Mortal Sin (30 page)

“Yes. Franz Lieber is an expert on the
Conoscenza.
He died a few months ago.”

“The papers are forgeries. No, that’s not quite right.” She paused, then said slowly, “They’re his papers, but they’ve been altered. Part of them are fake. I don’t know what, specifically, but it’s not the whole truth. Everyone is being deceived.”

Rafe hadn’t seen the papers. Anthony said he was still deciphering them. But… Anthony had also not talked to him about that trip to St. Michael’s. Anthony and Rico had spent a lot of time together at Olivet and at the mission. They were holding back, keeping things from him. Why?

Lily said, “The papers say one thing, but if that happens, the portal will open until the end times.” She paused. “I don’t know how I know that, but it’s true.”

“What thing?”

“I don’t know! All he keeps saying is save Moira, save Moira. Then tonight, it was all about the papers. They aren’t real. Dr. Lieber was murdered.”

Rafe sat down. “Who said that?”

“Father Philip. He… he talks to me.” She paused. “I’m going crazy.”

He wanted to tell her she wasn’t, but he hesitated. He’d faced so many unexplainable things… was this but one more? Was Father really communicating with Lily? Why Lily? And if so, did that mean he was trapped between here and Heaven? Was his spirit held captive because he’d been killed by a demon? There were so many things they didn’t understand.

“Lily, we’ll figure it out. Stay put.”

He heard a voice in the background, and then muffled, Lily said, “I just came in.”

Someone else came onto the phone. “Who is this?”

“Raphael Cooper.”

“Did you tell the girl to break into the study hall?”

“She called me. Who’s this?”

“Tristan. Rico will not be pleased.”

“Then tell him something else when you give your report. I’m coming up there, and he can’t stop me.” He slammed down the phone.

But first, he needed to get the truth from Anthony.

#

Skye was in over her head. Way, way over her head. They all were. The violence of the last two days showed no sign of abating. While she was trying to stop the slaughter at the bar, a fourteen-year-old girl had stabbed her best friend with a steak knife for no reason. (The girl said her friend had eaten the last of the rocky road ice cream.) The stabbee would be okay—the wound was bloody, but superficial—but now a fourteen-year-old girl was sitting in the hospital under sedation because when she saw all that blood, she felt a deep remorse and collapsed.

At least, that’s what the official story was. Rod Fielding thought it was akin to one of the victims of the demon Envy who had resisted the infection—or whatever they were calling it—and had a brain aneurism, resulting in his death.

The jail was full; they’d arranged a transport to the closest state prison for the more violent charges. Skye was publicly saying a bad batch of drugs was the cause of the violent outbreak, but how long would people believe that lie? She’d used it several times in the last five months.

Worse, the reports coming from the bar last night were making her job doubly difficult. She hoped Violet Williams could help her piece it together, so Skye was meeting up with her at the hospital where she was awaiting word about her father and her boyfriend.

Skye pulled into an emergency vehicle slot in the hospital parking lot. She took a deep breath. She didn’t know if she could do this anymore. The
Santa Louisa Courier
had printed a whole host of crap this morning. Some of it was probably accurate—like Assistant Sheriff Tom Williams shot city planner George Craven in the chest and George just kept on walking. Because, as Skye knew from Rafe’s more private report, George had been possessed by a demon.

Two of the witnesses had sworn that George had thrown Josh across the room, that there was no way anyone could do that.

Skye had given a brief statement to the press, and told them that PCP could do exactly that. PCP could make the user unnaturally strong and violent, and unresponsive to pain.

Of course, she had to keep Rod Fielding’s report that George had been shot through the heart under wraps. Even a person on PCP couldn’t withstand a direct hit to their heart.

She took another deep breath. Then another. Hiding in the hospital parking lot wasn’t going to get her any answers. She’d almost asked Rafe to come with her to talk to Violet, but realized she’d spent half the night depending on him and Rod to help her defuse the situation. She was the sheriff. She could do this on her own.

She found Violet in a private waiting room.

“Violet, any word on your dad?”

Violet jumped up and gave Skye a spontaneous hug. “Thank you, thank you so much,” Violet said.

“I wish we could have done more, and faster.” Skye led Violet back to the couch and sat down next to her. “What did they say about your dad?”

“He had a heart attack.”

“That’s what the doctors said?”

“Yeah—and I guess last night I sounded crazy.” She frowned. “It was so complicated.”

“Start at the beginning. I’ve had so many conflicting reports, and Rafe didn’t get inside until the end.”

Her eyes watered. “He saved us all. And Josh—if it weren’t for Rafe, Josh would have died.”

Rafe had been stupid and reckless and brave. Skye understood why he’d done it, but she was still angry with him. He should have told her first.

“And you would have locked me up to prevent me from doing what I did,” he’d said.

True enough. Still, it had been a huge risk.

“I know about the two fights that broke out simultaneously. Several people fled, and the two men who were by the window couldn’t tell me much of anything.” Though they’d certainly said enough to the press to make her life miserable.

“They were frozen there the entire time,” Violet said. “I begged one of them to help my dad, but they didn’t.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. Basically, George started arguing with this guy he worked with. It was getting nasty, so I asked Josh to talk to them or eject them. He went over to their table and I went to the bar. Then Russ Campbell—you know Russ, right?”

“Yeah.” He was in charge of the construction at Rittenhouse. Skye and her deputies had been called to the site multiple times for problems. She wondered if there was a connection between Rittenhouse and what had happened last night.

Now, Russ was among the dead.

“Ted was a prick.” Violet’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, God, he’s dead. I shouldn’t say that.”

“Go on,” Skye prompted.

“Ted was ribbing Russ, and I don’t think Russ was feeling well. Then Ted made a comment about gays—you know, Russ’s son is gay—and Russ just lost it. Hit him in the face with his beer mug. I saw the whole thing. But he didn’t stop. He kept hitting him and there was b-blood. I screamed, and then I saw George hit Josh. Then… then throw him over the bar. Just picked him up like a doll. Everyone either ran out or started fighting. Everyone was so angry.”

“Did you stay because you couldn’t get out?”

“At first, all I thought was to call nine-one-one and help Josh. That we could just stay behind the bar until the police came. We’ve had a few fights in the place, but nothing like this.”

“This is where I’m stuck,” Skye said. “We didn’t secure the street until an hour after your nine-one-one call. What was happening during that hour in the bar?”

“People were leaving, and then suddenly I heard a scream and it was Russ. I looked up, and Russ was trying to get out of the bar. He had blood all over him, but it was Ted’s, I think. Ted was dead on the floor. His face—I couldn’t even recognize him. Russ looked insane and scared. His eyes—I’ll never forget his eyes.”

Skye handed her a bottle of water and let Violet compose herself. Then Skye prompted, “He was trying to get out. Why couldn’t he?”

“The doors wouldn’t open. George was standing right in the middle of the bar, laughing. Russ rushed him, but just stopped. Stopped at George’s feet and collapsed. George wasn’t George then. I mean, he
was
George, but he just snapped, like a split personality. I saw several people on the floor, and most of them were dead. And George looked at me and said, ‘Now we wait.’”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. But five minutes later, my dad ran in. He saw me, and I tried to warn him. George then said, ‘Hi, Tom. I have a gun.’ And my dad shot him.”

“Did George have a gun?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t see one. Why would George say that? Why didn’t my dad see he didn’t have one? But George must have had a vest on because he
laughed
when the bullet hit him. But there was blood.” She frowned.

Skye prompted her to continue. “And then?”

“My dad yelled for me to get out, to get out of the bar, and I tried. But I couldn’t leave Josh like that. He was bleeding. It was him and me, and my dad shot George again, and George laughed more. And then—” She stopped, put her head down.

Skye said, “I need to know, Violet. What happened to Josh?”

“My dad shot Josh in the leg. Shot him. He didn’t mean to. He stared at me, put the gun on
me
but then he collapsed. Fell to the floor. I knew it was his heart. He kept saying, ‘No, no, I won’t kill my daughter. Don’t make me kill my daughter.’”

She took a deep breath. “George picked up the gun and told me to cuff my dad to a chair. I said he was having a heart attack, that he needed a doctor, but George didn’t care. There was blood all over his chest, and he should have been dead. I know there’re drugs where you don’t feel pain, and I kept waiting for him to just fall down, but he didn’t.”

“There’s still about thirty minutes before Rafe Cooper came in.”

“Time stopped, and it went fast. I helped Josh, tried to stop the bleeding in his leg. George let me. He watched me for a while, and when I talked to him about letting Josh and my dad go to get help, he just shook his head and said he was enjoying the show.” Violet was crying now, silent tears running down her cheeks.

“What else did he say?”

“I don’t know. Nothing was making sense.”

“You said that George said, ‘Now we wait.’ Do you know what he meant?”

“I don’t know! He looked… bemused. He asked me questions about Josh and my dad, and he knew about my past drug use. It was like he was trying to get to know me, like we were shooting the breeze over a couple of drinks. At one point, when his back was to the door, a guy tried to get out. I didn’t even know the guy had been hiding behind one of the overturned tables. George… he… I don’t know what he did. I must have missed something, because the guy was suddenly on the floor in pain and crawled back behind the table.”

That was a man named Bob Milner. He hadn’t spoken since last night and was under psychiatric care in another part of the hospital. He had no visible wounds, but had been traumatized. Rafe had checked his body late last night; he’d had no demon marks.

They’d also checked Josh and Violet—no marks. She couldn’t get in to see Tom, but Rod Fielding said he would find out. But Skye was putting her money on yes. Cops were prone to anger. Sometimes the job caused it, and sometimes angry people became cops. Tom had always been quick to temper.

She shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Except Rafe was certain that Wrath was the demon infecting all these people, and from the evidence—the violence, the rage, good people killing their friends and family over a small disagreement—yes, it was anger at the root of this evil.

Several of the victims in the bar—most of whom were in the morgue—had marks on them. Some didn’t, but they’d been the victim of someone who did. Rod and Deputy Jorgenson were putting together a reenactment of what happened just so they could make sense of it, but from what Violet was saying, there was no sense to be made.

Now we wait.

Rafe had to know what that meant.

“Vi,” Skye said, “you did amazing last night. Truly.”

“So many people died.” She sniffed and squeezed Skye’s hands. “One of the doctors said fourteen people are dead and another nineteen were injured. Not just in the bar, but in the Chinese food restaurant on the corner, and people who had been shopping—what happened?”

“We’re thinking someone poisoned food or drinks with a psychotic drug.” Keep repeating the party line, Skye said. Maybe she’d start to believe it.

A doctor stepped in. “Ms. Williams? Your boyfriend is awake and asking for you.”

Violet jumped up. “And my dad?”

“He’s still in surgery. I don’t know much more, but he’s with the best doctors in the county.”

“Thank you.” Violet turned to Skye. “And tell Rafe—well, you know.”

She did. And she would thank him… as soon as she found out what he was holding back.

Rafe found Anthony working at the table in the caretaker’s cottage at the mission. It was organized chaos—books and papers were strewn all over, stacked on chairs, on the table, and on the floor in piles of varying heights. Juan Martinez was nowhere to be seen, and Rafe didn’t know if that was good or bad. He wasn’t sold that Martinez hadn’t killed Bertrand, but he also understood what the man had suffered six months ago when he’d been possessed by a demon and killed a fellow cop. There was more to it than simply being aware of what he’d done, which had been out of his control. He was forever connected to those dark forces, as evident from his visions and writings. It would drive even a devout man insane.

“Show me Dr. Lieber’s papers,” Rafe told Anthony.

Anthony didn’t look at him. “I am still working on them.”

“Bullshit.”

Anthony bristled. “You spend too much time with Moira. You’ve adopted her foul mouth.”

“There’s something wrong with those papers.”

“The only thing wrong is that Dr. Lieber was an old man and translating the four languages he wrote in is complex.”

“Why won’t you look me in the eye?”

Anthony frowned, looked up at him. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you already know what Lieber’s notes say. That Moira needs to die.”

The color drained from Anthony’s face. “Who said that?”