Stolen (Episode Three: The Nightshade Cases) Page 10

  Jackson’s chair legs hit the floor, hands reaching for the file. Gerri let him have it, wishing he’d play his stupidity closer to the chest. Not that it mattered. Natalie was all Gerri’s. And, from the gleam in the young woman’s eyes as she dropped the poor me act, she knew it.

  “So what?” Natalie crossed her arms over her chest, avoiding eye contact suddenly. Nerves? No, Gerri didn’t think so. She was still firmly in control. There was that icy flash again, the same one Gerri had seen when Natalie challenged her earlier. Which led Gerri to believe there might be a screw loose somewhere.

  “So.” Gerri sat on the edge of the table, nice and close to Natalie, smiling down at her. Forcing her to move her own knees aside so she wouldn’t be touching Gerri’s jeans with hers. “Imagine my surprise when the same techs—smart guys for geeks—told me both videos that incriminated first Patrick, then Detective Pierce here,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Jackson, “were tampered with.”

  Okay, they hadn’t. There wasn’t time. But, Natalie’s flicker of doubt told Gerri she was right. Of course, it was the only logical explanation.

  “You can’t prove that.” Was that desperation? Gerri inhaled slowly. No. Boredom.

  Sociopath. Got it. Her gut twisted, hunted, probed while Gerri asked questions and kicked herself for not seeing it earlier. Then again, she’d had little contact with Natalie. Still, her instincts usually told her what she needed to know. But, what if they didn’t work on someone who couldn’t feel?

  “Maybe I can.” Gerri stood up, stretched. “Why’d you kill the Sonnickers, Natalie?”

  She sniffed, looked away. “Whatever.”

  Gerri couldn’t help the grin that broke over her face. “Your father just wanted money. But, what were you after, hmmm?” Gerri leaned in. “What were your backers after?”

  Natalie’s head whipped around, calculation on her face. “I have information you can use.”

  Looking for a soft spot? She wouldn’t find one in Gerri. But let her think a deal was possible. Just let her.

  Gerri leaned further forward on the table, nudging the file Jackson set down. “I get why you cut John’s throat. He swallowed the key and you needed it back. But why didn’t you cut it out of him?” Natalie glared, silent and arrogant. “Because Emma screamed, right?”

  Natalie hesitated. “I want a deal.”

  Gerri didn’t respond. Waited the girl out. Long enough she must have convinced herself the detective’s silence was agreement, because Natalie looked away, a tiny smirk on her face.

  “I didn’t care if that bitch screamed,” she said. “They were into some kinky shit, you know? If figured the cops would show and think it was either a robbery or some cult thing.”

  “But you had the foresight to set up your father the day before. With the Brampson’s ladder.”

  Natalie’s soft snort sounded cynical. “Idiot. You found it yet?” Gerri shook her head. “I was going to leave an anonymous note, lead you right to it. It’s on the roof of the shed.”

  “Where your father left it.” Clever girl. “So what, you broke in, killed the Sonnickers and tried to take the key?”

  “They were crouched around that stupid fucking cauldron of theirs, chanting some shit.” Natalie rolled her eyes, fingernails tapping on the surface of the table. “Mumbo jumbo crap. Whatever it meant. I still don’t think they know it was me. Emma came at me with the wand thing of hers.”

  “And you stabbed her through the eye with it.” Gerri’s fist came up, struck at Natalie. She flinched, though the blow wasn’t even close to landing. “And John?”

  “He knew what I was after. Didn’t even try to defend himself.” This time, Natalie frowned. “He had the key in his mouth before I could stop him.” Her eyes seemed distant, disturbed. “I didn’t have time to fish it out of him, not after Emma screamed. Waste of fucking time.”

  “You ran. I get it. Set up Patrick to take the rap with your hacking skills. But, then you killed him. Why?”

  Gerri was sure she wouldn’t answer. She’d offered to help, yes, but Natalie’s hesitation and shrewd, narrowed eyes held sudden suspicion. To Gerri’s surprise, Natalie leaned in with a faint smile growing on her face. “I liked him,” she said. “Just not that much.”

  “Your father’s information was in the same envelope as the Sonnicker’s blackmail paperwork.” Gerri backed off. “You knew if you didn’t get that key, we’d eventually track back to you.”

  “Patrick figured it out.” She shrugged. “He found links to his kidnapping on my laptop. Stupid.” She frowned at herself. “I couldn’t let him go to the cops.” She shrugged. “Figured I’d give him a sendoff that you’d assume was connected to his parents.”

  “Which, it wasn’t.” Gerri nodded. “Nice try. We’re actually professionals, you know. We work things out.”

  Natalie rolled her eyes in Jackson’s direction. Gerri laughed.

  Touché.

  “I was supposed to be long gone by then.” Again with the nail tapping on the table. “I didn’t count on you putting the pieces together so fast.”

  “The church was your next target.” Gerri stuffed her hands into her pockets to keep them from shaking in excitement. “You were going after them. Why?”

  Natalie tossed her head. “They came to me. Thought they could buy me off when I found what they wanted. Which meant they had their own secrets to keep.”

  There it was. All Gerri needed. She loved the confirmation chill of discovery. “Your backers belonged to the Collective.”

  Natalie didn’t acknowledge yes or no. She didn’t need to. Gerri’s gut knew it was true.

  “Gideon Orter?” Again no answer. And not a flicker of acknowledgment. The girl would be a killer poker player. Gerri considered it a possibility. Though, if Gideon was to be believed, aberration had already occurred in the Collective, in the person of one Reverend Sterling. Which meant it was possible the Grand Prophet had an internal church problem on his hands.

  All supposition hollow and useless without evidence.

  Natalie’s coldness had a calculation to it. “Secrecy always makes me wonder what might be available for exposure.” Blackmailing ran in the family. “This wasn’t some slap job. I did all my research.” Her perfect brow folded into a frown. “Then made the biggest mistake of my life trusting that loser with the follow through.” Her father. How pleasant. “The almighty Collective of All Souls isn’t as squeaky clean as they pretend to be behind their firewalls and safety nets.”

  “Tell me about it.” Gerri waited, hoped. She already knew there was something up, hinky, with Gideon and his group. Maybe Natalie might be useful, if a guilty, psychotic killer.

  But, she disappointed yet again. “I couldn’t find any solid proof, no matter how much I backtracked,” she said. “But I could swear they were looking for Patrick, but not to return him to his family.”

  Well, that was interesting. “Then why?”

  Natalie shrugged. “I couldn’t get them to tell me. All I know is that he was important to the church. Like, vitally important.”

  “And you killed him.” Gerri shrugged. “Wonder if they have reach in prison.”

  That made her pale and for the first time Gerri saw truth in the young woman. Fear was a truth all its own. “I’m telling you what I know for a reason. I’ll cooperate. In exchange for police protection.” So, she had an idea what crossing the Collective might mean for her. Which told Gerri they were about as dangerous as she suspected.

  Jackson stood up, headed for the door with a smirk on his face. Gerri joined him while Natalie called after them. “Just protect me!”

  As if. Gerri hoped Gideon really was a badass. Time for another visit to find out.

  ***

  EXT. – KINSEY’S APARTMENT to INT. – COLLECTIVE OFFICE – AFTERNOON

  Kinsey parked in her usual spot, but her mind wasn’t on the small rectangle she claimed as her own near the door to her condo complex. Instead, she only had focus for the tall
, brooding redhead who perched on the top step to the front door, long legs stretched out in front of her. Kinsey slipped out of the convertible, the sound of the alarm arming beeping behind her as she tucked her laptop bag strap over her shoulder and approached Gerri with a measure of caution.

  She hadn’t seen her detective friend since they left the All Souls Collective the night before. And, from the rumpled look to the redhead, she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep since then. Kinsey set down her paper bag of groceries and joined Gerri on the step, knowing the other tenants would be likely calling the cops to report them loitering any minute now.

  Kinsey just had to let her grandmother bully her into a high-priced condo complex.

  “We have the murderer,” Gerri said, sounding tired, pensive. “But. There’s one question remaining I just can’t shake. And I was hoping you’d come with me and dig for the answer.”

  Kinsey nodded immediately. Like she’d ever turn Gerri down. “Where are we going?”

  Green eyes reflected the morning sunlight as the detective met Kinsey’s gaze. “To ask Gideon Orter if he had anything to do with the kidnapping of Denis Entremande.”

  Kinsey sat in the front seat of Gerri’s car, listening as her detective friend told her everything she’d uncovered. A shiver of disgust quivered over Kinsey’s skin, goosebumps rising as she thought about Natalie and how she’d played all of them. But, could she be trusted? These accusations against the Collective could easily be distraction, a way to gain Gerri’s interest, to make herself useful. Because useful could mean deal.

  But, from the grim set of Gerri’s jaw, the redhead seemed as suspicious of Gideon as Natalie said she should be. Not that Kinsey believed everything the man said. It was a weird conversation last night, in his richly appointed office that just put Kinsey on edge. She hated shows of wealth, especially from those who were meant to protect weaker and more vulnerable people. Mind you, the members of the Collective didn’t seem all that weak or vulnerable. Quite the opposite. Kinsey still struggled to wrap her mind around a church that embraced not only the belief systems of all religions, but encouraged independent thought.

  She found she rather liked the concept. She could at least understand the appeal for wealthy socialites like her grandmother, for instance. She hadn’t had the courage to go digging, to check and see if Margot DanAllart was a listed member in their Boston chapter. For some reason, Kinsey didn’t want to know.

  No, there were other thoughts on her mind as Gerri finished telling her what happened, while they pulled up to the office building home of the Collective. The artifacts and their symbols haunted her. The paranormal was real. But, did the members of the Collective know that? Were they, too, hunting for answers?

  Or, more frightening and exciting at the same time, were they paranormals themselves?

  Kinsey found her knees wobbly as she followed Gerri into the main lobby of the building, when she stepped onto the elevator beside her friend. The interior of the building was just as cold as last night, but her goosebumps had nothing to do with the chill of the air conditioning. Constance stood guard at her desk just like the night previous, glaring at the pair as Kinsey kept pace with her friend.

  “The Grand Prophet is in a meeting.” No nonsense, and no admittance. Kinsey’s irritation she was unable to influence this woman almost drove her batty last night. She’d tried with all her will to make the secretary let them in, but for some reason, her special talent had no effect.

  Which made Kinsey even more nervous. And excited. And scared. Was Constance Pip, as her placard read, a paranormal? Dared she add to that thought, like Kinsey?

  Why the idea excited her she couldn’t say. Only that thinking of herself in those terms gave her a thrill like nothing else ever had.

  “He’ll just have to cancel,” Gerri said, storming around the desk, heading for the metal door. Constance was on her feet, dark eyes flashing, but Gerri was faster. On impulse, Kinsey stepped between them, one hand on Constance’s arm.

  A flash of an image, of someone not human. Black, pit-deep eyes, skin the color of curdled cream tinted faintly green, hair a wild mass around her, stench of smoke and death, the screech of a terrible voice in the distance to the beat of wings—

  Constance jerked her hand free from Kinsey, glaring, rubbing the spot with her fingertips. Kinsey staggered away from the woman, through the door after Gerri, heart pounding now, excitement gone. And as hard as her logical mind tried to convince her she hadn’t seen what she’d just seen, Kinsey couldn’t let it go as imagination.

  Dear God. What was this woman?

  Gerri was talking, pulling Kinsey’s focus from her fright to the room around her. Gideon Orter stood in front of his massive desk, a slim, shaking woman beside him. It took Kinsey a moment to recognize the pale, sad face of Monique Entremande.

  “—assist in any way, detective,” Gideon was saying, a hint of anger in his voice. “But not to the detriment of my followers.” One of his big hands settled on Monique’s shoulder. Did she flinch from him? Turn away ever so slightly? Kinsey had the impression the grieving mother wasn’t here by choice, though she certainly didn’t seem to be in any kind of distress past the obvious.

  “I have questions for both of you.” Gerri was being a bully again. Kinsey was fairly certain she’d met her match in the Collective leader.

  “I’m sorry, detective, I have nothing to say.” Monique’s voice shook, making it hard to understand her. “I just want to mourn the death of my son in peace.” She looked up at Gideon, then away quickly, tone dropping to a bare whisper. “In the protection of the Collective.”

  Bile rose in the back of Kinsey’s throat. Cult, her mind screamed. And yet.

  “Kinsey.” She half-turned at the whisper of her name, catching sight of Simone peeking in the doorway. Gerri had a full head of steam on, stomping closer to Gideon and Monique. She didn’t need Kinsey. And seeing Simone here reminded her she had questions of her own.

  “Simone.” Kinsey joined her outside the office, just past the desk while Constance stared with open hostility.

  “Don’t mind the old bat.” Simone laughed, faint accent breaking through. French. How ironic, considering her last name of Paris. “She will never warm to anyone.” She wrinkled her nose in Constance’s direction before leading Kinsey further away, black eyes sparkling. “I see Detective Meyers is endearing herself to Gideon.”

  “She just wants answers.” So did Kinsey.

  Simone shrugged her elegant shoulders, pale skin bare today in her sleeveless black sheath. Always perfect, down to the finest detail. Kinsey felt like a frump next to her. “She should try being civil now and then.”

  Kinsey couldn’t argue with that.

  “Listen, my dear,” Simone hooked her hand through the crook of Kinsey’s elbow, walking slowly with her toward the elevators. “I’ve been discussing your particular talents with Gideon. He’s fascinated with what you’ve come up with so far.” Not much. At least, that she’d shared with Simone. Kinsey felt a tiny bit guilty she’d been holding back, that she possessed an illicit photo of one of the artifacts. Against the rules, and yet, she’d been unable to resist. “He recommended I discuss arrangements with you that might allow you greater latitude.”

  “What kind of arrangements?” If Kinsey could talk to some of her colleagues, maybe the translations could go faster. For that matter, there had to be other symbologists in the Collective, ready, willing and able to tackle the job. Hadn’t there?

  What made her so special, then?

  “We wanted to invite you to consider joining us.” Simone stopped walking, smile kind and hopeful. Light cast a glow around her sleek, black bob, washing her in warmth. “The Collective, Kinsey. We could use someone like you. And, we think, we would be of great value to you, as well.”

  Kinsey gaped, heart thudding in her chest. Join the Collective? The idea seemed absurd. She was a scientist, not even remotely religious. In fact, her grandmother was so anti-religion—

>   Part of the reason Kinsey was afraid to look for Margot’s name in the roll.

  Simone clearly sensed her hesitation because she patted Kinsey’s hand with a smile. “Don’t panic,” she laughed. “We don’t want to buy your soul. Yet.” She winked and Kinsey laughed in return. So silly. “Just, come to a meeting. I’ll arrange it. Some of our members I know you’ll adore.” She gripped Kinsey’s fingers in hers. “Oh, do say you will.”

  Kinsey found herself nodding, smiling. “Sounds like fun.” Fun? What the hell was she getting herself into?

  Their private moment was over the second the office door slammed open and Monique stormed through. She was crying, shoulders hunched, tissue pressed to her nose and mouth. Gerri pursued her, but Gideon was on her heels, looking furious.

  Monique stopped part way to the elevators. “I’m done, Detective. You’ve caught the killer by your own admission. I want to move on now. My family has suffered enough.”

  Gideon’s hand fell on Gerri’s arm. Kinsey winced, but the redhead didn’t resist physically, though her face was a mass of anger as the leader deposited her next to Kinsey while Simone ducked out of the way with an eyebrow raise in farewell.

  “Please respect the privacy of the Entremande family,” Gideon said, towering over Gerri, an impressive feat. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a funeral to plan.” He turned his back while the elevator doors dinged though Kinsey could swear no one touched the buttons.

  Gerri stomped in, arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the mirrored back wall and glared at Gideon. Kinsey joined her, trying to stay out of the way of her friend’s temper, mind whirling.

  She needed to tell the detective about Simone’s offer. But, one look at Gerri’s red face told Kinsey now was probably the worst time to bring it up.

  It would just have to wait.

  ***

  INT. – PHILO’S BAR AND GRILLE - NIGHT