Whistler's Angel (35 page)

Moore said, “Someone will spot him if he’s still on the island. And he is unless he got off by boat.”

“You say the vehicle he carjacked never made it to the bridge?”

“They couldn’t have missed it. It’s a white Dodge van with a rack of bikes on it.”

“He might have used it to get to another,” said Whistler. “Maybe one they’d stashed. Maybe one he could steal. Maybe he got past the roadblock last night before you had a physical description.”

“Those facial cuts, remember? No one like that got past them. If he has any sense, he wouldn’t have tried. He wouldn’t have risked being trapped on a bridge. He’s holed up somewhere on the island.”

Moore said that there were hundreds of unoccupied homes owned by people who lived there part time. Moore said, “If it was me, I’d pick one of the smaller ones, but one with a two-car garage. I wouldn’t try a big one; most of them have alarms. I’d keep it looking empty and dark and I’d stay for a week if I had to.”

Whistler shrugged. “But what would he do for supplies?”

“From what we can tell, he has everything he needs. The driver of the van said Crow was carrying a duffel. We know that Crow and Breen use a scanner when they travel, so that’s probably what he had in the bag along with some weapons and, I’d bet, some explosives. He’s got a First Aid kit that came with the van and at least a week’s worth of groceries.”

“Groceries? How so?”

“He grabbed the Dodge van from outside a supermarket. He took it from a family that drove down here from Ohio and had stopped to load up on food. He got their food and their luggage along with their car, so he’s even got new clothes to put on. The family was a couple with a teenage daughter. He whacked the father on the head with the shotgun and threatened the mother and the daughter. Called them sluts.”

Leslie came on deck. “Called them sluts? What made them sluts?”

“They made the trip wearing tank tops and shorts. And the daughter wore a little gold cross on a chain. He ripped the cross off her. He said she defiled it. This guy has some issues with women.”

Claudia, although she still seemed not quite herself, had prepared an impressive breakfast platter. In addition to the bacon and a thick western omelet, she’d cut some filets from last night’s uneaten grouper and she’d garnished the platter with melon and grapes. Phil Henry volunteered to serve as the waiter. He said that his own chef could not have done better. And he promised to reciprocate, buy them all dinner, as soon as his restaurant could open again.

“What sort of issues?” asked Claudia as she joined them on deck. “With women, I mean. I couldn’t help overhearing.”

Moore started to answer. Whistler held up his hand. “Too nice a breakfast for an unpleasant subject.” Especially, he thought, one that touched on religion in the presence of a guardian angel.

But she said, “No, really. I’d like to know about those two. What kind of a person was the one I…?”

“Saw outside?”

It was Leslie who blurted the completion of her sentence to keep Claudia from saying, “the one who I skewered.” The near-slip went by Moore…or he pretended not to catch it. Leslie snatched up Crow’s want sheet. “You mean this one,” she said.

“Adam’s right,” said Moore. “This can wait until we’ve eaten.”

But Leslie pressed Moore so that Claudia wouldn’t. She seemed to understand that Claudia still needed to hear that what she’d done had been
justified. Leslie said, “It’s already on all of our minds. To tell you the truth, I’ve been feeling almost sorry for the one who somebody stabbed in the head. If I shouldn’t, that’s what I need to know.”

She said this while looking directly at Whistler. A touch of overkill there, but his eyes said, “
Nice move
.” He then glanced at Phil and again back at Leslie. His eyebrow arched into a question. She answered with the smallest shake of her head. It meant, “
No, I haven’t told Phil that she threw it and I won’t. Now will you please relax? Eat your breakfast.”

Whistler had to look away. He tried to keep himself from smiling. This young woman was clearly Claudia’s friend and she seemed to be one well worth having. All the same, he’d prefer that their friendship not develop to the point of them sharing their innermost thoughts. Let Claudia do that with her birds.

Sergeant Moore had already pulled more sheets from his folder. He said
to Leslie, “Believe me, you’re not going to feel sorry.” He turned to Whistler. “Do you mind?”

Leslie said, “No, he doesn’t. Unless Claudia does.”

She didn’t. She said, “I’d like to hear it.”

Whistler learned that tank tops and little gold crosses were the least of what offended Crow and Breen. This past fall, they’d pipe-bombed a Family Planning Center in a suburb of Lexington, Kentucky. The bomb killed one nurse and maimed another. At another such clinic in Buffalo, New York, they had shotgunned a doctor and a teenage girl while the girl still had her legs in the stirrups. They did not, however, limit their victims to those of the pro-choice persuasion. They’d tossed Molotov cocktails through the entrance door of a crowded gay disco in Atlanta. No deaths, but several young men were disfigured.

There was never a doubt that Breen and Crow were the assailants. To begin with, they always took credit for their work through messages that they left on the Internet sites of the Reconstructionist Church. Nor were these attacks hit-and-run operations. They would linger long enough to harangue any witnesses on why the flaming sword was brought down on these sinners. This was why, said Moore, they had chosen to shoot Ragland in a restaurant that was filled with other diners. Breen had probably prepared a few verses from scripture that he’d shout as he backed out the door. He would probably have strewn a few pamphlets about. A stack of them were found in his pocket.

Whistler remembered seeing those pamphlets. He’d thought they were tourist brochures. And he thought of Stanton Poole. He didn’t know why. Yes, he did; it was this citing of biblical verses. Poole would do that all the time. But something else nagged at him. Something else about Poole. Whatever it was, it eluded him.

Leslie asked, “These two would actually give sermons?”

“Crow did from the start. I’m getting to that. Unless you’d prefer that I stop.”

“No, go on,” said Claudia.”

“You’re sure? It gets grimmer.”

“Adam,” she reached to touch his hand. “Are you okay?”

She asked because she saw that his mind had wandered. He was still seeing Poole…and now Aubrey…in his head. He knew that his mind was searching for a connection just because of that biblical business. It was silly. So unlikely. He’d already decided that Aubrey, at least, would never have allowed this to happen.

“I guess we’re lucky,” said Leslie, “that they didn’t throw a bomb.”

Moore explained that they’ve only used pipe bombs and firebombs when their victims were randomly chosen. They seemed to prefer guns when the victim was specific. That lessened the chance that they would miss. A bomb might have missed Philip Ragland entirely. It might also have deafened everyone in the bar. They wouldn’t have heard any parting words that these two had probably prepared.

“Their spree,” he said, “began two years earlier in their hometown of Springfield, Missouri. Breen’s wife, it seems, had moved out of their trailer and had taken up with another man. Crow pointed out that this made her an adulteress. They found them together, not in bed, but at a Wendy’s. Breen and Crow walked in armed with shotguns.”

Moore said they ordered the couple to get down on their knees, facing and embracing each other. Breen used a roll of duct tape to wrap them together while Crow kept other patrons and employees at bay. Breen’s wife was screaming, begging for help. The new boyfriend tried denying there was anything between them. Breen stuffed napkins into his mouth.

Crow herded the dozen or so patrons and employees to rear of the fast food service counter. There were two small children among them. Crow told this group that they were not to be harmed, that instead they’d been honored to witness God’s wrath. Crow then told Breen it was time to pass judgement. Breen went back outside where he gathered up some rocks that had lined a bed of flowers near the entrance.

On his return, Crow announced to the assemblage that they were in the presence of adulterers. Crow said that they’d been tried before God and convicted. He then quoted a number of scriptural texts that dealt with the penalty phase. He said that adulterers were to be stoned. He asked if any present were doubters, non-believers. If some were, they kept that to themselves. As they looked on in horror, Breen started his work. He began hurling stones at his wife and her companion from a distance of five or six feet. They were frantic, screaming, trying hopelessly to dodge them. Although Breen missed them as often as not, enough stones had hit them, crushed their shoulders, smashed their faces, that soon the floor and walls were splattered with their blood. Crow told Breen to end it. Breen went out for bigger stones. With these, he pounded each of them to death.

That done, Mr. Crow began handing out pamphlets describing the mission of his church. He gave each of the children a little lapel pin depicting a fiery sword. He had to pin them on himself because the children were in shock. One of them, to this day, was still unable to speak.

Moore paused. “I did warn you. This is not table talk.”

He was looking at Claudia. Her expression had gone cold. She said, very softly, “Go on.”

Moore glanced toward Whistler. Whistler said, “No, that’s enough.”

“No, I need to hear it,” said Claudia.

“Well…so far we have adultery, and abortion, being gay. These are the big ones, but they only scratch the surface. Crow will kill you for some twenty different sins against God and the list gets longer all the time.”

Whistler asked, “What was Ragland’s?”

“You heard that yourself when Breen walked in shouting ‘God is not mocked’ before he shot him. Ragland, on his program, did a segment on them. From their point of view, he blasphemed.”

“He did mock them?”

“Not at all. But he did warn against them. As it happens, I saw that program myself. I remember him that saying every faith, his own included, has its bigots and its lunatic fringe. In that program, he cited a number of groups who are opposed to almost any civil liberty. Kingdom Come was just one of the more extreme groups.”

“And Kingdom Come is…?”

“The Reconstructionists’ church. Crow and Breen were both early members. Crow, in fact, was their treasurer. Breen never made it past the sixth grade, but Crow is no trailer park type. He’s a college graduate, majored in accounting, had a nervous breakdown, then he had his epiphany. He’d been hearing demon voices in his head for some time. Jesus showed up one day, drove them out and told Crow that Crow was one of the chosen. He tried
street preaching, then he found the Reconstructionists. He turned out to be a whiz at fundraising, but Kingdom Come finally expelled him from the church. They say he was too militant, even for them, and besides, he’d have seizures and froth at the mouth every time they didn’t let him have his way.”

“Seizures?” Whistler asked. “Epileptic, you think?”

“Or some other short circuit. Whatever, it scared them. Anyway, he left and took Breen along with him. Crow went out and tried to start his own church. He calls it the Legion of the Flaming Sword. He hands out a lot of those lapel pins.”