Danger in Numbers

by Heather Graham

  “That I know about. All I had to do was take care of Special Agent Larson. Then we could leave home. I could be an apostle. We’d move up north in the state and join the True Brotherhood. I would never be awkward or unloved again or made to feel stupid. I’d have a position of power, and when I wanted a girl, I could have one. The women in the Brotherhood know how to serve.” He paused, a pained expression on his face. “The worst thing is, I wanted to believe Lady Liberty had really welcomed her sacrifice, that she was high above with angels and the Lord and everything beautiful. I wanted to believe it so badly. I don’t think, deep down, I did. But Hank told me, when he recruited me, it all had to do with empowering oneself and carrying through with promises. He...he made a video of me naked...” His voice trailed and he looked acutely uncomfortable.

  “It’s okay, Artie. I’ve heard just about everything there is to hear,” Amy assured him. Again, she had the sense that this boy had gotten mixed up in something he barely understood.

  “Okay, okay... Well, he recorded me playing with myself.”

  “Masturbating?” Hunter asked.

  Artie was a dark shade of red as he nodded.

  “He said me doing the video for him was a commitment. It was powerful and strong and part of the Brotherhood. He’d erase the video. He said it wasn’t being mean or threatening—it was so I could find my inner strength. I mean, he laughed, too, and told me I looked like a crippled giraffe trying to get a hard-on.” He winced, closed his eyes and opened them again. “He could be funny. Hank could be cool and funny. That one was at my expense, but he had me laughing. And then... I cared about her—she was my first girl ever. She was great. Lady Liberty, I mean. Strange, though, something I didn’t think of back then.”

  “What’s that?” Amy asked.

  “I was talking about rewards in heaven—gibbering, really. She was beautiful. My mind wasn’t working. She told me her rewards were going to be on earth.”

  “Artie,” Hunter asked. “Did Lady Liberty have an accent?”

  “Yes, a beautiful accent.”

  “Was it an accent that someone who spoke Spanish as their first language might have?” Hunter asked.

  “Maybe. Lots of my friends are Cuban or their folks come from South America, but most of them were born here and talk like me, so...it was beautiful. Her words were beautiful.”

  “Did she call you by any pet or special names?” Amy asked.

  “Yeah. I thought she was calling me a whore at first, like a male whore! As if. But she was calling me mijo. It means—”

  “That you were a dear one. It’s a term parents often use for children,” Amy said.

  “She must have liked you,” Hunter said. “You’re a likable kid—when you’re not holding a knife at someone’s throat.”

  “I’m so sorry...”

  “We know you are,” Hunter assured him. “And we’re going to talk to the authorities about you, let them know how much you’re helping us. Tell me honestly, right now, are you all right if you stay here?”

  “Sure. Dr. Kashi is nice. I am going to jail, though, right? A real jail. I...what I did was against the law.”

  “District attorneys and the federal government are figuring that out right now. You’re eighteen, so it can’t be juvenile court, but you’ve also admitted your part in taking Mr. and Mrs. Sanders prisoner, and you’re being cooperative in an investigation. You’re all right here, though—it will really be protective custody right now. I don’t want anyone who has anything to do with this knowing you weren’t killed right along with Hank.”

  Artie nodded slowly. “Thank you. You know, I wish I’d met Dr. Kashi years ago.”

  “He seems like a good guy,” Amy said.

  “He is, and yeah, I’m fine here. I have a little room to myself. Okay, it’s kind of a cell, but it’s mine, and the bed is even comfortable. And out in the exercise yard...everyone out there seems to be as scared as me.” His eyes brightened. “Can I keep seeing Dr. Kashi?”

  “I believe that will certainly be possible,” Amy told him.

  “Artie, can you tell us anything else at all? Was there anyone else Hank might have been talking to on the side?”

  “He had a thing for Casey Colby—the pastor’s daughter. But Casey thought he was a kid. Hank was older than me by a few years, but younger than Casey by a year or two. She doesn’t like him. I heard she saw him throwing rocks at a dog one day and that was it for her.” He shook his head. “But I don’t think Casey was in on anything. I think Hank thought that, you know, while we were all seeking heavenly reward, he was going to get Casey on earth.” He shook his head. “He was the only one I talked to and knew. When I finished my first task, I would have been brought north. And then I would have met the accomplished members of the church.”

  “Thank you, Artie,” Hunter said. “Sincerely, thank you. And be strong. We’ll see that Patty knows how sorry you are.”

  “Thank you,” he said. He looked right at Amy. “Agent Larson...”

  “Yes?” Amy asked him.

  “Please be careful. You—you didn’t ask me why they wanted you.”

  “I know why they wanted me,” Amy told him. “They wanted me to die. They were probably going to inject me with a deadly disease. They don’t have me, so they’ll find another victim. Don’t worry, I’m pretty tough.”

  “You could still be in danger.”

  “And I also have someone even tougher at my back,” Amy said, grinning at Hunter. “Thank you, Artie. We are going to hope for the best for you.”

  Hunter nodded.

  “Amen,” he said, and then added, “We’ve got to get going, kid. We have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall. You take care.”

  They left after speaking with the area supervisor in charge; he would look after Artie, seeing they moved carefully on filing charges and considering Artie a cooperating witness who needed to be protected.

  Then they were out of the office at last.

  The skies over Miami were almost a crystal blue that day.

  It could be a pretty city, warm and welcoming.

  Like any big city, it had shadows and danger when the sun wasn’t shining so brightly.

  Still, Amy wouldn’t have minded being in the city a bit longer. But they couldn’t stay.

  Amy looked at Hunter. “If we’re going out to a cabin in the Everglades, I have a friend I want to call.”

  “Aidan Cypress?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I can have your back, you can have my back. But out in the Everglades, I’d sure like to have Aidan, too,” she told him.

  He grinned. “I agree. Call him. I’ll drive.”

  He hesitated, hand on the car door, looking at Amy.

  “What?” she asked.

  “They wanted you.”

  “They didn’t get me.”

  “You might want to take yourself off the case.”

  She shook her head stubbornly.

  “I want on this case more than ever. I have a vested interest in making sure these people are stopped—and that they face the full extent of the laws of the state and the country.” She was quiet for a minute and then said, “Hunter, please. This is my case. Yes, FBI has the lead in the investigation. But I want to be there when we get him, them, whomever. And I believe I can help, I know my state. Please! Don’t suggest to anyone that I be removed.”

  He was smiling.

  “What?”

  “Wow.”

  “Wow?”

  “I love that passion about you. And I was just asking. I’d be remiss if I didn’t give you an opportunity to stay as far away from these monsters as possible.”

  “And where would that be? Hunter, we have no idea where they might strike next. We’re even struggling to investigate the murder sites.”

  “Well, let’s get moving. This cabin may give
us a lot. If we can find it.”

  * * *

  Two and a half hours later, they had Aidan Cypress with them, and they were rolling down the old work road off the highway.

  “I’m glad that kid told you which dirt road—there’s more than one, you know. There were years when this was nothing but sugarcane, for miles and miles,” Aidan said. “Before that, surviving out here, many of my people were pumpkin farmers. Don’t see a lot of that around here.”

  “Ah, there has to be some. Seminole pumpkin bread is awesome.”

  Aidan grinned at her from the back seat. “Yeah, my mom’s is the best.”

  “Well, you might have offered me some.”

  “I will. Next year. If you’re still working in the state next year.”

  “Where would I be?” Amy asked.

  “I think the feds like you,” Aidan told her.

  “Hey!” Hunter protested. “We don’t poach people. Often.”

  Amy lowered her head, smiling.

  She was glad Hunter really did seem to think she was good at her job.

  “What do you think we’re going to find in this cabin?” Aidan asked. He hesitated and then said, “What happens in this car stays in this car, right?”

  Amy saw Hunter frown and gaze back at Aidan through the rearview mirror. “Unless you killed someone, or caused someone injury... What the hell, Aidan. Speak up.”

  “I went out to the old Morrison place, the derelict house on the Morrison property,” Aidan said. “I figured it was a matter of time before we got a search warrant.”

  “You think he’s involved, too?” Amy asked.

  “Let’s see. He’s a white supremacist. He’s a hateful bigot who thinks women should be subservient. Also hates anyone disabled. And anyone gay. He’s a despicable human being.”

  “Which we all believe, but that doesn’t—” Amy began.

  “Make him a murderer, I know. And you two have already been telling each other that, right?”

  “Correct. Aidan, the thing is, if you’d come across evidence of anything illegal at the house,” Hunter said, “we could have lost everything in court.”

  “You’re forgetting who you are talking to—one of the best forensic experts in the state, if I do say so myself,” Aidan said. “Trust me, if I’d found something, I would have found a way to make you guys get a warrant—fast.”

  “What did you find?” Amy asked.

  “Nothing! Yes, someone has been there lately. But there was no blood, no tools, no Dade County pine to make a cross out of, no drugs of any kind...nothing.”

  “So, maybe we’ll find what you were looking for out at this hunter’s shack,” Amy said.

  “I’m hoping,” Aidan said. “There may be a way to nail him.”

  “If he’s involved in this. Just because a man is detestable—”

  “Yeah, yeah, and bull,” Aidan said flatly. “I know you both suspect the bastard.”

  “There’s the canoe,” Hunter said, drawing the car close to the embankment.

  Aidan laughed. “I can manage the canoe. But a friend of mine has an airboat, just south. Let’s take that.”

  “You might have mentioned that fact,” Hunter said, turning the key in the ignition again and shaking his head.

  “Hey, you asked me along for a reason, and not just my forensic kit,” Aidan said, grinning.

  They pulled up another two hundred feet; as Aidan had said, an airboat was waiting by the embankment.

  “And who owns this?” Hunter asked.

  “My cousin James. He does airboat tours—he has a business off one of the exits on I-75.”

  “And he just managed to leave it here for you?”

  “Yeah. Takes less time to get where we need to be.”

  “But...where’s your cousin, then?” Amy asked.

  Aidan laughed. “He owns more than one airboat. Another cousin picked him up. We’re good—they’ll come back and get it tomorrow. You don’t have a problem with it, do you?” Aidan asked them.

  “Hell no,” Hunter told him. “I wasn’t into the idea of rowing for miles.”

  “Keeps you out of the gym,” Aidan said, grinning. “But, hey.”

  “I like the gym. It’s air-conditioned,” Hunter told him.

  “It’s not even a bad day—we’re lucky,” Aidan said. “Come on, hop on. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Didn’t doubt you for a minute,” Amy assured him.

  In a few minutes they were all settled on the airboat. Aidan had taken over, directing them to the bench in back. There was a higher seat just above it; Aidan took that seat, finding the key that had been secreted into a niche in the flooring.

  They rode south and west, into the Everglades. The air blowing past was fresh and clean; the sun was out and the sky remained a beautiful blue. The temperature was hot, but eighties-hot, and the feel of the wind and the spray of water that dashed up and touched Amy in tiny droplets felt good.

  She glanced at Hunter; whatever else, he, too, was enjoying the ride. They passed herons and cranes and other birds, and two alligators sleeping on the embankment.

  Hunter’s eyes met hers. He smiled.

  “Great blue heron!” Aidan shouted, pointing to one of the large birds on the shoreline.

  “I’m not seeing any vultures,” Hunter said.

  “No. Nothing dead around here—not right now,” Aidan said.

  They passed another two alligators. The creatures did not look up; they were accustomed to the whir of an airboat. As they passed, Amy noticed that one of the gators was enormous.

  “That’s old Methuselah! Been holding down that area of the embankment since I was a little kid,” Aidan told them. “Don’t go near his territory, and he won’t mess with you—he’s about thirteen feet of pure terror when someone threatens his realm. Too bad we might be after locals who probably know that.”

  She thought about the injuries the murdered women had suffered, the agony they had endured before death had taken them from the pain.

  Maybe those who fed a woman to bugs deserved to be a meal for an alligator.

  She winced; she enforced the law. They were not judge and jury.

  And whoever was doing this had knowledge regarding the area. They would know to avoid the territory of an alpha alligator. Or a female guarding her eggs, a creature just as fierce, if not more so.

  “Hey, guys, I don’t know this cabin. I need help looking!” Aidan shouted.

  “We’re not there yet,” Hunter said. “Hey, wait. There! I see it just ahead, through the trees—over there!” Hunter told him.

  Aidan slowed the motor, bringing the airboat in so they could step off without hitting too much muck. He grabbed his large black case, his face grim.

  As they approached the rickety cabin, Amy and Hunter drew their guns. Neither of them believed they would encounter anyone, but they were not taking any chances.

  They crept around the shack surrounded by bracken and long grass, and each took a side of the door. Hunter nodded at Amy; she would cover him. She nodded in return.

  He kicked the old door; it gave way easily. He stepped inside and she followed.

  It was one room.

  “Clear!” Amy called back to Aidan.

  They stood in the entry for a minute, their eyes adjusting to the dim light seeping in through the doorway and chinks in the wood.

  Amy felt something cold trickle down her spine.

  They’d found the murder site. Scuffs on the dirt on the floor showed where someone had been held and possibly dragged.

  But the scuffs weren’t what made her heart skip a beat with pity.

  It was the table in the center of the room. The table where flies buzzed incessantly over pools of dried blood.

  Amy knew; this was where the women’s faces had been slash
ed. Where their wrists had bled while they were being held down. It was probably where the spider had been set on Jane Doe number two in order to deliver its deadly bite.

  It was where they had let her writhe in pain, probably screaming in agony, her cries going out to the creatures of the Everglades, unheard by human ears other than those of her torturers, her tormenters.

  Her killers.

  13

  Hunter’s first action was to call in what they had found.

  There was no body, so Carver wouldn’t have to be called out. Aidan’s crew would come, along with Detective Mulberry.

  There was little they could do after surveying the room, though Amy had her sketchbook out. She worked, and Hunter marveled at the way her eyes seemed to stay on the condition of the room, assessing details, while her fingers seemed to work on their own.

  He called both John Schultz to keep him apprised of the day’s events, and then Ryan to tell him that they’d be back soon.

  “What’s the next move?” Ryan asked him. “I mean, we know where they set the young women up for killing—where they tortured them before murdering them—but does it give us anything else? What about the kid—Artie?”

  “Well, we found the shack thanks to Artie. They’re keeping him in protective custody now. The attorneys are going to have to decide if he’ll be charged. He’s seeing a Dr. Kashi down there—maybe he can be confined in a facility for a while. Kashi seems to do well with him. Artie needs to be deprogrammed. He’s already better than he was last night.”

  “But did he give us any names?” Ryan asked.

  “According to him, Hank was the man in this area. The plan was to kidnap Amy, then Artie would have been allowed to meet others in the church. Artie was an easy mark for someone like Hank, who promised him a place to be loved and appreciated. It can be frighteningly easy to take over the mind of someone who has felt ignored and mocked their entire life, unloved, so to speak. We don’t know much about his family or Hank’s family. Detective Mulberry is going to be speaking with the families, finding out what he can through them.”

  “Okay, do you want me to stay on top of that? I like Martin and Patty, but...”