Blood Sins Read online

  It was a very thorough search, which was why he found the silver medallion hidden in her left shoe. It was small, nearly flat, and on its polished surface was carved a lightning bolt.

  DeMarco held it in his palm, watching the moonlight shimmer off the talisman as he moved his hand. Finally, becoming aware of the not-exactly-silent return of his men, he replaced Sarah’s shoe, got to his feet, and slipped the medallion into his pocket.

  “That bastard weighed a ton,” Brian informed DeMarco as they joined him in the clearing, still huffing from the effort.

  “I doubt you’ll have the same problem with her,” DeMarco told him.

  Fisk said, “We’re lucky that the river’s deep and the current moving fast right now, but is it smart to keep using it for disposal?”

  “No, the smart thing would be to make sure disposal isn’t necessary,” DeMarco told him, his tone not so much critical as it was icy.

  Brian sent him a wary look, then said quickly to Fisk, “You get her legs and I’ll get her shoulders.”

  Fisk, who had locked eyes with DeMarco, didn’t respond for a moment. Then he said, “Just help me get her over my shoulder. She’s not bloody and I can manage her alone.”

  Brian didn’t argue. He didn’t, in fact, say another word until Fisk was on his way back to the river, the small, limp body over his shoulder clearly not a burden.

  “Reese, he’s a good man,” Brian said then.

  “Is he? We lost Ellen under his watch. Now Sarah and the girl. And I don’t believe in coincidence, Brian.”

  “Look, I’m sure Father doesn’t blame Carl.”

  “Father has other things to occupy his mind these days. My job is to protect him and the congregation. My job is to worry about anomalies. And Fisk is a . . . worry.”

  Unhappily, Brian said, “Okay, I get you. I’ll keep an eye on him, Reese.”

  “Do that. And report anything unusual. Anything, Brian.”

  “Right. Right. Copy that.”

  They waited in silence for Fisk to return, with DeMarco staring down at the dark glimmer of blood slowly freezing on the cold ground.

  “Want me to cover that up?” Brian ventured finally.

  “Not now. The weather service reports a front moving in, bringing rain by dawn. In a few hours there’ll be nothing left here for anyone to see.”

  “And the questions we’ll get? About Sarah and the kid?”

  “When we get back to the Compound, go to Sarah’s room and pack up all her things. Quietly. Bring them to me. I’ll take care of the child’s belongings. Refer any questions about either of them to me.”

  “Will it interfere with Father’s plans? Losing the kid, I mean.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh. Well, I just thought if anybody would know, it’d be you.”

  DeMarco turned his head and looked at his companion. “If you have a question, ask it.”

  “I just . . . I wonder, that’s all. About Father’s plans. He talks about the Prophecy, he talks about the End Times, says we’re almost there. So why aren’t we getting ready?”

  “We are.”

  “Reese, we barely have enough guns to arm security for the Compound.”

  “Guns won’t stop an apocalypse,” DeMarco replied dryly.

  “But . . . we survive. More than survive—we prosper. Father promised.”

  “Yes. And he’s doing everything in his power to make sure that happens. You believe it, don’t you?”

  “Sure. Sure. I mean, he’s never lied to us. All his visions have come true.” Brian shivered unconsciously. “And the things he can do . . . The power he can tap in to whenever he wants . . . He’s been touched by God, we all know that.”

  “Then why are you worried?”

  Brian shifted in obvious uncertainty and discomfort. “It’s just . . . the women, I guess. You aren’t a married man, so I don’t know if you could understand.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  Encouraged by that neutral response, Brian went on carefully. “I know it’s important to strengthen Father’s gifts. I get that, I do. And I understand—well, sort of understand—why he can draw what he needs from the women but not from us.”

  “Women were created to sustain men,” DeMarco said, his voice still neutral, almost indifferent.

  “Yes, of course. And I know it doesn’t harm them—the opposite, if anything.” He sounded faintly dissatisfied about that, even to himself, and hurried on before DeMarco could comment. “But not every woman is able or willing, Reese. Ellen, Sarah. The others. Should they be forced against their will?”

  “Have you seen any force employed?”

  Brian didn’t look away, even though he could feel more than see those cold, cold eyes stabbing him through the moonlit night. “No. But I’ve heard things. And those who aren’t willing, who aren’t . . . flattered by serving Father’s needs, they always seem to turn up missing, eventually. Or turn up the way Ellen and Sarah did.”

  DeMarco allowed the silence to stretch until Brian shifted again beneath his stare, then he said deliberately, “If you don’t like the way Father runs things, Brian, if you aren’t happy here, then perhaps you should talk to him about it.”

  Brian wavered for only a moment and then took a physical step back as he shook his head. “No. No, I’ve no complaint. Father’s been nothing but good to me and mine. I believe in him.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” DeMarco turned his head as they both heard the noisy footsteps of their returning comrade. “Very glad. Remind me, will you, to have a talk with Fisk about maintaining quiet whether we’re tracking or not, especially when we’re outside the Compound.”

  “Sure.” Brian was glad those cold hawk eyes were focused on someone else. “But whoever took the kid is long gone, right? I mean, you don’t suspect someone else is out there, listening? Watching?”

  “Someone’s always out there, Brian. Always. You’d be wise not to forget that.”

  Two

  Grace, North Carolina

  TESSA GRAY looked at the two earnest women sitting in chairs on the other side of her coffee table and summoned a smile. “You’re both very kind,” she said. “But I really don’t think—”

  “It isn’t easy for a woman left all alone,” the younger one said. “People want to take advantage. You’ve had offers for this house, haven’t you? Offers for the land?”

  Tessa nodded slowly.

  “And they were below fair market value,” the older woman said.

  It wasn’t a question.

  Again, Tessa nodded. “According to the appraisal. Even so, I’ve been tempted. This place is too much for me. And with land around here going for low prices—”

  “That’s what they say.” The younger woman’s eyes all but burned with righteous indignation. “What they want you to believe. But it isn’t true. Land here is worth a lot, and even more when people who know what they’re doing work it and handle crops and livestock as they should be handled.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Tessa confessed. “I mean, I’m glad the farm has a manager to run things for me just the way he did for—The land and business belonged to my husband’s family, as I’m sure you know, and he wasn’t interested in any of it himself. He hadn’t even been back here in years, since high school, I believe. It’s just a fluke that he inherited and . . .I was left with it all.”

  The older woman, who had introduced herself simply as Ruth, said, “The church can remove that burden, Tessa. Take over the running of this place for you, even the ranch in Florida. So you wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. It would all still be yours, of course; our laws forbid any member to turn over property to the church even if they want to. We’re asked only to tithe, in money or in goods or services. If our properties and businesses make more than enough for us, for our needs, and we choose to donate the extra to the church, well, that’s fine. It’s a gift to help Father take care of us.”

  So the fourth visit is the charm, Tessa tho
ught. Previous visits had offered the spiritual, emotional, and practical support of the church and its members, but no quid pro quo had been mentioned.

  “I’m afraid I’ve never been very religious,” she said.

  The younger woman, improbably named Bambi, leaned forward in her eagerness to convince. “Oh, I wasn’t either! The churches I went to growing up, they were all about punishment and sin and redemption and always promising a reward someday for being a good person.”

  Tessa allowed doubt to creep into her voice. “And the Church of the Everlasting Sin is different? I’m sorry, but it really doesn’t sound—”

  “Oh, so different.” Bambi’s voice softened, and her eyes began to glow with an expression of devotion so complete, Tessa wanted to look away, as though from something intensely private.

  “Bambi,” Ruth warned quietly.

  “But she should know. Tessa, we believe that the Everlasting Sin is the one committed by those who believe that our lot in this life is punishment and atonement. We believe that denigrates Jesus and what He did for us. We were washed clean of sin when He died for us. This life we’re given is ours to enjoy.”

  Tessa waited, and as she’d expected Bambi’s expression clouded over. “There are people who want to punish us for that belief. People who are afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid of Father. Afraid of his gifts. Afraid he knows the truth.”

  “Bambi.” This time, Ruth’s voice was firm, and this time the younger woman fell silent, her head bowed in submission.

  With a slight smile and friendly eyes, Ruth told Tessa, “Obviously, Father inspires fierce loyalty in all of us. But, please—come and see for yourself. Visit our church. We hold services on Sunday, of course, and on Wednesday evenings, but the church is the physical center of our community as well as the spiritual center, so people are there most of the time, involved in one activity or another. Children as well as adults and young people. You’re welcome to come anytime.”

  “Thank you,” Tessa said. “I’ll . . . think it over.”

  “Please do. We’d love to have you. Even more, Tessa, we’d love to help you through this difficult time.”

  Tessa thanked them again and then saw them politely from the rather formal living room to the front door of the sprawling house. She stood in the open doorway until the ladies’ white van disappeared down the long, winding driveway, then closed the door and leaned back against it.

  “Bishop was right,” she said. “It’s the Florida ranch they’re most interested in.”

  “Yeah, he has an annoying habit of being right.” Special Agent Hollis Templeton came out of another room that adjoined the spacious foyer, adding in a thoughtful tone, “I don’t think Ruth meant to let that slip, though. The way we set it up, that Florida property isn’t obviously yours; the fact that the Church of the Everlasting Sin even knows about it smacks of the sort of intrusive background check most people wouldn’t be at all comfortable with. Especially from a church.”

  “It also says something about the extent of their resources.”

  Hollis nodded. “One of the many things we’re not happy about. To get the kind of information the church seems to be able to get so quickly and easily, the good reverend’s connections pretty much have to be national.”

  “Homeland Security?”

  “Maybe, scary as that possibility is. But even though he hasn’t said so in so many words, I think Bishop’s worried it might be somebody in the Bureau.”

  “Which explains why Haven is out front on this one?”

  “Well, only partly. It made more sense on several counts to have a civilian organization involved, especially given our . . .dearth of evidence against Samuel or the church. Haven investigators can go places and ask questions we just can’t, not legally. In a situation like this, that ability isn’t only vital, it’s critical.”

  “So John told me,” Tessa said. She inclined her head slightly in invitation and walked out of the foyer.

  Hollis followed the other woman into the big, sunny kitchen and nodded when Tessa gestured questioningly at the coffeemaker. “Please. I’m still jet-lagged.”

  Tessa hunted in a still-unfamiliar pantry for the coffee and didn’t respond until she found it. “Eureka. Why jet-lagged? Don’t you guys work out of Quantico?”

  “Most of us, yeah, but I was out in California on another case. He didn’t admit it, but I don’t think Bishop expected the church to move so fast or to be so . . . insistent once they made contact with you. You’ve only been here a couple of weeks, after all. From our research and experience, it usually takes a couple of months for them to even begin to gather a potential new convert into the fold.”

  Measuring out coffee without looking at Hollis, Tessa said, “It took months for Sarah, didn’t it?”

  Hollis slid onto a bar stool at the kitchen’s island and clasped her hands together on the granite surface, frowning down at a chewed thumbnail. “It did. But her cover wasn’t quite as enticing as yours is.”

  “Is that why I was placed here even before anything happened to her?”

  “Well, the plan was to have . . . multiple fronts, as it were. To use every avenue possible to find information and, hopefully, evidence. We couldn’t be entirely sure, from the outside, just what sort of background or situation would prove to be the most attractive to the church and Samuel. And not every agent or operative is going to be working the same way or be able to gain access to certain levels of the church hierarchy. Sarah wasn’t able to get near any of Samuel’s closest advisers in any meaningful sense, but she was still able to gather valuable intelligence. And able to get a couple of the kids out.”

  “Have they found her?” Tessa asked quietly.

  “No.” Hollis waited until Tessa got the coffee going and faced her before she added deliberately, “The bodies always turn up downstream. Sooner or later.”

  Tessa looked at her for a moment, then said, “It takes a while, I’m told. To build that shell around your emotions.”

  Unoffended, Hollis smiled slightly. “Sometimes. But it’s usually all smoke and mirrors. None of us would be in this line of work if we didn’t care deeply. If we didn’t believe we were making a difference.”

  “Is that why you got in?”

  “I was dragged in. More or less.” Hollis’s smile twisted a bit. “When your entire life changes, you build a new one. But when that change happened to me, I was lucky to have kindred spirits around me, people who understood what I was going through. Just like you were lucky when they crossed your path.”

  “It was easier for me,” Tessa said, adding, “My abilities weren’t triggered by trauma.”

  “Adolescence is trauma,” Hollis pointed out.

  “Of a kind, sure. But nothing like what happened to you.”

  Musing rather than revealing much of herself—or, perhaps, revealing a great deal—Hollis said, “In the SCU, my experience isn’t so unusual. Not even the degree, really. The majority of the team went through some kind of personal hell, coming out the other side with abilities we’re still trying to figure out.”

  Tessa recognized the courteous warning and shifted the subject back to answer Hollis’s implicit question. “I didn’t find kindred spirits because I went looking for them; Bishop found me. Years ago. But I didn’t want to be any kind of cop, he left, and I thought that was the end of it. Until John and Maggie got in touch.”

  “And you decided to be a cop without a badge?”

  “Mostly, I haven’t been. Investigating, but not in any sort of dangerous situation. Not like this one. Not with people dying. There’ve been eight bodies found in this general area, right? So far. Eight people killed the same way. The same very unnatural way.”

  Hollis nodded. “Over the past five years, yeah. That we know about, anyway. If we knew for sure . . . probably more.”

  Tessa didn’t move from her position but leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms in a gesture that wasn’t
quite defensive. Hollis took due note of that and asked herself for at least the third time since she’d arrived here hours ago if John Garrett, the director and cofounder of Haven, had made a wise choice in sending Tessa Gray on this particular assignment.

  She was a little above medium height and slender, almost ethereal, an impression emphasized by her pale skin, fair hair, and delicate features dominated by large gray eyes. Her voice was soft, almost childlike, and when she spoke it was with the absolute courtesy of someone who had been raised to be polite no matter the circumstances.

  Which made her sound as vulnerable as she looked.

  She was supposed to look vulnerable, of course; that was part of the bait for the church. Without family, lost and alone after the sudden and unexpected death of her young husband only a few months previously, burdened by business concerns she had inadequate knowledge to handle on her own, she was just the sort of potential convert the church had a history of aggressively pursuing.

  Although never before this aggressively, Hollis mused, at least as far as they knew. And the question was why.

  What was it about Tessa that Reverend Samuel and his flock considered so important? Was it only the property in Florida, highly valuable to Samuel for a reason that had nothing to do with the value of the land? Or was it because he had, somehow, sensed or otherwise discovered Tessa’s unique abilities?

  Now, there was an unnerving thought. The idea that your ace might be in plain view for all to see—and other players to use—pushed the possible stakes much, much higher.

  Given what they were reasonably sure Samuel could do, it made the stakes potentially deadly.

  “I’ve never been sent in undercover,” Tessa said. “Not like this, with a whole other life to remember.”

  Hollis cast the useless speculation aside. “Second thoughts?”

  A little laugh escaped Tessa. “More like first thoughts. I mean, John explained the situation, and Bishop filled me in on what happened last summer in Boston and a few months ago in Venture, Georgia. They both told me how dangerous it could be—would probably be.”