House of V (Unraveled Series) (21 page)

“Not yet.”

“Good.
Delaney up
yet?”

“Yeah, James and Delaney are both
up in the kitchen. Hobart’s sleeping on the couch.”

“Jesus, some patrol.” I shook my
head.

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to grab a
shower and then head into work. I don’t want anyone to be suspicious about
anything. If you need something, just let me know. Delaney has my number.” Mark
moved off the bed and toward the door. He stopped and turned back to me as
Delaney appeared in the doorway behind him. “Just promise me one thing,
Evie
. Don’t get yourself killed and please don’t drag my
sister into it. Even if she wants to, just keep her out of it.”

I nodded my head with a smile. We
all knew that keeping Delaney out of it was going to be damn near impossible.

“What a great protector you are,
Mark,” Delaney teased behind him. “But I think I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t care about you. I’m
talking about my niece or nephew,” he joked, laying a hand on her belly before
he gave me one more warning look. “All right, I’ll leave you two alone.”

“How’d you sleep?” Delaney asked.
Her knit dress bounced against her knees as she slid onto the bed.

“Fine.
I’m
just racking my brain to figure out who would want me. Who would want to seek
revenge on me,” I said, sitting up.
“Not that I haven’t
earned my fair share of haters, but who would go to such extremes to get to
me?”

“What happened last night? Did you
see anyone from the Vigilante League?” Delaney asked as she put her hand on her
belly. “I tried to stay up and wait for you, but I just couldn’t. This baby
exhausts me already.”

“Yeah, I was invited to the secret
“convention” being held tonight at the house Holston built for your mom. I ran
into The White Knight himself,” I replied.

“Our mom,” Delaney corrected,
smoothing out her dress before she added. “How did you pull off the invite?”

“Right, our mom.”
I was still unable to wrap my mind around the fact that I had a mother that was
very alive and well; Ann Jones, nonetheless. I didn’t know how long that would
take.

“The White Knight asked me to come.
He immediately recognized me in the hallway of the pub and claimed that no one
would believe that he saw me unless they got to see me for themselves. So
voila, I’m the guest of honor.
Lucky me.”

“You think one of them has Sister
Josephine?” Delaney asked.

“I don’t know, but we’re going to
find out. I don’t know what the plan is yet for today, but I was thinking we
should head to the cabin on Lake Michigan. Everything is still there, right?
You didn’t clean anything out?”

“No, I think the FBI and police
went through some of his stuff there, but I don’t think they took anything.
Anything they seized was from his house in Appleton. It’s still hard to believe
that anyone bought that house,” Delaney said as she shuddered. “It was a
screaming steal, but still.”

“Who bought the house?”

“I don’t know. Some single guy that
wanted to keep his name anonymous during the buying process,” Delaney said.
“For privacy reasons or something.
He probably didn’t want
to be harassed by the media. I don’t know if he’s moved in or not yet.”

“I think we should go back to the
cottage. See if we can dig anything up. Let the police worry about Fred
Sullivan and tracing any leads from his body.”

“You said
we
,” Delaney said slowly as her hands fidgeted across the blanket.
She looked at me, her blue eyes staring into my own.

“Did I?” I asked, my lips turning
up into crooked grin.

“Like old times,” Delaney said as a
glint flashed in her own smile.

“Like old times.”

***

“This is FBI Agent Jim Allen,”
Sanchez said as he walked through the door and set his black duffle bag on the
kitchen island. A smaller man followed Sanchez, about a head shorter and thirty
pounds lighter, wearing freshly pressed khaki pants and a button down shirt.
His dark brown hair was cut tight and neat while his eyeglasses shone with a
recent polishing.

FBI.
Just what I needed.

“I’m Delaney. Nice to meet you,”
Delaney stepped forward and shook his hand. James followed, leaving me as the
only person left for introductions. Mark had already left for the office.
Delaney nudged me lightly with her elbow.

“Nice to meet you,” I said,
extending my hand to his while I kept my eyes on Sanchez, who nodded his head
in approval. I turned my attention to Agent Allen whose body was stiff and
upright as if someone had stuck a metal rod up his back.

This should be fun.

“
Evie
Parker,” he said. His voice was slow and disciplined as he shook my hand in a
firm grip. “I’m pleased that you will be assisting in the case with the
Appleton Police Department and FBI. It’s of utmost importance to us to return Sister
Josephine safely and to find the person responsible for murdering Fred
Sullivan. I hear you may have some expertise, shall I say, in the subject
area.”

“You could say that. I’ll do my
best,” I replied. My face was stoic to match his steady glare.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Chief
Sanchez has cut you a good deal from what I saw,” Agent Allen replied, setting
his briefcase on the island. He flicked it open and let the hinged top down
with added effort. “And it appears that you have already started your work.”

He pulled out a black and white
photo of me standing with Jeremy George at
Bazil’s
. I
wasn’t sure if he heard my jaw hit the floor, but I scooped it back and cleared
my throat. I didn’t see anyone else that I thought was suspicious or that would
be taking my picture in the area.

“I
- ”
I
stuttered, trying to find the right words to explain myself.

“Don’t worry,” he quickly replied
with a raise of his eyebrows. “Chief Sanchez told me you were going to be
there.”

I shot a glance at Sanchez who flashed
a quick shrug of the shoulders then turned his attention back to his own folder
of papers.

“We’re going to keep an eye on you,
if that’s all right,” Agent Allen said, putting the paper down. He wasn’t
asking for my permission, he was simply letting me know. It was a warning that
I was under his observant eye; the watcher had become the watched. I was being
hunted from all directions.

“Officer Hobart, you can go.”
Sanchez turned toward Hobart, who was leaned against the counter with his lids
half-closed. “I’ll need you tonight. We’ll have details at the department later
today. In the meantime, get some sleep so you’re ready later.”

Hobart nodded his head and walked
through the door, leaving Agent Allen and Sanchez to stare at me. They looked
at me as if they were expecting me to turn and run out the door.
Or to pull a gun from my hip.
Or shoot fire from my mouth.
To their surprise or maybe disappointment, I did none of these. Instead, I
returned the stare, and waited for more information. Agent Allen finally
cleared his throat and filled the silence as he pulled a stack of papers from
his briefcase.

“Here’s what we have on Vigilante
League and Jeremy George,” he started as he handed Sanchez and me a packet. He
stopped at Delaney, hesitating before Sanchez nodded his head. Delaney took the
papers and flipped through them as James stood behind her.

“Jeremy George is a Caucasian male,
thirty-two, born and raised in Appleton, Wisconsin.
Child of
Rebecca and Richard George.
He works as an IT Analyst at a manufacturing
facility just outside of Appleton in Neenah. Single.
Never
married.
No kids. Lives alone in a house he purchased a little over two
years ago.” Agent Allen paused as we looked at the pictures of Jeremy taken
from last night.
“Graduate of the University of Wisconsin,
Oshkosh.
Never lived out of state.
Hobbies are
gaming and the Vigilante League from what we can tell. He is the head of the
Holston Parker Chapter of their club. No criminal record other than the typical
underage drinking ticket in college.
Drives a blue Passat.
Listens to hard punk music, whatever that is.
And frequents
Starbucks.

“If you turn to the next several
pages in the back, you’ll see some print outs from the website of the Vigilante
League. We found this website a few months ago and have been monitoring it
occasionally. We picked the surveillance back up when Sanchez called about Fred
Sullivan three days ago. The club has not violated any laws or committed any
crimes that we know of. We are doing background checks of all the members as we
speak. It’s come to our attention that there will be a convention tonight, the
whereabouts are unknown, unless, Ms. Parker, you have information to share with
me.” Agent Allen paused again to eye me.

“N874 Hwy 54,
Amberg
.
Nine p.m. They’ve asked me to come as a guest of honor,” I replied with a small
grin. I was good for something. Agent Allen would come to learn that he needed
me more than he thought. “I am happy to fulfill that request.”

“N874 Hwy 54,” Agent Allen
repeated. “The house…”

“Where I killed Holston,” I
finished.

“In self-defense,” James added
quickly from behind Delaney.

“In self-defense,” I repeated
before I added, “I don’t think Jeremy George has Sister Josephine.”

“We don’t think so, either,” Agent
Allen agreed. “And it’s highly unlikely that he killed Fred Sullivan. There are
no indicators that he’s a suspect of interest.”

As Agent Allen finished his words,
a ring echoed through the kitchen, each of us looking at each other to locate
the cell phone’s owner. Sanchez looked down and pulled his ringing phone to his
ear.

“Sanchez.” He paused, nodding his
head slowly as he looked directly at me. I swore I could have seen the lines
around his eyes deepen. “Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“There was a note on the front
steps of the police station this morning. An officer found it when she came
into work about fifteen minutes ago. She didn’t see anyone drop it off,”
Sanchez said.

“What did it say?” I interrupted.

“Something to the effect that time
is running out and that he knows you’re here,” Sanchez answered, looking right
at me. I felt everyone’s eyes turn toward me.

I was the problem. I’ve always been
the problem.

“Do you think she’s still alive?”
Delaney asked. “She could be dead, and we wouldn’t even know it.”

“The note had Sister Josephine’s
signature on it, or what they believe to be her signature on it. And dated,”
Sanchez answered before adding slowly, “And there was a video with the note.”

“A video of
Sister Josephine alive?”
I asked. “He could have had her sign and date
that note days ago. The video could have been shot at the same time.”

“We won’t know the details until we
watch that video,” Sanchez said as he lifted his phone. “I don’t want the
department to send the video over the unsecured connection, so we’ll have to go
to the station to see it. All I know is that there is a verified date and that
she seems to be doing fine, given the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” I demanded.
“They watched it already?”

“We’ll find out when we get there,”
Agent Allen replied. “Let’s go over the details that I have here first before
we head back to the department.”

“Do you have someone else that
you’re targeting?” I asked as I scanned through the papers Agent Allen had given
me. I stopped on the last sheet of paper; it was a picture of me from the
website.

“Nothing solid yet, but we’re
running through the names, as I said, on the league roster, but there’s about
forty of them. And we’re re-checking the names on the list that Holston Parker
had. We ran a check earlier in the year. Out of the seven on the list, three
are now deceased. Two died of natural causes. The third is Fred Sullivan. That
leaves us with four individuals. And if we discount you,” Agent Allen said
carefully, “that leaves us with three targeted individuals.”

“David Cross, Jeff Harris and Larry
Griffin,” Sanchez said. “But there is a Larry Griffin incarcerated in Wyoming
and he has been for the last decade. So we’re left with Cross and Harris.”

“The last names don’t ring a bell
to me,” I said, shaking my head. “Do you have pictures of them?”

“Not exactly,” Sanchez started

“Because you can’t narrow down
which Cross and Harris he was looking for,” I finished.

“You got it,” Sanchez said. “But
we’re still searching criminal records for both names and pulling as much
information as we can.”

“The problem is that both Cross and
Harris might have never been arrested,” Agent Allen added. “Additionally,
although we first started searching in this geographic area, they also might
not be in Wisconsin. From what we know now, not all of Holston Parker’s victims
were from this area. He killed several drifters as well. The list doesn’t
exactly tell us enough information to actually find the targets.”

“The TBK list,” I whispered. I was
on that list. My heart beat underneath the fabric of Delaney’s borrowed dress
that hung on me like a little girl’s dress-up outfit.

“Excuse me?” Agent Allen asked.

“The to-be-killed list,” I
said,
my voice steady. “I’m on that list. And there are only
three of us left. And if the killer is on that list, it only makes two of us
left.”

“Only more motivation to find the
perpetrator before he finds you,” Agent Allen replied.

As much as I hated his little
glasses and his freshly pressed khakis and perfectly buttoned shirt and his
scathing revelation, I knew Agent Allen was on to something.
Dead
on.