The Soul Catcher (58 page)

J
ustin wanted to tell the woman that he understood, that he had thought about offing himself so many times he had the methods categorized. But he had never known someone older, someone who reminded him of his mother—and she
did
remind him an awful lot of his mother—who had actually tried it.

“Ma’am, are you okay now?” he asked. “Because I really should be helping load and haul stuff.”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled at him and pushed down the sleeves. “My name’s Kathleen. No need to call me ma’am. But then, I guess you should already know my name after tonight.”

“I’m Justin,” he said.

“Well, thanks for your help, Justin.”

He nodded at her. “I know you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Then he turned and left out the back exit. He needed to get back to the kitchen. Back to packing boxes with cans of beans and soup and enough rice to gag a small nation. Maybe he was trying too hard to be helpful, but he knew he had fucked up big time in Boston. Since they returned, he was half expecting to end up with that boa constrictor around his neck. He knew how close he had come to being the one standing in front of the room. Maybe that’s why he had to go back and help this woman, this Kathleen. That and because she reminded him of his mom. He hadn’t realized until tonight that he actually missed his mom. And he missed Eric. Now he wondered if Eric was ever really coming back.

At first, he thought he wouldn’t be allowed to go to Cleveland, to the next prayer rally. That would have been okay by him. In fact, he was thinking maybe he’d just leave the compound while the others were away. He was pretty sure he could find his way back into Shenandoah National Park. He had done it last time without really trying. But then Alice told him he was on the list, the fucking anointed list that got to go.

He found the old lady named Mavis and helped her load the steel cart full of cartons into the buses’ storage compartments. Some of the compartments were already loaded with other boxes. Inside both buses, the overhead compartments looked filled beyond capacity. A woman from the laundry room instructed Justin to place all the boxes she had brought on another steel cart under the seats.

“They have to fit. Make them fit,” she told him, and left.

These were labeled: Shirts, Undergarments, Towels. Why would they be needing all this crap for a two-night trip? He stuffed the last one under the driver’s seat just as Alice came up the bus steps with an armful of blankets. He helped her find space for them, avoiding her eyes and any other contact. He hadn’t been alone with her since his meeting with Father. It shouldn’t matter, but he had a hard time looking at her. He couldn’t believe how much of a phony she was, pretending to be all pure and good and stuff. To think she had tried to lecture him on his bad habits. Well, at least he wasn’t a fucking whore.

Shit! He promised himself he wouldn’t think that way, especially after seeing those poor girls yesterday, screaming and kicking. He still couldn’t get those images out of his mind.

“You’ve been really quiet since you got back from Boston,” Alice said, staring at him with that look of concern that he used to believe was genuine. Now he wasn’t sure what to think. Nobody seemed to be what he thought they were. Including himself. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” He pretended to be inspecting all the boxes, making sure they were secured under the seats.

“Well, you should be able to get some sleep once we get on the road,” she said, sounding sympathetic—but how did he know that was real?

When he still didn’t look at her, she put her hand on his arm, stopping his bogus inspection.

“Justin? Did I do something to make you angry with me?”

“No, why?”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Shit! He had forgotten. She really could see inside his soul. He looked into her eyes just to prove to her that he could. It was a mistake. She could see something was wrong, and now he was the one responsible for the sadness looking back at him from her eyes.

“Please tell me,” she said, “if I’ve done something wrong. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being angry with me.”

He used to think she was the only one who was being straight with him, the only person he could trust. Now he didn’t know. Fuck! He was so tired, and he still felt sick to his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything since he had thrown up the Quarter Pounders and beer.

“I’m not angry at you,” he finally said. “I told you, I’m just really tired.” He could see he hadn’t convinced her, but he squeezed past her, anyway. “I’ll see you later.” He escaped, walking away from the bus in quick, long strides, hoping to discourage her from following him.

As he walked past the administrative building, he could see the office staff. It looked like they were shredding papers and taking apart computer hard drives. Back behind the building, three women had started a small bonfire and were tossing into the flames what looked like file folders and stacks of papers. Far off in the trees, Justin could see a spotlight and the broad-shouldered silhouettes of some of Father’s bodyguards. He couldn’t tell what they were doing. It almost looked like they were laying cable. Something really weird was going on. This didn’t look like the ordinary preparation for a road trip.

Justin stopped suddenly and stared. At the construction site, everything had been cleared away—no stacked lumber, no crates, no sawhorses. Even the old John Deere tractor was gone. He went over for a closer look. How the hell did they get rid of it all? How could they move all that crap in such a short time?

Then he saw the flashlight back behind the garbage dump. Two men were digging while one held a flashlight. Justin leaned against an old outhouse where he could hide in the shadows. He saw them bring up four strongboxes out of the ground. It took all three of them to carry one box all the way around the corner, taking slow, deliberate steps as they hauled it down the road to where the bus was parked.

As he watched, it only now occurred to Justin. They weren’t going to all this trouble just to prepare for the prayer rally. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to figure it out. They were doing it because they weren’t coming back.

J
ustin wanted to tell the woman that he understood, that he had thought about offing himself so many times he had the methods categorized. But he had never known someone older, someone who reminded him of his mother—and she
did
remind him an awful lot of his mother—who had actually tried it.

“Ma’am, are you okay now?” he asked. “Because I really should be helping load and haul stuff.”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled at him and pushed down the sleeves. “My name’s Kathleen. No need to call me ma’am. But then, I guess you should already know my name after tonight.”

“I’m Justin,” he said.

“Well, thanks for your help, Justin.”

He nodded at her. “I know you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Then he turned and left out the back exit. He needed to get back to the kitchen. Back to packing boxes with cans of beans and soup and enough rice to gag a small nation. Maybe he was trying too hard to be helpful, but he knew he had fucked up big time in Boston. Since they returned, he was half expecting to end up with that boa constrictor around his neck. He knew how close he had come to being the one standing in front of the room. Maybe that’s why he had to go back and help this woman, this Kathleen. That and because she reminded him of his mom. He hadn’t realized until tonight that he actually missed his mom. And he missed Eric. Now he wondered if Eric was ever really coming back.

At first, he thought he wouldn’t be allowed to go to Cleveland, to the next prayer rally. That would have been okay by him. In fact, he was thinking maybe he’d just leave the compound while the others were away. He was pretty sure he could find his way back into Shenandoah National Park. He had done it last time without really trying. But then Alice told him he was on the list, the fucking anointed list that got to go.

He found the old lady named Mavis and helped her load the steel cart full of cartons into the buses’ storage compartments. Some of the compartments were already loaded with other boxes. Inside both buses, the overhead compartments looked filled beyond capacity. A woman from the laundry room instructed Justin to place all the boxes she had brought on another steel cart under the seats.

“They have to fit. Make them fit,” she told him, and left.

These were labeled: Shirts, Undergarments, Towels. Why would they be needing all this crap for a two-night trip? He stuffed the last one under the driver’s seat just as Alice came up the bus steps with an armful of blankets. He helped her find space for them, avoiding her eyes and any other contact. He hadn’t been alone with her since his meeting with Father. It shouldn’t matter, but he had a hard time looking at her. He couldn’t believe how much of a phony she was, pretending to be all pure and good and stuff. To think she had tried to lecture him on his bad habits. Well, at least he wasn’t a fucking whore.

Shit! He promised himself he wouldn’t think that way, especially after seeing those poor girls yesterday, screaming and kicking. He still couldn’t get those images out of his mind.

“You’ve been really quiet since you got back from Boston,” Alice said, staring at him with that look of concern that he used to believe was genuine. Now he wasn’t sure what to think. Nobody seemed to be what he thought they were. Including himself. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” He pretended to be inspecting all the boxes, making sure they were secured under the seats.

“Well, you should be able to get some sleep once we get on the road,” she said, sounding sympathetic—but how did he know that was real?

When he still didn’t look at her, she put her hand on his arm, stopping his bogus inspection.

“Justin? Did I do something to make you angry with me?”

“No, why?”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Shit! He had forgotten. She really could see inside his soul. He looked into her eyes just to prove to her that he could. It was a mistake. She could see something was wrong, and now he was the one responsible for the sadness looking back at him from her eyes.

“Please tell me,” she said, “if I’ve done something wrong. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being angry with me.”

He used to think she was the only one who was being straight with him, the only person he could trust. Now he didn’t know. Fuck! He was so tired, and he still felt sick to his stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything since he had thrown up the Quarter Pounders and beer.

“I’m not angry at you,” he finally said. “I told you, I’m just really tired.” He could see he hadn’t convinced her, but he squeezed past her, anyway. “I’ll see you later.” He escaped, walking away from the bus in quick, long strides, hoping to discourage her from following him.

As he walked past the administrative building, he could see the office staff. It looked like they were shredding papers and taking apart computer hard drives. Back behind the building, three women had started a small bonfire and were tossing into the flames what looked like file folders and stacks of papers. Far off in the trees, Justin could see a spotlight and the broad-shouldered silhouettes of some of Father’s bodyguards. He couldn’t tell what they were doing. It almost looked like they were laying cable. Something really weird was going on. This didn’t look like the ordinary preparation for a road trip.

Justin stopped suddenly and stared. At the construction site, everything had been cleared away—no stacked lumber, no crates, no sawhorses. Even the old John Deere tractor was gone. He went over for a closer look. How the hell did they get rid of it all? How could they move all that crap in such a short time?

Then he saw the flashlight back behind the garbage dump. Two men were digging while one held a flashlight. Justin leaned against an old outhouse where he could hide in the shadows. He saw them bring up four strongboxes out of the ground. It took all three of them to carry one box all the way around the corner, taking slow, deliberate steps as they hauled it down the road to where the bus was parked.

As he watched, it only now occurred to Justin. They weren’t going to all this trouble just to prepare for the prayer rally. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to figure it out. They were doing it because they weren’t coming back.

O
n her way back from Richmond, Maggie’s cellular phone began ringing.

“Hello?”

“O’Dell,” Racine said with enough urgency to set Maggie on edge even more than she already was. “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m on I-95, heading back to the District.”

“We’re all meeting out at Quantico.”

“Okay, then I’m only about ten minutes away.”

“Good.” Racine sounded relieved. “You didn’t call Ganza.”

“Damn! No, I forgot. Is he there?”

“He’s here someplace. I’m not sure where.”

Maggie could hear background noise. She knew Racine was pacing. A nervous habit Maggie quickly recognized.

“What is it, Racine? What’s going on? Did you get the arrest warrant?”

“Actually, that’s now multiple warrants, thanks to Ganza. There was some old police case Tully was checking out. It’s one you found about Everett raping…or excuse me, allegedly raping that journalism student?”

“That was over twenty years ago. And the charges were dropped.”

“Yeah, well, Rappahannock County has this thing about keeping evidence on file. I guess Ganza knows some boys out there in the sheriff’s department and they managed to FedEx some samples to him.”

“I can’t believe he’s wasting time on that old case. We can’t get Everett on that case, no matter what he thinks he found. The charges were dropped, the case closed. Besides, the statute of limitations on rape—”

“The sample was old,” Racine interrupted her, and continued as if not hearing her. “There was some degradation so he says he couldn’t get an exact match. But there’re enough hits that it’s close.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The sample Ganza took from the old case? The sample from Everett? The DNA matches the DNA sample of foreign skin found under Ginny Brier’s fingernails. Remember you said most of the skin was her own, but that she managed to get a piece of him? Well, she got a piece of him, all right, and Ganza swears it’s Everett.”

Maggie slowed and pulled her car to the side of the interstate, eliciting a blare of horns behind her before she was safely stopped and out of the way. She couldn’t believe this. It couldn’t be Everett. Could it? “Wait a minute. What about the gang thing?”

“It’s all starting to make sense, O’Dell. Maybe it’s some sick initiation ritual. Who knows how it works. But this also explains why the semen found in the Brier girl doesn’t match the DNA of the skin under the nails. One of Everett’s boys may have had that duty, while Everett took care of the rest.”

“I don’t believe this,” Maggie said, and felt a new sense of tension instead of relief. Why was there no relief in knowing Everett and his gang were behind the murders? What was still nagging at her? Why did this all seem so easy? She could see Everett orchestrating all of this, but somehow she couldn’t see his getting his hands dirty or getting close enough to get under Ginny Brier’s fingernails.

“Cunningham’s kinda pissed you’re not here yet. He’s been looking for you.” Then Racine’s voice came almost in a whisper as she added, “Actually, he looks more worried than pissed. Where did you say you were?”

“Getting to exit 148 now.”

“Good. An HRT unit and some agents are headed out to Everett’s compound now. The Rappahannock County officials are meeting them out there. In fact, they might already be there.”

“Oh, Jesus! They’re on their way to the compound now?” The panic slipped. “Racine, my mom’s a member of Everett’s organization,” Maggie said over the lump that suddenly obstructed her throat. “She may be out there at the compound.”