All Things Hidden

by Judy Candis

  “No involvement yet, just curious observation. You may have a situation on your hands, and our department wants to be ready.”

  Jael raised a skeptical eyebrow. Talk about the long arm of the law, she thought.

  “We may have a . . . Well, I would certainly call three murders a ‘situation,’ but why are you guys curious about these drug dealers?”

  “It’s not the drug dealers we’re looking into, but rather why they’re being targeted.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Who have you spoken to so far?”

  Jael instantly resented the man’s attitude. The Feds always expected to be in charge, but for now this was still her case. “Am I supposed to report to you or something?”

  “No, but I hoped we could work together. If you allow me to review your reports and tag along on this investigation, I believe our department could profile this perpetrator and speed up the process.”

  Did she see a glimmer of mockery in his eyes? Jael bristled, but she also knew she needed to get to the bottom of these murders and had to be willing to put her professional resentments on the back burner. However, she was not about to hand over everything she had without ensuring she was to have final say.

  She was wondering whether it was laughable to think she could possibly have final say over the FBI when he continued.

  “I understand you had a witness to the third shooting, and even more important, brought in a vagrant from the second shooting at the crack house. I’d like to talk to both of them, if possible.” He leaned slightly forward as Jael realized that his voice was soft and full, a Brooklyn quality.

  “You can, but I’ll be there at each interrogation.”

  “I’d also like to see the crime photos. At your convenience, of course.”

  Jael looked down at the folder she’d brought back with her from the press conference. She shoved it across the desk at the agent.

  “Enjoy yourself while I get myself a cup of coffee.” As she rose, she noticed a smile creep across the agent’s face. She hurried away. This was all she needed—a guy with looks her cousin Rhonda would drool over. Jael moved toward the far corner, where a coffeepot sat with age-old coffee burning away at the bottom of the glass container. She’d forgotten her mug, so she reached for a foam cup. Like she was going to drink some of this burned mud anyway. She just needed to get away from Mr. Fine. Where the heck was Sills when she needed him? Pouring the black slush into the foam cup, she silently implored, God, I don’t need this kind of confusion right now. Can you send him away?

  He was still at her desk when she returned, deep into the pages of the accumulated reports. He looked up as she pulled out her chair to sit.

  “When do you expect a more extensive report? This is good so far, with the accounts, background investigation, coroner’s report and numerous interviews, but it’s got no leads or theories.”

  “No problem. How soon do you want them? I’ve got plenty of theories.”

  Agent Grant leaned back in his seat. “Okay, let’s start over. The resentment is rolling off you like fumes. So please, let me ease your concerns. How about this? Why don’t I back off and you simply let me tag along. If I have any ideas about anything, I bounce them off you before I call back to headquarters. If I get in the way, you just say so. You think you could work with that?”

  Jael studied Agent Eric Grant before answering. Then did so truthfully.

  “You’re right about my feeling hostile. I don’t particularly care to have someone just stepping up and telling me what I need to have and how soon, especially someone I don’t know and have never worked with before. But I also want to capture whoever is doing this. So let’s forget how I feel about your sudden appearance and just take advantage of it. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Grant’s smile was unnerving. “You mentioned if I wanted to talk to your witnesses, you’d have to be there. I’d like to talk to this MAD DADS member, Daniel Foster—whom you smartly didn’t mention at the press conference—and to the derelict who was at the crime scene at the crack house.”

  “No I didn’t. Members of the press are like hounds and will be on the search for the guy, scaring him away. As for Foster and William Walters, I’ll have to make a few calls.” “I can wait.”

  And he did, sitting there as nice as you please, while she dialed the number for the man who’d seen the car and Foster. As she dialed, she studied Agent Grant’s interesting profile.

  Actually, the more she thought about it, the more she realized The Rock really had nothing on this guy. Mr. FBI had it going on in the best way.

  She got Walters’s answering service and left a message. Foster’s number she needed from Watson, but his wife said he wasn’t home and she didn’t know Foster’s number.

  “Daniel Foster of MAD DADS lives on the other side of town. The vagrant, of course, has no known residence. We’ll have to find him on the streets,” she said after hanging up.

  “If you have the time, my rental’s outside.”

  “We’ll take my car.”

  Together they rose and moved toward the double doors. As Grant reached in front of her to push open the glass door, his left arm accidentally brushed against her. Jael quickly inhaled, then squared her shoulders. Lord, this is not funny.

  Chapter

  16

  Jael stole frequent peeks at her passenger in his trademark FBI dark shades as he gazed out the window taking in the view. There was no denying it: The man sitting ramrod-straight beside her was gorgeous.

  Reluctantly, pulling her eyes away before she was caught, her gaze fell on the hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Shoot, my nails look so bad. And so does my hair. I should have made an appointment at Nubian Knots with LaTosha, like Rhonda suggested two weeks ago. My limp hair is waaayy overdue. She added this thought as she glanced into the rearview mirror before making a left turn: And why in the world did I pick this drab outfit instead of . . .

  Heeeyyy, Jael silently shushed herself. Why was she suddenly so concerned about how she looked? Keep your mind on business, girl.

  Jael cleared her throat. “So, you’re here simply to do a profile?”

  “As you said earlier, the suspect is possibly a vigilante.” Grant answered without turning in her direction, which Jael didn’t mind at all, since it gave her the opportunity to absorb his striking profile as if she were simply being attentive.

  “Regardless of his initial motives,” he continued, “vigilantes tend to view their killings as a mission, feeling justified in what they’re doing. I hope you know you’re dealing with the irrational here.”

  The statement brought things back into perspective. Jael finally pulled her gaze away and twisted her mouth. Like this was news? Did they need someone from the FBI to tell them this tidbit of priceless information?

  The downtown district gradually transformed into residential dwellings with well-kept lawns and high, decorative privacy fences. Overhead the sun flickered fingers of rays through the trees, dropping light glints of yellow and gold on their leaves. As her squad car rolled smoothly down Amberwood Drive heading toward Willow Road, a predominately white section of town with only a handful of blacks, branches waved gently on a soft breeze along both sides of the street. Since it wasn’t yet 5 P.M., most of the residents were probably still at work and only a few cars were on the road.

  Jael pressed the lever at her elbow and cracked her window. Whatever the brand of cologne this man was wearing, it was making her light-headed. She felt like a woman who’d never been exposed to the allure of an ap-pealing man before. Her mind was wandering, wondering how long it had been since she’d felt attraction for anyone. What had he just said? Something about serial killers being dangerous? How stupid. And was he waiting for an answer? She gave him the first retort that came to mind, something she used often with Ramon when he thought he was one up on her.

  “I may be crazy, but I’m not stuck on stupid.” She quickly realized this was possibly the wrong answer, and added,
“As a homicide detective, I have some knowledge about killers, you know.”

  The hardy laugh exploding from Grant’s throat sounded good, real good. It also gave her a reason to look directly at him again. The first thing she noticed was how the lines had softened around his mouth from the outburst. She was unaware that her own expression had softened as well.

  “No one would ever put you in the category of stupid,” he said.

  Virgil came to mind, and she quickly dismissed any thoughts of him. “Well, just making sure you know I’m no slouch.” She gave him her first real smile. He smiled back.

  “You can rest assured your talents and abilities have been well noted. Captain Slater didn’t have to give me a detailed list of all your service awards to impress me. Nor mention that you’re the pride of the force and the possible next lieutenant.”

  Jael was genuinely surprised. Captain Slater bragging on her? No way, not the bulldog. She was at a loss for words.

  Silence filled the car for a moment. Grant was the first to speak.

  “Jael. That’s a rare name.” Without looking, Jael could feel the intensity of his sudden stare. “From the Bible, isn’t it?”

  Jael was surprised. Usually people mispronounced it, calling her Jail instead of Jay-el. And for many, it was intentional. Few knew its real meaning or that it came from the scriptures.

  “Yes, from the Book of Judges, 4:17-23. My mom said she was so excited to discover this black woman in the Bible named Jael she had to christen one of her children with it. Supposedly, Jael was a direct descendant of Moses’ father-in-law and helped the Israelites in battle by nailing their enemy king’s head to the ground.” Jael looked at her passenger with genuine curiosity. “You acquainted with the word of God?”

  “Can’t say I’m an avid follower, but I was brought up in the Catholic Church. Took up theology in college for a while, though, before moving off into forensic psychology. I still do a little studying on my own.”

  Jael respected any spiritual admittance on a man’s part, though she had many questions about the doctrine of the Catholic religion. It was refreshing to meet a man who admitted to studying the Word, even though he was not active in any church.

  “You don’t look like a man who would read the Book on his own, much less study.”

  “In my field it pays to understand the deeper motives of the human species and what makes their minds tick. I find man’s nature has not changed much, if at all, from the days of Noah or Adam. Without getting into a heady debate, this kind of work needs a solid foundation to keep one’s head above the mire.”

  “Tell me about it. I would have thrown in the towel long ago if not for the grace of God. His divine strength has been my strength.”

  “Well, you’re certainly going to need His guidance on this one.”

  Jael was completely dumbfounded. How likely was she to meet a guy intellectually endowed, good-looking and with a sense of the need for spiritual guidance. She’d better not get her hopes up, though, she thought. His kind were always married off.

  “Does your wife study the Word too?” No I didn’t, she thought in horror.

  “In the beginning she did, but by the time we divorced a few years ago she’d ‘expanded her mind’ to an even higher consciousness than the Bible, like yoga or something to that extent, and there was very little we saw eye-to-eye on after that.”

  He was still staring at her, but before she could make an intelligent remark, they’d arrived at their destination. She wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or not.

  Two cars were parked out in front of the MAD DADS member’s home. Jael parked behind the second, and as she exited she and Grant stared up at the small frame house. It could certainly have used a new coat of paint, but otherwise boasted of a well-kept surrounding with a manicured lawn and terra-cotta potted plants on each side of the front steps.

  Together they walked to the front porch, and before they reached the heavy emerald-green door the sound of muffled arguing could be heard from inside. Jael glanced at Grant, then rang the bell. The arguing instantly stopped.

  When the door opened, a ragged-looking Daniel Foster stood before them. Daniel was small in stature, but broad-chested and thick around the waistline. His thinning, jet-black hair sat upon a large head with a jutting jaw, which right now looked as if it hadn’t been shaved in a few days. Before Jael could say a word, he attacked with his own verbal demands.

  “For once the police are finally on time. Come inside and remove this old fool from my home.”

  Jael peeked inside as Harold Watson came up to the door behind Foster and yanked it completely open, hitting it against the back wall with a loud thud.

  “Yes, do come in, and tell this ignoramus that leaving threats at people’s homes can land his butt behind bars!”

  Jael gave Grant a rather pensive look, and together they stepped inside the house.

  She took the lead. “Mr. Foster, we’re here on a completely different matter, but if you did leave the note, this might be a good time to tell us why.”

  Daniel tossed his hand in Harold’s direction. “I’ve told this fool it wasn’t me.”

  “In that case, we have other questions we need to ask,” Jael said. “If you’d like Mr. Watson to leave, we can—”

  “No, let the fool stay and learn of my innocence. I haven’t done anything I’m ashamed of.”

  Jael decided to pull a little bit of authority control and get right to the point. “Mr. Foster, did you put a hit out on your son?” Neither Foster nor Watson seemed surprised by the question, only that she knew. “Well?”

  “Well what?” Foster said, moving away from the door and rubbing his hands on the side of his pants. Jael and Grant stepped completely into the cozy living room as Harold loudly closed the door behind them. “That was just a farce, a way to get a message into my son’s thick skull.” He turned back toward them. “Thought that would scare him enough to stay away from my home, give me and my wife a little peace. All that poison out there is killing our young boys. And sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you do for them or how hard you try to give them the best of everything, they still fall under the spell of that white stuff. I tell you, that powder, or rocks, or crack or whatever the heck they call that stuff, came straight from hell. It’s the devil’s own black male exterminator. A young black man doesn’t have a chance against that evil.”

  An image of Ramon leaped into Jael’s mind, and she silently pleaded the Blood of Jesus over her son for protection for the umpteenth time.

  “Mr. Foster, do you have any knowledge about these recent murders, or who might be involved in any way?” she asked.

  “I . . . No.” He looked away.

  “Mr. Foster, lives are at stake! If you know anything, you have to tell us.”

  “I believe I talk straight English. I said no.”

  “Mr. Foster, what about your son?” Grant asked. “If the hit was a farce, as you say, who did you contact to play it out and why are you protecting them?”

  Jael turned to Grant, surprised and baffled by the question.

  “I’m not protecting anyone but my family, so please leave my son out of this. And if you look for him, you’ll find he’s no longer around—out of town from what I last heard. Now get out of my house, unless you intend to arrest me.”

  “Dan, what the heck are you talking about?” Harold stepped forward, his hands held out and his palms up in bewilderment. “What’s going on?”

  “All of you, out of my house now!”

  Harold helplessly looked back and forth between her and Grant. “Well, what about the note he left?”

  In reply, Jael pulled a card from her handbag. “Mr. Foster, please call me if you want to talk, about anything, and I promise to give you complete anonymity. And whatever you’re afraid of, you’ll have the police department’s protection.”

  “Please just leave, all of you.” Daniel marched to the front door and held it open.

  With a nod, Grant moved
toward the door and waited for her. Jael took a deep breath, then placed her card on the cocktail table and followed him.

  Harold stood huffing, but had yet to move toward the open door. “I refuse to allow this madman to . . .”

  Jael didn’t hear the end of his statement as Grant gently took her arm and led her back to the squad car.

  “What was that all about?” she asked before his door was even shut.

  “I strongly believe you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Wait a minute. How can you come here and say—” “There are several things here that are similar to what I’ve been working on in Cleveland. From my research and background knowledge, you’re playing a completely different ball game than what you know. With that in mind, Daniel Foster’s involvement is purely coincidental.”

  Jael glanced out the window as she drove the squad car steadily down the quiet street out of Foster’s neighborhood and into a less cared for area.

  “You’ve been hinting since I met you that these are not simply vigilante murders. Spill it now, because I’m getting tired of this word game.”

  “That’s fair. As lead detective you should know that you’re looking for—”

  “There’s our man now,” Jael abruptly interrupted, pointing out the window and excited that the search for her first witness was just hanging around as if waiting for her.

  Leaning against a colorful newspaper stand in front of a small, aged storefront shopping center was Kenneth Peoples, the derelict they’d found at the back of the crack house. His attention seemed totally consumed by a sticky pastry he was stuffing into his mouth.

  “We’d better park here before he recognizes the car. He can be very slippery,” Jael volunteered as she parked at the corner in front of an old gas station whose pumps had long ago been removed. Before she could turn off the engine, Grant had swiftly doffed his jacket, tossed it on the backseat and jumped from the car. Jael had a moment to admire his sculptured body and quickly asked for forgiveness for the thought that followed. This is not going to work, she admitted to herself. She had a serious case on her hands, and Lord, she couldn’t afford to be battling with sudden demons of desire at the same time. Then another thought followed: Wasn’t this exactly how things worked, the adversary fighting against you from all sides, looking for your vulnerable spots?