The back door hung open.
Dear God. “Marie!” he yelled as he dismounted and wrapped Belle’s reins over the stair railing. “Marie! You in there?”
He climbed the stairs and saw that the door had been forced. “Marie!” he yelled, running inside. “Marie!”
The kitchen looked normal, but when he entered the living room, he saw that the front door hung broken on its hinges. A chair was knocked over, as was one end table. Quickly he checked the bedroom and bathroom, but Marie was nowhere to be found. He moved through the trailer again, noticing muddy footprints too big to be Marie’s, several sets of them, then he found a torn bit of tan material on the front-door hinge. But that was all.
Tom walked out front, looking for tracks that might tell him the direction her attackers had come from, but that was a futile effort; the rain had washed everything away, even on the front porch, which was under a couple inches of water.
After shutting the doors as best he could, he mounted Belle, trying not to worry, and wondering about the best course of action. Notifying the police was his first priority, and he decided the quickest way to do that was to stop at Cassie’s on the chance Moss might have gone home for a little shut-eye.
Though his watch claimed only fifteen minutes had passed, it seemed like it took hours to reach Cassie’s house. Leaving Belle partially sheltered under the porch, he mounted the steps and knocked, surprised and heartened to see the vandalized door had already been repainted.
“Mommy!” he heard Eve call. “Somebody’s at the door. I’ll get it!”
“No!” Cassie yelled. “Don’t touch that door.” Her voice became louder as she approached the door. “Who’s there?”
“Tom Abernathy,” he said.
“Tom.” She opened the door and practically dragged him inside the dark house.
“What’s wrong, Cass? You look spooked.”
She smiled self-deprecatingly. “Worked myself into a lather, I guess. Before the phones went down, I kept getting hang-up calls, and I think there was someone prowling around last night. Is your electricity out, too?”
“Sure is. Where’s Moss?”
“He came by and looked around, but didn’t find anything. That was last night. I thought everything was all right this morning until I looked out and saw all those Apostles walking down the road, toward town. They give me the ever-loving creeps.”
Tom nodded. “Have you seen Marie?”
“No, why?” she asked, her concern instantly evident.
“Somebody broke into her place. She’s gone.”
“Dear Lord,” Cassie whispered. “You better go find Moss.”
“I will, as soon as I drop off Belle and get my truck.” He peered out the window. “The rain’s stopped for the moment. Why don’t you and Eve come down and stay at the ranch for a while? The Apostles won’t bother you there.”
“Thanks, but they haven’t bothered us yet.”
“They’re responsible for the graffiti.”
“They’re cowards. They only attack when no one’s around. If I leave, they’ll mess up my paint again.”
“I’d feel better if you’d come.”
“Like I said, I don’t want them messing up my paint again.”
“Do you expect to see Moss any time soon?”
“I hope so.”
“Then have him drop you off at my place. That way, your car will still be here and they won’t know you’re gone.”
“Can’t argue with logic like that.” Cassie smiled and laid her hand on his arm. “You’d better get going, and for Christ’s sake, be careful. Those Apostles are all over the place.” A grin erased the worry from her features. “And I’ll bet they’d love to get their hands on you after that little roping exhibition.”
“They’re probably just going to put in a full day of annoying people,” Tom said with a wry smile. “The Apocalypse isn’t until tomorrow. Then God’ll save ’em the trouble.”
“That’s not funny, Tom. And if you’re not worried, where do you get off worrying about me?”
He held up his hands and shrugged helplessly.
“Men.” Cassie shook her head in mock irritation. “Go on, get out of here before you really stick your foot in it. And, Tom?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Be careful.”
“I will if you will.”
“Deal,” she said and shooed him out the door.
“But don’t you take any chances, Cassie,” he admonished. “I’ll see you later.”
“Good luck,” she called as he headed out the door.
96
Moss Baskerville
“WELL, YOU’RE A TOUGH ONE TO TRACK DOWN,” TOM Abernathy said.
Moss Baskerville looked up wearily from his coffee cup, glad that Ray had a generator to keep things running during the power outage. He’d have passed out without his morning coffee.
He’d been on the move all night, and as he waited for the waitress to bring him his breakfast, it was good to see a friendly face. Only Abernathy didn’t look all that friendly this morning. “It’s been one of those nights, Tom. Have a seat.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Immediately the little blonde waitress named Christie swooped down on them, trying to smile but obviously still hurting over the death of Rick Spelman. She refilled Moss’s cup, then turned to Tom. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
“Breakfast?”
“The special, over easy, sausage, well done.”
Moss waited until Christie was gone. “Tom, you don’t look too happy.”
“I came to report a missing person.”
“You mean Eric Watson?”
He shook his head. “No. Marie’s gone. Her place has been broken into, and there are signs of a struggle.” He dug a piece of tan cloth out of his pocket. “Found this on the door.”
Moss took the cloth. “You should’ve left this where you found it. It might be evidence.”
Tom looked pained. “I know that, Chief, but with the flooding and the earthquake, I didn’t figure anybody was going to get out there soon.”
“Unfortunately, you’re all too right.” He turned the scrap of cloth in his fingers. “This could’ve come from a pair of pants, a heavy shirt, most anything. You got yourself any theories?”
“I guess I do.” Tom stopped talking to stare at the door. “Well, if it isn’t one of my suspects now. No, don’t look. It’s Colonel Dole, and he’s headed this way.”
Dole passed their table without looking at them and sat down in the next booth, his back to Tom.
“You think he kidnapped Marie?” Moss asked quietly. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought Dole was probably eavesdropping. After his threats yesterday, Moss didn’t want the man to overhear anything.
“Maybe. But the Apostles are at the top of my list.” Tom sipped his coffee, then briefly told him about last night’s other problems, which definitely pointed a finger at the cult.
In a way, it was a relief, because Baskerville’s first thought was that Marie had met the same fate—whatever it was—as Madge Marquay. Of course, there was always the chance the Apostles were behind it all, but at gut level, he didn’t believe that was true.
“Another peculiar thing,” Tom was saying. “Marie said last night’s mutilations were nothing like the previous ones and—”
“You have any earthquake damage this morning?” Moss interrupted, as Dole cocked his head attentively.
Tom hesitated, then caught on. He nodded. “Not much. A couple flowerpots fell, and a picture came off the wall. You?”
“I don’t know. With the phones out, I haven’t been able to talk to Cassie. I’ve got to get by there soon and make sure everything’s okay. Also, if I don’t catch a nap soon, I’ll be creating accidents instead of taking reports on them.”
“I saw Cassie a little bit ago. She was fine, but nervous as a cat.” Tom waited while Christie placed their breakfast platters in front of them. “I inv
ited her down to the ranch, but she wouldn’t go.”
“Is the flooding getting worse up there?”
“No, she’s fine so far, but she doesn’t want to leave the house. She’s afraid those damned Apostles will do more damage. They’re all over the place. I spotted several groups of them walking toward town in their robes. Guess they finally have a use for their umbrellas.” He buttered his toast.
“They’re walking in this weather?”
Tom grimaced, nodding. “Guess it makes ’em feel all sorta warm and martyrish inside. They’re gonna have a heckuva laundry load.” He forked hash browns into his mouth. “Did she tell you about the phone calls?”
Startled, Moss looked up from his plate. “What phone calls?”
“Before the lines went down, she had a series of hangups.”
“She thought she heard a prowler last night, and I got by to check on that, but there was no sign of one. She didn’t mention the phone.”
“She knows you’re busy. Probably didn’t want to worry you.”
“Damned independent woman,” Moss grumbled.
“Tell me about it.”
“I wish I could call in some backup, but we’re pretty much cut off from everything right now between the phones being down, even long distance—the microwave tower in Barstow got skewed—and everybody being busy taking care of their own.” He paused. “The point is, Tom, I promised Alex a search for her assistant, but I can’t deliver—the rain’s got the rescue people too busy. They’ve got more problems than we do, over Barstow way. The quake did some real damage there. I’m not too worried about those Apostles—all they’ll do is irritate people—but I’ve got three fresh disappearances now, and very little help.”
“Hold it. Three? There’s Marie, Eric, and . . . ?”
“Little boy name of Billy Cole didn’t come home yesterday.”
“Christ.”
“Plus, we’ve got the usual traffic problems. There’s hardly a Californian born who can drive in the rain. It’s like they forget how.”
“About the mutilations,” Tom said, tipping his head slightly toward Dole. “Maybe we should talk to one of my favorite suspects since he’s sitting there eavesdropping on us.”
Moss saw Dole’s stiff shoulders go stiffer. “Don’t worry about the mutilations, Tom,” he said uneasily. “They just don’t matter right now.”
“The hell they don’t.” Tom spoke softly, but Moss had never heard so much veiled anger in the man’s voice before. “They’re tied into Marie’s vanishing, just like those missing samples are tied into Eric’s.”
“Tom—”
But Tom wasn’t listening. Instead, he stood up and walked two steps, and turned to face Dole. “Mister,” he began, his voice surface-friendly, “last night you took some little plastic bags full of blue stuff from a camp in Spirit Canyon. You evidently also kidnapped the young man at the camp, and then maybe you also took off with Marie Lopez. Looked to me like she got dragged out of her bed.”
Dole’s eyebrow came up. “Samples?”
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Colonel.”
Dole stood up, probably aiming to intimidate Tom, but it didn’t work. Tom had half a foot on him. Dole looked at Moss. “Chief Baskerville, this man is harassing me.”
Baskerville stood up. “Did you stop by Alexandra Manderley’s camp last night?”
“Certainly not.”
“I saw you come out of the canyon,” Tom said sourly.
“I travel through the canyon regularly. That means nothing.”
“What about Marie Lopez?” Moss asked.
“I don’t know the woman. I suggest you bumpkins look elsewhere for your explanations. The U.S. government doesn’t kidnap people. Any good American knows that.” Dole glared a warning at Baskerville, then turned on his heel and strode out of the diner.
“Tom, what’d you have to go and do that for?” Moss asked.
“Why’d you shush me every time I talked about the mutilations?”
Moss didn’t answer. “I gotta go see Cassie.” He paused. “Tom, how about letting me deputize you?”
“You know I don’t get involved in that sort of folderol.”
“You’re going out to look for Marie, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“If you’ve got a badge on, you can ask more questions. Look, Tom, I need help. I’ll be useless soon if I don’t catch a nap, plus Al’s been on duty longer than I have, and he and I are it. I need someone out looking for those people, and you’re about the only person I trust with a job like that.” He paused. “With real bullets in his gun.”
“What about Ray, or Carlo, or even Father Mike?”
“Mike’s busy setting up a shelter in case things get worse, you can see how busy Ray is, and Carlo just isn’t the type to walk up to people and question them.”
Tom nodded. “Okay, but just for today.”
Moss smiled, feeling the first ounce of relief he’d had for twenty-four hours. “Come on, let’s get over to the office. I’ll swear you in and find you a badge.”
97
Eric Watson
AT LEAST HE WASN’T THIRSTY. ERIC WATSON STILL LAY ON THE boulder imbedded in the mountainside, his broken leg throbbing worse than ever. Below, the waterline in the canyon had risen within fifteen feet of his perch. The boulder had, thankfully, remained stationary, though several more landslides had occurred since full daylight. If the rain stayed away, he might be safe.
Above, he’d heard no traffic, nothing except rain falling down, and he knew his luck was running thin. Now, at least, the rain was letting up, and he knew Alex would be looking for him. All he could do now was lie there and wait, and try to stay awake so that he could start yelling the minute he heard a car.
And what if it’s Justin Martin? Aloud he said, “Then I’m dead.”
98
Tom Abernathy
“OKAY,” TOM SAID, PINNING ON THE BADGE AS HE SAT IN MOSS Baskerville’s murky office. “Why’d you clam up when I asked you about the mutilations?”
“Dole threatened me. Sat right here in that same chair you’re in and said I was interfering in military business—in government business, for Christ’s sake—and told me to butt out if I didn’t want anything to happen to Cassie and Eve.”
Tom saw real anger in Moss’s eyes. The chief wasn’t the type to back off easily or put up with threats. “Are you sure he’s for real?”
“I tried to check him out yesterday,” Moss explained. “Or rather, Shirley did, but it turns out his files are all sealed. Top secret stuff. That woman’s a computer genius—she can get into anything—but she couldn’t crack his files. She was lucky to get past the data that claimed he didn’t exist.”
“So he may not be a regular military type?”
“Maybe he’s not military at all,” Moss said. “But he’s something very, very secret.”
“CIA for instance?”
Moss nodded. “That or worse, I expect. The thing is, I know some police officers who’ve had the same kind of threats made after they reported UFOs or tried to investigate mutilations. One continued talking about it, and his wife and kids went up in a freak fire. They couldn’t even prove arson. Tom, I just want to keep a low profile. I’ll be damned if Dole’s going to tell me how to do my job, but I can’t risk Cassie or Eve until I know enough to make it safe. Besides, looking for the missing people is far more important right now.”
“Yes.” Tom leaned forward, elbows on Moss’s desk. He studied the chief. “See why I thought maybe that son of a bitch is behind the disappearances of Marie and Eric?”
“You better hope he isn’t. The bastard’s a brick wall.”
“How about a little police brutality?”
Baskerville eyed him. “I do believe you mean that.”
“Maybe I do.”
“What’s gotten into you, Tom? You’ve always been the big peacemaker around here. I didn’t think it was even possible to piss you off.”
&nbs
p; “It takes a lot, Moss. A hell of a lot.”
“It’s Marie, isn’t it?”
Tom hesitated. “It’s Marie, the others, my horse, her animals. Hell, we’re losing our town.”
“You want to go with me out to the Apostles’ compound and have a look around? I think we might find some answers there.”
“You think they’ll let us in? Without a warrant?”
“Sinclair told me I was welcome.” Moss leaned forward. “Funny thing about him. I thought he’d be the asshole of the century, but he seemed like a nice guy. Sincere.”
Tom laughed bitterly. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“You’re the leg-puller in this town, Abernathy.”
“Well then, Sinclair’s a bigger one.” Tom shook his head. “That’s how he makes his living. Don’t be taken in by all that charisma, Moss.”
“You want to see for yourself?”
“That I do. Have you checked this guy out, or is he top secret, like Dole?”
“Checked him, but there wasn’t much to learn. No arrest record. He went to divinity school, then quit to become a magician.”
“Well, that sorta fits, doesn’t it?” Tom stood up. “A magician and a minister in one package. That’s a little scary.”
Moss shook his head. “It is, at that.” He rose. “Let’s go.”
Tom nodded. “I want to check Marie’s on the way.”
Following Moss’s cruiser out of town, Tom saw little clusters of Apostles walking up and down the streets pressing flyers into people’s hands.
Only a few spatters of raindrops fell as they drove up muddy Old Madelyn. They turned west on Thunder Road, and by the time they pulled into Marie’s driveway, their windshields were dry. While Moss checked the trailer for clues, Tom fed the animals, carefully relocking the stable before joining Moss.
“Find anything?”
Baskerville shook his head. “You’re right about a struggle and a break-in. There was more than one of them, or they wouldn’t have broken both front and back doors. Probably stormed the place.”
Tom left his pickup in Marie’s driveway and climbed into Moss’s passenger seat. “You think that makes it more likely to be the Apostles?”
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