Danger in Numbers

by Heather Graham

  “That is simple truth,” he told her.

  “Your truth,” she told him.

  She knew that she had to get out; he’d asked for an attorney. She stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Detective Ellison was standing by with Hunter and Roger Dawson.

  “Nice guy, huh? Bet he gets all the girls,” he said.

  “If he gets them, it’s because he serves the Divine Leader so well,” Hunter said. He looked over at Dawson. “That language. This is something based on Brother William and the People’s Paradise,” he said. “Ethan Morrison’s father had to have been the missing Darryl. Here’s what bothers me. Maclamara is small—population around two hundred, maybe? With the People’s Paradise, Brother William found land that he could sweep up in the valley, some ‘bequeathed’ from followers he found when he began his quest. He brought people in. Somehow, he—I’m going to say it’s Morrison, because I truly believe it was Morrison—came into town and took over. Small town, good religious people—but probably with a tendency to white supremacy and a dislike for any immigrants. And then Morrison settled in, taking over. But even in a community this small, there would be someone who disagreed.” He looked at Amy. “I think that you nailed it in your conversation with him. But what bothers me now is not just what is going on and how we stop it, but what happened to those who didn’t fall into his fold?”

  “You think that he murdered anyone who disagreed?” she asked.

  “Dawson?” Hunter turned to his mentor.

  “It seems likely,” Dawson agreed.

  Amy remembered that very few people knew that Hunter hadn’t been born with the name he now carried.

  Ellison muttered beneath his breath, “And this has happened in my county.”

  “Detective, it’s so subtle sometimes, so hard to see—until a takeover is complete. But I still believe that the Divine Leader has an agenda. And that this is only the beginning.”

  “Where do we go from here?” Ellison asked.

  Before anyone could answer him, a well-dressed man with slick dark hair and wearing an expensive suit came walking toward the interrogation room.

  “This is laughable. You’re laughable. And on top of a ridiculous arrest, you’ve been interrogating my client without his lawyer present.”

  “Your client didn’t request an attorney until about two minutes ago,” Ellison told him.

  “Trumped-up charge. I’ll have him out of here in another two minutes,” the attorney said.

  Amy couldn’t help herself. “I’m impressed. Mr. Harrison can afford an attorney with an Armani suit!”

  The man ignored her. “I will see my client now.”

  Ellison opened the door for him. “Knock yourself out.”

  “I’ll have your badges,” the attorney said.

  “You don’t really want them. They would play havoc with that suit,” Amy said.

  He went in, pulling the door firmly behind him.

  “What now?” Ellison asked.

  “Hold him for the time that you can, pending charges. If he wants his freedom by claiming that he’s working for Ethan Morrison, we’re going to want a paper trail for it,” Hunter said. “You hold on to him, and we’ll get back to the drawing board.”

  Amy thought that they were ready to leave, but Hunter hesitated and turned back to Ellison. “If they were getting rid of people who didn’t fall into their fold, they won’t have buried them on their private land. They would have been killed in a way that could appear natural—something like a fall, being crushed by a felled tree. Or they’d have simply disappeared. If you can think of any state or federal land where we might find remains, well, there could be a connection there. Or any unresolved missing persons files. Anyway, we’ll keep all information circulating. I’m convinced that they are holding at least one other woman hostage. We have to find a way to save her life, because she’s going to be next.”

  “My entire force is here for you.”

  Amy, Hunter and Roger left the building, heading out to their vehicles.

  “What now?” Roger asked.

  “Back to the drawing board,” Hunter said. He grinned at Amy. “But you nailed it. Phin Harrison couldn’t possibly afford the lawyer who just went in to see him. His arrest must have been reported to the Divine Leader, who might have been the man in the robes. We need to find out if Morrison will claim to have appointed Phin Harrison as his property manager. If he does, I’m sure that Phin will walk out of that police station. And we need to know who is paying for that lawyer. I want the paperwork. If Morrison disowns Phin, well, the man might be ready to talk.” He hesitated. “I’m going to have Garza get into a few conversations with Amy’s superior in Florida and with the county department down here. I think that there are going to be some bones in the woods. If Ethan Morrison learned all that he knows from his father and Brother William, then he knew to get rid of dissenters during his takeover.”

  “Back to the inn?” Roger said.

  “Back to the inn,” Hunter agreed.

  “This is all so unbelievable,” Amy said when they were in the car. “I mean...it’s really hard to understand. How do people allow their friends or neighbors to be murdered?”

  “They don’t think of it as murder,” Hunter said. He was looking ahead as he added, “Do you think that the regular citizen in 1939 Germany really wanted to see an entire part of their population gassed to death? The regime sure as hell didn’t start out by saying they’d fix everything with mass murder. No, you seep in, and you take charge. You blame misfortune on others, and then you turn those others into scapegoats. Rationality may remain, but by then, fear is such a factor that the moral people remaining are terrified to speak up. They know what will happen to them if they voice disagreement.”

  “Politics and religion. They can both go too far.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “You do realize that, even if with all you know, we’re still not sure what we’re looking for? I’ve read the King James version of Revelation, the People’s Bible version and a few others.”

  He nodded. “Here’s what we have that they all share. Four Horsemen. Exactly how all the methods of death align, we don’t know. But I think that the Divine Leader is seeing the fall of the People’s Paradise as the breaking of the Fourth Seal. The rest...well, he’s playing by ear. We could see them imitate something that is a death by a ‘beast,’ or in a way to simulate disease, or even by starvation.”

  “Starvation takes a long time.”

  “Not if—”

  “What?”

  His brow furrowed into a pained frown.

  “Not if you remove a victim’s stomach.”

  Amy winced, shaking her head. “You think that—”

  “I think that anything is possible. With the many different interpretations, they could kill by ‘beast.’ They could have had one of their victims mauled by an alligator. There are all kinds of possibilities out there, but the thing that scares me most is that this could go on a long time. Even if we manage to...stop things here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It could reach farther than we’re imagining. There are cults out there—not running around murdering anyone that we know about—that have a global influence. Like everything else in the world, the underlying foundation is usually power and money.” He sighed. “We haven’t always performed spectacularly—the FBI has made plenty of mistakes. Even with the best intentions. When there’s a lot of firepower in play, people get hurt. People die. But you can’t go into a den of hornets without firepower. And any time something goes wrong, the government looks worse—and cult leaders have more ‘proof’ to fall back on.”

  Amy was silent and so thoughtful that she jumped when her phone rang.

  She glanced at Hunter and answered it quickly.

  “Larson,” Amy said.

  “Amy?”


  The voice on the other end was Casey Colby’s.

  “Are you all right?” Amy asked quickly.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine. Have you found Billie?” Casey asked anxiously.

  “I’m so sorry, not yet. Is everything all right with you?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m okay. I was hoping that I could speak with you. In person, and alone.”

  Amy frowned. “Casey, you’re about five hours south of me—”

  “No, no, I’m almost in your area. I’m heading up to stay with a friend who owns a horse farm in Ocala.”

  “Casey, we had Agent Ryan and Detective Mulberry looking out for you.”

  “I don’t need to be afraid. If my family is involved, they would never hurt me. But please, I need to see you. I can meet you at a little diner called Sal’s Stopover. It’s just north of Micanopy, heading toward Gainesville. Say, tomorrow morning, about nine?”

  “Of course. But, Casey,” she started, but hesitated. “I’ve seen your brothers. They’re with a group of questionable people in a little town called Maclamara.”

  “They’re not bad people, I swear. Please, I—I need to see you, just you. I have a ton of thoughts and questions and things rushing through my mind, and if we just talk...alone, because I don’t want any of those he-man cops or agents or whatever taking what I saw the wrong way, I know that you’ll listen to me, that you’ll understand.”

  “Of course. But, Casey, please, tell me where you’re staying—and call me back to let me know that you arrived safely.”

  “Yeah, for sure.” Casey rattled off an address in Ocala, and when they ended the call, Amy quickly wrote it down. Hunter was looking at her.

  “I overheard part of that,” he said.

  “She said that she wants to meet with me, only me. I’m worried about her. She doesn’t believe that anyone in her family would hurt her, but... Nothing about this is normal.”

  “We’ll get someone down in Ocala to watch over her, without being seen,” Hunter assured her.

  Amy nodded.

  “Right.” She looked at Hunter. “I have to meet with her. Our leads keep taking us to dead ends.”

  “Yes, you have to meet with her.”

  “Alone.”

  He turned to grin at her. “Sure. Alone. But I’ll be close.”

  They’d arrived back at the inn. Night had fallen, and the historic house was beautiful next to the moss-draped oaks.

  Roger pulled in after them.

  “Do you people ever eat?” he asked them. “Okay, I admit, the barbecue thing dimmed my appetite for a while, but...”

  “We’ll order food,” Hunter assured him.

  “You think we can—out here?” Roger asked.

  “Yes, I think that we can.”

  Food delivery companies had covered just about every possible inch of the country, Amy thought. They could even order a decent meal; they found a restaurant under one of the delivery services that offered everything from a “healthful living” menu to “steaks, fries and grease!”

  They opted for steaks, fries and grease that night.

  Sitting around the table in the suite, they enjoyed dinner, and a brief respite from the case. Roger Dawson, despite his fierce loyalty to his work, had a wife, three sons and, now, four grandchildren.

  Hunter and Amy happily appreciated the pictures Roger showed them.

  Then, finally, Roger yawned.

  “Tomorrow—another sixteen-hour day. Good night, folks.”

  Hunter locked the door behind Roger when he left.

  “What now?” Amy asked.

  “Well, you know, we do keep forgetting that food is necessary for life, for the energy we’re needing on this case.”

  “We just ate.”

  “But there are other needs...that can be just as necessary.”

  “Did you have something in mind?” she asked him.

  “Hell yeah!”

  He strode slowly over to her. She came to her feet, ready to meet him, ready to feel the sweep of his arms, and the pressure of his lips, the excitement of his delving kiss. There was something about the way his tongue played in her mouth that was indicative of all else, and she felt him against her as if he were a sweet, searing flame that brought wicked heat but deliciously no harm.

  They moved; the table jostled.

  She almost fell back; he caught her.

  She laughed as he looked into her eyes.

  “I had an image in my head of one of those movie scenes where they sweep everything off the table, and make love right there.”

  “Messy,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah, far too messy! And the table is hard.”

  He pulled her up off the table and then literally swept her up into his arms.

  “I guess the bed, huh?”

  “The bed would be perfect.”

  He carried her in and laid her down. She came up on her knees as he joined her there on his.

  “Guns!” she reminded.

  Their weapons were set on each bedside table and they were left looking at one another again, smiling.

  “Clothing!” Hunter said.

  They started at it, fumbling and laughing as they removed their own and one another’s, leaving all a tangle thrown about. Then she was in his arms again and they fell backward onto the cool comfort of the sheets beneath.

  Hunter found her lips again, and began methodical, searing wet movement down her body. Sensations tore at her; she cried out softly, rising against him, feeling the fine muscles in his back and shoulders, planting her kisses against him, covering his bronzed length with her fingertips and the teasing brush of her lips and tongue.

  Then they were together again. And she didn’t think; she just felt. The world rocked. Yes, they needed to live. To love, to know this kind of beauty, to celebrate that life is precious.

  After, they lay together, her head on his chest. “Was I...?” she began.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Um...oh, too brazen with you?”

  He laughed. “You were nothing but beautiful with me. What brings that up? Our friend Phin?” He was suddenly serious, and he rolled over to look down at her. “Here’s the thing, Amy. Do men like him exist—in cults and in the world at large—thinking that they’re better than the ‘fragile’ sex? Totally idiotic? Yeah, sure. But you can’t ever let that change anything about you.”

  “You know that there are even cops out there who are like that?” She grinned. “John Schultz is a great man, a great partner. But even he admits that he was being macho and didn’t want a female partner. Or a young one.”

  “But he got to know you. And he came around.”

  She shrugged. “What do you think?”

  “I think I questioned your age more than your sex.”

  She laughed. “Because you’re, what—five or six years older than I am?”

  “And...been around a real big block.”

  “And now?”

  He hesitated, a smile slowly creeping into his lips.

  And for a moment, she felt oddly vulnerable—more frightened inside than when she was faced with criminals with guns and knives.

  She cared about him so much; she didn’t want him leaving her life. She loved working with him, loved the way his mind worked, his subtle smiles, the richness of his voice, the ripple of his muscles, the feel of him.

  “Now is easy,” he said softly.

  “Oh?”

  “Now,” he said, “I know that you’re perfect. Just perfect.”

  “Totally perfect?”

  He laughed.

  “For me, yes. For me, totally perfect.”

  His lips touched hers.

  19

  Amy took Hunter’s car the following morning.

  Ryan had called first thing to
tell them that they’d been watching Casey Colby but hadn’t had a way to stop her when she decided she was leaving town.

  It was critical that Amy find out what Casey had to give them. She would go alone, as she had promised. But Hunter would follow with Roger in the van.

  She had nearly reached the little diner where she was to meet with Casey when her phone rang.

  It was Hunter.

  “What’s happened?” she asked. Hunter getting in touch so soon meant there must be news.

  “Our dear friend Phin Harrison must have been a true believer. He’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “A pill—poison, we believe. At any rate, there was no paper trail. Even if we suspect that Morrison hired the attorney, there’s no paperwork. Ellison is working on the attorney angle. The man is legitimate, part of a major North Florida firm. And a representative from Morrison’s office claims that Morrison wasn’t in the state—he’s ‘traveling’ and unavailable for comment. Anyway, Phin Harrison is dead.”

  Amy sighed. “He was a jerk, but I sure as hell didn’t want him dead!”

  “Of course not. Anyway, I hope Casey has something to share. We need what she can give us. Ocala police watched her overnight and followed her north. Now she’s back in our ballpark. Ellison has been advised, though where she’s going from here, we don’t know yet.”

  “Hopefully, she’ll give us something.”

  “Go get ’em, tiger.”

  She grinned and ended the call, pulling into the lot of the little diner. It was a charming one-story building just off the highway, freshly painted and well looked after.

  She had looked it up after agreeing to meet here. Family owned. The family obviously cared for it; it made her smile. It was old Florida, and down in her area, there just wasn’t much of “old” Florida left. Maybe it was “old” anywhere, before restaurants were all chains that crept across the country and before you could be in a mall in almost any state that was just like the mall in any other state.

  She parked the car.

  The owner obviously had a green thumb. The place had myriad flowers growing around it that were well tended. Beautiful orchid plants were on either side of the front door. It was billed as a diner, but it had a hostess stand. An older woman greeted her and Amy told her that she was meeting a friend. The woman led her to a booth where Casey was waiting.