"I should never have left them," he reproached himself, clenching a fist. There was a picture of him with a wife and kids on the TV set. Both the TV and the photo Cat could date back to the 1980s, judging by the design of the set and the clothing and hairstyles in the photo.
"This your family?" Cat inquired.
He nodded. "Rita died a few years back. Breast cancer. The kids are grown, with families of their own now."
"You must miss them," she said.
"It's been nice having Sherrie and Ruthie here," he said, the worried frown breaking for a moment. "Made this old place feel like a home again."
He showed Greg the front door, which showed some damage where it locked into the frame.
"Jim must have broken in and then left the door open," Boyd said. "He saw there was no car in the driveway, so he figured they were alone. He didn't find them there, but then he found them at the park."
Cat saw an old hulking PC sitting on a desk in the living room. It was on and open to Facebook. "Are you two connected on this site?" she asked, looking at Greg and Boyd.
"Yeah," Boyd said.
"Greg, you were probably connected to Jim through here at one point, right?"
"I unfriended that crackpot years ago," he said.
"Yeah," Cat said. "But Sherrie's account—he's still connected to that, even though she's not using it. And you can bet Jim has access to it. He used her account to discover who Greg's friends are."
"Don't tell me..." said Boyd.
"He probably just used process of elimination," Cat reasoned. "How many people is Greg connected to in Seattle? He knew Greg wouldn't hide them too close to home, and he'd have to have someone who'd be able to handle the situation. And there you were, Boyd, a guy who served on the force with Greg, and lived just the right distance away."
"She's right," said Granny Grace, settling a sleeping Ruthie onto Boyd's couch. "It didn't use to be so easy to get that kind of information, but now everyone's posting it for all the world to see, for free."
"I guess that makes me the idiot here," Greg muttered, picking up his keys. "C'mon," he said. "I'm going to the police. We need help finding Sherrie."
The whole troupe of them went to the Tacoma Police Department and filed a report against Jim. With their credibility, they were able to get officers looking for her and Jim right away.
After a long night of questioning and paperwork, Boyd went home, and Greg took the rest of them back to Granny Grace's house. Cat carried Ruthie into the Perfectly Pink Parlor and tucked her in. She'd been awake again at the police station and then had fallen asleep on the drive home. Cat hoped she didn't have any bad dreams after all she'd been through.
Cat walked Greg to the door. "You should go home and get some rest," she said.
"Yeah," he said. "Like that's going to happen."
Just before he walked down the steps, he squeezed her arm. "Thanks for trying so hard to help them," he said.
Cat nodded and watched him go.
Chapter 15
Cat was standing in the doorway of Larry Price's office. There was that fiery devil again, but this time his attention was turned toward Larry Price sitting at his desk, working. The devil raised his pitchfork up and sunk it into the man's head, over and over again. Each time the devil sunk the pitchfork in, a shower of sparks flew out of the wound, and Larry kept slumping forward and getting smaller and smaller with each blow.
Cat looked down at her feet, which were bare and small, like a little girl's. In her hand was a teddy bear with a red bow around its neck, which had come undone. She must have slipped into Ruthie's dream.
The devil kept striking Larry Price, and he grew smaller and smaller, until finally he disappeared in a puff of smoke. At that, the devil turned his attention to Ruthie.
"You're next!" he yelled and came for her with his pitchfork.
"Snap out of her," said a voice behind Cat. Granny Grace. She turned to see her grandmother had slipped into Ruthie's dream, too.
As Cat tried to separate herself from Ruthie's subconscious, the girl turned, dropped the bear, and ran, the devil chasing behind. Cat was still focused on grounding herself, making herself stay put, and it was almost as if Ruthie physically tore away from Cat.
"Nice work," said Granny Grace, smiling. Then the two of them chased after Ruthie and the devil.
The hallway turned at a right angle and dead-ended. Ruthie was trapped.
Cat looked at Granny Grace for help. "You can make Ruthie see you, Cat," she whispered. "Think about how she looks right now in the real world. She's lying in the Perfectly Pink Parlor, all alone. See her there?"
"Yes," said Cat.
"Good," said Granny Grace. "Now here she is, awake and all alone, with the devil himself stalking her. Reach down and grab her hand, but think about touching Ruthie's hand in the real world, where she's sleeping."
Cat did as she was told, reaching for Ruthie's hand and picturing her asleep on the chaise lounge in that rosy pink room in Granny Grace's house.
When Cat touched the girl's hand, it felt electrifying, their hands crackling together as if charged. Ruthie looked up, and Cat saw herself materializing in Ruthie's view of the dream. She was in the flannel pajamas she fell asleep in, but that would have to do. Ruthie's frightened demeanor relaxed at the sight of Cat.
The devil stalked down the hallway, breathing audibly, his pitchfork raised.
Cat looked to Granny Grace for further assistance, thinking her grandmother would have some method in mind for stopping the devil.
But Granny Grace shook her head. "You're not here to stop this thing from playing out," she explained. "You're just here to comfort Ruthie. Remember—it's just a dream."
As the devil reached Cat and Ruthie, he folded his wings up over his face once, and when he lifted them again, it was Anita Briggs standing there instead. Ruthie screamed, and the dream ended.
Cat woke up, too, and she could hear the little girl crying in the Perfectly Pink Parlor. She got up and wandered down the hall, where Granny Grace joined her. They shared a knowing look, and then Cat said, "The woman in the dream was Anita Briggs, Jim's right hand."
"Do you think she—"
"Killed Larry Price? Yes, I think she may have."
They walked into the room to find a very upset little girl. "The devil's after me!" she yelled. "She's going to kill me!"
Granny Grace knelt down beside the fainting couch and petted Ruthie's head. "There, there," she said. "Now look around this room. Do you see any nasty little devils in here?"
Ruthie stopped crying and looked around the room. She shook her head.
"You want to know why?"
Ruthie looked up at her and nodded. Granny Grace walked over to one of Great-Uncle Mick's paintings, which served as the focal point in the room. It was a glorious, white-haired fantasy angel, done up in purple and pink. He'd painted it for his best friend Charlotte, who'd decorated her house with angels during her struggle with cancer, which finally took her in 2004. Cat often wondered if the painting had been inspired by a dreamslipping experience. Perhaps the angel had come from one of Charlotte's own dreams.
Granny Grace continued with Ruthie. "I'll tell you why. Because Mickey Angel won't let any devils in here," she said. "She protects you from them all."
"Mickey Angel?" asked Ruthie.
"Yeah, she's the queen of the angels."
"The queen?"
"That's right," Granny Grace affirmed. "The queen."
Cat took Ruthie's hand, the same way she had in the dream, this time without any electricity but plenty of warmth. The girl looked at her with newfound recognition. "I dreamed about you," she said, and Cat squeezed her hand.
"It's always nice to dream about people you know," Cat said. "Unless they're bad people." Ruthie nodded.
They all migrated to the kitchen, and Cat gave Ruthie a sheet of paper and crayons to occupy herself with. Cat sat down across from Ruthie and tried to find out more about the dream.
"Ru
thie," Cat said. "Do you know Anita Briggs?"
"She's the lady at church." Ruthie was drawing the devil from her dreams, and a pretty good replica, too, down to the pitchfork.
"Is she a nice lady?"
"She has red hair," Ruthie stated. She put down her red crayon and picked up purple. She began the outlines of what could only be Mickey Angel.
"That's right," Cat said. "She does have red hair. Do you like her?"
"No."
"Why don't you like her?"
"She yelled at Daddy Jim."
"When did Anita yell at your Daddy Jim?" Cat asked.
"A long time ago. Before we went on the plane." She put down the purple crayon and reached into the box for silver. She began drawing a sword in Mickey Angel's hand.
Cat kept going. "Were they talking about Larry Price?"
"Yeah. I think Anita did something bad to him. She had Daddy's gun, the one from the safe I’m never supposed to touch."
Cat leaned in, pointing at the devil in Ruthie's drawing. "Is this Anita?"
"Yeah."
Cat and Granny Grace stood up and left Ruthie at the table, stepping into the hallway outside the kitchen. "I'm going to call Tim again," said Cat.
"I think that's wise," agreed Granny Grace. "Anita's the one who kicked you out of the church, isn't she?"
"Yes," said Cat. "And if she's the killer, Jim helped her cover up the crime. So he's guilty, too."
"And Sherrie's got that e-mail in her possession."
Cat ducked into Granny's office and called Tim Schlein immediately. "I have some new information in the Plantation case," she announced.
"I got your message about the e-mail," said Tim. "It certainly gives Jim a motive. We'll scrub the Plantation network for the digital."
"Have you talked to Anita Briggs? She's Jim's assistant," Cat said. "We have reason to believe she's the one who killed Larry Price."
"What's that? Not Jim?"
"He was most likely involved."
"Anita Briggs was pretty rattled when we showed up at the church," remarked Tim. "She turned everything over to this guy named Reynolds Chambers. We haven't questioned her yet."
"You definitely want to track her down," urged Cat. "Sherrie's daughter overheard her and Jim talking, and Anita had Jim’s gun."
"Okay, Cat," said Tim. "We'll bring her in."
She thanked Tim, got off the phone, and conferred with Granny Grace. "We need to find Jim and Sherrie," Cat said. "If he's innocent of Larry's murder, maybe we can convince him to come forward. We have Ruthie. He knows he can't do what he originally came out here to do, and that's bring them back to the fold. He has to know this thing's over. There's no going back now."
The doorbell rang, and Cat went to answer it. It was Greg, looking disheveled, as if he hadn't slept at all.
"You drove around all night, didn't you?" Cat said, ushering him into the front room, the Daring Damask Den. "I'll get you some coffee."
"I can't believe I let that man take my sister," he said angrily.
Granny Grace came in, sat down on one of the damask chairs, and addressed Greg directly. "Jim's desperate," she acknowledged, "but I don't believe he'll hurt Sherrie."
"Maybe we can get Jim to come here," Cat added. "He'll want to see Ruthie."
Greg stared at them silently, considering.
"Jim might let Sherrie and Ruthie go on his own," said Cat. "Plus, he's the one person who can convict Anita. If he knows it's all coming out anyway, he might talk."
"If that guy comes anywhere near here, he's a dead man," snarled Greg, reaching for his sidearm.
"Jim won't hurt them," Cat insisted, gently touching his arm. A spark ran through her hand as she did so, and for a moment, she looked deeply into his dark eyes and saw the worry and warmth in them. She pulled away, startled by the connection.
Just then Greg's cell phone rang, and he scrambled to answer it.
"Sherrie," Greg said. "Are you all right? Where are you?"
He listened for a few moments, and then he said, "I don't believe Jim's innocent." He looked deeply into Cat's eyes, and she stared back at him with a pleading look and nodded. He continued. "But I'm with Grace and Cat, at their house on Queen Anne Hill. Bring him here. I'll tell you where to go."
When he got off the phone, he shot Cat a look. "I'm trusting you on this one."
"It'll be fine," said Cat.
Not fifteen minutes later, Greg's phone rang again. Cat watched his face, which contorted with pain and concern. He went to the picture window facing the street and looked out.
Cat followed his cue and went to the front door with its beveled glass, where she could scan the street. There was Sherrie, a cell phone at her ear, and Jim's hand at her back. His posture suggested he had a gun in that hand. Cat opened the door and walked toward them. Greg came up behind Cat. "Careful," he warned. "Jim's got a gun."
"I know," said Cat. "And so do you."
Sherrie and Jim walked up to the house, slowly. Cat squinted in the early morning glare. Sherrie looked surprisingly calm. "Are you okay, Sherrie?" Cat asked her.
"I'm just fine," Sherrie said. "Jim wouldn't kill me. He hasn't killed anybody. It was Anita who did the killing. Isn't that right, Jim?"
"I just want to see my daughter," said Jim. "To make sure she's all right."
"Give me the gun, Jim," ordered Cat. "Then you can see Ruthie. But you're not setting foot in that house like this."
Jim looked at Cat for a very long minute. "You're that security guard," he finally said. "The one who came up to me on the street."
"That's right," said Cat. "I've been all the way to St. Louie and back trying to keep up with you. First I thought you were a child molester. Then I thought you were a murderer. Turns out you're just narrow-minded."
"I want to see my daughter," Jim demanded.
Greg butted in. "You can see Ruthie, Jim, but only if you give Cat your gun."
"You're some brother," Jim sneered. "Keeping a man away from his wife."
Greg scoffed. "I think you'd prefer to have a husband."
Jim shrugged. "I may have committed sins of the flesh, but that's between me and the Lord."
Greg opened his jacket, revealing his gun. "Give Cat your gun, Jim."
"I'd never hurt them," Jim said angrily. "They're my family. I'm their protector."
"That's right," Sherrie said. "You don't need the gun, Jim. Now give it to Cat."
Cat held her hand out, and Jim slowly placed the gun into it. Sherrie slumped into Greg's arms with relief.
Slowly, the four of them went inside, and Cat walked Jim back to the parlor to see his stepdaughter. Ruthie yelled "Daddy Jim!" and huddled into his arms.
"You're okay?" he inspected Ruthie frantically for signs of injury, touching her head, her arms, her legs, all with care and reverence.
Greg hovered in the doorway, wary. Sherrie sank down across from Jim and Ruthie. Cat went over to her.
"So Jim told you about Anita," Cat said. "And you believed him?"
"Yes," she said, wringing her hands. "I should never have suspected him in the first place. It's just that... I thought Larry's e-mail pushed Jim over the edge. That night, Larry called. He and Jim argued on the phone. I heard Jim say, 'You have no right. That's my secret. I'll kill you before I let you ruin everything we've built.' Then Jim went out and didn't come back till almost morning. Right afterward, I went to his computer. He'd left in such a hurry, it was still on, and there was this e-mail in his inbox. Larry had just sent it."
Sherrie reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded it and pushed it across toward Cat, who read it aloud:
"From: Larry Price
Date: June 12, 2012 8:23 PM
To: Jim Plantation
Subject: Coming clean
To my beloved congregation members:
All our lives, Jim Plantation and I have been living a lie. We built a church dedicated to God's
work, and this is good. We are very proud of what we have accomplished with your help. But the one thing we have not been able to cut out of our hearts is the love that he and I feel for each other. It's more than the brotherly love that you all have witnessed and embraced. We love each other the way a man and wife should. Please know that he and I have spent countless hours praying and testifying to Christ that He would stamp this apparent evil out of us. We have been vocal proponents of the church's teachings, which is to fight for marriage between a man and a woman only. We believed in our hearts and our souls that this is the right path, the path of the Lord. But despite all this work, the love between us has grown.
Jim and I are at a loss for what to do about this. He married in the way of the church, and still the love between us resisted all our attempts to kill it. As much as I admire Jim for trying to love a woman the way he should, I could not bring myself to do this. I love one and only one, and my heart cannot betray that love with another. As loving as Jim is with his wife and family, he continues to return my love in spirit, if not in deed.
We wanted you to know the truth because, as it says in John 4:24, 'God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.' So let there be no more lies in this congregation. Jim and I are flawed human beings who have not been able to conquer this evil within us. For this you have our deepest apologies.
Yours in spirit,
Larry Price"
Cat looked up at Sherrie. "This is written as if he were planning to send it to the entire congregation," Cat noted. "But the only recipient is Jim."
"I know," Sherrie said. "I think he sent it to Jim first, hoping that Jim would join him in coming clean with the truth. But Jim wouldn't do it. Maybe Larry was going to send the e-mail anyway, and that's when Anita killed him."
"What else did they say on the phone?" Cat asked.
"I remember," Sherrie said, still wringing her hands. "I think Larry was telling Jim what he was planning to do. He wanted Jim to agree. I thought Jim went over there to stop him..." She broke off, biting her lip.
"Why didn't you go to the police with this evidence? You could have turned Jim in."
Sherrie erupted. "Are you kidding? The county sheriff, he's a member of the congregation. They didn't even investigate Larry's death. And Jim would have taken Ruthie away! That man," she said, tossing her head in Jim's direction. "He fights like hell to keep what's his. He thinks that we belong to him, that he owns us. With my past, all he had to do was say I'm unfit."
Cat in the Flock (Dreamslippers Book 1) Page 19