Sacrifice (14 page)

April ran back upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. She needed to speak to Delilah.

Chapter 21

Terrance was a big man: six-feet, seven inches and more than two hundred seventy pounds, every ounce of it muscle. He was proud of the intimidating aura he cast. It had made him a lot of money. He’d gotten a shot at the heavyweight boxing title without ever beating a top-ten heavyweight just because of his size and because he’d been a football star in college. True, he’d gotten knocked out in the first round after taking less than a dozen punches from the champion, but he’d made a million dollars doing it. And now he was on his way to Hollywood to begin an acting career, even though he’d never taken an acting class in his life and hadn’t been in so much as an elementary school play. What he did have that Hollywood was interested in was his size. He was the perfect movie villain.

“Who needs talent?” Terrance scoffed, pausing for a moment from packing his bags to flex his twenty-two inch biceps in the mirror.

He zipped his suitcase and lugged it down the front steps of his condo to his waiting 2011 Cadillac Escalade. One of the trinkets his fighting career had financed. Terrance felt great about himself. He had a nice car, lots of money, and all the women he could handle. He smiled as he clicked the remote on his key chain and the back of the Escalade opened. He was just about to toss his bags into the trunk when he felt a tap on his lower back and then a jolt as if he’d been shocked with a taser. He whirled around quickly, preparing for a confrontation with one of the hundreds of heartbroken ex-lovers he’d left in his wake or one of his star-struck neighbors looking for an excuse to start up some bullshit conversation about nothing.

He was surprised to see a young girl no older than ten standing behind him, looking glassy-eyed and lost.

“What are you doing here, little girl? Where’s your mommy? What the hell did you shock me with?”

“You’re it now. It’s inside of you. You’d better run.”

Chapter 22

The two detectives followed Mr. and Mrs. Wells as they went from dinner at an expensive steak house on Paradise and Flamingo, to a show on the Vegas strip that featured nude contortionists, acrobats, and jugglers, to a trendy nightclub at the end of the strip where the couple danced and drank most of the night away before heading back home just before sunrise.

“Is this crazy or what? Their kid’s missing and they’re going out for a night on the town. This is all so fucking weird. And don’t tell me about people handling their grief in different ways. You don’t go out dancing when your kid has been snatched by some psycho or pervert for God knows what. You just don’t do that. Something ain’t right here,” Mohammed said.

“No argument here. But what can we prove?”

“We can drag them into the precinct right now while they’re drunk and exhausted and sweat their asses for the next four or five hours to see what we can get out of them. I guarantee they’ll tell us something.”

“Their lawyers will be all over us. You know how much it costs to live in this neighborhood? These two must have money, and that means they ain’t gonna be usin’ some public defender.”

“I bet we’ll have them both confessing before their lawyer’s out of his pajamas.”

“Let’s do it then.”

Mohammed climbed out of the car, eager to finally have a suspect in what still seemed an unfathomable mystery. Malloy followed as they crossed the street in long strides, resisting the urge to sprint up their walkway and kick the door down.

“You think we should check with the captain first? He might not like us harassing the victim’s parents.”

“Are you kidding me, John? He’s the one who always says that when a wife goes missing, nine out of ten times it’ll be the husband, and when kids go missing nine out of ten times it’s one or both parents. He’d be pissed if we didn’t bring them in.”

They stepped out of the night into the harsh glare of the security lights that flooded the front of the house. Mohammed rang the doorbell while Malloy flicked the safety strap off his holstered Glock 9mm just in case. Mohammed caught the action and did the same. You never knew when a suspect was going to get violent.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Detective Rafik and Detective Malloy with Metro Homicide again. We have a few more questions for you.”

There was a long pause. Hushed voices spoke in urgent whispers just beyond the door, followed by the sound of the deadbolt disengaging. The door creaked open and Mr. and Mrs. Wells stood there, still in their evening clothes, looking intoxicated and exhausted.

“What’s this all about?” Frank Wells asked, but the fear in his eyes belied his outraged front. The man was terrified - and that meant he was guilty.

“Just come with us, please. We’ll explain everything once we’re down at the station.”

“Are we under arrest?” Mrs. Wells asked, looking even more terrified than her husband.

“Now why would we be arresting you? You’re the victims here, right?”

Detective Malloy smiled maliciously as he took Frank Wells by the arm and gently guided him toward the patrol car.

“Maybe I should call my lawyer?”

“You’ll have plenty of time for that down at the station.”

A look passed between Frank and Aida Wells that Detective Malloy immediately recognized. It was the look that passed between co-defendants when they knew they’d been found out. Mohammed had been right. These two would crack before their lawyer ever made it to the station.

Chapter 23

April knocked lightly on Delilah’s door and listened before she pushed it quietly open. Delilah lay unmoving on the bed, her chest rising and falling slowly with the rhythm of her breathing, fast asleep. Moonlight spilled from the windows, illuminating the bed with a haunting silvery white glow. Long dark shadows stalked the corners of the room like sentinels guarding the beautiful mambo priestess as she slept. The same shadows prowled Delilah’s features, giving her face a dark sinister look that recalled April’s fears and stalled her forward momentum. She stood in the center of the room breathing heavily, her fear slowly elevating, and with it her need to go to Delilah and have her take it away.

She wanted to call out to Delilah but didn’t want to wake her, irrationally afraid the woman might attack her and feeling guilty about her own mounting need. The air in the room still crackled with violent emotion, as if it had been ionized like the air after a lightening strike. It was haunted by malign spirits so dense they crowded out the air. The windows were open and the thin sheer curtains danced as cool breezes blew through the room, slowly dissipating the charged atmosphere.

To April it felt like walking into a room where a grisly murder had recently taken place. All the bodies removed, all the blood mopped up, everything sterilized and disinfected, yet still the pall of pain and death hung over everything, saturating the walls, the floor, and every scrap of furniture with a palpable anguish and rage.

She mustered the nerve to walk to the edge of the bed, each step feeling as if she was sluggishly wading through some thick muck as her fear and desire played tug-of-war within her.

She peered down at Delilah’s face, and from this angle all the shadows disappeared. The priestess no longer looked sinister. Delilah’s face now held the most peaceful expression she’d seen on it in the few days April had known her. All the pain was gone from Delilah’s expression; all the stress had left her muscles. No more fitful shrieks and moans as she slept. Delilah now looked like no more than a normal woman at rest. Except she wasn’t normal at all, April knew. Her peace had come at the expense of that little girl. But then again, so had April’s and everyone who’d been at the ceremonies.

How often does she have to do it?
April wondered.
Once a year? Once a month? Every week? Every day? How many children have they done this to?

April reached out and ran her hands over Delilah’s forehead, stifling a sob. The love she felt for the woman was staggering, but she was starting to wonder if it was genuine. Perhaps it was just some side-effect of Delilah’s abilities. She had promised to take away April’s fear and hate and replace it with her love. Maybe what she was feeling was just an emotion Delilah had deliberately placed within her the same way she withdrew her pain?

It didn’t matter because April knew she was incapable of distinguishing the difference. She had no real point of comparison. Even before she’d met Delilah, April had known that all the other times she’d said she was in love she’d only been lying to herself because she thought she was supposed to be in love. She certainly hadn’t loved her idiot ex-boyfriend. If she cared for him at all now it was only because he was the one who had first suggested she see Delilah. For that she was grateful. Even if she was now hopelessly addicted to the woman.

Delilah smiled as April caressed her face, and this time the priestess’s smile held none of the pain and sorrow it normally did. It was an expression of joy and contentment that made April’s heart swell in her chest.

April knelt down and kissed her. “Tell me how you do it. Tell me everything. I want to know about your gift.”

“I told you. It’s what I was created for. It is my calling to relieve the world of suffering.”

“But you can’t. You can’t take away all the pain from everyone. It almost destroys you just dealing with the pain of the few dozen people who come to your services every week. Do you really think you can take the pain away from everyone in the world?”

Delilah looked April deep in her eyes. Her face was open and honest like that of a small child. “If a ship was sinking and there were dozens of people drowning, but you could save only one or two, would you save those you could or would you let them all drown because you couldn’t save every one of them?”

“I see your point, Delilah. But what about the children? Is the happiness of a few dozen people worth the suffering of a child?”

“They don’t suffer. The children are immune to the hatred I take out of their parents because they are pure and untarnished.”

“Bullshit! I saw what that girl they took out of here looked like, and she was in pain. She looked just like you did when you had all that stuff inside you and it was tearing you apart. You just took all of your suffering and placed it on an innocent little girl!”

“No. It doesn’t hurt them. I was told-”

“I saw her! I looked into her eyes! She was in pain, Delilah!”

“But ... I just want everyone to love each other. I just want to stop the hate. Everyone is so full of hate. I just want it all to go away.”

When April looked at Delilah she could see the little abused orphan the young mambo had been. The frightened little girl who just wanted everyone to love her, even if that meant they had to hurt her.

But now it isn’t just Delilah being hurt. It’s little children. Little girls!

“But what is it worth? Even if you could take the hatred and fear away from everyone in the world and make them all love each other, would it be worth the pain of one innocent child?”

Delilah dropped her head and stared at the floor. Her mouth twisted into a frown and her eyebrows knit together as she thought. April could see the internal struggle playing out in the woman’s expressions.

When Delilah lifted her head her face was calm once again. “Yes. I think it would be worth it.”

April’s eyes widened in horror. That was not the answer she had been expecting. She was sure Delilah would be appalled when she learned she was hurting children and would put a stop to it immediately. She never imagined the woman might actually defend it.

“You can’t be serious.”

Delilah’s eyes softened until it looked once again like she was on the verge of tears. Her face was so expressive that all the priestess’s emotions showed plainly on the surface. It was obvious this topic was hurting her, but April couldn’t allow herself to care. Delilah was hurting children.

“Mothers and babies are killed every day in wars, and we applaud. America cheers their efforts and the president gets more popular. ‘Collateral damage,’ they call it. And what is it we’re fighting for? Oil? Democracy? Reelection? I’m fighting for love, for all humanity. How much so-called collateral damage do you think such a war is worth?”

“You can’t be serious. You just can’t be. This isn’t you, Delilah. I know you. When you touch me, I feel your soul and I know you’re a good person. How can you seriously try to justify making innocent children suffer the way I saw you suffering? How can you justify that?”

Delilah’s forehead creased with worry lines and veins throbbed along her temples. April felt bad for her. She hadn’t wanted to hurt her.

Tears raced down the young priestess’s face. Delilah’s mouth worked soundlessly, jaw hanging open, eyes darting everywhere as if seeking an escape.

April watched the woman struggle to communicate the hurt and confusion inside of her.

“Th-they said the kids weren’t being hurt. They said the girls wouldn’t be affected by it. Girls internalize better than boys. They are …” she searched for the words, “… like empty silos. Bottomless. They handle pain better. They-they-”

“Bullshit, Delilah! Maybe they can take it now because they’re young and they don’t have any pain stored up in them yet. But you are putting many lifetimes of fear and anger and disappointment and resentment into them. You are giving them many times the pain they would have felt in their own lifetimes, filling them up to capacity, and they still have decades of suffering and struggle ahead. What about the pain of their own lives? How will they deal with that now that they’ve already been maxed out? You know what women go through in their lives. You of all people know. You’ve seen it. You’ve felt it. Do you really think those little girls can take on all the pain of the dozens of people you help each week and still handle all the heartache, disappointment, and abuse they’ve got coming to them in the future? You know that’s bullshit. They’re going to explode, Delilah. You’ve destroyed those girls!”

“No! I help people!”