by Jonas Saul
“I would like to think that I’ll be able to work this case in such a way that we could possibly prevent any bodies turning up.”
“Well, there’s a reason it’s addressed to you, Detective.” Sarah gripped her coffee cup with both hands as it seemed the temperature dropped a few degrees in the room within the last minute. “I think you’ll be well on your way to solving this case when that becomes known.”
Hunter glanced at DeOcampo and shrugged, then looked back at Sarah. “I’m a detective. I look into murders. I’m sure that’s why I was sent this letter. So, unless you’ve more to add on that, let’s go back to talking about Joanne.”
“She had nothing to do with this letter,” Aaron said. “She’s been dead for over a decade.”
“Let me quote, ‘only Joanne Stevens believed in me, and look how they killed her.’ So, there has to be some connection because the author of this letter goes on to thank you, Sarah, for inspiring her to be strong, to stand up for herself and make things right.”
Sarah leaned forward a few inches, staring at Detective Hunter. “Are you insinuating fault here on our part?”
“Not at all.” He acted like he was surprised, taken aback.
“Tell the media to lay off on the lies they print about me, and no one would even know my name. I’ve wanted anonymity from the start. I never asked for my name to be known.”
DeOcampo cleared her throat. “The letter writer says that only you can stop them. How’s that?”
“How’s what?”
“How are you going to stop them?”
“I have no idea who they are, where they are, or what they’re planning, so I have no idea how I could possibly stop them.”
“How about your sister?” Hunter asked, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.
“What about her?”
“She’s dead.” He held up the folder. “The letter states that the person who wrote this is also dead. Can you tell us what that means?”
“I have no idea. Maybe a ghost wrote it.” Her sarcasm wasn’t well received. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Detective Hunter stared at her. “We’re not playing games here, Sarah.”
“Neither am I, Detective, but try to understand what I’m going through. You receive a letter from a potential murderer. I’m out having Sunday morning coffee with Aaron and Parkman and you reach out to DeOcampo to call me to meet you with such urgency that I barely have time to get here. And now this person’s motivation for killing is all our fault in some way, simply because we’re named in their crazy letter? Look, if I knew something, I’d tell you, but my sister isn’t talking about this one.”
“Why not?” Hunter asked.
“No idea.” She glanced at Aaron and he took her hand.
“Guys,” DeOcampo said. “You know something. Tell me. What is it?”
Sarah waited a moment, then stared out the window.
“Aaron, Sarah,” DeOcampo prodded. “This is serious. Even if you think what you know is inconsequential, we really need a break here.”
“Okay,” Sarah whispered. “My sister told me she couldn’t talk about this one because it was too evil. She said the word depravity over and over.”
“Anything else?” DeOcampo asked as Hunter made a few notes.
“She also told me to warn a certain individual to remain inside his home for a couple of days, so I did that. She said he was in danger.”
“Warn someone?” Hunter repeated. “About what? Danger?”
“My sister just wanted him to be in his house until the danger passed.”
“Is that why you took so long to get here?”
Parkman had Sarah’s cell phone. The detectives couldn’t know that they took a detour to the church.
“Sarah,” DeOcampo continued, “they pinged your phone. The estimated time from that mall you were at to get here showed you arriving twenty minutes later. We know you handed your phone off to someone who then drove north on the 400 before turning it off. So, that sort of Sarah subterfuge meant you wanted to make a stop on the way here and you didn’t want us knowing about it. So tell us, where did you go?”
“Church,” Aaron said. “Sunday morning sermon.”
Sarah didn’t flinch when he spoke the truth. Then she understood why.
“You interrupted our Sunday morning.” She flicked an errant piece of hair out her face. “Doing it that way, we still got in a small sermon.”
“Since when do you go to church?” DeOcampo scowled, then her face softened. “Who did you meet at the church?”
DeOcampo wasn’t letting this one go.
“The people we met at the church would have nothing to do with this.”
Hunter tapped the envelope. “How can you be so sure? Especially if you’re warning them of some kind of danger. The essence of this letter warrants that. You’re in this whether you like it or not.”
DeOcampo pushed her chair away from the table and got to her feet. “Sarah, how are you intending on stopping this murderer?”
“Excuse me? How the hell should I know?”
“The letter writer clearly states that you’re the only one who will be able to stop them. Sounds pretty cryptic to me. What do they know about you that we don’t?”
“Hey, ease off us. This is the first we’ve heard of this letter.” Well, that was only partly true. Vivian mentioned that it wasn’t her story to tell, that it was someone else’s, and that it would be told to her through notes or something. Given that, she had to expect one to surface soon. “Let’s not forget you called me here. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then give us a name,” Hunter said. “Somewhere to start.”
“A name? What name?”
“A name. Like the person you met and warned of danger. What if that person is a target? I can have a couple of uniforms watch over them for a few days until the danger passes. That way, if this letter writer shows themselves, we could end this right away. And just like this letter states, due to your actions, you will have stopped them.”
“All right, I’ll give you his name, but I don’t see how this could be connected in any way. At least, my sister didn’t let me in on the connection if there was one.”
The visiting FBI agent leaned down and tapped her fingers on the table, waiting. Detective Hunter edged forward, his pen in his hand to write down the name.
“I met with a man called, Pastor Alden Blair at the Grace Lutheran Church.”
Hunter blanched and dropped his pen. He wiped his face, then got to his feet and strode to the window to look out.
“What?” DeOcampo asked. “You know that name?”
After a moment, Hunter slowly turned back to face them all. “Maybe that’s why I got the letter after all.” His eyes found Sarah’s. “Perhaps you were right.”
“About what?” she asked.
“I was targeted to get this letter because Pastor Alden Blair and I grew up together. He officiated several of my friends’ weddings, and he’ll be there for me when I get married one day. The guy is like a brother to me. We’ve been through everything together. I pray and hope nothing has happened to him or his family …”
“I saw him myself. Saw his wife, his daughter. When Aaron and I left the church no more than an hour ago, he was safe, everything was fine.”
“Wait,” Aaron said. “Wasn’t there a cop waiting for him?”
“That’s right.” Sarah snapped her fingers. “We searched the parking lot, but didn’t see a cruiser.”
Hunter and DeOcampo stared at each other.
“Hey, Detective Hunter.” Sarah snapped her fingers two more times as the man was staring off into space now. “Did you guys send a unit to talk to him?”
“The letter is all I got. What would make me think he was a target?” He strode for the door, snatching up the Manila envelope on the way.
“Hunter,” Sarah shouted. “Where are you going now?”
He stopped by the door and looked back at Sarah. “Did you see this cop
that was waiting for him?”
Sarah shook her head. “I told Pastor Blair to ID the guy, make sure he was legit.”
“What made you think he wasn’t if you didn’t see him?”
She shrugged. “I check everyone’s ID. Nothing personal, just routine. Trust no one.”
“I’m going to call him, make sure he’s safe. And then I’m going to find out which cop went to visit him and why.”
Hunter’s cell phone rang. He grabbed it from his pocket.
“Hello?” He glanced at DeOcampo, then Sarah. “Got it. On my way.”
“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, a pit forming in her stomach. Something bad had happened, she could feel it.
Hunter’s face reddened and he loosened his tie. “A representative from the church called. Pastor Blair and his wife and daughter went missing within the past hour. Someone came into the church to say they saw a white van take them. The church can’t raise the pastor on his phone, or his wife’s phone. That”—he pointed at his cell phone—“was a courtesy call because they all know how close I am to the family.”
Hunter disappeared down the hallway.
“Well,” DeOcampo said. “Looks like I might be staying a little longer.” She moved to the doorway. “You guys mind if I follow you back to this church? We should probably go find out what’s happening.”
They got up from the table, leaving their unfinished coffee cups where they were.
Sarah held her stomach. Maybe the coffee wasn’t so good after all.
“I have a feeling this isn’t going to end well for the pastor,” she whispered to Aaron.
“This isn’t going to end well for a lot of people according to that letter.”
Chapter 8
A small crowd had formed outside the steps to the main door of the church. Detective Hunter was already taking long strides toward them by the time Sarah and Aaron pulled into the parking lot.
Sarah glanced over her shoulder. DeOcampo was right behind them in her rental car from the airport.
She hopped out the second Aaron stopped the car.
DeOcampo ran up beside her.
“Where’s your partner?” Sarah asked. “The rest of the American crew you were traveling with a few weeks back?”
“Once we dealt with the Bartleson case, some of them went home, and some are still working on the case, breaking down his financial empire. We’re officially out, though, no jurisdiction, no power in Canada. I’m only here as a courtesy. Homicide asked me to stay a few days, help with you.”
“So this is Detective Hunter’s case?”
DeOcampo nodded. “And his partner’s case.”
“Where’s his partner?”
Aaron moved up beside them.
“They both had the day off, but Hunter called me when the letter arrived because of the reference to you and Aaron. He knew I was leaving today, wanted to catch me, have me make the introductions.” She smiled. “Lucky me.”
“Where was the letter sent?”
She shrugged. “Didn’t think to ask.”
Sarah stared at Hunter as he spoke with some of the churchgoers, then fixed her attention back on DeOcampo.
“Something’s wrong here.”
The FBI agent frowned. “How so?”
“Something with Hunter.”
“He’s clean, Sarah, through and through. Has a solid record, no allegations of any wrongdoing, no blemishes. In fact, he’s been given commendations for his work with the Toronto Police Services.”
“But DeOcampo, the letter. Think about it, why him?” She raised her hands. “Before you tell me it’s because he’s a homicide detective and he was picked at random, there’s a reason. Trust me, there’s always a reason.”
“Fair enough. And I’d agree with you, but until that reason comes to light, we have to go forward with the theory that it was random. We have nothing else at the moment.”
“Not unless the letter was sent to his home. Then it wasn’t random as much as targeted. The potential murderer would know Detective Hunter. Perhaps on a friendly level. That changes things.”
DeOcampo glanced down at the ground, a hand rubbing her chin. “Shit, I didn’t think of that and I didn’t ask.” She glanced over at the crowd talking to Hunter. “We barely spoke before I called you. He just wanted you in on this. I have no idea how he obtained that letter or whether they dusted the envelope for prints.” She turned back and met Sarah’s gaze. “In fact, I never saw the envelope.”
“There’s something to ask him when you have a moment alone.”
They started toward the small group of people chatting to the detective.
“Bear in mind, Sarah, Detective Hunter would know a lot of bad people. It’s his job to investigate, arrest, and keep assholes off our streets. So, there’s a lot of people who would know him and could possibly send him a letter.”
“But to know his home address? I mean, if that’s where the letter was obtained by Hunter.”
“It’s amazing what people can do with the internet nowadays.”
“That’s a stretch, but fair enough.”
They slowed behind Hunter and listened as a woman recounted going to her car and seeing the white van leave the parking lot in a hurry. Another man said he thought he saw a scuffle. When he looked back, a woman was shutting the van’s doors and he dismissed it.
“Of course,” Hunter said. “It would look like a scuffle if that woman was manhandling carpets.”
Several people nodded.
One man added, “The van was labeled as a carpet cleaning van. Makes sense to me.”
Hunter stopped writing on his pad and glanced at several of them. “So, you’re saying the van might have nothing to do with any of this?”
Several people shrugged. “All we know is the pastor went out back, then a tall official looking man called Madison and Victoria to follow him out back. Then the van left and no one’s seen or heard from the Blair family since—”
Detective Hunter’s phone rang. He snatched it out and glanced at the screen, tapped a button which killed the ringtone, then slipped it back in his pocket.
“If he’s only been gone an hour, what made you call me?”
One woman faced Sarah, her eyes narrowing. “Because of her.”
Detective Hunter did a quick backward glance at Sarah, then refocused on the woman.
“Why her?”
“She was here earlier.” The woman’s eyes didn’t leave Sarah’s. Her tone came across self-righteous, indignant.
“Did you see her near the white carpet van?” Hunter asked.
“Well, no, but—”
“I understand the focus was on a scuffle by the van.” Hunter glanced at his notes, then back at the woman. All eyes were on the woman now. “So, how does Sarah fit into that?”
“She met with Pastor Blair before he went to the back. She said things.”
“What sort of things?”
“I overheard because I was talking with Madison at the time.” The woman stared at Hunter. “We heard her warn Pastor Blair.”
“Can you recall what she said specifically?”
“‘Your life is in danger.’” The woman repeated Sarah’s words verbatim.
Sarah offered the nice Christian lady a pretty smile.
“She said she sees things when she was talking to Pastor Blair.”
“Sees things?” Hunter asked. “Did she explain what it is she sees?”
“She said his life was in danger. Then Pastor Blair reminded her what the Bible said about devil workers like her. But she persisted.” The woman’s voice rose. Everyone was staring at Sarah now.
Aaron nudged her arm. “Maybe we should wait in the car.”
Hunter’s cell phone rang again. He dismissed the call and put it away.
“That’s all for now, folks,” Hunter said, his arms wide as if trying to block everyone’s view of Sarah. “We’ll look into this and make sure Pastor Blair is safe.”
“One more thing,” the
woman shouted as Hunter turned away.
He pivoted back to face her.
“C’mon,” Aaron nudged her again.
“This woman told Pastor Blair that even his wife and daughter weren’t safe and that someone was coming for them today. I heard the entire threat from her lips.”
“Look, ma’am,” Hunter said. “Sarah left the church and came right to the police station. In fact, when I received the call about Pastor Blair, she was with me. I’m sure she has nothing to do with any of this.”
“That’s not what Madison Blair said.”
Sarah had turned away at Aaron’s insistence, but stopped and looked back. She’d never met the woman who was doing all the talking, but there was a high level of unwarranted hatred in her eyes for Sarah. She wanted to ask her if that was the Christian way, and if all the parishioners were just as judgmental as her, but figured that question needed better timing.
“Pastor Blair’s wife stepped in when she said there would be an attack on the pastor and his family. Pastor Blair reassured Madison that everything was okay, but we stayed and listened to all of it. Even poor Victoria was scared.”
“Well, as I said, Sarah was with me,” Hunter reiterated.
The woman glared at the detective. “Doesn’t mean she wasn’t in on some plan to remove our pastor from the church. She said she had a message to deliver and she delivered it.” The woman averted her gaze to glare at Sarah. “Then our pastor disappeared. That being a coincidence would be quite surprising indeed.”
Sarah took a step forward, but DeOcampo wrapped both hands on her right elbow and yanked her backward. Aaron helped on the other side.
Something kept Sarah’s lips pressed tight together. A younger Sarah would’ve said an entire host of anti-christian garbage based on the way the woman was acting—although, she wasn’t anti-religion in any sense, just anti-judgmental, and anti-asshole—she would’ve sworn several times, and invited someone else to speak up, threatening to close their mouths forcefully.
But that was a younger, more hotheaded Sarah. She’d learned over the years to keep that fire stoked for when it was needed. These people were scared. They were lashing out, reaching for something they couldn’t attain in the hopes they’d hear from the pastor and his wife. Offering Detective Hunter everything they knew should be congratulated, not ridiculed or attacked. This wasn’t personal. This was about locating a man who had allegedly gone missing in the past hour or so. And for that reason, she could walk away, let the harsh look, the harsh words, go.