Krewe of Hunters 1 Phantom Evil (25 page)

They went through three more cases, and finally wrote down the names of Susanne Crimshaw and June Leven. June had now been missing four months. She had left New York City for Los Angeles to go to school out there. Due to a scandal at her college—a professor she'd been sleeping with had been arrested for statutory rape—her name had been in the papers, she had left town a marked woman, and her mother
had received one postcard from her—postmarked from New Orleans—saying that she was miraculously on the road to recovery, and all would be well. She told her parents not to look for her.

Jackson pulled out his phone and put a call through to Andy Devereaux, gave him the case numbers and asked him if anything else had been discovered about either girl.

“They're both still MIA,” Andy told him. “We had the pictures out on the media and in the newspaper, and received zero response. The patrol officers have all this, too, so if they saw them partying on Bourbon, we would have heard.”

“If they recognized them, of course,” Jackson said.

“Of course. Want me to put out a bulletin again on these two?”

“I would deeply appreciate it.”

He hung up. Jake looked at him. “Did you see either of these girls when you were in the Church of Christ Arisen?” Jackson asked.

Jake shook his head and asked, “So what now?”

Angela came down as they were talking. She started to pour a cup of coffee, glanced over to where they were sitting, and at the picture up on the computer screen.

She dropped her cup and the coffeepot. Both shattered, but she didn't seem to notice.

Jackson and Jake leaped up. Jake pulled her away from the shattered glass. Jackson quickly ran his eyes and then his hands over the bottoms of her jean-clad legs.

She didn't even seem to notice them. She stared at the computer screen. She pointed.

“That's her.”

Jackson looked back at the computer. The picture of
Susanne Crimshaw was up on the screen. She was a pretty young woman with a generous mouth, wide green eyes and tawny hair.

“That's her?” Jake asked.

“She's dead,” Angela said. “I've seen her. That's the face in the mirror. She looks back at me, then decays and rots and becomes bone.” She looked at them both. “She's here. She's here somewhere in the house.”

Before either of them could reply to that comment, Jenna came running into the kitchen. “Come—come here quickly, all of you!”

Jackson grasped Angela's arm and they ran after Jenna. She led them up the stairs and she drew them all to her window.

From that vantage point, they could see the house next door, and, by craning, the front of the house.

At first, Jackson had no idea what she was talking about. And then, by twisting his neck and leaning, he could see.

Blake Conroy had just exited a car in front of the house next door. He looked around nervously, shifting the brim of his baseball cap back and forth, and then hurried to the gate, opened it and walked up the steps to the porch. He twisted a key in the lock, looked around once again.

And went into the house.

“Keep an eye on the front door, and the house,” Jackson said briskly.

“Okay, and then what?” Jenna asked.

Jackson hurried down the stairs and to the computer. He keyed in the address of the house next door. It was owned by a business called Central Marketing. He keyed in Central Marketing and discovered that the business was a DBA of a company called H Family Associates. H Family Associates
proved to be part of Genesis Urban Renewal, a parent company that had David Holloway as its CEO.

Jackson stared at the screen for several minutes. He ran up the stairs and to his room, slipped into his shoulder holster and took his service Glock from the bedside drawer. He slipped his jacket over his holster and the gun, and walked back to the hallway and called up to Jenna, Jake and Angela. “Hey!”

Angela appeared at the door.

“I'm going to pay a visit. Keep a lookout.”

Angela nodded, and hurried back.

He exited the house, careful to lock the door behind him. And when he walked up to the neighboring house, he found that the man who had just entered had been careful enough to lock his door, too.

Jackson opted for a walk around the house.

It was a shotgun house—built long, with a front door and a back door that were in one even line, a technique that allowed for ventilation in the days before air-conditioning. A second story had been built on the rear portion of the older facade.

The back door he found was locked as well. He heard a sound behind him and instinctively set his hand in his jacket for his weapon.

“Stop right where you are!” a voice warned. “Hands clear from your pockets. Let me see them! Let me see them now!”

He wasn't about to be taken in such a manner; he drew his Glock as he turned.

He was facing Blake Conroy, who had a Smith & Wesson drawn on him.

“Looks like an impasse,” Conroy said, eyeing him narrowly.

“I don't think so!” came a shout.

Both men looked up. Angela had the window to the Newton house open, her service weapon trained on Conroy. Jake was at her side.

Conroy began to swear. “What the hell are you doing, Crow?” he demanded.

“Trying to find out what you're doing in the house next door. Managed by a company that is, in actuality, David Holloway's.”

Conroy's big, florid face became a serious shade of red and he lowered his gun.

“Holloway doesn't know that I'm here,” he said.

“So what are you doing here?” Jackson demanded.

“I'm not—I'm not at liberty to say.”

Jackson spun around as he heard the door open behind him. To his astonishment, Lisa Drummond, David Holloway's secretary, stepped out.

“Just tell him the truth, Blake. This is getting ridiculous,” Lisa said. “Please, please, please, everyone. Put the guns down.”

Jackson ignored the request. “Who else is in there?” he asked.

“No one—I swear,” Lisa said.

“Tell you what,” Jackson said. “Blake, hand over the weapon. Then both of you step ahead of me, and we'll walk on over to the Newton house and have a little chat. I like the idea of everyone telling the truth, Miss Drummond. I think that will be refreshing.”

Conroy started to slide his Smith & Wesson into his shoulder holster.

“No, no. Hand it over,” Jackson said.

“I have a permit,” Blake told him.

“And I don't care. Hand it over.”

Blake tossed the gun to the ground at Jackson's feet. Jackson reached down to retrieve it, never taking his eyes off him.

“Go. Angela?” he called, not looking up.

“Will is at the front,” she assured him.

“Go!” Jackson ordered.

The two of them went ahead of him to the house. Will already had the door open. He backed away so that the couple could enter in front of Jackson.

Angela was down the stairs by then, and she still had her pistol aimed and ready.

“Blake, I'm sure you know your firearms. Angela carries a Smith & Wesson SD9 pistol, and so you know that she has a sixteen-plus-one capacity. She may look like an angel, but that's a gun that means business.”

“I'm not going to pull anything,” Blake said irritably. “I'm a Christian, and I've told you that.”

“So what the hell is going on?” Jackson demanded.

Blake glanced at Lisa, who again seemed to explode with a combination of nervousness and fear.

“For God's sake, it's nothing underhanded. It's just…oh, Lord! We're having an affair, you idiots. It's nothing more than that. We're just keeping it secret because…”

“You're a born-again Christian? Isn't that…just wrong? Premarital sex?” Jackson asked Blake.

Blake looked away. “You don't understand. We love each other.”

“I see. The rules apply when they work?”

“She had been sleeping with the boss,” Blake said. “Before she learned the truth and goodness in life.”

“From you, of course?”

“It's not adultery when she's with me,” Blake said quietly.

Lisa looked at Jackson and didn't seem quite as nervous. “Yes, and you knew I'd slept with David. I could see that you knew it when you were in the office. But it ended. It ended when Regina died, but, still…”

“We couldn't tell him,” Blake said. “We couldn't tell him because we didn't know how he would feel.”

Angela hadn't put the gun down yet.

“So—so you two meet each other in a house
next to this one?
” she demanded.

“Why not?” Lisa asked wearily. “It's where I used to meet David. He said it was best to carry on in plain sight. He said that we could be in the house on business if we were ever seen—the house is up for sale. And he could keep an eye on Regina from here. Oh, God, it was wrong, I know it! But he needed someone. He needed someone desperately, because she didn't care anymore. All she had cared about was that kid. David told me that she was shattered. He said that he couldn't stay married to her, but that he couldn't leave her when she was so badly hurting. He couldn't stand the pain, but he couldn't leave her alone. He could never really be with her again. But then, she died, and suddenly…”

“Suddenly?” Jackson asked.

Lisa shook her head. “I didn't know him anymore. He said that he'd never come back in this house. He asked me to wait, and I didn't tell him that I couldn't.”

“Why not?” Jackson asked her.

“Because,” she said. She looked over at Blake. “Because I was scared,” she admitted.

Life really could be construed as the art of illusion by some people.
Angela and the others sat around the table with Blake Conroy and Lisa Drummond, listening, and trying to make sense out of what they heard.

“All right, when did you start to see David Holloway as something other than your boss?” Jackson asked her.

“About two months after his son died. His holding company has actually owned the house next door for several years.”

“What?” Jackson demanded sharply. “There's no information on the senator's holding company in his file, and the police didn't mention it. You'd think they would have, seeing as the house is next door to the house where Regina died!”

Lisa looked surprised, and then concerned. “Well, it's a company owned by a company, and I think there are other investors. The senator always wanted that kind of business interest
kept quiet. Oh, it's not illegal at all! It's just all wrapped up in a lot of DBAs—doing business as, you know.”

“It's illegal if he conceals his financial matters,” Jackson said.

“It wasn't relevant to Regina's death!” Lisa protested. “If Senator Holloway had thought that the police needed to know, of course he would have mentioned it! It's a moneymaker—they rent it to groups, and, recently, with all the film activity in New Orleans, they rent out to movie and television producers as well. He asked me to meet him there one afternoon, and it was actually very innocent, I was just going to pick up some papers. But he was so down! He said that he liked being here because he was near Regina, in case she should need him, but then, he started crying, and he told me that she didn't need or want him, no matter how he tried. She wanted their son back, and that was all that she wanted in the world. I guess it was my fault. I was just trying to comfort him, and one thing led to another, and…we started seeing one another,” she said flatly.

“But then you stopped.”

She nodded. “When Regina died, like I said. He'd been at the office that day. When I saw him again, it was as if he'd never really known me. I think, in his own mind, he tried to pretend that it had never happened.”

Blake cleared his throat. “I have loved Lisa from the moment I first saw her. And I didn't know about the affair.”

“No one in the office—or anywhere—knew at first. And to this day, Blake only knows because I told him about it,” Lisa said.

“So, I'm lost now. Why are you afraid?” Angela demanded.

“Why am I afraid?” Lisa asked. “Regina is dead!”

“Why does that affect you? I'd think that'd be a plus. Or is it that you think David killed her himself?” Angela asked.

“I know that this house is strange. David became strange when he bought the place and stranger still as he spent more time in it. Once upon a time, he was a good politician. He was moderate, thoughtful, careful—brilliant. I loved working for him. I believed in him.”

“But you don't now?” Jackson asked her.

She swallowed a sip of tea from the glass that Jenna had provided to her. “I don't know,” she said. “It's nothing I can put my finger on, but…I'm scared. David became obsessed with losing her. He's handed a lot of his work and his business over to Martin DuPre, and I'm not at all certain that Martin is serving his best interests, but when I try to point something out to him, he just ignores me.”

“We both go to work. We do what we do,” Blake said. “And we don't tell him about us because he's ridiculously fragile right now. I know that when Regina died, he suddenly called Grable Haines into the office and told him to take the money he needed. Grable was shaken up because he said that the senator was so
weird
that he wouldn't have taken the money if he hadn't been desperate.”

“I need to get back to the office,” Lisa said nervously.

“And I need to get back, too,” Blake said. “The senator said that he was locking up from noon until 2:00 p.m. for a break, but it's nearly two now.”

Lisa looked at Jackson earnestly. “We want to get married, Blake and me. I'm joining his church. When the time is right, we're going to get married.”

“Honest. Neither of us feels that we can leave him in the lurch,” Blake said.

Jackson leaned toward Blake and asked, “Why were you at the meeting of the Aryans?” he demanded.

“That one was David Holloway, I swear. He wanted me to see what they were about, and who they were complaining about. I even talked to you when I was there!” he said to Jake and Jenna.

“Yes, but you might have noticed—talking doesn't always answer every question, does it?” Jackson said.

“Look, I've told you what I know at every point when you talked to me,” Blake said.

Lisa looked at him. “You didn't tell them about me, did you?” she asked.

“No,” he said, glancing at Jackson and looking a little uncomfortable. “I mean, you know—no. I never said that Holloway had been engaged in an affair with his secretary, or, she with me.”

“If you have to go back to work, go back to work,” Jackson said. “But let me make a suggestion. Lisa, you should just tell Holloway that you two are seeing one another and planning on getting married.”

“I guess we should,” Lisa said, looking at Blake.

“I don't know… I don't know if it's the right time,” Blake said. “I know you're still suspicious of me—you have to be. I
am
the man's bodyguard. But I was at that meeting of the Aryans because the senator sent me. I swear it. I swear before God. He's paranoid. He brought you down here because no matter what he says, he's afraid of ghosts, and he's afraid of everyone around him.”

Jackson listened to Blake gravely. “All right, then. Wait. But don't you think it might be worse if he finds out later, or by accident?”

“I think he needs to find some peace. I think he needs…”

“I think he needs to believe that he didn't cause his wife's death,” Lisa said. “Please, I don't want to be caught like this. We have to go back now.”

Jackson nodded, lifting his hands. “By all means, return to work.”

Jenna rose. “I'll see you out,” she said.

“One at a time, if you don't mind. I'll get the car out of here first,” Blake said.

“I walk back,” Lisa told them.

No one said goodbye and no one spoke until Jenna returned to the kitchen. “They're out. We're locked,” she said.

“Well, that was intriguing,” Whitney said at last.

“Very,” Jackson agreed.

“So, Senator Holloway was having an affair,” Jenna said.

Jackson nodded. “Actually, that's not half as important as the fact that Senator David Holloway owns the house right next door to this one—and that he has, for years,” Jackson said.

“But what does it mean?” Jake mused.

“I'm not sure yet. It may mean nothing, and it may put us back to square one. Or worse. Now we have the Aryans, the Church of Christ Arisen, a mistress, a bodyguard, a chauffeur—and an aide we know to be a lying lech, if not something much worse,” Jackson said.

“I say we have to take down Martin DuPre. If we do something about him, the rest of the charade that is the senator may start to crumble,” Jake said.

Jackson looked at Angela. “We have to talk to Gabby Taylor. She's home now. I believe that what is going on at the Church of Christ Arisen might lead us to the answers.” He hesitated a moment, and then grimaced. “We need to keep making every
effort to discover what we can in the house, but I think we also have to concentrate heavily on the church. The girl was terrified of what they'd do to her if they found her, and I don't think she's going to be that hard to find. You're the one who befriended her. I need you, and I need you now, no matter how you feel that you're treading on a fragile young woman.”

Angela winced, but nodded. “Okay, so what are we doing?”

“Will and Whitney, stay on the cameras. We need to be watching closely for anything that's going on in the house while we continue investigating other leads. Jenna and Jake, I need you to go back to the Aryans—find out if Blake has anything to do with their membership.”

“Gag, vomit,” Jenna said, sighing.

“It's all in a day's work,” Jake told her. “Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault you're whiter than the driven snow.”

She cast him an evil glance. “All right, come on. We'll be able to find an address on the internet and if not—”

“Just give Andy Devereaux a call. He'll find an address for you. And tell him I'll be talking to him later in the afternoon.” He rose as well. “I think that whether we're really getting to the truth or not, people will
believe
that we're getting close, and that could make them dangerous. Lethal. Right now, if the senator is as off his game as Blake says, he's not paying attention, and putting his life and his platform into the hands of Martin DuPre. Gabby Taylor could be in serious danger.”

“So, you think that they kill young women who leave the fold—and might talk?” Jake asked him.

Jackson said, “I think that Gabby's fear says something. There are always going to be missing young women. Some will be runaways. And some will be cultists. And some will be dead. Come on, Angela, we're going to take a ride.”

She nodded. “We know that they're killing young women. We know it. I've seen one in the mirror,” she said quietly.

 

The Taylor home was a modest ranch, built in Metairie sometime in the 1940s, Angela thought. They had Jake's car—he and Jenna were walking to the Aryans headquarters, discovered to be in the CBD, not far from the senator's home office.

“Should we have asked Andy to send an officer with us—or better yet, come along as well?” Angela asked Jackson.

He shook his head. “If we can get her to tell us something, we'll have enough so that the police can bring DuPre in,” he said. “Andy has patrol cars watching the house, and I let him know that we were coming by.”

“All right. They may not let us in at all,” Angela said.

“Won't know until we try,” Jackson said.

Angela needn't have been worried. She raised her hand to knock at the door, and the door swung open. A slim woman with whitening platinum hair and a kind face threw her arms around Angela. “Thank you! Thank you so much! You brought our baby home to us! Gabby told us all about you.”

“Mom, you're strangling her,” Gabby said, coming out from behind her mother. She smiled at Angela. She already looked like another woman. The look of absolute dejection was gone from her face, and she was prettier than ever.

“I'm fine, I'm fine, and I'm so happy to see that you're all doing so well,” Angela said.

“Is that her?” came a booming male voice.

“Angela, this is my mom, Ellie, and that's my dad, Sam,” Gabby said.

“And this is Jackson Crow,” Angela said.

“Pleasure,” Jackson told them both.

“Great to meet you,” Sam Taylor said. He was tall and thin, too, and his face was haggard. Angela imagined he had suffered badly over the loss of his daughter. “We can never thank you enough. Never.”

“Never,” Gabby said.

“If there were only some way we could help you! We had a reward offered—” Ellie began.

“No, no!” Jackson said with a smile. “We're actually government employees—your tax dollars at work.”

“We wanted to make sure that everything was all right,” Angela said.

Sam dragged his daughter into a hug. “Our girl is back with us. What could be wrong?”

A look of dismay and fear flashed across Gabby's face, but it was quickly gone. “We're going to be all right.”

“We're going on vacation, tonight!” Ellie said. “Gabby wants to get away for a bit.”

Jackson looked at them all. “We need to talk,” he said.

Gabby lost her poise; it looked as if she might have fallen, had she not been in her father's firm grip.

“Gabby, we have to get that church shut down. There's something very bad going on there, and you know it,” Angela said quietly.

“May we sit?” Jackson asked Sam.

“My girl just wants to get away from it all,” Sam shook his head.

“She is afraid of people involved with that church,” Jackson said. “We need her help. Desperately. Mr. Taylor, don't you want other girls to go home, too?”

He hesitated.

“I can't prove anything. I can't really give you anything that will help. And if you know things and go into that church, they'll know that you learned about them from
me,
” Gabby said.

“Let's sit. Please. I'll get some nice iced tea,” Ellie said. She was obviously distressed, but she was a consummate hostess, and she seemed to realize that something worse could happen to her daughter now.

When they were seated in the pleasant family room and tea had been served, Gabby glanced uncomfortably at her father. “They really don't want to hear a lot of details,” she said quietly.

“And you don't need to tell us any,” Angela assured her.

“We just need to know about other people who were there. Other people who were there—and then disappeared,” Jackson said.

“Gabby, how did you wind up being involved with the church?” Angela asked her softly.

The girl's breathing quickened and she glanced at her mother, flushing.

“It's all right, Gabby. You're home now,” her mother said, her voice filled with tremulous affection.

Gabby looked at Angela. “Oh, that was easy enough,” she said dryly. “I was with some friends on the riverfront one day, and we'd been doing a lot of smoking. Weed, grass, you know, right?”

“Yes, I know the terms,” Angela said, trying not to smile.

“I'm sorry, Mom,” Gabby said.

Her mother patted her knee. “It's all right.”