“You know, I’ve been thinking, Barker.”
Jankowski’s voice crackled through the headset.
“Now that Chief Kramer is gone, we need somebody we can count on to turn the department around. Someone who’s been in the trenches. Someone who knows the ropes.”
Barker turned to frown at Jankowski, who kept his eyes on the shadowy shoreline.
“What the hell are you talking about, Jankowski? I’m retired.”
“Come on, Barker. You’re too young for retirement. Besides, Willow Bay needs a new chief of police, and the only one I know of going for the job is Marc Ingram.” Jankowski wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You’d make a hell of a better chief than Ingram. And who else have we got?”
Anger heated Barker’s face as he took in Jankowski’s words. He stared over at the detective with narrowed eyes.
“You really are a dumb son of a bitch, you know that?”
Jankowski snapped his head toward Barker, his eyes wide.
“You’re mad that I think you’d be the best man for the job?”
“I’m mad because you’re too blind to see that, in this case, the best man for the job is a woman. The same woman who used to be my partner, and now has the misfortune to be your partner.”
Jankowski sat back in his chair, baffled. Then he grinned.
“You know, that kinda makes sense. I’m too hot headed, Ingram’s too much of an asshole, and Ortiz is too busy looking at himself in the mirror. Besides, now that I think about it, maybe you are too old.”
Vanzinger’s voice interrupted their conversation. He was shining a search light into the trees and swamp vegetation.
“See that cluster of mangroves to our left? I see a snake curled up in the lower branches. Everybody keep your hands inside the boat.”
A soft groan echoed through the headset, and Barker felt a frantic hand grab onto his arm. He turned to see Frankie’s eyes wide with panic. He was pointing a shaky hand toward the dark, thick body of a snake swinging down from the gnarled tree ahead.
“Cottonmouth,” Vanzinger said with a laugh. “Venomous, but rarely deadly.”
“Calm down, Frankie,” Barker snapped. “There’s something hiding in this swamp that’s much more dangerous than that snake, and we need to find it. Now keep your eyes opened and your mouth shut.”
Frankie slumped back in his seat wearing an offended expression, but his eyes remained fixed on the murky water as the boat drew ever closer to their target destination.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jankowski unhooked his life jacket and pushed it off and onto the floor. He needed to have access to his weapon if something, or someone, sprang out at them from the cover of the woods. The light was rapidly fading, and every shadow seemed to move as he pulled out his Glock, inspected it, then stuck it back into the holster.
“Hey, Tucker, you carrying?”
Vanzinger nodded but didn’t look around.
“Yeah, I got a couple crossbows and some AK-47s in my bag.”
Frankie stiffened, and even Barker sat up straighter.
“I’m just messin’ with you, Jank.” Vanzinger chuckled, shifting the stick to navigate around a log in the water. “I just have my personal sidearm. This isn’t an official operation, so the Guard wouldn’t have let me bring along anything heavier.”
Releasing his breath, Jankowski turned to Barker.
“What about you, old man? You got a gun, or maybe a cane, in case we gotta defend ourselves?”
Barker patted the bottom of his life jacket and gave a thumbs up. Looking over at Frankie, who was bundled up in two jackets and a fuzzy hat, Jankowski decided not to ask. They were all safer if Frankie didn’t possess a weapon of any kind.
Not that he would use it against any of us intentionally, but Frankie definitely seems the type to be accident prone.
Jankowski’s pocket buzzed, and he reached inside to pull his phone out. Alma’s text message caused him to bolt upright in his chair. The force of the wind caught his arm unexpectedly, sending it, and his phone, flying up into the air. Grabbing for the little device, Jankowski lurched toward the edge of the boat, then sank to his knees and clutched onto the low side rail.
Slowing the boat, Vanzinger gaped back at Jankowski, who held up his phone with a shaking hand.
“Caught it,” he mumbled, climbing back up into his seat. “Just a little accident. No need to worry.”
Holding tightly to the phone, he again read Alma’s message.
DNA results in. Partial match found in CODIS. Felon Jacob Albright paternal match to Candace's baby. Last address listed off Highway 42.
“Jacob Albright?” Jankowski muttered, not recognizing the name.
“What about Jacob Albright?” Barker’s voice was urgent. “Have you found out something about that scumbag?”
The fury in Barker’s words surprised Jankowski. For a minute he wondered if he should share the news.
It is confidential information that hasn’t been shared with anyone yet. No telling how it could impact the investigation.
Then again, Barker seemed to know Jacob Albright, and may be able to help find him.
“Candace Newbury was pregnant when she was killed,” Jankowski said, reluctantly. “And the DNA profile of a felon named Jacob Albright was matched to the unborn baby.”
“Holy shit, Barker, you were right!” Frankie yelled. “That guy that owns the compound is a creep.”
Barker’s face looked frozen in the gloomy air, but his hands clenched into tight fists beside him.
“That bastard’s more than just a creep; he’s a murder suspect. And he might have my baby girl in his fucking commune."
✽ ✽ ✽
They passed by the CSL dock without incident, seeing no one in the deserted garden or groves. Vanzinger navigated the airboat past the far side of the fence and around a bend in the shoreline, then turned off the propeller.
The eerie stillness of the scene was disturbed only by the gentle lapping of the water against the tufts of cordgrass along the shoreline as the men stared at Vanzinger, waiting for orders. He removed his headset and life jacket, then pulled a Glock out of the belt holster he wore under his jacket.
“I kinda got used to my Glock while I was on the force,” Vanzinger said when he saw Jankowski checking out his weapon. “Never really looked for anything else.”
Jankowski nodded his approval, then gestured at the woods next to them.
“You think it’s safe to get out here and scout around? Maybe come up on the commune from the rear and see what we can find?”
Shining the boat’s spotlight into the woods past the shore, Vanzinger studied the area, then jumped down from the driver’s seat.
“Yeah, it looks like solid ground up that way.”
He heaved his rucksack over his shoulder, tapped a finger on his GPS navigator, then pointed to an opening in the trees.
“Okay, let’s head that way. Everyone stay together for now.”
Frankie followed the men off the boat, then clutched at Barker’s arm, his face pale in the rising moonlight.
“What does he mean for now? We aren’t splitting up, are we? You won’t leave me out here on my own, Barker, will you?”
“No one’s going to be on their own,” Vanzinger said quietly, slipping into the trees. “No one goes anywhere without a buddy.”
Nodding emphatically, Frankie scurried after the men.
“You’re my buddy, aren’t you, Barker? We’re buddies, right?”
But Barker didn’t reply as they walked single file through the woods. He just stared intently at Jankowski’s back, following him deeper into the shadows.
Vanzinger pulled out a slim, aluminum flashlight, keeping the light pointed down at the ground ahead of them.
“You got one of them lights for me?” Frankie called up in a loud whisper. “I could use one of them back here.”
Jankowski glared back at Frankie, but the lanky man was too busy swatting at trees and imagine
d snakes to notice the dirty look.
Pushing aside a swath of palmetto branches, Vanzinger found himself standing in front of a six-foot-high concrete wall. He held up his hand, motioning for the men behind him to stop.
“This is the fence perimeter,” he said, shining the light along the length of the wall. “We’ll follow it to the edge of the water. See if we can access the compound that way.”
Jankowski put a restraining hand on Vanzinger’s shoulder.
“We don’t have a warrant, Tucker. If we go charging in there I could get in big trouble. And anything we find wouldn’t be admissible in court.”
Barker pushed his way through a clump of Spanish moss to stand in front of Jankowski.
“So, you don’t go in then. You wait out here and keep watch. But the three of us aren’t cops, and Tucker’s not here in an official military capacity. The most they can do is call the cops on us and accuse us of trespassing.”
Jankowski considered Barker’s words, then shrugged.
“Okay, let’s check it out and see if you can even get in.”
Within minutes they were standing at the end of the wall. The tide was low, and the wall ended six feet from the lapping water, revealing a soggy expanse of mud and vegetation.
Placing a tentative foot on the damp ground, Jankowski felt his boot start to sink. He stepped back, struggling to pull his boot out of the sticky mud.
“You guys can try it,” Jankowski said, “But I don’t know how far you’ll get.”
“I wouldn’t advise it if I were you,” a loud voice called out. “Cause you won’t be getting too far if this gun has anything to say about it.”
A young man with bright red hair and a freckled face stood at the edge of the compound perimeter, a rifle clutched nervously in both hands. The boy had a finger wrapped around the trigger, and Jankowski saw that the barrel of the rifle was shaking.
“Whoa, there now,” Jankowski soothed. “We don’t want any trouble. I’m with the Willow Bay Police Department, and we’re searching the area in relation to a recent homicide.”
Keeping the gun trained on Jankowski, the boy shook his head.
“That don’t give you the right to come onto private property. You need a warrant to search this place. You got one?”
Barker spoke up before Jankowski could answer.
"I thought this is the Congregation of Supreme Love. So, what's with the weapon? What are you all hiding in here?”
The boy swung the gun toward Barker; everyone except Barker took a big step back.
“We aren’t hiding nothin’. We’re protecting ourselves. It’s our constitutional right to do so, as far as I can remember.”
A rustling sound in the bushes behind them caused the boy’s finger to tighten on the trigger. Jankowski raised both hands.
“Listen, friend, we aren’t here to cause any trouble, but a girl has been murdered. We need to find her killer.”
Jankowski saw a flash of worry in the boy’s eyes. He inched closer and tried again.
“Has anyone gone missing from your compound lately?”
The boy frowned, but he didn’t deny it.
Barker stepped forward, his face earnest.
“I’m looking for my daughter. She’s missing, too. I think she might be here. Her name’s Taylor Barker. She’s about your age-”
A voice called out from the compound.
“Zac? Everything all right out there?”
The boy shuddered, and he stuck the rifle out toward Barker, his hands gripping the metal even tighter.
“You’re the man that keeps coming around here bothering us. The one we saw on the highway. I’ve been warned about you. We knew you’d be back causing more trouble.”
Barker didn’t seem to notice the boy’s agitation, or the gun that was only a few yards away.
“Is my daughter here? I’m not leaving until I find out.”
His voice was flat and emotionless, as if he didn’t care whether his persistence earned him an answer, or a bullet between the eyes.
“No, your daughter’s not here, Mister. No one named Taylor ever stayed here, and we don’t know nothin’ about her. Now all you get out of here before I have to use this.”
“We’re going,” Jankowski said, pulling on Barker’s arm. “We’ll continue our search elsewhere. No harm done.”
He turned and waited for the other three men to walk into the woods. He felt the barrel of the gun on his back, half expecting the jumpy man to pull the trigger at any minute.
It would sure make Gabby’s day to hear that my body's been found dead in a swamp. No doubt she’d love to write up that press release.
The thought of his ex-wife’s joy at seeing his dead body was suddenly replaced by the unsettling image of his naked body on a metal gurney in front of Iris Nguyen.
Jankowski let out a sigh of relief as the trees closed behind him, but he knew they’d have to find another way in. Jacob Albright was in that compound, and they had to find out what he was hiding.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The rolling paper rustled in Eli’s hand as he took a clump of tobacco from his pouch, sprinkled it onto the thin paper, and began rolling. Fingers shaking, he finally managed to produce a skinny, slightly crooked cigarette. He dug in his pocket for the book of matches he’d gotten from the Little Gator Diner last time he’d made a delivery, ignoring the bloody thumbprint smudged over the grinning alligator on the cover.
Heavy footsteps crunched past the barn, and Eli ducked down just in time. Tobias Putnam was on guard duty at the front gate, and Eli couldn’t let the older man know he’d been hiding just inside the door, waiting for a chance to sneak out unseen.
If Jacob finds out I’ve left the compound, the whole plan will be ruined.
Although Eli wasn’t so sure he could go through with the plan anyway. Especially now that Angel had given him his orders. He shook his head, trying to rid his brain of all thoughts about what he’d been ordered to do. He needed a smoke first. But he had to make sure Tobias was far enough away not to detect the acrid smell of the cigarette.
Peering around the doorframe, Eli let his eyes wander over the silent courtyard and up to the main house. Ma Verity’s rocker was empty, and the porch had been swept clean. The whole congregation had gone inside for dinner. They’d be gathered in the main dining hall, saying prayers and preparing to eat. His stomach lurched at the thought of food.
Striking a match, Eli held the tiny flame to the tip of his cigarette and inhaled deeply. The smoke filled his throat and lungs, forcing out a raspy cough that he struggled to hold in. A sudden sense of vertigo made him reach for the wall, desperate for something solid to hold on to.
I’ll just tell Angel that I can’t do it…that I’m too sick.
But deep down he knew he didn’t have the guts to face her rage or suffer whatever punishment she would surely send down on him. The slow throb of another headache started in his temple.
I have to do it. It’s the only way. It’s His will, too.
A sudden scream echoed inside his brain, making him jump and clutch at his head with both hands. The scream grew louder and louder, as if someone was turning up the volume on a stereo.
“No, please, no….”
The sound of his own pleading voice brought Eli crashing back to reality. The screaming had stopped as suddenly as it had started, but the crushing headache remained. Taking a last drag on his cigarette, Eli threw the butt down and ground it under his heel in the dirt.
He needed to leave now, before it was too late, but Angel’s words played again in his head, tormenting him.
“Sister Marie is a liar, Eli. I heard her plotting against us with my own ears and He has made his will known to me.”
The terrible pleasure in her voice had sent a shiver down his spine.
“Your obedience will earn you a place in heaven at His table, while Sister Marie will disappear into the lake of fire and brimstone reserved for liars.”
Eli wasn’t
sure about heaven or hell, but he was very sure that Angel would have her way in the end. She always did. And Marie would be leaving the commune soon. Once she got past the gate she would head over to the diner, where she would continue to plot against him and the rest of the congregation. At least, that’s what Angel had foreseen in her vision. And her visions were never wrong.
The scurrying whisper of feet on the gravel outside his hiding place, and the scent of soap and rosewater drifting in on the cold breeze, alerted Eli that Marie was nearby.
No need to follow too closely. I can easily get there before she does.
Creeping out into the night, Eli stayed close to the barn, holding his rifle down by his side, trying to blend in with the dusky air. His heart beat a painful rhythm in his chest, and his lungs felt scorched and heavy, making it hard for him to take a full breath.
Is this what it feels like to suffer and burn?
Anger mixed with fear as he strained his eyes, trying to make his way through the darkness ahead. It was too risky to use a flashlight or lantern yet. He needed to get past the gate, get out in the woods first, so that no one in the commune, and no one on the highway, would see the light.
Ignoring the mounting pain in his head and chest, Eli scurried toward the concrete fence. The sight of the produce crates stacked up against the wall made his heart drop. He had hoped that for once Angel would be wrong, and that Marie wouldn’t have to die. But the crates told the true story.
Marie used these to get out. She’s a liar. An enemy of the congregation.
Stepping on the first crate, his foot wobbled, and he had to stop and lean against the fence. A woman’s voice spoke behind him. He jerked his head around, holding in the scream that threatened, but no one was there. The night was still empty.
“Hello?” The whispered word trembled in the air. “Who’s there?
Was Angel out there, waiting to see if he followed through on her orders? Had his questions caused her to doubt him?
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