Chapter 7
Monday, 7:58 a.m.
Andy Hall found Moira McBain sitting at her desk, hunched over a folder full of papers, when he arrived at work on Monday morning. He grinned at the sight – it was comforting to see that her typical zeal and work ethic had not been diminished by the previous week. “New case file?” he asked, just loudly enough to get her attention.
She looked up, seeming startled – apparently she had been deep in concentration. “Hardly,” she answered, smiling at him. “Old news. It’s a folder full of things my brother Ian did. I keep it around for when I want to remember him.”
“Oh,” Andy answered, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed. “Moira … “
“It’s okay,” she told him, and in fact she looked quite calm. “I’m actually trying to get past it. You remember how I told you I saw one of the in-house therapists on Friday?”
“Yeah,” Andy answered. “Who are you, and what have you done with my partner?”
Moira grinned tightly. “Spooky, isn’t it? Next thing you know, I’ll be flirting with you, or something. Perish the thought.”
Andy flushed crimson, and a moment’s awkward silence passed between them.
Moira broke the silence by clearing her throat. “Anyway, he – the therapist I saw – he suggested that maybe I wasn’t really angry with Mom. He thought that even though I was taking it out on her, that the person I was really mad at was Ian. The more I think about it …” Moira paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “the more I think he might have been right.”
Andy could tell that making that admission had taken effort for his partner. He wanted to say something comforting, perhaps congratulatory. But his relationship with Moira had changed so much in the space of the last week that he was no longer sure where the boundaries between them were. For most of the time they had worked together, they had maintained a strong working relationship and fast friendship in which it was mutually understood that talking about personal things was off-limits. This unspoken boundary was largely Moira’s – Andy had made a few early attempts to breach it when they had first been partnered. When Moira had rebuffed them, Andy then quickly stopped trying, and the two had developed a bantering rapport that had endured ever since.
After the last week, Andy thought it might be safe to cross that line now, but he wasn’t sure. Perhaps now that her normal brusque calm had reasserted itself, she expected him to return to their usual way of doing business. It could even be that she was ashamed of having let him see so far beneath the cool mask, and that saying anything that reminded her that she had done it would embarrass her. So instead he said, in his bantering tone, “Well, gee, Moira, I could have told you that. No need for a therapist.”
Moira smirked. “Yeah, well, I’m slow sometimes, is that news?” she laughed lightly. “Anyway, I’ve been reading through stuff he wrote when we were kids, especially from the last years.”
“Trip down Memory Lane?” Andy asked, coming to his desk and sitting down.
“More like an investigative expedition. I’m hoping I can figure out more about why he ….” she paused, quickly swallowing down a lump in her throat, “why he killed himself, or at least why he didn’t tell me he was going to … that maybe that will help me forgive him.”
“I thought you knew why he did it,” Andy responded. “Those crazy Wells Society tests, or whatever.”
“I think so,” Moira answered. “But I just – he didn’t tell me anything, you know? I knew things were bad, but he’d never say why. It was so obvious he was miserable, but … he was a complete closed book. Ian never closed up on me before that. It drove me crazy,” she told him, and frustration showed in her face and posture.
This time Andy could not help himself. “Welcome to my world."
Moira’s head jerked upward suddenly, and her eyes locked on Andy’s. “Am I really that bad?” she asked.
“Nah,” Andy shook his head, already regretting having said it.
Moira fixed him with a disbelieving look, under which he finally withered. “Only sometimes,” he told her, “and it’s none of my business anyway.”
“Would you really want to put up with all my whining and crap?” she asked him, sounding deeply skeptical.
“Some things are worth a little whining,” he answered instantly.
Moira’s face erupted in a smile, and a much-less-awkward moment passed between them as Andy put his hand on hers. The intimate silence was interrupted by Andy’s desk phone ringing. He sighed, removing his hand from hers and picking up the receiver. “This is Hall … uh huh … uh huh … oh.” Here a look of surprise took over his face.
Moira raised a curious eyebrow, mouthing the word “What?”
“We’ll head right over,” Hall told the person on the other end of the phone, then hung up. He locked eyes with Moira, and his face was all business. “We just got a home invasion / aggravated assault call,” he told her.
“Why isn’t that an issue for the Dallas P.D., and not us?” Moira asked.
“Because the victim is one of the people on that list we found in the glue factory,” Andy told Moira, his face sober.
“ … Oh.”
“Moira, if you’d rather sit this one out –“
“No,” she answered. “No. I think I’m good for it.”
“You sure?” Andy asked, concern showing on his face.
She grinned tightly at him and slipped her jacket over her shoulders. “Let’s go.”
--
They arrived at the house perhaps twenty minutes later, and both Moira and Andy noticed the oddity immediately. “That’s weird,” Moira remarked.
“You mean, how it’s not on fire?” Andy asked.
“Exactly, “ Moira answered. “The only other people on that list who’ve been attacked without the house being burned are –“
“The Cronlords,” Andy finished the sentence. “You think there’s a connection?”
“One way to find out,” Moira replied, opening her door. “These people are named the … Nemeyers?”
“Yup.”
The two of them set off at a brisk walk toward the front step. Reaching it, they found the house apparently undisturbed, the door still closed. Moira knocked. “Mrs. Nemeyer?” she called. “Mr. Nemeyer? It’s the FBI, open up!”
For several long seconds, there was silence. Moira looked over at Andy, silently asking whether he thought they should just bust in. Andy’s eyes shot over to the door, which was his way of saying, “Kick it in.” Before she could, however, the door opened, and a slender woman with shoulder-length brown hair stood in the doorway. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Mrs. Nemeyer?” Moira asked.
“Yes,” the woman nodded. “And you are?”
“Agent Moira McBain, FBI,” she told Mrs. Nemeyer, then gestured to Andy, “And this is my partner, Andy Hall.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Nemeyer’s eyes widened in alarm. “Am I in some sort of trouble?”
“Actually, that’s what we were wondering ourselves, ma’am. The Dallas Police got a call from you about a half hour ago claiming you’d been attacked. We just came by to make sure everything’s all right.”
“Oh, attacked?” Mrs. Nemeyer’s eyes went wide again. “I think there must be some mistake – no attack here, and I certainly never called the police.”
Moira and Andy shot each other disbelieving looks. “Your number is 214-555-5419?” Moira asked.
“Yes, that’s it,” Mrs. Nemeyer told her.
“That’s the number the Dallas police told us the call came from. Is there any chance your husband might have placed the call? Or one of your children?”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Mrs. Nemeyer answered. “My husband’s away on business until Friday, and Mark knows if he did anything like that he wouldn’t be leaving the house for a few weeks.”
Moira laughed lightly. “I understand, Mrs. Nemeyer. Do you mind if we have a look at your phone? Just to verify your story, and al
l.”
“Oh, certainly,” Nemeyer answered, standing aside to allow them entry. “Nothing to hide here, come on in. Can I get you some water or tea or something?”
“No, thank you,” both Moira and Andy told her as they stepped into the house. Nemeyer led them to her phone, and Moira began trying to check the numbers it had recently dialed. It took only moments to discover that the phone had dialed the federal building just over a half hour ago that same morning. Moira turned slowly to face Nemeyer, who was standing just behind her, a sober expression on her face.
“Oh, dear,” Nemeyer intoned. “Looks like you’ve found me out.”
Andy and Moira exchanged looks briefly, then both reached for their sidearms, simultaneously calling “Freeze!”
But Mrs. Nemeyer did no such thing. Instead, she bolted toward the back of the house, her form becoming a blur of colors as she moved at speeds Moira had seen only once before in her life – from the black-clad young man she had fought outside the Cronlords’ house the previous week. Andy and Moira fired two shots each, but the bullets all missed Mrs. Nemeyer as she propelled herself through a window, the glass shattering with a CRASH! and raining down on the floor below. Moira and Andy gave chase, but by the time they reached the window, Nemeyer was out of sight.
“Dammit! Moira cursed.
“What was that?” Andy asked her. “I’ve never seen anyone move that fast.”
“At a guess?” Moira answered, giving her partner a serious look. “I’d say it was one of those ‘Xorda’ things Mrs. Cronlord talked about.”
Andy raised an eyebrow at her. “Soul-sucking vampires? Really?” He seemed almost amused that she might believe in such things.
“Is it any crazier than pyrokinetics or people who can see the future?” Moira retorted. “I think all possibilities are on the table, here.”
“Point,” Andy conceded. “We’d better search the house, see if there are any more of them.”
Moira nodded, and they split up to do so. When they met up again, Moira asked, “Find anything?”
Andy shook his head. “You?”
“Just this,” Moira answered, holding out a necklace with a Wells Society emblem dangling from it. “I’m thinking it’s not a coincidence.”
“The prey are hunting the hunters?” Andy asked.
“Seems like a strong possibility to me,” Moira answered. “The question would be, how did they find the hunters? Members of the Wells Society don’t exactly post their home addresses on Facebook – or at least, not that I’m aware of.”
Andy shrugged. “Don’t ask me, partner. This all still feels like a fantasy novel to me.”
Moira smirked at that. “I know one person we could ask.”
Andy got it immediately. “Do you think that’s a good idea? Our last couple of trips there haven’t exactly ended well for you,” he pointed out, “and besides which, do you think she’d help us anyway? We probably just destroyed her marriage, and it’s not like we have a warrant or anything to make her talk.”
“I don’t know,” Moira admitted. “But there’s no chance we’re gonna find out from anyone else.”
--
9:00 a.m.
When Moira and Andy arrived at the Cronlords’ house, their living room was cluttered with boxes. Mr. Cronlord let them in, quietly, then went back to packing some of his things in an open box. Ainsling Cronlord appeared around a corner a moment later, and her eyes filled with pure venom as she saw Moira. “Come to gloat?” she asked tartly.
“To help, actually,” Moira answered, her own voice calm and free of rancor.
“I’ve had enough of your brand of ‘help,’” Ainsling snorted. “My Alex is gone, and thanks to you, my marriage is ending as well. I think you’ve taken quite enough from me, don’t you?”
“Actually, Mrs. Cronlord, Moira is right,” Andy came to his partner’s defense. “We’re here about something that might very well be a matter of life and death for you.”
“Oh?” Ainsling asked.
“We’re wondering if there’s a way the Xorda could have found out the names of the Wells Society members here in Dallas,” Moira told Ainsling.
This stopped the other woman in her tracks, and for the first time her expression changed from contempt to concern. “No,” she answered. “Only we knew each other’s identities, and we told no one, ever – except sometimes our children, once we trusted their discretion. Why?”
“We’ve just come from the home of Dana Nemeyer – I believe she’s one of your … associates?” Moira asked.
Ainsling’s face paled. “Dana? Was attacked?”
“Actually, by the time we got there, she was … changed, I think you call it?” Andy replied.
Ainsling put a hand over her mouth. “ … But how did they find out that she was … “
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
“If Dana is one of them … “ Ainsling paused, taking this news like a punch to the gut, “then the Xorda will surely know the identities of all of us in the Dallas area, at least. And a good deal more. I’ll … contact my associates. At once.”
Moira nodded. Ainsling turned about and began to walk away, but as she was about to round the corner, she stopped. “Thank you,” she told them briefly, quietly.
Then she was gone.
--
“So, I think I believe her when she says none of their membership gave up their identities,” Moira told Andy as they walked back to the car.
“Yeah?” Andy asked.
Moira nodded. “If there’s one thing the Wells Society is good at, it’s keeping secrets.”
“Then it seems to me there’s only one possibility,” Andy told her.
“What’s that?”
“Assuming that it wasn’t just a coincidence – the person who was attacked being a member of the Wells Society, I mean – then the only way the Xorda could have found out who she was is if those kids gave them her name.”
Moira’s brows shot skyward. “You mean the Rejects?”
Andy nodded. “The same group that, if Mrs. Cronlord is right, currently has her daughter Alex as a hostage.”
Moira shivered. “We need to find them. Fast.”
“Yeah,” Andy agreed. “I don’t even want to think about what that poor girl is going through.”
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