by E. A. Copen
I was halfway across the rez, on my way home, when the burner in my pocket began to ring. I fished it out and glanced down at the number on the screen. Someone had programmed that one in since the caller ID showed the EPD building instead of a number. “Black,” I said in the form of an answer as I pressed the phone to my ear.
“How do you like the ride?” Espinoza asked.
I smiled to myself. “You’re a crazy person if you want to trade this for a beat-up old Firebird, Espinoza.”
“It’s sentimental value, mostly. I hate that Hellcat. Too many bad memories. An ex bought it for me, you know? Anyway, you following this shit north of Paint Rock?”
For a second, I thought about telling him I could neither confirm nor deny anything. After all, from Espinoza’s point of view, I was part of what was keeping him and his men out of the crime scene. I could just as easily dismiss the conversation and hide behind my status as a fed. Any information I gave him was really just a courtesy. I didn’t have to tell him anything.
And on the off chance that he was somehow a BSI plant to keep an eye on me…
I shook my head. Ed’s crazy conspiracy theory was already getting the best of me. “Yeah. They set up a roadblock and turned the scene into an Area 51 knockoff. I couldn’t get through and the answers I got were bullshit.”
Espinoza sighed on the other end. “Well, I’ve got half my crew pulling a double to try to dig up something on Reed’s background before Paint Rock. All anyone would tell me is that Reed was up, on the run, and to be considered armed and dangerous. We’re working to try to find him. In the meantime, I figured you’d want to know Hector finally showed up.”
I nearly wrecked the car doing a U-turn in the middle of the street. “Make sure he stays put until I can get there in…” I glanced down at the clock. “Might be able to do it in ten minutes.”
Espinoza chuckled. “I think that car’s getting to your head. Don’t hurry. I’ll make sure to let him sweat.”
“Just one more question, Espinoza. Have you called Abe?”
There was a moment of hesitation. “Should I not?”
“Abe’s got his hands full with something else. I’ll bring him up to speed the next time I see him. See you in ten.” I hung up before Espinoza could ask any more questions and pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
Chapter Thirteen
The Eden police station was even busier than it had been when I’d come in earlier. A small crowd of people gathered around the information desk, swarming the rookie cop. The phone in front of him rang incessantly. He’d pulled his tie loose and tipped his hat back. His cheeks were red, and it wasn’t just because it had warmed up inside.
Espinoza stepped away from where he was chatting with another cop to greet me. “Eleven minutes, Black. I was starting to get worried.”
“I hit a red light,” I explained. “How’s Hector?”
“You’re not going to like it,” he said, gesturing forward. “Bastard lawyered up before he even got here. The lawyer arrived a few minutes ago.”
Espinoza led me back downstairs to the fourth room on the right. It wasn’t the interrogation room. Rather, it was the viewing room beside it, a plain, narrow room lit only by the low light filtering in through the two-way mirror that allowed us to see next door where Hector waited.
But Hector wasn’t alone. Sitting in the chair beside him was a man in a navy suit. White-haired and sporting glasses, the briefcase and tie screamed lawyer. Hector sat with his hands on the table, staring down his knuckles while the lawyer leaned close to whisper to him.
“Shit,” I grumbled, crossing my arms.
Espinoza shrugged. “It’s nothing we can’t handle. I think it says a lot, though. Innocent people don’t bring lawyers to pre-arranged chats.”
“Unless he is afraid his civil liberties might be violated.” I sighed and turned my head to see Espinoza giving me a look that said he wanted to hear more. “What are you looking at me for?” I snapped. “He’s not sitting in there because of his religion. He’s in there because he knows something and won’t spill it. Besides, he’s not even under arrest yet.”
“Yet being the important part of that sentence. So, how do you want to play this?”
We’d let Hector stew long enough. It was time to get some answers, but that lawyer was going to block any real progress with loopholes and doublespeak. “Espinoza, do me a favor. Go and get us some coffee while I get him warmed up.”
“Coffee?” He crossed his arms.
“Trust me. It’ll help with the lawyer.”
His irritated frown turned into a knowing smirk. “I think I know where you’re going with this. Two cups, right?”
“Two cups and a stack of napkins.”
Espinoza made for the stairs while I opened the door to the interrogation room and stepped in.
Whatever Hector and his lawyer had been discussing before I entered, the conversation halted abruptly. The lawyer shifted forward and adjusted his tie. “Ah, you must be the federal agent we’ve been waiting for. I’m Adam Sloan. Of course, you know my client.” The lawyer extended a hand to me.
I ignored his gesture and jerked the third and final chair out away from the table, my gaze fixed on Hector. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. Hector’s not your real name, is it?”
“I assure you my client is compliant and registered with BSI.”
“You’ll understand if I don’t take your word for it.” I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms, still never letting my eyes leave Hector’s. “So, who are you? What’s your story?”
The sleazy lawyer sat back down and turned to Hector. He gave a subtle nod.
“Your records will indicate that my legal name is Timothy Dekker, spelled with two k’s and no c’s,” Hector answered. “However, that name no longer holds any significance for me. I have been reborn.”
He said his name in a flat, unattached tone that told me he believed his statement to be true. That was important. Names have a lot of power in the supernatural world, but only when you’ve got the right one. To do anything with a name, you need to know what a person calls themselves, how they say it. It’s why BSI agents adopt new names. Doing so provided an extra layer of protection against some of the more common elements of magick.
I wrote down his legal name anyway in a small notebook I’d carried in with me. “Why’d you change your name, Hector?”
“Just as Simon became Peter when Christ named him a disciple, so too was I changed by the Lord.”
“You think of yourself as some kind of thirteenth disciple, Hector?”
Hector smiled and then broke out into laughter.
“He doesn’t have to answer that,” the lawyer pointed out and then turned to Hector. “You don’t have to answer that.”
“Technically, I don’t have to answer anything,” Hector added. “I’m here of my own free will to assist with your investigation. I’ve come as promised.”
“Better late than never,” I grumbled.
“And I apologize for the delay. However, there was an incident this morning with a trespassing werewolf that kept my hands tied for some time. We have decided not to press charges.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
Hector shrugged. “He is only worried about Tamara. I understand they once cared a great deal for each other. As a prospective member of our temple, Tamara has been struggling daily with severing her connections to the outside world, that one most of all. However, I assure you that she is there of her own free will.”
Hector gestured to the lawyer, who swung his briefcase up onto the table and began to sort through it. “I have several signed and notarized affidavits that will attest to Ms. Speilman’s voluntary participation. You will, of course, understand that any further attempts to contact her may mean legal action, up to and including a restraining order.”
The lawyer brought out a handful of papers and slid them across the table to me.
Right about that time, the door to the inte
rrogation room opened again and Espinoza stepped in, a folder tucked under one arm and a coffee in each hand. He all but stumbled forward, only barely managing to hold onto the coffees. “Oh, geez,” he muttered and then rushed forward to place both cups in front of me. “Anything else I can get for you, Agent Black?”
I raised an eyebrow and nodded to the folder tucked under his arm.
“Oh yeah, right.” He placed it on the table beside me.
Hector eyed the folder with a frown, but he didn’t betray the same nervousness the lawyer did when he tugged on his tie. I put a hand over the folder and slid it in front of me, placing the papers the lawyer had handed me on top.
“Thanks,” I said to Espinoza. “You mind hanging out for a while?”
Espinoza, God bless him, played his part well, and beamed like a shark in a fish tank. “Sure thing,” he said and fell back to stand near the door.
The lawyer leaned forward. “What’s in the folder?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute.”
“If you have evidence against my client—”
My eyes snapped up to meet his, and he clamped his jaw shut. “I said we’d discuss it in a minute. First, I want to hear about what the Adventists do. What do you guys believe? Are you a peaceful organization?”
The lawyer leaned in to whisper in Hector’s ear, but Hector brushed him off. “I have kept my end of the bargain, Agent. I have come here to speak to you. I have not pressed charges against your friend, yet you treat me as if I am the perpetrator and not the victim. The building that burned down was our property. Now, it is your turn to tell me what you know. And don’t tell me you know nothing. If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be so adamant about avoiding the topic.”
I lifted the pen, pressed the point into my finger, and tilted my head to the side. “I think you know exactly where this is going and it’s not a good place. You’re old enough to remember Waco. I don’t want that. Neither do you. But if we don’t stop talking in circles, things could easily go that way.”
Hector narrowed his eyes. “Are you threatening me and my people, Agent?”
“I don’t make threats.”
He stared at me for a long moment before leaning back in his chair and folding his hands on the tabletop. “This is about the rem.”
His lawyer put a hand on Hector’s shoulder. “Stop right there, Hector. You don’t have to tell them anything.”
“If I want them to stop hounding us, I do,” Hector snapped back and picked the lawyer’s hand off his shoulder. “The source of your complaint is the suspicion that we keep rem on the compound. I assure you that there is no drug abuse among people of our faith. It contradicts everything we believe in. Our doctrine teaches that to be pure of spirit, you first must be pure of body and mind. That is not possible if people have a strong connection with anything on Earth. That goes for romantic entanglements as well as a love of drugs and alcohol. A love for Christ must always come first.”
“So, you deny having any rem on your compound?” I asked, even though I already knew that’s what he meant. I needed to have a clear yes or no answer and watch how he said it. Hector was smart, I’d give him that much. But everyone’s got a tell.
Hector smiled. He said nothing in his defense and yet his reaction spoke volumes.
“You’ve got nothing,” the lawyer said. “Nothing except threats and wild accusations. What is it you think he knows?”
“I think he knows something about Gideon Reed and the rash of arsons all over the county. What I’ve got, Sloan, is a non-compliant supernatural who is clearly in violation of several statutes, the least of which is failing to register a status change.” I pointed at Hector. “And until I clear up who you are, what you can do, and document every penny in every tax return you ever filed, you’re going to sit right here.”
“Habeas corpus says you can’t hold him without arresting him if he wants to leave.”
I stood, gathered the papers, and piled them all inside the folder. “Common sense tells me Hector doesn’t like the idea of being arrested, but the ball’s in your court, Hector. I can arrest you and force you to stay until we get all this cleared up and put you through the system. That could take a while. Days, weeks, months even, depending on how fast the IRS decides to be. Or you can plant your rear in that chair and tell me all about your little cult, how you’re growing rem, and everything you know about Gideon Reed. I know you know something. But if you’re really dead set on going to prison and playing the martyr…” I shrugged. “Of course, while you’re gone, your people will be on their own.”
Hector reached out and wrapped long fingers around the lawyer’s arm. “I will stay for now. I’m sure you’ll find I’m compliant with all your laws as they apply. However, should this stretch on for more than two or three hours, I’ll have to excuse myself to lead the afternoon prayer service.” He smiled. “After that time, should you find the proper warrants, you’re welcome to come and arrest me as your conscience demands.”
I tapped the file folder on the tabletop once to straighten the papers inside and then turned. Espinoza, who was still waiting beside the door, straightened. On my way out the door, I slapped the file against his chest, and he grabbed it awkwardly. “Keep an eye on him while I go make some phone calls, sergeant.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I didn’t go back upstairs as promised. That was coming, but I needed to see how the next phase of questioning panned out first.
In the interrogation room, Espinoza walked to the table, shuffling the file under his arm. He pulled out the chair I’d just left empty. “Man, these feds are such a pain in my ass,” he muttered. “Let me tell you. You’re lucky it was her and not the other one.”
The lawyer adjusted his suit jacket and sat down again, leaning toward Espinoza. He still wore a wary face, but it was a good sign. Interrogation is all about body language. People tend to lean toward things they like, and by the subtle change in the lawyer’s demeanor, he liked Espinoza a whole lot more than me. Hector didn’t seem fazed by any of it. He’d seen Espinoza’s performance before. But their interactions had been brief before. Maybe he could cut through Hector’s defenses with the buddy act one-on-one.
“Can you believe this? She made me go get these coffees and then didn’t even touch them.” Espinoza tipped one of the cups up and frowned at the contents.
“I don’t blame her,” said the lawyer. “Stationhouse coffee is second only to prison coffee as far as disgusting goes.”
“Actually, this stuff’s not bad. I just got in one of those that brews from the little cups. I keep it in my office. Don’t tell anybody, now. I don’t want to get swarmed by rookies. This stuff is good. I figured I’d win a few brownie points with the feds by raiding my personal stash, but man. You saw how she was.” He cast a longing glance down into the cup again. “What a waste.”
The lawyer licked his lips. “I don’t suppose I could, uh...I mean, since she didn’t want it.”
Espinoza pushed the cup at the lawyer. “Hey, man, be my guest. Better than wasting it.”
Score. The lawyer was clearly now going to be more open to anything Espinoza put forward. Not only had Espinoza trusted him with a secret, which created an instant bond of trust, but he’d given him a gift. Now, if he could pull the same thing off with Hector.
He offered the other cup to Hector. “You want the other one?”
Hector turned his head aside. “No, thank you.”
“Yeah, I’m not much of a coffee guy, either.” Espinoza pushed the cup away. “By the way, you mind if I ask you about your little group of people? Off the record, I mean. Out of personal interest. Seems like you guys are actually onto something.”
“What would you like to know?”
Espinoza put his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “I was raised Catholic. Maybe you know and maybe you don’t, but I got a little magick talent myself. And you can guess how well that went over with my Catholic family when they found out.”
&
nbsp; Hector turned back to face Espinoza. “The church isn’t universally open to the idea that different isn’t necessarily evil.”
“Right, right. But from what I gather about you Tribulation Adventists, you still consider yourself part of all that, right?”
Hector’s jaw flexed, and his eyes narrowed as he searched Espinoza’s words for the danger in his question.
The lawyer took another sip of the coffee and then placed it on the table in front of him. “Mmm. That is good coffee.”
Espinoza leaned forward more and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Look, man, off the record. Help me understand, one former Catholic to another, what’s the difference between you and them?”
“What makes you think I was ever Catholic?”
Espinoza shrugged. “I’m not really allowed to ask that.”
“And you don’t have to answer,” the lawyer reminded Hector and sipped at the coffee.
“I’m interested on a personal level,” Espinoza continued. “I don’t do the whole God thing anymore, but I know what it’s like to have the church turn their back on you like that. I just can’t figure out why you’d still be a part of that. I mean, what kind of God lets stuff like the Revelation happen? The riots? All those people?”
I chewed on my lower lip. Hector wasn’t buying Espinoza’s good cop act, but he didn’t have to. Any info we got was more than we had before.
Hector lifted his chin. “For then shall be a great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, nor shall there ever be again. And if those days had not been cut short, no one of the flesh would be saved: but for the chosen, those days will be shortened.” He flattened his palms on the tabletop. “What you call the Revelation, Sergeant, was the beginning of the end. It was the birth of the Great Tribulation, and we few, those who are called into our order, are the elect, destined to be spared the extended suffering of the rest. God allows events like the Revelation to occur because of the fall of mankind. Because of sin. All flesh answers for its sin, Sergeant. All flesh is tainted. Our Earthly bodies are cages, and soon, we will be free of them.”