said shelf and hugging the wall, Rachel followed. She slid her back on the rock’s face and shuffled her feet. She kept herself from looking down, knowing the drop was just far enough to get seriously hurt. As Rachel reached the center, Wesley reached the end, where the mountain sloped out again. Crawling on his hands and knees, he scurried up the mountain. Clumps of dirt tumbled down his arms.