by Freya Barker
“How do you know he’s a good man?” I counter weakly, lifting my head slowly.
“A year, Kenny? He’s been waiting for an opportunity for a year?” As if that is answer enough, she gets up, collects the plates and disappears into the kitchen.
Neil leans over, places his hand under my ponytail on my neck and whispers in my ear, “I think I like your mother.”
CHAPTER TEN
Neil
“Any news on the road closure?”
I left Kendra and her mom on the back patio. We’d gone out there to enjoy the warm morning sun with a fresh coffee, where I was subjected to more intense questioning from Elsa. Exactly what kind of work do I do? Do I have family? How often do I see them? I had no problem answering her about my job and the company I work for. The family questions were a bit more challenging, since I grew up the single child of Mormon parents. A restrictive household where personal exploration had been virtually impossible when I was younger. One of the reasons I willingly enlisted and still a reason why other than the occasional phone call, I don’t see my parents. They don’t approve of my chosen life. Kendra was quiet, but intently listening. When Elsa started asking questions about my years in the military, though, I evaded the inquiries. Kendra appeared to pick up on my reluctance and steered the conversation in a different direction, giving me an opportunity to excuse myself. I had a stack of files to sort through and some phone calls to make. I’d fallen asleep on the couch last night. It’s been a while since I’ve slept more soundly. Well rested and with my head clear, I need to get going on that list of names, but first I should touch base with the team.
First person to call is Malachi, who is likely still stuck on the other side of the road closure. He and his wife Kim live in a small house just on the north side of Cortez, with phenomenal views of the mesa. He answers on the first ring.
“Water is slow to go down from what I hear. Drew says it’s too soon for the road crews to go in. Looks like part of the road is actually washed away, so this is not going to be a quick clean up. Even if the water goes down over the next twenty-four hours, it will take time to make the necessary repairs.” Drew Carmel is Montezuma County’s sheriff, and we’ve worked with him on many cases over the years. Doesn’t surprise me Mal got his information from him, since Drew makes sure he keeps his finger on the pulse.
“Looks like we’re stuck here. I bet you’re glad you managed to get home just in time.”
“Sure am. And how are things going over there?” I can hear the smile in his voice. Bastard, bailing on me last night. “Nice visit with Kendra’s mom?”
“You owe me,” I warn him. “Long story short, she ended up in my apartment when we discovered the roads were closed. Arlene dropped her back here early this morning.”
“I see.” There was a heavy implication in those two words.
“Not that it’s any of your business but Kendra wasn’t feeling well, so I crashed on the couch,” I justify, mildly irritated that I even needed to. “I guess Elsa will be staying here now.” I’m determined to get this call back to business, so I shift topics. “I may have found something last night I’m looking into further today. I’m e-mailing you a file with some of my notes. If you could take a look at it, it’d be great if I could bounce some things off you later.”
“No problem,” he says, but the sound of a baby crying almost drowns him out. I hear some rustling and a brief muted conversation before he comes back on the line. “Sorry about that. Asher is grumpy this morning. He doesn’t like his mom taking even five minutes for herself. Demanding already at only five weeks old,” he sighs dramatically, making me chuckle. He’s full of shit. He dotes on his son, and I have to admit, the little critter is kind of cute. “Look,” he says in a more serious tone. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I hear anything about the road and we’ll hook up, whether over the phone or in person.”
“Sounds good. Give that delicious wife of yours a kiss for me.” I hear Mal’s colorful word choices for me as I hang up the phone, laughing.
Next is Gus and he tells me he hasn’t heard anything from Gomez yet. We briefly discuss the case and he tells me to keep digging. He’ll be giving Damian a call this morning to see what the status is on Cayman. He should’ve arrived last night in Gallup, but we don’t know whether he’s had a chance to interview Cayman yet. In the meantime, I’ll send an e-mail to Jasper Greene. Give him a head’s up on the odd names. Perhaps he’s noticed something similar in the out of state cases he’s working on.
A quick peek out the kitchen window shows the two women talking. Perfect time for me to grab a quick shower.
Kendra
“You shouldn’t encourage him,” I look at my Mom after watching Neil’s back disappear inside.
“Didn’t raise you to be a fool, honey,” Mom immediately fires back.
“I just don’t think it’s the smart thing to do; getting involved with him. Whatever shine he thinks he sees on me now will wear off before long and then where am I?” I turn to her, grabbing her hand. “Tell me it didn’t hurt each time one of your boyfriends left you.”
I couldn’t be more surprised when Mom throws her head back and laughs heartily. When she turns her eyes on me, they dance with a hint of glee. “Oh, my sweet girl. Wherever did you get that idea? I wasn’t left by anyone. I was doing all the leaving.” Seeing the confusion on my face, she goes on to explain. “My choice. Each and every one of them were my choice to get involved with, just as it was my choice to leave them behind. I prefer no complications. When your Dad passed away, I wasn’t looking for anything more complicated than a light-hearted fling. I had two girls to raise and had my hands full with complications. I like my life the way it is. I’m free of responsibilities now and simply don’t feel like taking any new ones on. Being alone suits me.” She brings up her hand to cup my face. “But honey, I am sorry if my choices have made you uncomfortable. And it would be an absolute tragedy to let my choices dictate your life.”
I think this may well be the first time Mom and I have had a conversation like this. As adults. We sit silently for a while, each with our own thoughts. Mine revolve mainly around how openly I view the world, but how incredibly narrow my mind becomes when it concerns me. I have no problem with people stepping out of their box, but I feel more secure inside mine. I’m avoiding risk. And isn’t that exactly what opening your heart to someone is? A huge risk? Age has nothing to do with that ... but fear does.
“I’m thinking of getting a dog.”
Mom turns to me, surprised. “A dog? Why would you want a dog? Dogs are work. They tie you down.”
It’s true—they do. Somehow that knowledge doesn’t make the idea any less attractive. I’m not exactly sure what precipitated that train of thought, but an idea popped into my head just seconds ago. This house, this yard, it needs a dog. It’d be nice to have a four-legged companion on my hikes.
I stand up to go inside. “Come on,” I tell Mom. “Let’s find out where the closest shelter is.” She just shakes her head, but she doesn’t quite manage to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
“A damn dog,” she grumbles under her breath as she pushes out of the chair and follows me inside.
Time to step out of that box.
-
“Look at this guy! He’s so cute.” I point at the picture of the large black mutt. “It says he’s a retired working dog. What does that even mean?” Mom is not paying much attention anymore. She lost interest when I stopped looking at the pint-sized poodles she was pointing out, more interested in a larger dog. One I could envision along side me for a day-long hike. The little fluffy creatures Mom pulls up don’t exactly seem the hardy type.
I look up to see her rifling through the papers Neil left on the dining room table. “Mom! Don’t touch his stuff.” When we came in Neil wasn’t in sight, but I could hear the water in the bathroom running. That is up until a couple of minutes ago when the shower turned off. “Mom, that’s confidential,” I try one last time wi
thout avail. She doesn’t seem to hear me, doesn’t even look up. Her eyebrows are drawn together as she intently studies his files. I set my laptop down on the coffee table, ready to physically take those papers from her when the sound of steps on the stairs announce Neil.
“Archangels,” she says before I have a chance to warn her. “All of them. They’re archangels.”
“What did you say?” Neil’s voice booms from the doorway and his legs eat up the distance to the table, where he takes the note Mom hands him.
“Those names you jotted down—Sariel, Gabriel, Uriel, Remiel—they’re all archangels. And that’s not all. You missed a few.” Mom picks up another piece of paper and points at it. “Look, there are more: Raguel and Mikhael. Six of the seven archangels.”
Neil takes the papers from her hands and lays them down on the table. “Son of a bitch,” he curses. “I couldn’t quite put my finger on it before.” Suddenly he turns to Mom and gives her a resounding kiss on the cheek. “Elsa? You are a treasure.”
Her face lights up with the compliment.
Neil
Son of a bitch.
Archangels. Don’t know why I didn’t put that together right away.
I boot up my laptop and pump in the names Elsa spotted. Six of the seven archangels. Messengers of God. Angels of mercy. Jesus—the wings. Each of the four confirmed victims had wings carved into their back. I pick up my phone; it’s faster than waiting for e-mail.
“Jasper Greene, please,” I say when a woman answers the phone at the Durango field office.
“Greene.”
“Jasper. It’s Neil. Neil James with GFI. Did you get my e-mail?”
“I did and I was just about to send you one back. I have some of those same names appearing. Uriel and Remiel are names on two of the New Mexico cases and then I have Sariel, Gabriel and Remiel again in the Utah files.”
“There are more cases out there,” I say, the pieces slowly starting to come together. “These are names of archangels. There are seven in total.” I give him the seven names. “All of the six women here were approached at some point by someone who used the name of an archangel as their profile handle. Where is the seventh? Maybe he hasn’t had a chance to grab her yet. What if he’s going down a list? Seven victims in each of the areas he’s been active in?”
“Motherfucker,” Jasper swears under his breath. “That would potentially make twenty-one victims. But why?”
“Another thing. The carvings on the backs of the victims, were any pictures taken at autopsy?”
“Wings,” he says softly, the connections probably snapping together as fast as they had for me. “I’ll get the coroner’s office to send you copies.” He’s turned all business now. “I’m also going to start digging through the known dating sites for more of those angel names.”
“Any word from Agent Gomez?”
“He’s just left for his interview with Cayman. I’ll try to get word to him. Let him know to see how Cayman reacts to these names. As soon as I know something I’ll let you know.”
I’m glad to note the FBI agent’s mind is running along similar tracks as my own.
I’ve barely hung up with Greene when a steaming mug of coffee appears on the table beside me and a cool, soft hand on my neck has me turn my head.
“Thought you could use some,” Kendra says with a soft smile on her face looking down at me. I slip my arm around her waist and note that instead of pulling away, she leans her hips into me.
“I’m sorry I’m preoccupied,” I tell her. “But your mother may well have provided the break we needed.”
“I’m glad,” she says. “I didn’t want to interrupt earlier, but did you ever check Lars Cayman’s profile? He was first known to me as Raphael.”
My hand on her hip flexes. The seventh archangel. He had Kendra pegged as his next victim.
Son of a fucking bitch.
With a tug, I pull Kendra down on my lap and I take her worried face in my hands. “He won’t get near you. He’s being held for questioning and I’ll make sure they don’t let him go.”
“Okay,” she replies.
I lean in and softly kiss her lips. “I promise,” I mumble against her mouth.
“Okay,” she says again. “I’m getting a dog.”
It takes me a minute to switch tracks with her. “Sorry? A dog?” She nods her head.
“Yes, as soon as the road is passable, I’m taking Mom to the shelter in Cortez. I want a dog.”
With Cayman still safely held at the Gallup police station, there’s no reason she can’t do whatever she wants. “Okay, baby. You get yourself a dog. But tell me, what brought this on?” I’m pleased when she leans into my body a little farther.
“I was talking about it earlier with Mom. I like the idea of having a companion. Someone to come home to and go for walks with. Plus, this house seems perfect for a dog.”
It’s on my lips to tell her I’d be happy to walk anywhere with her, or be her companion. That I happen to love this house where I’ve spent quite a bit of time over the years. But I hold my tongue. I don’t even tell her that the timing may not be the best to go out and get a pet.
“I just want something normal today,” she admits, and I can understand that.
-
It’s a little after one when Mal calls again. Kendra and her mom are on the patio, eating lunch. Elsa made sandwiches and brought me a stack before they headed outside. It’s a gorgeous day. Too bad I’m spending it inside.
Mal tells me he looked at the names and started making notes on the Cora Jennings file.
“What have you got?” I ask him.
“I think Alan Cymars, the guy Cora was e-mailing with, is the same guy as this Sariel profile. Sariel’s messages stopped when Alan Cymars’s e-mails started. And the tone is very similar.”
“Okay. I think we may need a few more eyes on this. I’m calling Gus.”
Gus tells me to meet him in the GFI offices in half an hour. He proposes a conference call set up for those who can’t make it into the office, and maybe Damian, if he is able to. He’s going to contact the rest of the team and leaves it to me to call Mal and Jasper with a heads up.
I’m just sorting my notes and packing up my computer when Kendra and her mom come inside. I look up to find Kendra leaning against the doorway, watching me, while in the background I can hear Elsa running water in the kitchen.
“Have you heard anything about the roads?” she asks.
“Nothing good,” I tell her, seeing disappointment settle on her face. “Mal says the floodwaters did some damage to the asphalt and they have to wait for them to recede before they can fix it. Looks like your mom will be here at least another night.”
“Oh,” she says softly, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth and making me think of other things I’d like her to be doing with that mouth. When I lift my eyes, I see a little of the heat I’m feeling smoldering in hers. She’s already moving toward me when I reach her and bend my head to lick at her mouth. She tastes of fresh air and a hint of sunshine as she opens to let me in. All too soon, I hear a throat clearing. I lift my head to find a smiling Elsa standing behind her daughter.
“Sorry to disturb,” she says. “I was just curious about the roads. If they’re still closed, I’ll have to call my work.”
I reluctantly let Kendra go, as she repeats to her mother what I just told her while I finish packing my things.
“Where are you going?” Elsa has spoken, but both women are looking at me expectantly.
“I have to go into the office,” I answer Elsa, but my eyes are on Kendra. I don’t think I’m imagining the flash of disappointment in her eyes. “We have a lot of stuff to cover. It may be late.” I’m not quite sure why I felt the need to add the last, but I hate the idea of disappointing Kendra if I end up not coming back. In fact, while her Mom is still here, I want to use that time to get as much digging done as I can. The sooner this psycho is caught, the sooner I’ll be able to focus on Kendra.
> Ignoring her mother, I tag her around the neck and touch my forehead to hers. “Promise me you’ll call if you go out?” A slight nod seems to be the only answer I get. “Okay, Pup. I’ll check in with you later.”
With a smile for Elsa, I grab my things and head out. As I’m pulling out of the driveway, I’m already making a mental checklist of things that need looking at. Pulling names to match the profile handles is one, but we’ll have to run through the task force for that. They’ll likely want us to wait for a warrant to get that information. We’ll occasionally straddle the thin line of what is considered by the book and don’t shy away from time to time obtaining information by less legal means. However, in an official investigation, especially a federal one, any information will have to be obtained and confirmed according to proper procedure. Another thing I want to look at is the carvings in the skin of the victims. The coroner reports it is intricate, and Damian confirms it, but I’d like to see it. Another lead to explore. There’s the significance of the archangels, the victim’s medical associations, the nature hikes. Where is the connection?
And of course, we need to hear back from Damian, because who knows, we may already have the bastard. So why do I still have this little niggle of doubt?
-
“So what are you saying?”
Joe, who had been at the office with Gus when I got there, is pacing on the other side of the conference room. “Are you suggesting that this whole business with the archangel names, the carvings on the victim’s backs and their connections to medicine somehow all link in? Because frankly, although I see the connections in all of those three areas, I’m not getting how the areas are connected.”
I know he’s frustrated. Fuck. So am I, because what he says is true. There are three areas of connection between all the victims, but it doesn’t exactly tell us how it ties in with him. He’s also frustrated because Jasper, who’s on conference call, reports that Damian was only able to see Cayman for half an hour when his lawyer showed up. Not enough to get anything usable from Cayman, who was now holed up with his legal counsel. We all know that unless Damian can find something to hold him on, they’re going to have to let him go at some point.