Danger in Numbers

by Heather Graham

  “You’re tired of babysitting.”

  “I just think I could be more useful.”

  “Let me talk to my superior first.”

  Ryan thanked him and he ended the call. He immediately called Charles Garza to bring him up on the latest events regarding the case, and let him know that he wanted to head north again.

  “Why do you think they ‘practiced’ on a woman up there, and then came south with their next victims?” Garza asked.

  Hunter told him, “I think they chose this area—and the north—because Ethan Morrison has property in both places.”

  “You really suspect he’s behind this?”

  “I do.”

  “You’re talking big money here. Huge money. And influence.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t make any mistakes. Don’t let us look like fools in court.”

  “No, sir. I’ll only hit him if I see him with a weapon in his hands about to commit murder.”

  “Hunter—”

  “Sir, I know. Sorry. But...none of this could be carried out without connections. Victims who have no identities...easily could have come from a private detention center. Hank killed himself with a suicide pill—Morrison has massive pharmaceutical holdings. He has a reputation for being a white elitist and a womanizer.”

  “Right—so how do you become a Divine Leader with that reputation? I know you can explain this, and you know far more than I do.”

  “Easy. You find people who feel the world is against them. Those who welcome the concept of rewards, because they feel like lesser people and want to be the chosen ones.”

  “But why would a man like Morrison even want to do this?”

  “He craves power. The right to do whatever he wants. Any time anyone kills at his command, it’s a tremendous lift. This is what I believe. Now the way to him, of course, is paved with followers—like Hank. Ready to die for their cause because they believe the rewards that await them will be great. Sir, you know as well as I do how many cults there are in existence today, and they have massive numbers of followers. Some are collecting weapons, and training their members as potentially violent forces, and so we have them on our watch lists. Most people do have a faith they adhere to. Some take it to the extreme because someone craves power.”

  “Follow your nose, then, Hunter. Close this one. Details have been kept out of the media so far, but the news has wind of the women who have been killed and we need to get this stopped, now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Call in for any help you need—even in the wilderness.”

  “Special Agent Ryan Anders is proving to be quite an asset.”

  “Then keep him working.”

  “We may wind up with something big going down. We may need a small army.”

  “And you’ll get it.”

  “Right now, sir, I need a way out of here. When we learned about the shack, we asked for help from forensics expert Aidan Cypress. He’s busy right now.”

  “I’ll see they send a local officer with an airboat out to get you. Leave Mulberry and his people and the team to gather what they can.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hunter finished with his call; he saw that Amy, too, had been speaking with her immediate supervisor.

  “We’re good with FDLE,” she told him. “Well, not that you need to be good with FDLE, but I do. They’ve promised plenty of help when needed.”

  “So, we’ll leave this to the experts here,” Hunter said. “Our drive north is about six hours.”

  “Ready when you are.”

  As they stood there, her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and looked at Hunter as she studied the number, frowning, and then answered the call.

  “Larson,” she said.

  After a second’s pause, listening, she covered the phone’s microphone and whispered, “Artie.”

  She listened gravely, and then thanked him.

  “What is it?” Hunter demanded. He chaffed a little; he was officially in charge of the case. But then again, he’d been glad Amy’s talents included setting up a rapport with victims, and those involved as criminals, as well.

  “He said he was talking to Kashi, and Kashi got him to remember everything, how Hank had gotten him into this all from the beginning. At one point, he remembered he told Hank he was worried about the cops. Hank told him not to worry. He says he’s been going crazy, trying to remember if Hank meant they’d be too slick for law enforcement, or that law enforcement might be involved.”

  Hunter weighed her words.

  Detective Victor Mulberry?

  He’d known the man and known his reputation.

  Mulberry couldn’t be involved with any of this. It seemed impossible.

  But they couldn’t take chances. He nodded and called Ryan.

  “All right, Ryan, we’re driving up to Granville today. I’ll have you come, but I’d like you to stay here about another twenty-four hours or so. You can meet with Detective Mulberry at the diner for dinner. I’ll set it up. Make sure you know everything he knows. Keep a look out for our still-missing woman—Billie, or Wilhelmina. I think she may be getting food from the waitress at the diner—the young lady you’re flirting with so well. See what you can come up with. We know Martin and Patty were helping Billie, but if she moved on or was seeking help somewhere else, too, it’s possible you can discover something by being your charming self at the diner. Remember, we need to take extreme personal safety measures around here. Trust no one.”

  “I’m on it,” Ryan swore. “So—here, at this moment, I’m the agent in charge?”

  “Yes, Ryan, here, at this moment, you’re the agent in charge.”

  He ended the call, smiling. He liked Ryan, and believed he had the right stuff to become a strong agent, and he was an agent who could follow through with Hunter’s unit.

  “So, Ryan holds down the fort here and we’re heading north.”

  “As soon as we check with Aidan Cypress—see if he has anything more he can give us.”

  Amy nodded gravely. She smiled. “I told you we needed Aidan.”

  He laughed. “Hey, we both knew we needed Aidan.”

  Their smiles faded as they looked at one another; it was good not to be in the shack. The tinny scent of blood was strong; heat had done a number on the place, and it was difficult even to stand near.

  Aidan emerged. “We’ll get everything we can. Reports will be sent to the sheriff’s office, FDLE and the FBI,” he said. He studied Hunter. “So, what happens if I find something that shows I’m right—that Ethan Morrison is somehow involved?”

  Hunter said, “He is a person of interest, you bet. But I’ve been warned, and I’m warning you. We are going to need proof, and we’re going to have to go by the book. The man employs an army of lawyers, so we need every move we make to be within the law.”

  Aidan hadn’t followed the law when he’d investigated on private property. Aidan knew it. But he was also aware many people had no idea that the Morrison house was still on private land—the area was a mishmash of state, federal and tribal land, often with blurred lines that made little sense. “I’m processing this scene perfectly by the book,” Aidan promised.

  “And as you said, please make sure everything and anything winds up in the hands of every law enforcement agency involved,” Hunter said.

  “Yes, sir.” He glanced around. Only Hunter and Amy were outside with him. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you about the Morrison family holdings. I put you in a bad position. I swear, I will follow the law to the nth degree as we move forward.” He let out a breath. “I’ve been at this for years. It’s just...what was done to those women! And why—what the hell is this man trying to make happen?”

  “An apocalypse,” Amy said. “It’s possible he’s trying to start something around the country. Florida was
his place to begin. He owns land here, where he can get away with anything—with murder, he thinks.”

  “Get us what you can from that shack. A solid fingerprint would be nice,” Hunter said. “Amy, an officer is coming to get us back to my car. We should head down to the embankment, be ready for a quick turnaround.”

  Not thinking, he slipped an arm around Amy’s shoulders as they walked back toward the canal. The incorrectness of doing so struck him immediately, but Amy didn’t seem to notice. She was deep in thought.

  “We’ve never spoken with Casey Colby,” she said. “Do you think she might know something? We’re heading upstate—should we try to find out where she is?”

  Hunter released her and pulled out his phone again.

  “You’re going to call her?” Amy asked.

  He smiled. “I’m calling my tech magician, Sheila,” he told her.

  He put through his call. Sheila suggested he just stay on the line.

  “I started pulling up info on just about everyone you’ve met down there—and Casey is easy! She is constantly on social media. She’s a bit of a rebel, but on the other hand, true to her teachings. She wants to respect everyone—and every faith. And...oh!”

  “What?”

  “She’s near you.”

  “How do you know that?” Hunter asked warily.

  “She just posted a picture. Like, just a minute ago. She’s at a diner, a few miles down 27 from where you are now. The name—”

  “We know the diner. Thanks, Sheila!”

  He ended the call and looked up; an airboat was arriving. An officer in a county uniform was at the controls.

  It was tricky maneuvering getting out to the boat. Aidan’s crew and Mulberry had also arrived via airboat, and the dry area of the embankment had been filled up.

  Amy easily leaped onto the flat-bottomed vehicle and he followed suit. They introduced themselves to the officer who was happy to help them, and shortly they were back at Hunter’s car.

  “Let’s hope she’s still there,” Amy said.

  “For where we were, we moved pretty quick. Hopefully, she just ordered. Even fast food takes time.”

  “Kaila,” Amy murmured.

  “The waitress—what about her?”

  “She and Casey must be close in age. I’m willing to bet they’re friends.”

  “Possibly. So, you think they’re both helping our missing Billie?”

  “I definitely think it’s possible.”

  “Well, then, be your charming self,” Hunter said. He exited the car; Amy did the same. She led the way in.

  Kaila Franklin was working; she was delivering sodas to a table against the window when Hunter and Amy entered.

  Hunter smiled and waved.

  “Sit where you like,” Kaila said.

  He noted a young woman with long honey-brown hair sitting alone at one of the booths. Amy saw her, too, and headed straight for a booth that was just in front of Casey’s.

  But she didn’t sit; she looked straight at the young woman and asked, “Casey Colby?”

  The girl started, almost spitting out a swallow of the tea she had been drinking. “Yes, hi, I—do I know you?”

  Amy managed a brilliant move, sliding into Casey’s booth across from her, and saying quickly, “May we?” And not waiting for an answer.

  She hurried on with, “We know of you! We’ve been to your father’s church. I’m so sorry—I’m Amy Larson and this is Hunter Forrest.”

  Kaila Franklin had hurried over and said quickly, “Casey, yeah, these are two of the guys—sorry—two of the agents working on the murders.”

  “Oh!” Casey said, her eyes wide.

  By then, Hunter had slid into the booth, as well, taking the seat next to Amy.

  “Your father seems to be a great guy, and the church is really nice,” he said.

  Casey leaned back, looking at them, and then at Kaila, and then them again.

  “My father is a great guy,” she said passionately.

  “Right,” Amy said, frowning slightly, seeming unsure where Casey was going with this.

  Casey lowered her voice and said, “If anything, my father is too good a man.”

  “They’re okay, Casey. Honestly, I’ve been telling you.” Kaila said the words quickly, and then moved on to respond to a man by the window who had lifted a hand to summon her, ready to give her his order.

  “So, you’re okay,” Casey said dryly, studying them. “FBI—Big Brother. But you’re okay.”

  “He’s FBI. I’m FDLE,” Amy said. “We’re trying to catch a murderer. What happened here was brutal, cruel and beyond horrible.”

  “My father wasn’t involved. I know you’ve been to the church. You need to know my father wasn’t involved.”

  “Your father does appear to be a good man, an upright citizen,” Hunter agreed. “But then, you have Artie and Hank—two young men from one of the church’s youth groups—holding an older couple hostage. They’re thought to have been answering an apparent call to arms for the Apocalypse.”

  Casey leaned back. She shook her head, saying again, “It’s not my dad. My dad is a good man. I get scared, though. I...I need Kaila!” she said.

  Hunter saw that, behind the grill, Frank was pretending to work—while watching them.

  Amy reached across the table and took the young woman’s hand. “It’s okay,” she told her. “Casey, do you know a girl going by the name of Billie? We think she’s in trouble.”

  Casey leaned forward, words tumbling from her lips. “This is true—whatever it is, my dad isn’t involved. And we don’t know what’s really going on—we just don’t know! We met Billie. We met Billie because Patty and Martin were helping her. Sometimes Kaila helps out at their motel, cleaning rooms. They told Billie that she might be able to get food at the diner when she needed it. And so Kaila would slip food to her, and we were always so careful! She was afraid of everyone. And after the first dead woman was found on the cross...she was more terrified than ever.”

  “But terrified of who?” Amy asked.

  Casey shook her head. “She didn’t know. She’s from Mexico. She and her family were caught trying to get across the border. She didn’t know exactly where. They were split up and sent to different facilities. Then she was put in a van with other girls and taken somewhere in the woods where they were promised that they’d be safe. There was a preacher, and he talked about how being part of the group would protect them, and then they were asked to have sex with strange men. They were given—or forced to take—‘happy’ pills and they were told that brought them closer to God, and then they’d be safe forever and loved in the community. The community would hide them from the evil people who would come to throw them back into their countries.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police and get help for her?” Hunter asked.

  “She begged us not to. She begged us just to hide her,” Casey said desperately.

  “But the police, or the FBI—”

  Casey shook her head. “She was so nervous about any member of the police. And I don’t know if it’s because...”

  “Because?” Amy encouraged.

  “Because of me.” She lowered her voice still further. “I had my own doubts. Because of Hank. His father is dead, and I always wanted to feel bad for Hank. I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead, but Hank was just... I don’t know...born evil. Or maybe his horrible alcoholic father made him evil. He used to beat Hank something awful, but he had him brainwashed, too, because the cops would go to his place sometimes. Hank would say he’d tripped or done something stupid, and his dad just kept on beating him. Hank always kind of had a thing for me. Like I said, I was sorry for him, but...he was scary! He said he was high on the chain of humanity, that the people who treated him badly would get what they had coming to them, one day. He...cornered me outside the church on
e night—my dad’s church. He told me I’d be lucky to call him mine and didn’t know what I was missing. He said maybe he’d show me. I told him I’d scream. He started laughing and told me to scream away—the law wasn’t going to stop him, no one was going to stop him. The law, he told me, well, the law wanted to be better, too. We get some highway patrol out here now and then, but we mostly don’t see the police. Detective Mulberry has come around through the years. But he just basically checks on people. He worked the case when Barney Hough fell in his barn, but it was just an accident. I mean, Mulberry has always been a good guy to all of us, so...” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t know if Hank was trying to scare me, or if we do have corrupt cops anywhere.”

  “I swear to you, we’re on your side,” Amy told her. “Where is Billie now?”

  Casey didn’t answer. But Kaila came to the table and leaned over it, saying, “We don’t know. She hasn’t come around. She hasn’t been at the motel, and she hasn’t come here for food. We’re scared. She is the sweetest, most innocent and most vulnerable woman we’ve ever met. One thing—she was bright enough to know someone wanted something very bad to happen to her.”

  “What do you think has happened to her?” Hunter asked. “We know the girl who was killed first—Artie called her Lady Liberty—was apparently willing to do whatever was asked of her. Hank used her to bring Artie into the group. He basically gave her to Artie for his first sexual experience, with the promise of a home, community, friends and respect to go along with everything. But I’m afraid we don’t know anything about the second victim.”

  “Please... I pray it wasn’t Billie,” Casey said in a whisper.

  “I don’t think it could have been. She was evidently being killed when we arrived here, when we discovered the first victim,” Amy said.

  “I don’t know... I don’t know,” Casey said.

  “Kaila, when we were here before, Ryan saw you hiding food. Was that for Billie?” Hunter asked.

  “It was,” Kaila said.

  “But you couldn’t find her?” Amy asked.

  Kaila shook her head. “We should have called the cops,” she said dolefully.