London Carter Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

  I was still laughing inside from when he said—with total confidence—that he was the first man Kathleen every truly loved, but this almost caused me to laugh out loud.

  “Let’s get back to my original question,” Dawn said, ignoring the buzzing of her cell phone in her pocket. “What did she see in you?”

  “I made her feel safe.” Vaughn balled up his fists. “I offered to go down to Louisiana and beat the shit out of that preacher, but she didn’t want any trouble. She did tell me we had to be prepared for trouble, though, when she finally made the move.”

  Dawn checked her notes and then pulled out the printed photo of the mystery moustache man talking to Vaughn at the casino. She slid it across the desk and asked if he knew the man.

  “I do remember him.” Vaughn grunted. “It’s hard to forget that moustache. I thought they outlawed those things a long time ago.”

  “What’d y’all talk about?”

  “We didn’t talk. If I remember right, he asked if the machine I played was hitting. I told him no and he just moved on. We might’ve said a few more words, but it would’ve been small talk.”

  “Would it surprise you to know this guy goes to Kathleen’s church?”

  “What?” Vaughn recoiled in his chair. “They did get to her! It’s the church that killed her!”

  As Dawn was asking the next question, McQuarie opened the door to the interview room and waved for me to step out and follow him down a long corridor.

  “What’s up?” I asked when we were in the bureau section.

  He pointed to a desk in the corner. “Your sheriff’s on the phone. He said he tried calling your cell and Dawn’s cell. He said it’s an emergency.”

  I snatched up the phone.

  “London, what’s going on over there?” Sheriff Chiasson asked, his voice tense.

  I gave him an update. “I don’t think Vaughn’s involved, but he did give us some insight into the church and how controlling the preacher is.”

  “Well, I need you and Dawn to get back here as fast as you can.”

  “Why?” I asked, a feeling of dread falling over me. “What happened?”

  “Another woman’s missing.” He went on to tell me the details, including how Abraham Wilson had worked the case all day on his own time and put the crucial pieces together. “I’m going to transfer that kid to the bureau.”

  I was glad to hear it and said as much, but I couldn’t help but think there was something more he wasn’t saying. “Sheriff, is something else bothering you?”

  “Another woman in our parish is missing—isn’t that enough?”

  “Come on, you know I’ve been doing this long enough to know when something’s going on.”

  He sighed heavily on the other end of the phone. “It’s the victim.”

  “What about her?”

  “You’re not going to believe who she is.”

  My heart sank when he told me. I dropped the phone in its cradle and leaned against the desk for a long moment. I knew I had to tell Dawn, but I didn’t want to. It would upset her, and I didn’t like seeing her in the dumps.

  I was still leaning against the desk when she stepped out of the interview room. Her face fell when she saw me standing there.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “It looks like someone peed in your shoes.”

  “Did you get anything more out of him?”

  She shrugged, still studying my face. “Nothing more than you already heard. So, what’s going on?”

  “We have to get back to Magnolia.”

  “Did they find someone else crucified?”

  “No, but there’s another woman missing and she fits the first victim’s profile—she attends the Second Temple Fellowship Church and she was having an adulterous affair.”

  Dawn nodded thoughtfully. “Is there something more?”

  “Yeah.” I frowned and stared deep into her eyes. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, I told her.

  “No!” She gasped and covered her mouth with one of her hands. Her eyes filled with tears and I quickly moved to hold her. She buried her face against my neck and said, “I…she tried to tell me hello at church last night, but I totally ignored her. I was so rude to her and now she might be dead!”

  I remembered the redheaded woman hollering Dawn’s name from across the parking lot and the way she’d reacted to the lady. Now I knew why.

  “We’ll find her,” I said with confidence, because I knew we would—I just couldn’t promise she’d be alive.

  CHAPTER 32

  Less than two hours later

  I had pushed my truck to its limit on the drive back to Louisiana. Dawn hadn’t talked much, and I was okay with it. She’d spent most of the trip with her head pressed against the side glass staring into the darkness that blurred by. Every now and then she’d lean away from the glass and scoot closer to me and rest her head on my shoulder.

  When we did talk, we considered the possibility that Nehemiah Masters was behind Kathleen’s crucifixion. If he was, and if his motive was to punish evil women, then Debbie’s fate was sealed unless we rescued her. If it wasn’t Nehemiah, then our only other likely suspect would be Joey Bertrand. While Joey had a motive to kill Kathleen, we didn’t know if he was familiar with Debbie. It was possible he might target another woman to make it look like a pattern killer was responsible for Kathleen, and thereby throwing the scent off of himself, but how would he know Debbie was also a cheater? Hell, at this point, we didn’t even know if he knew Kathleen was a cheater. And, of course, there was the mysterious moustache man. Why had he followed Kathleen to Dark Sands and was he involved in her murder?

  I cursed silently when I turned into the detective bureau parking lot in Payneville. “Look at all the cars.”

  Dawn nodded absently and I made the round of the building and parked along the shoulder of the road a block away. I shut off the engine and was about to step out when she grabbed my arm to stop me.

  “Debbie used to be like family to me,” she said. “Even though I don’t like the person she’s become, I still have that familial attachment to her. If we find her dead—if she’s been crucified—I don’t think I’ll be able to process her body. I want to work this case and see it through to the end, but I don’t want to see her like that.”

  I reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay, love, I’ll take care of everything.”

  She smiled warmly, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “Thank you for always being here for me.”

  I leaned over and kissed her soft lips, tasting the salt from her tears. “I’m never going anywhere.”

  She smiled again and turned toward the door, holding her head up strongly and pushing it open. I followed her into the bureau and squinted as the bright lights hit us. Sheriff Corey Chiasson, who was addressing a standing-room-only crowd of officers, looked up when we walked in. He told everyone to get to work and then waved for Dawn and me to follow him into the conference room, where he kicked out a couple of officers who were studying maps of Plymouth East.

  “Half of the detective bureau and a quarter of the patrol division are scouring the cane fields in Plymouth East,” he said, walking around the large table and dropping into a chair. He waved for us to sit, and we did. “I’ve got two dozen members of the fire department and fifty reserve deputies working with them.” He rubbed the sweat from his forehead. “We have to find her alive. We need to get to this bastard before he crucifies her.”

  “Is Ben up in the air?”

  “He’s doing what he can, but it’s hard to penetrate the sugarcane fields at night, even with that big light he has. The state police offered to send one of their choppers up, too, and I’ve accepted. They’ll be here at first light. Also, I got with the head of the crime lab and they’re throwing everything they have on this case. They’ve already worked up a DNA profile on the saliva you submitted and they’re running it through CODIS (Combined DNA Index System).” He paused and looked at Dawn for a long moment. “I know
this’ll be tough on you, but are you up for it?”

  Dawn bit down hard and nodded. “I want to work this case.”

  “Good, that’s what I want to hear. While we’re out there trying to bring Debbie back home, I want you two concentrating on the case. Run down every lead you’ve got and use every resource you need. If you need more people, let me know. We’ll do whatever it takes to resolve this before anyone else dies.”

  We all stood to leave, but Dawn stopped with her hand on the door. “Where is he, Sheriff?” she asked. “I want to see him before we go back out there.”

  The sheriff nodded and pointed down the hall. “He’s in my office.”

  “Walk with me,” Dawn whispered, and then led the way down the hall. She stopped outside the sheriff’s office and knocked lightly on the door.

  “Come in,” called Captain Brandon Berger, his voice low and somber.

  Dawn opened the door and we stepped inside to see Brandon sitting on a couch with Samantha, his fifteen-year-old daughter, and Kristen Boyd, his wife of five years. Samantha’s eyes were already red, but when she saw Dawn she jumped from the couch and rushed into her arms. The two of them held each other and cried, with Samantha begging Dawn to find her mother alive and bring her back home.

  CHAPTER 33

  While Dawn comforted Samantha, I asked Brandon if I could have a minute of his time. He spoke briefly to Kristen and then followed me out the door. When we were alone in the hallway, I told him how sorry I was about Debbie.

  “Dawn and I will do everything we can to get her back,” I said. “I’m sure the sheriff told you how the case is progressing, so you’re aware we’re looking at this church in Plymouth East.”

  “He did and I am.” He glanced toward the door as though making sure it was closed. “Dawn lost a bit of faith in religion when we investigated the Magnolia Life Church, and I’m worried she might let that experience skew her judgment with this case.”

  “She’ll be fine,” I said. “That case taught her a lot—you taught her a lot—and she’ll only go where the evidence takes her.”

  Brandon was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, he sounded troubled. “If she…if they crucify her, I’ll feel responsible.”

  “That’s nonsense, Brandon, and you know it.”

  “I didn’t have to divorce her, you know. I could’ve given her another chance.” He leaned back against the door and folded his arms across his chest. “By divorcing her, I changed the whole course of her life. I set her on the path she’s traveling now, and if that leads to her death, I’m partially to blame for Samantha losing her mother.”

  As I studied Brandon’s face, I realized we were a lot alike, and I also realized he was right. He wasn’t saying what he was saying for sympathy and he certainly wasn’t feeling sorry for himself. He was stating a philosophical fact.

  I nodded. “You’re right about changing the course of her life, but you didn’t set her on the path she took today. She’s the one who decided to sneak out of bed and go meet her lover—no one else.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Look, while we’re operating off the premise that she’s been taken, do you think there’s the slightest chance she ran away? I hear the church is very controlling, so she might’ve had enough and just wanted to be free from their clutches.”

  “Are you asking me if she’s ever done this kind of thing before?”

  “You know it.”

  “When I was married to her, I spent more time at work than I did at home, so you can imagine the strain that put on our relationship.” He shook his head. “I messed up one night and broke our anniversary reservations to work a death investigation. When I remembered the reservations and tried to call her, she’d turned off her phone. I looked all over town for her and kept calling late into the night, but she didn’t answer and she didn’t come home. When I woke up the next morning, she was back and said she had kept the reservations I had made for us.”

  Brandon shook his head. “She’s done other irrational things since then—mostly while we were going through the divorce—so we can’t rule out the possibility she ran off, but it doesn’t feel right. It seems she would eventually come back, and she hasn’t.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “You know as well as I do how bad this is, but we’ve got a good lead and we’re not going to rest until we find her.”

  “Thanks.” He turned and walked back into the sheriff’s office, where Dawn was just standing to leave. She gave Samantha one last hug and then turned to Brandon. “We’ll do everything we can to find Debbie…I promise.” She then hurried out into the hallway.

  It was still daylight when we stepped out into the parking lot and began the long hike to my truck, but the sun was sliding low in the distant horizon and I knew it would be dark soon.

  “Who first?” I asked Dawn once we’d reached my truck and I’d cranked up the engine. “The preacher or the husband?”

  Dawn chewed on her lower lip. “We need to identify the dude with the moustache, so I’m thinking Nehemiah. We also need to find out about his conversation with Kathleen and whether or not Joey knew she was having an affair.”

  “At this point, we don’t know if Nehemiah knew about the affair,” I said. “If he did, that puts him just as high on the suspect list as Joey.”

  Dawn nodded. “I just want to make sure I’m not being biased because of the Magnolia Life Church.”

  “I didn’t work the Magnolia Life case, so I’m as neutral as they come, and I say Nehemiah’s got some explaining to do. Especially after that sermon where he proclaimed women who cheat should get the death penalty.”

  “And what do men get—a door prize?” Dawn asked idly, still overcome by emotion from learning that Brandon’s ex-wife was a possible victim. “I’d still like to have a word with Nehemiah’s wife.”

  “Me, too.” I twisted in my seat as I drove, wishing I had time to change out of the tight pants I’d been given at the Dark Sands Police Department. While they were better than wet clothes, it was only by a little bit.

  The shadows had grown longer by the time we pulled into the Second Temple Fellowship parking lot.

  “How do we get to the front door of his house?” Dawn asked, stepping out of my truck and shutting the door. “Do we go through the church, or is it around the back?”

  I walked around to the side of the building and looked toward the back of the property, where a cemetery was spread out across the expansive property. A large barn was beyond the grave sites and resting up against a line of trees, and I pointed. “Maybe that’s the house.”

  Dawn shrugged and we began walking in that direction. As we neared the corner of the church building, the side door burst open and a woman stepped out, screeching in surprise.

  We spun to see Nehemiah’s wife standing on the top step with a mop bucket and a terrified look on her face.

  I smiled to reassure her. “Hey, we’re with the sheriff’s office. We were here last night—at the service.”

  The woman’s sky-blue eyes were wide and her pale face seemed to turn even paler. “I…I’m not allowed to converse with men outside the presence of my husband.”

  Dawn stepped between us and nodded warmly. “You don’t have to speak with him,” she said softly. “You and I can have a conversation.”

  “I…I don’t know if it’s allowed.”

  “There’s no harm in two girls talking.” Dawn stepped closer to her. “I’m Dawn. What’s your name?”

  “Gretchen. Gretchen Masters.”

  “So, you must be Nehemiah’s wife?”

  She nodded slowly, brushing her wind-blown blonde hair out of her face. “I am his wife.”

  Dawn glanced around. “Is he here?”

  Gretchen shook her head.

  “Where is he?”

  “He does not always tell me where he goes,” she said. “And it is not proper for a wife to ask.”

  “Girlfriend,” Dawn said more forcefully, “it’s time someon
e sat you down and had a good long talk with you about the free world. But first, I need to ask you some questions about Nehemiah.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Somewhere in Magnolia, Louisiana

  Debbie had drifted in and out of sleep ever since being brought to this place. She didn’t know where she was, but she got the feeling it was some kind of warehouse or workshop.

  Once the law enforcement imposter had dragged her from the window of her car, he had put her in some kind of strangle hold and squeezed tightly until she had passed out. The last conscious memory she had of that moment was when warm urine poured down her leg as her body loosened up in preparation to give up the ghost.

  When she regained consciousness a few moments later, she was tied up, bouncing around in the trunk of a car, and confused. What was going on? Who had taken her? She didn’t allow herself to consider the possibility that she was headed for the same fate as Kathleen Bertrand. Each time her mind went there, she screamed into the gag that was strapped across her mouth and squeezed her blindfolded eyes tighter.

  It had been hard to keep track of the passing time, but she figured the car had stopped after driving for thirty minutes and then the trunk had popped open. Strong arms had jerked her out of the trunk and strangled her again. She woke up stretched out on a soft surface, still gagged and blindfolded. With no one around and nothing to do, she drifted off and fell into a restless slumber that was filled with nightmares of masked men and women carrying torches and dragging her to her death.

  Now awake, she lay still and tried to determine what had stirred her from her sleep. Something clicked in the distance and she twisted her head to better hear the sound. When she moved, the springs from the old mattress beneath her body squealed. She winced. She didn’t want the source of the noise to know she was alert.

  She felt a warm draft caressing her bare skin and she knew someone had opened a door. She didn’t like being naked in front of strangers, and being tied spread-eagle on a bed made her feel especially vulnerable and helpless. Should she beg or just lie still?