by J. M. LeDuc
At that moment, Gabriel faded from view and the clouds parted. The sun shined a fierce light, illuminating Brent and practically blinding the girls.
Lucille and Chloe then heard a voice coming from the heavens. “Behold, My chosen. A man in whom I am well-pleased, and in whom I entrust the Sword of Truth.”
They saw Brent’s lips move and his arms open towards the light. He then bowed his head. Thunder boomed and lightning struck the beach so close to where they stood that they covered their faces in fear.
When they again opened their eyes, everything was as it had been when they first arrived. The skies were blue, the seas were calm and a gentle breeze blew off the ocean.
Brent remained kneeling, arms outstretched towards heaven.
Chloe, frightened and apprehensive, walked toward him, Lucille close behind. They stopped about five feet behind him and heard him pray.
“Abba Father, thank you for bringing my mother back to me and for the chance to serve. I will do all that I can to see that Satan is unsuccessful in his bidding. I am forever humbled to be chosen. In Christ’s Name, I pray. Amen.”
He rose and turned to face the two most important people in his life. Chloe could no longer control herself. Before Brent said a word, she ran into his arms and hugged him as hard as she could. Emotion swelled within and poured out from her.
Brent kissed her forehead and whispered, “Everything is all right.”
“I, I, I was so sca-scared,” she cried. “I didn’t know what was happ-happening. When that sword went through you, I…”
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m fine.”
Brent motioned Lucille closer and together they calmed Chloe. “What do you say we get out of here?” he said.
She pulled him into her, saying, “After what I just went through, you don’t think that little peck on the head is going to be enough, do you?” She reached up, wove her hands through his hair and kissed him passionately.
“Hey, you two, did you forget MOM is here?”
Brent pulled Lucille into their embrace and whispered, “I love you, mom.”
CHAPTER 33
Brent called Maddie to ask that she and Joan meet them at The Loft for lunch. As they usually did, they climbed the back stairs and entered the third floor kitchen. Bennie turned when he heard the squeaky door.
“Hey, look who it is!” he said, greeting them with a smile. “My friends who just order food and leave.”
Brent kissed Bennie on both cheeks. “Sorry, my old friend, things have been pretty crazy lately. How are you?”
“I’m a-fine. Now, get outta my way so I can kiss the pretty ladies.”
“You can take the Italian out of Italy but you can’t take Italy out of the Italian,” Brent mused, as he walked into the dining area.
Bennie joined the threesome at their table while they waited for Maddie and Joan to arrive.
“Does this crazy busy have anything to do with what has been on the news all morning?”
“What’s been on the news, Bennie?” Chloe asked.
Before he could answer, they heard Maddie’s heels click across the hardwood floor. “The Butcher, that’s what,” she said. “The media somehow found out about the escape and as usual, have sensationalized it to the point where the public is panic-stricken. President Dupree called, freaking out because he hasn’t been able to get hold of you, Brent and he thought something may have happened to Charlotte.”
“I saw an email just before we left the office that the president was calling an emergency news conference at 3:00 p.m. in an effort to diffuse the situation,” Joan said.
“Email the president back, Joan and tell him I’ll call and debrief him on the situation by way of sat phone at two,” Maddie said.
“Maybe I should do that,” Brent said.
“Not unless you’re ready to tell him his daughter is taking a crash course in Phantom Squad 101.”
“Good point.”
“I’ll just tell him the same thing I told him this morning when he called, ranting and raving,” Maddie said.
“Which was?” Brent asked.
“That you are deep undercover and can’t be reached, and as soon as you’re able, you’ll call him with an update. I also told him Charlotte is safe, but refuses to talk to him. From what Joan has told me, that’s pretty much the truth anyway. Now, tell me what’s been going on with the three of you since our meeting this morning.”
“Let’s order lunch and then I’ll explain everything,” Brent said, waving for the waitress.
The five dug into the antipasto Bennie sent over when they heard a CNN anchor announce a special bulletin. He said the public was so over-wrought with fear that they were calling the ‘Omega Butcher’ tip-line and reporting anyone who looked unfamiliar to them. Authorities had to answer all the calls, no matter how crazy they seemed. A misuse of manpower was crippling their ability to lead a proper investigation.
“If we don’t do something soon,” Maddie said, “it’s going to be another War of the Worlds. Tell us what happened this morning and then I’ll call the President.”
“After you left the conference room,” Brent began, clutching Lucille’s hand, “I found out, for certain, that Lucille is my mother.”
“You finally told him! Oh, I’m so happy for both of you.”
“Wait a minute, you already knew? Lucille, um, Mom, you told Maddie before you told me?”
“Of course not,” Maddie rushed to answer. “I found out by snooping through your Top Secret Pentagon dossier last year. You know, when I found out who you really were, Captain. Well, then you were a captain. Things have obviously changed since then, haven’t they Colonel.”
“I’ve seen that file. It doesn’t mention the names of my parents, so how…”
“DNA. It gives your DNA in case your remains ever have to be identified. Not long before I discovered it, I’d run both Joseph’s and Lucille’s for their files. I saw the same markers in yours I’d seen in Lucille’s.”
“Hmph…and you were able to keep it a secret for an entire year?”
“I am a woman, aren’t I?”
“Exactly my point,” Brent threw back sarcastically.
“Shut up.” Maddie punched Brent in the arm. “Back to the point. When I brought it up to Lucille, she told me that God would let her know when the time was right to tell you. How could I argue with that?”
Brent thought about his own conversation with God that very morning. “You can’t.”
With the breaking news not so breaking after all, Brent went into detail about his experience at the beach and what Gabriel had told him.
“Do you mean to say that what happened to you this morning at the beach was the first of three steps you have to go through before you can face Jonas?”
“That’s what the angel said. But remember, Chloe, I won’t be facing Jonas. I’ll be up against Satan.”
“I’m so confused. I just don’t get this,” Chloe said, shaking her head.
“Neither do I…yet,” Brent said. “That’s why I have to go to Coral Cove and find Father Jessup. From what Cardinal Bullini said, and from what I could gather from Gabriel, he holds the key to the second step.”
He told Maddie and Joan goodbye, then he got up to leave. He walked over to say goodbye to Bennie, then he joined Lucille and Chloe who were standing at the door. “I have to go alone this time,” Brent said.
“We know,” Lucille said. “We just wanted to say goodbye.”
“When will you be back?” Chloe asked.
“Before dark. I’ll meet you back at headquarters.” He kissed Chloe and told her to stay out of sight until he saw her later. He hadn’t wanted to tell her that he was afraid the Butcher might already be on his way to Florida. He didn’t want to give Jonas the opening to make good on his threat of ‘saying hello to Chloe himself.’
>
“Call me when you get to Coral Cove. I don’t want to be any more worried than I am already,” Chloe said.
“Hey,” his mom said as he opened the door. “You promise to be back by dinner?”
“Yes, Mom,” he answered.
“Good. And remember—a man never breaks his promise.”
As Brent walked down the stairs, he heard those words over and over in his head.
It was that phrase that tipped him off that she was his mother. She had said it to him when he was no more than two years old—the only remembrance he had of his earliest years.
CHAPTER 34
In Boston, Seven headed straight for Jonas McFarland’s childhood home. It surprised him that it had remained unoccupied since Aunt Peg’s death in 1999.
To get a general feel for the place, he walked around inside the three-story brownstone, telling himself not to read anything into his initial findings. He’d taught the squad the same thing—to see the big picture before dissecting it into its parts.
For this part of the process, Seven didn’t want the CSI team in the house. He’d sent them to the Hall of Records to get a copy of Aunt Peg’s death certificate. Though he hadn’t expected to find anything significant in the common areas of the house, he knew better than to assume. He walked from room to room, trying to recall everything the team had discovered from Dr. Osgood’s notes about Jonas’ childhood.
Keeping in mind that Elizabeth Hollingsworth was insanely strict about time and cleanliness, Seven paid special attention to furniture placement and the accent pieces on the coffee table and on the fireplace mantle.
He picked up on something he thought was very peculiar. There were figurines throughout the house. They were all female, all faced toward the walls and on closer inspection, none had mouths. He couldn’t be sure why that detail was significant, but he had an eerie feeling he would know by the end of his visit.
Seven made his rounds, from great room to the kitchen to the dining room and finally back to the foyer. As he made his last notation, the CSI agents arrived, report in hand.
“Come on, let’s grab a late lunch. We can review our findings before we comb through this place,” Seven told the men.
They left, found a lunch spot and while they waited for their food to be delivered, discussed the information contained on the death certificate.
“It states the official cause of death was accidental,” Dr. Crane said. “The coroner’s report notes that Aunt Peg tripped over a shoe she’d left by the basement steps, causing her to fall down the cellar stairs. Her neck snapped when she hit the cement floor.”
“I’m having a hard time buying into that one,” Seven remarked.
“Why’s that?” the forensics expert asked.
“Because, Jim, our intelligence tells us that Jonas killed at least five people since he escaped from prison. All of their necks were snapped like a twig.” Seven shook his head. “No, there’s more here than meets the eye. Did you guys get a chance to hunt down the obituary like I asked?”
“Yeah, we sure did,” Kevin, the CSI tech answered. “But I think there was a misprint.”
“Why? What did it say?”
“It says, and I quote, ‘Elizabeth Hollingsworth died an accidental death on August 8, 1999. She is survived by her only living relative, her niece Liz.’”
Seven practically spit his coffee across the table. “Take your food to go boys, we need to get back to the house.”
“What’s the rush?” the tech asked.
“Now that I know what I’m looking for, I’m anxious to get back. Doc, you come with me. Kevin, do some more fishin’. Go to police headquarters and ask about any missing college students, girls, during the years 1986 to 1998.”
“You mentioned that you know what to look for at the house. Want to clue me in?” Dr. Crane asked.
“Proof that Liz is Jonas.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll explain on the way back.”
Kevin grabbed a cab and headed for police headquarters. Seven and Dr. Crane headed for the house.
“So what is it we’re looking for?” Dr. Crane asked as he opened the front door.
“According to everything we know about Jonas and his childhood, his aunt was a spinster, never married, no children. She only agreed to take Jonas in after his mother died when she found out the state would pay her to do so. Jonas’ mother was Elizabeth Hollingsworth’s only sibling.
“We also know his aunt was a sadistic freak who was obsessive-compulsive when it came to cleanliness and punctuality. She tortured Jonas and the girls who lived with her when they left any kind of mess, or if they were ever late.
“Now, does that sound like the type of woman who would have left her shoes at the top of the cellar stairs?” Seven asked, peering down the stairwell. “Don’t answer. It’s rhetorical. She was pushed or…Jonas finally snapped, no pun intended, after enduring more abuse than he could handle. Then, before he called 911, he placed her at the bottom of the stairs.”
Heading to the top floor, Seven added, “Everything in this house feels wrong.”
“Meaning?” Dr. Crane asked.
“Evil.”
“I thought maybe it was just me, I’m glad you sense it too.”
Silence rose thick as fog and their motions became guarded.
Standing at the top of the landing, they viewed the layout. At the left of the staircase they found two small bedrooms separated by a bathroom. On the right was the master bedroom and bath.
“Let’s take the smaller rooms first,” Seven said.
Both rooms were identical: stark white, no furniture except for a twin bed, a dresser and a nightstand. The furnishings were as white as the floor and walls, and there was no clutter. Sterile.
In the bedroom which was probably inhabited by the tenant, the closet was empty.
After the search, Dr. Crane remarked, “There is no evidence that anyone ever stayed in this room. Not one stitch of clothing, not even a hair on the floor. I’ve got to tell you that’s really weird. In all the years I’ve spent in forensics, there is always something left behind.” He shook his head.
In the second bedroom closet, they found several dresses and pairs of shoes, but nothing else.
“I think we just found proof of one of your theories,” the doctor said.
“What did you find?”
“Take a look.”
He pulled one of the dresser drawers open to reveal men’s underclothes.
“Interesting combination, don’t you think?”
“Very,” Seven said, his eyebrows arched. He wore a closed mouth, crooked smile. The pieces of a puzzle, almost eight years in the making, were starting to come together.
The bathroom dividing the rooms was precisely as they’d found the bedrooms, white and spotless.
A king-sized, four-poster bed and a large armoire furnished the master bedroom suite. The sitting area consisted of a love seat and a floor-to-ceiling mirror mounted on a tract which was bolted to the floor and ceiling. Bed linens were spotlessly clean, but the mattress was stained with splotches of blood.
“Help me pull this mattress off the bed, Doc.”
Dr. Crane sprayed reactant on the platform holding the mattress. “There is blood residue all over this platform,” he said.
He inspected the area closer and found what appeared to be scrape marks at the base of the four bed posts, where they were joined to the wooden platform.
“Check this out, Seven. What do you make of it?”
“I have seen marks like those before. Left by handcuffs scraping against wood.”
“And…where did you see that?”
Seven thought about a previous Phantom Squad mission. Shook his head in disgust. “It’s not relevant, but I’m sure they looked the same. Photograph the platform and the scrape marks. W
e need samples of the blood from the mattress and the platform for a possible DNA match. Let’s keep looking.”
The armoire revealed Peg’s choice of clothing to be unusual. Every blouse, skirt and dress was black. Seductive. Not the type a religious zealot would wear.
The closet held much of the same black clothing, with the exception of three dresses in the back. Those were white, high-collared, ankle length and boxy in shape.
“This is more like something you’d expect her to wear,” Seven said.
“Judging from her clothing, it’s pretty clear she led a dual life,” the doc said. “It’s been my experience that these types of people keep pictures of themselves ‘dressed up,’ if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t be surprised to find photos hidden somewhere in the house.”
“Where would you think a logical hiding place might be?”
Dr. Crane scratched his head. “Well, she wouldn’t have intended for anyone else to see them, so they would be tucked away somewhere private, in a place only she would have access to, and where she could view them when she was alone.”
“This seems to be the only room she had sole access to. They should be here somewhere,” Seven said rechecking the armoire.
For the next fifteen minutes, the two men scoured the room but found nothing out of the ordinary. All the while, Seven’s attention repeatedly returned to the large mirror in the sitting area.
“Every mirror of that size I’ve ever seen has been anchored to a wall. I find it strange that this one was installed on tracts.”
“I didn’t know you were into home decorating,” Dr. Crane said sarcastically.
“Yeah, well, Colonel Venturi is kind of an antique freak. Hang around him long enough, it rubs off.” Seven pushed against the edge of the mirror but it wouldn’t budge.
“Help me move this thing, will ya, doc?”
Together, they pushed. Still it wouldn’t move. Dr. Crane grunted as he pushed hard.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Why would there be tracts, if this thing can’t slide?”
“Doc, you’re a genius.”
“I am? What did I say?”