3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series)

by Ryan, Jonathan

  “Very good, sir. Thank you.”

  A plain-clothes detective wrapped in a blue coat approached us.

  “Detective Brown?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Detective Steve Hoover from the Athens County Sheriff’s department. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “No problem. Thanks for calling us.”

  “I figured Weaver would want to know before the FBI. We’ve been talking about your case, I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Can we see the body?”

  “Right this way.”

  He led us around a tree into a clearing. I recognized it immediately — I saw the crossroads from Amanda’s pictures and the large smiley face drawn in the gravel.

  Amanda knew.

  Over the smiley face, two large oak tree branches touched, forming a wooden overhang. A form hung from the tree with what looked like feet dangling over the smiley face.

  “I’ve not seen a killing like this in a long time,” Detective Hoover said.

  I looked more closely and saw blood on the ground, gleaming in the light. A woman, robed in white, dangled like a broken doll over the smiley face. Her arms and neck had been tied with climbing rope. Open eyes stared up to heaven as if begging for intervention that never came. A bright red and black gash under her throat proved to be the source of the blood as it dripped down on the road.

  I shut my eyes. The image of the body burned into my brain. This is what had happened to Amanda. How did she know about this place? How deep had she gotten with whoever did this? What had she thought? The terror must have been beyond imagination. I felt queasy and leaned against a tree.

  “Aidan?” Jennifer touched my shoulder.

  “Sorry, my imagination just ran away from me.”

  She nodded as her hand moved to my cheek. “I know, but come with me, you need to hear what Hoover has to say.”

  We turned our backs on the body and walked to Detective Hoover.

  “So, what was the time of death?” Jennifer asked, her pad and pen out.

  “About midnight,” Hoover said. “The body was discovered around one o’clock by our patrolman. He had been called because someone complained of disturbances. They reported lights rising from here and floating among the trees. They also claimed there were snowy footprints outside of their home. We thought maybe they had a bit too much Appalachian Moonshine, but then we found this.” He pointed to the body. “We remembered the APB you all put out in the past day. We all laughed when we first saw what you guys put out there. So, that’s when we called Weaver.”

  “Any explanation for the lights or the footprints?” Jen asked.

  “None that we can tell. We think the footprints were a prank, and the light might have been the murderers.”

  “Murderers?”

  “Yeah, at least, we think. There were no discernible footprints, but there is no way one person could have done this by themselves.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Can we see her forehead?”

  “You don’t want to look at forensics photos?”

  “No, I prefer to eyeball it myself. Thanks.”

  I tried to remember how to be clinical from my biology labs as we walked over to the body. Detective Hoover pulled over a ladder and propped it against a tree. Jennifer climbed up and bent over the victim’s forehead with a magnifying glass.

  “Appears to be Hebrew, Aidan. Do you think you could have a look?”

  My legs felt unsteady, but I didn’t want to look weak. “Sure.”

  Detective Hoover looked at me and cocked his head.

  “Reverend Schaeffer is an expert in occultist ritual and is consulting on this case,” Jennifer said as she climbed down.

  He nodded. “No problem.”

  She handed me the magnifying glass. “Are you sure you can do this?” she whispered. “I could just write it down, you know.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Just hold the ladder, okay?”

  Jennifer braced the metal ladder as I climbed up. I avoided the victim’s eyes. I didn’t want to imprint any more nightmares on my brain. I held the magnifying glass up to the deep jagged cuts.

  “It’s definitely Hebrew,” I said, my stomach churning.

  “Do you know what it says?” Jennifer asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t know what it means. I will have to look it up. The basic pronunciation is ‘Nachash,’ although…” I paused as I looked at the scratches.

  “What is it?”

  “There are some other light scratches under the word, but I can’t tell if they’re supposed to be a part of the message. They don’t look like Hebrew ... or not quite. Strange.”

  “We thought they were just incidental marks,” Detective Hoover said.

  Jennifer nodded. “I kind of thought the same.”

  I swallowed and went in for another look. The light scratches seemed more symbolic rather than an incidental contact with the razor. Something about them seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I grabbed a pen out of my pocket, wrote a copy on my hand, and climbed down.

  “Did you bring your Hebrew dictionary with you?” Jennifer asked.

  I shook my head. “No. We’ll have to wait until we get back to Columbus.”

  Jennifer nodded and turned to Detective Hoover. “You said forensics had been here?”

  “Yeah, they’ve finished the area around the body. They are combing the woods right now.”

  “Do we have an identity?”

  He frowned. “No, not yet. We’re working on it. Any possible identifying marks seemed to have been beaten off her.”

  Jennifer sighed. “Same with our victim. She was a local, so it made it easier to get dental records.”

  “We are going to have to go statewide for ours. Not too many missing people in Athens County. In fact, none that I know of at this point.”

  “Can you show us the footprints?” Jennifer asked.

  He nodded, his face drawn in a frown. “Yeah, over here. But I’m thinking it’s just hillbillies running around.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, they’re bare.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “Trust me, they aren’t hillbillies. We had them near our victim too. Along with the Hebrew on her forehead, the white ceremonial robe, and the cross-like hanging, it all fits. It looks like the same perp or perps.” She glanced at me.

  Detective Hoover guided us over to the forest. “When we got the report of the footprints at the farm, the officer investigated and said it must be some sort of prank. Then he found the body, and as we were investigating the area, we found these.” He shined his light on the snow.

  A now familiar sight greeted me, except for one difference. Instead of a chaotic, jumbled mass, the prints all pointed in one direction, toward the body and the smiley face.

  “It’s like soldiers marching in formation,” Jennifer said, bending down. “Did forensics get any tissue, blood, dead skin?”

  “No, and that sort of has them freaked. According to them, with all these footprints, there should be blood, pus, a toenail, something.” Hoover shrugged. “They have never seen anything like it.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Our theory is that the perps wore plastic bags over their feet so they would still leave marks.”

  I bent down to inspect the footprints. I put my finger in one and received a little jolt of energy, like a bad static shock. I yanked my hand back and looked around. A glint in the snow caught my eye.

  “Jennifer, come here,” I called out, feeling a rush of recognition.

  Jennifer and Detective Hoover came rushing over.

  “What is it, Aidan?”

  “Look.”

  “Wow, that is a huge fucking ring,” Detective Hoover exclaimed. “Sorry, preacher.”

  “Don’t worry about it. And you are right, but the size isn’t the issue here.”

  “What is?” Jennifer bent down for a closer look.

  I frowned. “I have seen this ring before. Well, at least one
that looks exactly like it.”

  Jennifer and Detective Hoover both squinted at me.

  “Where?” they asked.

  “It was on the finger of the secretary at Fields of the Lord Church.”

  “Are you sure?” Jennifer asked, incredulous.

  “Of course I’m sure. How many rings do you see like this?”

  “Good point.”

  Detective Hoover lifted his cell phone and called for a photographer. He hung up and turned back to us.

  “Can you give me everything you know about her?”

  I told him what little I knew about Jessica, and he walked back to get on the radio.

  Jennifer stared at the ring as if it might speak to her. “What do you think?”

  “If this is who I think it is, then it’s pretty obvious,” I said.

  Jennifer stared at me. “What, that Daniel Mueller is the killer?”

  “Or someone connected to Fields of the Lord anyway. It can’t be a coincidence that they both worked at the same church.”

  Detective Hoover came back as we stood up.

  “Jessica Braile, 42, was reported missing yesterday morning when she didn’t show up for work at the church. Her general description fits the victim. We are going to need dental or DNA to confirm that.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Let me make a phone call.” She walked over to the road for better reception.

  Detective Hoover looked at me. “What do you make of all this, preacher? Is this some religious wacko?”

  “Is that an official cop term?”

  He smiled. “More than you know.”

  “I have no idea, to be honest with you. I hope not. Religious people already have enough bad press as it is. Adding ‘serial murderer’ to the list of growing sins might be the final nail in the coffin.”

  “The final nail?”

  “In the current cultural mistrust of religious people.”

  “Yeah, don’t entirely trust them myself, no offense.”

  “No worries, I hear it all the time,” I assented.

  “But I can’t believe even a religious person would do something like this.”

  “I know, detective, it’s disturbing.”

  Jennifer walked back to us. “I’m trying to get a warrant to search Ms. Braile’s place. We should have a team over there in the next few hours.”

  “Well, I have some other things to take care of,” Detective Hoover said, shaking our hands.

  “I’ll call when you all can come and look at her apartment,” Jennifer said. “We might need to set up some sort of task force for this killer.”

  “You pretty sure it’s the same guy?” Hoover asked.

  “We didn’t publish the details of the murder in Columbus, so that probably rules out a copycat.”

  “I would agree with that,” I said. “The ritual elements are the same. Same occultist method.”

  “Detective Hoover, the Sheriff is here,” one of the uniformed cops called out.

  “Excuse me,” he said and walked off.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “We go back to Columbus, and then I’ll go to Jessica’s house.”

  “No way. I’m going with you,” I said. “Besides, if there is more Hebrew there, I might be able to read it. We can stop off at my office and get my BDB.”

  “Your what?” She gave me a half smile.

  “Brown, Driver, Briggs. It’s the standard Hebrew lexicon.”

  We got in the car and drove off.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jennifer’s phone rang as the lights of Columbus came into view.

  “Yeah, boss, what’s up?” Her face fell after listening a moment. “But why?” she yelled. “It’s still our crime scene, why are they there?” She scowled, and her jaw tightened. “That’s idiotic. Excuse me, sir.” She paused. “Okay, okay, I’ll get right over there to help.” She hung up.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “The FBI stepped in.”

  “Thought they had to be invited.”

  She furrowed her brow. “No. They don’t. Weaver was just trying to keep them out of it for now. It means you can’t come to Jessica’s place after all, so I’ll have to drop you off.”

  “Why can’t I go? Can’t we use my ID like before?”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “We could, but then the FBI will check you out. I don’t think you want that.”

  I sighed. “No, don’t really need that now.”

  We drove in silence until we reached my condo. Jennifer parked the car and looked at me. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything that goes on.”

  I nodded and opened the door.

  “Wait, Aidan. Can I tell you something?”

  Puzzled, I closed the door and turned back to her. “Yeah, of course.”

  “Listen, I know you were in love with Amanda, and it’s been great to have your help on this, especially with the Hebrew…”

  “Yeah?” I had no idea what she was getting at. Was she going to tell me that I couldn’t be on the investigation anymore? I was too involved to give it up.

  “But, well, not sure how to say this.” She turned to me, and light from the street lamps caught her green eyes.

  I swallowed hard. She was beautiful, smart, and caring beneath the hard-ass, lady-cop exterior. I realized that I had been thinking about her a lot, but my obsession with Amanda blocked it out.

  “It’s okay, Jennifer, you can say whatever you want.”

  She took a deep breath. “She didn’t deserve you.”

  That was the last thing I had expected to hear.

  “I’m sorry to say it that bluntly, but it’s true.” She paused and touched my hand. Her warm, soft skin made my pulse race.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” I replied, my voice cracked and raspy.

  “You did nothing wrong, as far as I can tell, that should have made her leave. I don’t understand why she did. These past few days have made me realize that she may not have gotten herself killed if she had stayed with you.”

  My throat tightened, and I turned to the window. “How can you say that? You don’t know. Maybe they would have killed her anyway.”

  “Aidan, isn’t it obvious? She fell in with someone who had a tight grip on her. Whoever killed her controlled her, manipulated her until it was too late to extract herself.”

  “Amanda was strong, she never would—”

  Jen cut me off. “Think, damn it. She knew what was going to happen to her. She told you how to find out who did it.”

  “I just don’t see how...”

  “Amanda let herself get this way. She didn’t have to go down this road. She had you, a knight who loved her.”

  I put my head in my hands.

  She touched me on the shoulder. “I just wanted you to know. I still would like your assistance on this because I think you can help us. But you don’t have to keep doing this, trying to find her killer out of some weird, misplaced guilt.”

  I looked up, not knowing how to respond.

  “Come on, say something.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know why I’m trying to find Amanda’s killer. My motives are mixed, I guess. You are partially right — there is a misplaced sense of guilt — but I guess there’s more to it.”

  “Such as?”

  “I guess in helping you, I’m trying to find some order or meaning in my life.”

  She nodded. “I can understand that, believe me, but do you still have doubts after the ghost hunt? I mean, after all we saw and heard there, it was enough to make me a believer.”

  I grimaced. “All we saw and heard is proof that something exists. Maybe ghosts, maybe undiscovered energies that science doesn’t know about, or maybe there just might be a spirit world. All that stuff said, there’s nothing about God or His existence, much less the specific God of Christianity.”

  “You are unreal.” She shook her head.

  “I’m just being honest.”

  “Are you?”

  My b
row furrowed. “Yeah, I am, or I’m at least trying to be.”

  “I know you are trying, but haven’t you taken your doubts far enough?”

  “Why are you asking me this? You are the one who doesn’t believe in any specific God.”

  “Yeah, but I’m rethinking that.”

  “Well, I won’t stop you, but don’t expect me to follow. I have thought and read through this stuff way too much.”

  Jennifer looked at me in silence, her face locked in an intense stare. “There was a case with this guy about a year ago. He was accused of a rape at OSU. All the evidence suggested this man was guilty. The physical description fit, he had the same clothes, everything. I did my work, my research and arrested him. I had him cold.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked, glad to change the subject.

  “The DNA test came back. He wasn’t the perpetrator. It was his roommate who was trying to frame him. I arrested an innocent guy before I had all the facts. Sometimes, even when we think we have all the evidence in hand, we find evidence we overlooked.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “The Lord wants sheep, not goats.” She smiled.

  That broke the tension as I laughed. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Hey, you aren’t the only one who went to Sunday school. Catholics have it too, you know.” She paused. “Just think about what I said, okay?”

  I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll call you in the morning with what I find about Nachash.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  I got out and walked to my door. As I fumbled with my keys, I realized she still hadn’t left. I turned around and waved. She waved back then pulled out into the street.

  Her touch still made my hand tingle, and our conversation set my brain on fire. Amanda didn’t deserve me? I guess I had never thought about it that way.

  I sighed and took Bishop out. There would be no sleep for me tonight, and not just because I had to know what Nachash meant. I knew that if I shut my eyes, I would see the letters carved into Jessica’s head, a woman who had crossed paths with the wrong person, or persons.

  I put Bishop back in his crate and headed to the church. Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered me to be there in the middle of the night — I often went in to do work when I couldn’t sleep — but after everything that happened, I sat in the parking lot looking at the glorified warehouse and my skin crawled. It was as if this building held some kind of dark secret. Maybe more ghosts would ambush me, kill me, or whatever it was they tried to do on the road to Athens.