Lani sat up in her seat. “Yeah. Just getting worn down. Can’t wait to get this thing wrapped up.”
“You look like hell. You always get wrapped up like this?”
Lani didn’t answer.
“All this cult stuff. How much credence do you put in it?”
She sat for a moment gathering her thoughts. “A lot, actually. This one’s not in your face like Ocala a few years back. It’s subtle, the players are deep-seated. The Church of Set is well-run. I think we’re looking at a good old-fashioned, well-backed Satanic cult, textbook. I can’t find any links to any national Satanist churches. They don’t advertise. They don’t have an agenda that I can pick up on, besides the possible link between Walker and James Hunter.”
“I think we should pay the good senator a visit once we’re done here.”
Rick checked in with the doorman and they were shown to the elevator. “Floor eleven, unit 1104, Mr. Ramirez.”
****
Lani and Rick offered their identification when Carly Henderson answered the door. Rick took the lead. “Mrs. Henderson, thank you for taking the time to talk with us.”
“Certainly, please come in. What seems to be the problem? I’ve never talked to the police before. Now the IRS, that’s another issue.” She laughed. Her cheeks were flushed and she kept moving her hands back and forth from her hair to her lap.
Rick watched her closely before speaking. Most people being questioned gave away the answers before the questions were asked. They were usually the innocent, the jilted lovers, the neighbor, the spouse. She knew why he and Lani were here, he could sense it. He forwarded his line of questioning. “Mrs. Henderson, your husband is implicated in the cult slayings of two people up on Lake Okeechobee nearly a week ago. We would like to know his whereabouts so we can question him.”
Carly Henderson did her best not to flinch. She swallowed a couple of times before responding. “I assure you that he’s not part of anything like that. Buck’s off in Atlanta. You know he’s a part owner of the Braves?”
“No, I didn’t. If he is, it didn’t show up in our searches. We’re told he was seen in Naples earlier today. He drives a black DeVille, license plate KT41 33Y?”
“Yes, that’s his car.” She hesitated. “He must have come back early.”
Rick took a chance. “His car was followed last night traveling north on 41 at about five.”
“Oh . . . ”
“Mrs. Henderson. We know he’s still in the Tri-City area. Is there anything else that you want to tell us?” He let her hang on his words.
Carly’s voice wavered ever so slightly. “I assure you that he is in no way connected with any cults. It was just dreadful what happened to those people. We’ve been watching it on the TV.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Mrs. Henderson.”
Lani interjected. “We’re not insinuating that you have done anything wrong.”
“If he’s here, I don’t know anything about it. Maybe he’s out with a floozy from Handsome Henry’s and doesn’t want me to know about it.”
Lani smiled at the woman. “Be that as it may, it doesn’t answer our question.”
Lani looked at Rick. The woman wasn’t going to give them anything else, but her nervousness backed up their hunch that Buck Henderson was still in the area. “Mrs. Henderson, if you can tell us anything else, please give us a call.” He handed her his card.
After the door shut behind them, Rick turned to Lani. “So, what do you think?
“He’s still here.”
“Obvious.”
“She wasn’t shocked when you implicated him. I was glad that you jumped ahead. You didn’t give her time to get settled. Peter Robertson’s intel was correct. We can assume that Buck Henderson is connected with The Brotherhood of Set.” They stepped into the elevator.
“Let’s head up to North Ft. Myers and see what Henrietta LePley can tell us.”
“It’s not worth it. Let’s put a watch on both places. I don’t think we will learn more there than we did tonight. We might set them off. Can we get a phone tap on Henderson’s line? LePley’s as well?”
“Might take a bit for the warrant, but I’ll call it in.”
She pulled out her phone and made a note. “We have a hell of a lot of ground to cover. If we can get a tag on the old woman, we can make a decision then. The reserve is under surveillance and the Seminoles are now co-operating with us. Where the hell is Walker? We should be able to get this case closed. What I don’t get is the motive. Robertson’s holding something back.”
“Doesn’t want Walker snagged before he can get something tangible in his defense.”
“His assistant, Janie Callahan. If we tag her, were going to find Walker. We’ve had a watch on her for five days, but she keeps slipping us. She’s elusive.”
“Or we’re bad at keeping tabs on her. She slipped Jenkins yesterday in five minutes. But then again, he’s a lazy bastard.” Rick cracked his neck, placing his hand on his chin. “We get a lock on her again, I want someone holding her fucking hand.” He stepped out of the elevator and turned to Lani. “The Seminole village, she’ll have gone there. I’ll call in to get the Lee County traffic chopper ready. After we talk to Hunter, I want to get straight down there.”
They got into their car and Rick fired up the engine. Lani adjusted the seat, tilting it back.
Rick guided the car back to the city center. He pressed the feed button and spoke to the in-car computer. “Call Senator James Hunter.” Five possible numbers came up on the screen. “Call office.”
The call was answered by a male. “Senator James Hunter’s office, Jaime speaking.”
“Hello Jaime, this is Detective Rick Ramirez from the Lee County Sheriff’s office. I would like to speak with Senator Hunter ASAP.”
“That might be difficult. The senator has just gone on a leave of absence.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Personal issues, sir. We’re not to book any appointments or forward any calls.”
“Can I speak to his assistant?”
There was a pause on the other end. “She’s no longer with us.”
“No longer with you. I spoke to her three days ago. Phyllis is her name, correct?”
“Sir, she passed away last night.”
Rick nearly swerved off the road.
“Is the senator still in Naples? You realize that I can get a subpoena for this information.”
“Sir, I am just following orders. I would suggest you do what you need to do, and I mean no disrespect. I’m doing my job.”
“Okay, Jaime. Just do me a favor and mention that the sheriff’s office called. If the senator contacts you, or if he’s actually there, please give him our number.”
“I’ll do that for you.”
Rick hung up.
“What’s that all about?”
Rick relayed what he had just found out.
“Christ, he is involved. I’ll get a warrant ordered.”
Rick stepped on the gas. “See if you can get Hunter’s address, and let’s find out if there’s an autopsy ordered on the assistant Phyllis.”
“On it.” Lani started dialing.
Rick guided the car back to the city center. He tapped the control button on the computer. “Senator James Hunter, Bonita Springs, Florida. Cell phone.” Hunter’s cell phone was private, but had been linked to an earlier call this week, allowing the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s central computer to grab and store the number.
“Dialing the number.” The phone rang five times before the voice mail clicked in. “You’ve reached James Hunter on my private line. Please leave me a message and I will be pleased to get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Good evening, Mr. Senator. This is Detective Rick Ramirez of the Lee County Sheriff’s Department. Please return my call at your soonest convenience, you have my number.” He didn’t think he would get the man on his cell, especially if he didn’t recognize the number.
&
nbsp; “Office.”
“Dialing the number.”
The phone rang through to an automated answering system. “The office of Senator James Hunter is currently closed and will reopen on Monday. Please dial one for a company directory.” Rick hung up, muttering to himself. “Closed on a Thursday and I just spoke to them. Yeah, the bastard’s involved.”
Lani nodded. “Though maybe not of his own volition.”
“Maybe. He didn’t answer his cell, either.”
“Hmmm. Certainly fishy.”
“Yup, gotta talk to this guy, and fast. Let’s go to his house. Start route guidance.”
“Starting route guidance,” the car responded.
Rick turned to Lani. “Call in that warrant. I’ve got a feeling that the senator won’t want to talk.”
22
Gramps
“YOU’RE LUCKY YOU DIDN’T get shot comin’ in here late at night. The reserve is buzzin’ like a swarm of hornets.” The old man appeared to have aged since Janie had seen him last. He looked tired and frail, his eye sockets dark and sunken. Janie gazed down at the old Seminole, who was flanked by the two men she’d met before—Jack’s cousin Josh and his friend Nate. Both carried high-powered rifles.
“I couldn’t think where else to go. I need to find your grandson.”
“Now isn’t that a revelation. Half of South Florida is looking for him. You were most likely followed by the police.”
Janie smiled at the man’s sarcasm. “True enough, but I was careful. If anyone knows where he might be it will be you.”
Josh interjected. “We know where he was, as do you. He is no longer there. The people we left him with are dead and there is no sign of him. We thought he might show up outside the swamp. Jack would have tried to contact us. We think he’s either dead or captured.”
“Captured? Captured by who. The swamp people he was telling me about?”
“We have some ideas, and yes, they are on the top of that list.”
“Do you plan on doing anything about it?”
Josh hesitated. “Yes, but this doesn’t concern you.”
“Listen. Don’t give me any of that Indian bullshit about looking after one’s own kind. I’ve got a stake in this and I’m going where you’re going. You’re going to have to tie me up or shoot me if you want to stop me.”
Gramps put a hand on his grandson’s leg. “I have seen her involvement in my dreams. Their paths are connected.”
“I don’t believe in any of that voodoo crap, but you heard the man. Our paths are connected.” She turned to Gramps. “You’ve seen him in your dreams?”
“Thought you didn’t believe in voodoo, Janie?” He smiled for the first time since she had arrived.
Janie leaned down and grasped his wrinkled, calloused hands. “I don’t, but I need at least a glimmer of hope in order to build up enough courage to go any further. Look, I saw it in his eyes. Your grandson is not guilty.”
“I told you that when we met days ago.”
“No one we meet is guilty, right? I work for a criminal lawyer. Ninety percent of our clients are guilty. This is different, and it is high profile. Do you mind if I smoke?”
Gramps gestured approvingly.
Josh walked into the kitchen and soon returned with a six-pack of Coors Light. He handed one to Janie, who exhaled a thick stream of smoke from her wrinkled lips. “Liquid courage. Do you have anything stronger?”
“Nope, just light beer, it’s Gramps’ favorite, and he pays for it.” Josh grinned.
Janie accepted the beer.
Josh handed one to the other men. “We leave a few hours before sunup. There are three possible groups that could be behind this mess, all of them old families. There’s one that we’ll call on first. I don’t think it’s them, but they might just give us some information. Are you still packing?”
Janie patted her handbag. “Always.”
“Good, you may need it. You get shot, we’re not slowing down. Understand? We’ll have to dump you in the swamp.”
Janie grimaced. The prospect of her lifeless body floating in the swamp as gator food sent a jolt of reality through her.
“Why do you want to come so badly? This is dangerous. You can wait here with Gramps.”
“I can look after myself.” She paused for a moment, thinking of a good response to Josh’s question. “Maybe I’m just reckless.” And I need the money.
****
Janie didn’t sleep and got up on her own accord. She heard Josh and Nathan milling about by the airboats out back of the huts. She grabbed her bag and hurried down to the dock. She wouldn’t put it past them to leave her behind.
“Janie.”
She was startled and turned to see Gramps sitting in a rickety wooden chair beside the back door. “Gramps?”
“The boys are just worried about you. I told them not to dump you.”
“That gives me some comfort,” she said, smiling slightly. She took a moment to light up a cigarette. “I don’t care much what happens to me once I’m dead. Let them dump me, just let my boss know. He’ll tell my family.”
“Take this.” He handed her a necklace with a woven pendant. Three glass beads hung from the bottom. “It’s a talisman. It was given to me by my father to ward off evil spirits. I want it back if you return.”
Janie accepted the gift. “If? Like I said, I don’t believe in voodoo, but I will take it if it makes you feel better.”
The old man met her eyes with his, holding her in place. Janie shivered. “I don’t believe in trickery, but I do believe in spirits and the power they can convey upon the living. Take this advice and heed it well: you are dealing with sons of the devil. He is real, and he is powerful.”
Janie took the relic and placed it over her head, tucking it under her shirt. “I will remember what you said.”
“Hey, girlie,” Nathan shouted. “We’re leavin’.”
Janie bent down and kissed the top of the old man’s head. “I’ll be bringing it back.” She turned and hurried down to the airboat, which was being fired up, blue smoke pouring out from its exhaust.
23
Hunter
SENATOR HUNTER SAT BEHIND the mahogany desk in his home office. His wife was still in bed. He expected that the Lorazepam she had taken would keep her knocked out for the rest of the day. He took a shot from the tumbler of bourbon that sat on his desk. He loved his wife, but no longer in the way that he had loved Phyllis. But now Phyllis was dead.
He pulled open the right hand drawer and looked down at the revolver. He picked up the cold, heavy, antique gun. It had been passed down from his grandfather and still worked impeccably. He tapped the barrel in the palm of his left hand and opened the magazine. Six rounds sat in their individual slots. He snapped it shut with a loud clunk. The feeling of the gun in his hand gave him a sense of power. He could bring about resolution with the weapon. He contemplated putting the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger, but he wasn’t a coward. Cowards killed themselves. He was pissed off. He didn’t like being pushed into a corner. This was more than a corner, it was the end of his career and the end of his family. It was murder . . .
He shook his head and returned the gun to its resting place in the drawer. He was a politician and would not resort to violence to solve his dilemma.
Hunter looked across at his one remaining intern now that Jack Walker was gone. Mike Perkins sat in a large leather chair by the door rubbing his head between his hands. He’d been with Hunter for a few years. Hunter used Perkins when he went to various functions. Since Walker had disappeared, Perkins had served as his driver. The senator and his family had grown quite fond of the young man, but the present situation had pushed the boundaries of any niceties.
Hunter placed the gun on the table. “Let’s go over this again, Mike. How did they manage to sedate you? Your negligence has put me in an awful situation. I sent you a text partway through the evening telling you that I needed an excuse to leave.”
&n
bsp; Mike shook his head. “Last thing I remember I had parked the car and was talking to one of the serving girls. Wait . . . she did offer me a bottle of water. That’s when I blacked out. Next thing I know, I’m lying here on your couch.”
Hunter pursed his lips angrily. “I drove you home. You were sleeping like a baby in the back of the limo.” Hunter paused for a moment, panic welling up in this throat. “The lady we went to see is trying to blackmail me.”
“You didn’t contact the police? I mean, what the hell happened, sir?”
Only he and the Satanists knew what had happened thus far. They were playing extreme hardball. If he’d contacted the police, he would be implicated in the mess even worse than he already was.
Mike stood up, nearly falling over. “I would like to offer you my resignation, sir. I take my job seriously and I messed up.”
“Bullshit, Mike, you’re a good man. We’ve all been fooled. I’m being pressured hard by the bastards who did this. Look, I need you to get my family out of here. Book a hotel up north. Savannah, the Hamptons, maybe Canada. Have my brother Robert take them. I’ll give him a call if he asks you any questions.”
“What about you?”
“I want you to stay with me, I need your help and I can’t talk to anyone else. You know what’s going on and that’s bad enough. These people we’re dealing with are dangerous. They have made threats. If I contact the police, the game is up. I have to play this out for a day or so to see if I can salvage something.”
“Where’s Phyllis?”
Hunter’s head dropped, his eyes closed. “I’m assuming that she is dead.”
“What!” Mike shook his head, clearly shaken by the last comment. “This is out of hand. We have to call the cops. If you don’t mind me saying, these situations don’t usually work out for the best. There are experts who know how to deal with this type of situation.”
Devil in the Grass Page 21