After dinner, they modified a well-used Chutes & Ladders board game that they found in the built-ins. Their version involved beer. Before they knew it, they were laughing together, something they hadn’t done since Peter died. She almost felt like her old self, not the stranger she had become.
The next morning her body reminded her that she wasn’t her old self and never would be. She was sitting at the kitchen counter when the news started. She took her coffee into the family room, positioning herself a foot from the TV screen.
Lieutenant Lake updated the public on the latest findings on the case. The GBI and FBI were now involved due to the nationwide manhunt for Seth and Lily Moore, and Frank Harding. She cringed when they flashed Larry’s mug shot. His eyes were two endless holes of sadness.
When Detective Simms began to speak, she plunked her coffee cup down on the end table. His blue shirt brought out his amazing eyes and accentuated his broad shoulders. Her fingertips touched the screen, increasing the force as if to feel his skin. She sensed Seth watching her from the kitchen.
The flaming warmth enveloped her again as it traveled from her head down to her toes sending waves of yearning to her center and lower. Her mouth opened in a pant while her eyes focused telescopically on the fine hairs of his eyelashes then the coarser hairs of his eyebrows and the stubble along his jaw line. An inexplicable ache pulsated through every neuron of her being.
“Lily?” Seth said, his alarm evident in the high pitch of his voice.
She meant to respond, but she was riveted. As Simms began to talk, his voice drowned everything out. His voice was like the singing of the fenghuang, haunting her with its timber. Each inflection tantalized her. Tuning into his eyes, his mouth, his fingertips as he gestured, she felt the arousal in her breasts as they pressed against the thin cotton of her sundress.
“Lily!” Seth persisted. He was like an annoying mosquito, droning in her ear.
When she turned to him, she could see his energy field in colors of green and orange. She watched his sinewy movements as he approached.
“Your eyes are changing,” he warned.
She continued to pant as she turned back to the TV. As the detective raised a strong hand to wipe the perspiration from his forehead, she lifted her own hand. Her hand stroked a soft caress from her forehead to her cheek. She continued to her chest where the crucible rested. It beat rapidly in sync with her heartbeat. As the camera drew into a close-up of his eyes, Lily’s breath caught in her throat.
Seth grabbed her upper arm, pinching hard. “Lily, stop it!”
The rage pierced her temples, tightening the cords of muscle running down the sides of her neck. She backhanded him. Seth landed on his feet with a growl.
“I can smell it on you, Seth. You big freaking liar. Don’t tell me what to do!”
He hesitated.
“Yeah, that’s right. I can smell the Inderal,” she spat.
Turning back to the TV screen, she was devastated to see that Caldwell was gone. He needed to know that she hadn’t hurt anyone. She wasn’t bad. Other than bitch-slapping my brother just now.
The anger uncoiled. Seth had told her about taping the package of money to the Grand Am’s undercarriage the night before his police interview. His foresight impressed her, but not the residual Inderal scent that permeated the bills and plastic bag.
“I thought they stole your stash of Inderal,” she said.
Seth looked down. “I had some in my car that I transferred to the Grand Am’s undercarriage with the money.”
“Why?” Lily asked.
He didn’t move.
“This is the reason we’ve been targeted. Peter, the professor, Mona, and you! It’s about the Inderal,” she said.
“I didn’t know what to do. Who to tell. My body was out of control,” Seth said drawing closer. “And it’s gotten worse. Thanks to you.”
“Me?”
“That,” Seth said, pointing to the crucible. “Does not create balance. It’s evil. The only relief I’ve been able to get is from the Inderal. I have one syringe left because someone stole the rest when they tossed my apartment.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t judge me,” he said. “My God, look at yourself; you were going to hump the TV.”
She palmed the crucible. It sent thrills of warmth through her. “You’re evil.” He flinched as if she had struck him. “Waipoi’s dead. Mr. Liu, the only person who could help us, is most likely dead too. There’s no one left.”
“Right, Mr. Liu would have saved the day. Lily, I know you’ve had quite a beating, but get a grip. He almost killed you with that damn necklace. You call me evil? Where is the great Kung Fu master now? How was he supposed to teach us about power if he had no power himself?”
“He took care of Dad. He—”
“Are you kidding me? Dad is dead, Lily. Who was with him when he was killed?”
“No. Waipo trusted him. Dad trusted him.”
“They’re both dead you stupid, clueless girl!”
“Don’t call me stupid. You’re nothing but a weak, sniveling addict!”
Seth’s eyes widened, his fingers stretched and his hair stood up. The air inside the cabin smelled of metal, like lightning had struck.
She broke the stare as her skin prickled in a wave down her spine to her feet. Sweat dripped off her onto the floor. Her nails grew into claws. Breathe, Lily. She shouldn’t have looked up at him. When she did, she saw his eyes glow with challenge.
Before she knew it, Seth had shifted then crashed through the screen door. Lily tore through the foliage after him, diving off a ten-foot drop, landing in the lush green Georgia flora. He had taken the rocky route with deep ravines and cliffs.
She didn’t know who or what she was. Her body was human, but her vision was sharp and her toe nails lengthened to dig into the mud. As the itch prickled along the sides of her back, she gave in and released all the tension. Her wings unfurled.
They saw each other at the same time. Seth launched himself from a tree. They collided mid-air in a ball of fury. They wrestled, scratched, and bit. She finally stopped when she had him pinned. His rapid neck pulse beat under her clawed foot. As she glared down at him, his fear-filled eyes jerked her back to her senses.
She released him then tore through the woods, her wings catching on branches. The colors swirled around her as if the forest were pulsing. Reaching a clearing in the trees, she felt her wings retract. She plucked her torn dress from the ground and threw it over herself. As she walked forward studying the patterns in the air, her personal storm shifted from rage to overwhelming grief.
She plopped down on the cool earth. Examining her body, she noted inflamed cat engravings on her legs and back. She cried deeply for everything and everyone she had lost, including her baby brother.
The grass rustled behind her and she smelled him; his scent was like a sunny meadow.
When she summoned the courage to glance up, her heart sank from the despondent look on his face. He had found his torn shorts. Blood oozed from his head and neck. Her butterfly hair clip rested in the palm of his hand. She had never worn her hair short before. For some reason, wearing Katie’s rhinestone barrette made her feel like she was still a girl.
She pushed herself up to stand in front of him. He grabbed her in a hug, his eyes flooded.
“Sorry,” he said. His body quaked with emotion as he finally let go of his hell.
“I know. I know,” she whispered. They stood there for a minute, afraid to break the bond.
“Lily?”
“Yes?”
“You’re one scary bitch.” He smiled at her with the blood coagulating on his forehead. “You should have seen yourself!” It wasn’t anger on his face, but respect and awe.
She was exasperated. Boys.
They made it through that morning without tearing each other apart. By the afternoon, they were both edgy as they laid out plans to address Moore Armageddon. They knew it was coming. There was no way they
would survive if they didn’t pull together.
Chapter 37
The Cat’s Out of the Bag
With the door closed, silence hung between the three men like a thick fog. Each one was afraid to venture forth as if blinded by the unthinkable. Caldwell wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.
Lake stood up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black pants. He came around the wooden veneer desk to lean on the edge and face Caldwell and Tiny.
“I think we need to address the elephant in the room,” he said.
Tiny fidgeted in his chair.
Caldwell stared down at his shoes.
“We all know what we saw on the Seth Moore videotape. In addition, the forensic evidence is pushing us to look at something unique, bizarre even. But at some point, we need to discuss openly what’s going on.
Lake cleared his throat. “I want a blood oath from both of you that what we talk about right now goes no further until we figure out how to manage things.”
Tiny nodded as did Caldwell.
“Just listen.” Lake sighed. “It’s about the night Arthur Moore died.”
Caldwell found it difficult to swallow. He didn’t dare look at Tiny. His stomach fluttered. They were at the edge. Once Lake’s words came out, Caldwell knew there’d be no going back.
“There had been a disturbance at a construction site of loft apartments in Midtown. Myself and my partner, Randy Lucas, got split up while pursuing two perps. I got lost in this maze of machines and building materials. As I turned around, I heard a shot. Lucas was down.”
Lake swallowed. Caldwell watched him take a breath to steady himself.
“By the time I worked my way back, Officer Liu was there with his dog, Barney. I took off in the direction of the suspect, not paying any attention to Liu’s protests. I knew he’d take care of Lucas. I just wanted to hunt the bastard down who’d shot him.”
He shook his head. “Damn dog. Always was smarter and faster than me. Flew past me. The perp fired and Barney took a bullet in his back leg. I checked the dog. I swear, he, I just thought it had grazed him. If you could have seen his eyes. It was like he wanted me to keep going. I got my quarry. Gerald Owens raised his gun, but I was quicker. Got him right between the headlights.” Lake looked down as he chewed his bottom lip.
“When I made it back to that location, the dog was gone—I mean no body, disappeared. In that same spot lay Arthur Moore on a crash board, bleeding to death, too far gone for the paramedics to help.”
Caldwell snuck a peek at Tiny and saw he was studying the floor.
“Bullet fucking severed his femoral artery. He bled out,” spat Lake.
Lake’s eyes were wet, his nostrils flared. The room remained silent. Caldwell looked at him.
“I questioned Liu over and over about when the hell Officer Moore got there and how he was shot and where was the dog. Liu was just numb, but before we returned to the station, he grabbed me by the collar. He said ‘Arthur Moore was killed in the line of duty. Barney has been taken to a veterinary clinic where he will be pronounced dead from a gunshot wound. You should not be so impulsive.’”
Lake huffed. “I was pissed. I just couldn’t figure it out; all I was sure of was that I had royally fucked up.”
“Man,” Tiny said.
“Lucas recovered. I was a hero. I chased down the cop killer, according to my friends. But I knew better.” He shrugged. “Liu blamed me. He always has. Shortly after the incident, he transferred to the Marietta Police Department. I wanted to pursue it, but I just couldn’t look Liu in the eye.”
“Arthur Moore was a special man,” Caldwell said. He thought he understood the scenario from that night.
“Very special. I worked with him and Li Liu for years. Officer Moore was any man’s best friend,” Tiny said, staring straight at Lake as if to challenge him.
Seth Moore was another matter. Caldwell had watched the videotape of Moore’s interrogation over and over with Tiny.
“I think I saw a pooty-cat. I did. I did see a pooty-cat,” was Tiny’s response. Caldwell had given him a dirty look while he nursed his injured head. Eventually, the lieutenant insisted he go over to the hospital where he got eight stitches for the damage Seth Moore had done flipping the metal table on him.
Caldwell shifted in his chair.
“So you see, it wasn’t so strange for you to have seen Lily Moore change into a dog in the woods,” Lake said.
“Yeah Simmulator, don’t take it too hard that a kitty kicked your ass in the interview room, either.” Tiny’s nose crinkled. “I gave that little shit my tuna fish sandwich.”
Caldwell looked from one man to another. He didn’t have the words to describe his dreams. The different crime scenes shuffled through his head. All the pieces still didn’t fit together.
Lake exhaled. “So we all have the same idea about the Moore family’s situation.”
Tiny whistled the music to the X-Files sending a chill down Caldwell’s back.
“You don’t think they are...” Caldwell couldn’t say the word.
“Some genetic mutation?” Lake offered.
“But what about the feathers and the weird footprints?” Tiny asked.
“Someone or something is targeting them or those close to them because of this,” Caldwell suggested. “You think that Miller guy knew what was up? What really happened at that field?”
“I don’t know if any of this is even connected,” Lake said, trying to smooth down his hair. “Maybe we’re trying to piece together stuff that’s just doesn’t go together.”
All three men were stumped.
There was a knock at the door. “Detective Simms?” Carrie, the receptionist peered inside the office. “There’s a Sarah Clemens here to see you.”
Lake’s eyebrows rose.
“She tried to call, but couldn’t get through to you. She has something of her sister’s to show you.”
Caldwell rose from the table and followed Carrie out.
Chapter 38
Secrets
Caldwell had intended to talk to the Moores’ family and friends and then pay the Millers a surprise visit. Instead, he had to go sympathize with a grieving old lady. He took several breaths to calm himself and tried to put on a pleasant face as he entered the conference room. Mrs. Clemens looked up at him with a tight smile. Her eyes were red from crying and she held an intricately embroidered handkerchief in her hand. She wore her white hair swept back in a bun.
Ah hell. “Hi Mrs. Clemens, I’m Detective Simms. We spoke briefly over the phone the other day about Charles Moore.”
“Yes, yes. I remember,” she said fiddling with her hands.
Caldwell walked to the table and sat down next to her. “What can I do for you?”
“I found this in my attic as I was going through some of Mona’s things.”
Caldwell looked down at a worn leather-bound journal then back up at Mrs. Clemens. “What is it?”
“One of my sister’s old journals,” she said wiping a tear.
“I can see how upset you are Mrs. Clemens,” Caldwell said.
“Wait until you see what’s inside.” Some alarm fired in Caldwell’s head.
“Where was this?
“In a trunk in my attic. You know it’s been there a while. We stored some things for her when she first moved back to the states before she bought the house on Myrtle Street. I think we both forgot about it. I thought it just had some old photographs of us as kids. I was feeling nostalgic today and opened it.”
“It’s definitely Ms. Sinclair’s?”
“Yes, it’s her handwriting.”
“I understand.” Caldwell sighed. “Because of our ongoing investigation of your sister’s death, I have to treat this as evidence.”
“You’re not going to look at it now?”
“There’s something important in there?”
“Something dreadful,” she whispered.
Caldwell nodded. “Let me grab some gloves and an evidence bag and
I’ll look through things.”
She nodded.
Caldwell left the room and grabbed the items from his desk. He waved his hand through the glass at the lieutenant who was on the phone. It was the best distress gesture he could muster. Lake held his hand up indicating he’d be right there.
Caldwell sat back down with the items. “Lieutenant Lake is on his way,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Clemens, biting her lip.
Lake entered a minute later. He shook Mrs. Clemens hand before sitting down next to her. She gave him a weak smile and swallowed hard. It was an odd arrangement, but they flanked her on either side in order to study the book. Both men wore gloves.
Caldwell opened the book. The writing looked familiar. He’d seen it from the Sinclair crime scene. They would get their expert to verify it.
Mrs. Clemens cleared her throat. “There are some things here that I will not speak of to you. I just can’t.” Her lips trembled. “I brought this for you to read, but I’m not comfortable with my sister’s issues being public knowledge.”
“We understand,” Lake said.
“That said, it appears that my sister became pregnant when she was in Sumatra with the Peace Corps. At the end of her service she stayed on for three more years.”
Caldwell nodded. “I remember you telling me that.”
“It was the sixties and she was kind of a free spirit. I’d like to say that there was a boyfriend, but I think the fact of the matter was that she was with a group and there were friends.”
She looked at Caldwell who nodded to reassure her.
“I was aware of her having a baby, but was told that it died from a terrible infection. I chalked it up to the living conditions in a third world country. I couldn’t believe she stayed over there. Anyway, my sister returned to the states and made a new life for herself writing children’s books. She never would give me the details of her son’s death. She has suffered in the past several years from poor health. She said she had some depression. I had no idea it was extreme anxiety and delusions.
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