The call came over
the police scanner just when they were about to head back to the station.
"3200
block of Sacramento Street with California tag 3-6-2-Mary-Whiskey-Bravo on a
blue Chevy truck possible 102."
Lindsay
groaned at the description given by the officer. "Don't you just love
those." A drunk driver. Nothing she really wanted to deal with at the end
of a day like this. One murderer caught, the one who had inspired him, far
more dangerous and unpredictable, still out there. Didn't she qualify just for
a small break? High hopes, weren't they, because they were too damn close to
the location of that vehicle.
"10-4, 141," the dispatcher acknowledged .
Just maybe,
this was ending as a regular traffic stop. They should be so lucky.
"Headquarters, the
vehicle is not stopping." Or
not. "We're heading east
bound on Sacramento Street."
"Unit close
to back," came the
dispatcher's voice.
"Unit 312 is enroute," Jacobi responded calmly. They were now on
Washington Street, parallel to Sacramento. The next corner would be
Leavenworth, the most likely way for the evasive driver to go. With a little
luck, they could cut him off there.
Lindsay
winced a bit as they sped around the corner. "Just whatever you do,
remember this is my car."
"Always,
partner."
"And try
not to hit that--"
It was
Jacobi's turn to wince.
"Trashcan."
"10-4,
312. Headquarters will have Code 5 on channel one," the
dispatcher informed other units to stay out of the communication.
"Suspect vehicle now
northbound on Leavenworth Street,"
the officer driving unit 141 updated.
"312, I'm southbound on Leavenworth Street," Jacobi returned.
Only moments
later, they could see the vehicle in question, barely under the driver's
control who was going way too fast, approaching head-on. Behind them, a police
cruiser rounded the corner. 141. Nowhere left to go.
Could be said
for either of us, Lindsay thought uneasily. She trusted Jacobi. He was a good
driver. It was that person in the car coming towards them who was
unpredictable.
"I like
this car, Jacobi. I don't want to replace--"
At the very
last moment, the other driver yanked the steering wheel to the side, slamming
his car straight into the corner of a brick wall. Everything happened in the
span of minutes; it was a near miracle no other cars were involved.
"Headquarters,
we have a 518, 518 at Clay and Leavenworth, we need fire and medics..."
Jacobi
hit the brakes, and they both stepped outside, their service weapons drawn. It
didn't look like anyone would be able to run from a scene like this, but
stranger things had happened.
The driver's
side had been smashed together by the impact with the unforgiving brick wall;
the driver lay slumped over in his seat, his face a bloody mess. Jacobi, who
had reached inside to feel for a pulse, just shook his head.
In the
passenger's seat sat a young woman. Her blonde hair was matted with blood, her
eyes closed, but the small, pain-filled moan alerted them to the fact that she
was still alive.
"Miss?
Can you hear me?"
Lindsay
leaned closer, almost gagging from the overpowering smell of blood, realizing
the woman was not only injured, she was also heavily pregnant. Oh no.
She yanked at the door handle, not very surprised when it didn't
give right away. She tried harder, only vaguely aware of Jacobi running back
to her car to update the dispatcher on the situation.
The smells of
gasoline and smoke were a dead giveaway that they probably wouldn't have
enough time to wait until the firemen arrived. Lindsay gave the door another,
desperate pull, the sting of breaking fingernails barely registering, as the
door finally opened.
It was
tricky; she didn't know what injuries the woman had, and if she was making it
any worse moving her. With the smells growing stronger though, it was clear
that waiting would dissipate any chance she had.
Carefully,
Lindsay removed the seatbelt, startled when she realized the woman's eyes were
open, watching her intently.
"I think
I can move," she said, tears running down her face from both pain and
fear. She seemed to fully understand the seriousness of her situation.
"Just whatever you do, please help my child. Please."
She was able
to stand, even walk with support, but taking in her dress that was
blood-soaked in the front down to her legs, it was sadly clear to Lindsay that
this hope would be crushed soon. It took a lot less than a severe car accident
to miscarry.
Just how did
that happen?
One moment,
she had half-joked about Jacobi nearly hitting the trashcan sitting
haphazardly on the edge of the sidewalk, the next her hands were a deep, wet
red from the blood of a woman who was begging her to save her child.
"It'll
be okay," she said, almost choking on the lie, even as they stumbled for
cover behind the sector car, a couple of seconds before the Chevy's tank blew
up.
She shielded
the woman with her own body best she could, feeling blood soak her own shirt.
Drawing back, Lindsay could see the woman's eyes starting to glaze over, but
her fingers gripped Lindsay's with surprising strength. "Promise
me," she whispered.
"Come
on, stay with me here!"
Her grip
loosened.
"I
promise!"
The woman was
already unconscious, though, but now the paramedics took over. Lindsay closed
her eyes for a second, then she pushed herself up from the ground just in time
to see Jacobi come over.
"They
got the guy out before it blew up, so -- Jesus!" he exclaimed.
She looked
down at herself and winced. Not a pretty sight to behold. "It's not
mine."
"You
okay?"
"I said
it's not--"
He gave her a
'humor me' look, and Lindsay shrugged, acknowledging he wasn't talking about
any physical injuries any longer. "I will be once I am out of these
clothes. Really," she added, slightly impatient.
She would be.
This wasn't even their case. Tom wouldn't come knocking on her door tonight,
and she wouldn't be crazy enough to -- the thought seemed so absurd these days
that it made her smile, utterly inappropriate at the moment, but Jacobi had
caught on anyway.
"Just
make sure she doesn't see you like this," he said.
Lindsay
clapped him on the shoulder, then winced again at the feel of the wet, sticky
fabric moving against her bare skin. "Thanks for the advice,
partner."
***
He smiled to
himself as he listened to the latest codes crackling over the police scanner.
One dead, the woman severely injured. They had both sinned alright, even
though he couldn't care less if they'd repent or not. They weren't among the
chosen ones, but a mere distraction.
It had worked
better than he could have imagined.
It was a fine
coincidence to have Inspector Lindsay Boxer on the scene, the one who shared a
bed with the reporter. Surprising that she wasn't here, but she was bound to
be busy with another case, another story of hers. The Hallelujah Man.
He was going
to get to know them better, both of them, but there was time. He turned off
the police scanner and left the room.
There was a lot to prepare for
Judgment Day.
***
Act
One
There
were really no coincidences in life, just good timing and bad timing, Cindy
thought as she caught Scott's smug smile at her. At 7:30 in the morning, here
in the conference room, she couldn't have cared less about the office
grapevine and his too-obvious attempts to steal one of her most important
stories from under her. Since she'd been given primary on the Hallelujah Man,
he was under pressure, and they both knew it.
Cindy wasn't
worried about him, though. Whatever connection he had to the New Faith, a
religious group who had gotten headlines when one of their members was killed
in a pursuit with the police, she had a better one. Cindy was sure of that.
So far, New
Faith was under close observation by Children's Services. Unlike most
religious groups, they were eclectic, open to members of all faiths. Less open
were their rules and guidelines for the lives of the women and men they took
under their wing. While their doctrine and conservative propaganda was
certainly enough to attract the interest of someone like the Hallelujah Man,
it hadn't been said out loud yet.
It was only a
matter of time, though.
New Faith was
relatively new, but had attracted nearly a thousand members out in Arizona
where they had started, two more groups on the East coast, and if their
website was to be believed, two more in Europe.
Cindy had
done her homework, even if her mind had been on other things lately. The
leader, Michael Beaumont, was ex-army with a degree in biology and chemistry.
He'd served in the Middle East for nearly six years, came back with the claim
that God had told him to build the New Faith. Not a few believed him.
He had moved
to San Francisco three months ago, leaving his longtime friend Gideon Ralph in
charge of the Arizona compound.
Now the
Register was going to run a story on them. If there was any connection to the
Hallelujah Man, small as it might be, it would be Cindy's anyway. But she had
one more ace up her sleeve.
"The FBI
is now looking into them, but not just because of their potential for another
Waco. Scott has something that seems to be related to your story,
Thomas."
Cindy barely
refrained herself from rolling her eyes. Boss-speak for 'if you haven't got
something better, it might not be your story much longer.'
She wasn't
much concerned, and she had a bunch of emails in her inbox, starting months
ago, to keep her relaxed about this subject. "So?" she just said,
and Scott's grin brought the 'cat that got the canary' analogy to mind.
"They
ordered a lot of new Bibles from a local store. One from that order ended up
in Christian Blake's fridge."
Cindy sat up
straighter. That was indeed a surprise. Not the only secret kept from her, was
it? She couldn't dwell on that now, though.
"I know
an ex-member who was with them at the time," Scott continued. "He's
willing to give me an exclusive."
Cindy smiled
sweetly back at him. Bad timing for all those fears acting up inside of her;
the thoughts that had kept her awake nearly all of last night and made her
want to cry even now.
However, good
timing for her career.
"I've
got something better," she said. "I know a way inside."
***
The night
before...
Lindsay
pulled her front door closed behind her, so tired she barely took in her
surroundings. Lost in thought, she shook her head at the man they'd caught, a
murderer trying to imitate a serial killer's M.O. and failing so badly on all
counts.
If only all
criminals were that stupid... if only Hallelujah Man was. However, he had yet
to make his cardinal mistake, the one that would make them catch him. They had
gotten closer, though. No way the creep would count down to seven.
Blake, Dellan,
Martin, Watkins. She didn't need a room full of articles and gruesome crime
scene photographs to bring these names home with her.
In between,
the thought of Beatrice Lazar crept into her mind just as unbidden, her
desperate plea to save her child. No matter how much the girls had reassured
her that there was nothing more she could have done to help the woman, a tiny
sliver of pain remained. The feeling of failure. Because it had already been
there, and Lindsay wasn't quite sure if it would ever go away... but she
didn't want to think about it tonight.
One step into
the living room, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the man
sitting on the couch.
He was
smiling at her, as if nothing was wrong at all. Also, he'd brought a bouquet
of white roses, just like that first time, and put it into a vase on the
coffee table.
Too sure
of yourself, aren't you? She'd
felt sympathy towards him, not so long ago, because Lindsay knew what it was
like to be the one who was left behind. Now, she only felt anger.
"Pete!
What the hell are you doing here?"
Lindsay
had come home with the hope of having a late dinner with Cindy, talk shop a
little, then cuddle up next to her and fall into a sleep not interrupted for
the next eight hours, blessed oblivion. If there was anything she didn't need
tonight, it was the conversation she was sure was going to follow.
She wanted
Pete out of the apartment, before Cindy arrived. She wanted him out of her
life, but as it seemed, that wasn't as easily accomplished as she'd thought it
would be.
His smiled
widened, as he ignored her obvious irritation. "Can't I come to see the
woman I love? We haven't seen each other in months."
Oh, that was
rich. "I'd call it breaking and entering," she said dryly.
"It
isn't. I've still got the keys for your apartment," he pointed out.
Damn, Lindsay
thought. She'd forgotten that. Careless. She let herself be pulled into
a hug simply because she was too tired to argue, but backed out of it rapidly
when his hands started to wander.
"That's
right. I'd like them back if you don't mind." Lindsay slumped into the
armchair, feeling even more exhausted than she had just a moment ago, if that
was possible.
"I
thought we were clear on this." She noticed that Martha was very quietly
growling, the way she used to do when she didn't agree to a visitor.
Then again, Lindsay thought
wryly, she had had that same growl for Tom, the night no one had ever talked
about. Martha just didn't like men very much, except for Jacobi.
Martha loved
Cindy even when she was the reason Martha had to sleep on the couch a lot
lately. That thought made Lindsay want to smile, but she caught herself in
time.
"I know
we talked," Pete said, sounding calm and sensible, even though his words
suggested the opposite. "I can't accept it. I want you back, Lindsay, and
I'm willing to fight for you."
"That's...
amazing. It's just that... I'm sorry. I hadn't planned this, but you know that
I'm with someone else now. I guess we just weren't meant to be." All else
was literally none of his business.
"I think
you're wrong," he said quietly. "You don't really mean it. I believe
you're just confused at the moment, with that girl, whoever she is. I'm
patient, you know. I can wait until you see it, too."
"Never
gonna happen. I think you'd better go." If the words had come out
somewhat harshly, Lindsay couldn't bring herself to regret it. There was
something about his tone that she didn't like, and that was seriously testing
her patience. Sure, breaking up in a video conference hadn't been the most
sensitive thing, but there had been no better alternative. At least she'd done
it face to face, kind of.
Pete's
mistake if he had to come all the way here to second-guess her.
He stood up,
still wearing that friendly, cordial expression. Lindsay followed him to the
door, and they said goodbye.
It wasn't
until an instant later that she realized he still hadn't given her the keys
back. With a curse, Lindsay yanked the door open, startling Martha, and
hurried down the stairs. "Hey, wait!"
Pete turned
on the stairs, returning to meet her on the porch, the smile reaching all the
way to his eyes.
"Keys,"
Lindsay reminded him, utterly blindsided when he pulled her close and kissed
her. Anger flared hotly within her at his complete lack of listening to
anything she'd said. She pushed him back. Firmly.
He answered
her glare with another of those smiles she had once been excited to see.
"See you around, Lindsay. And remember - we were made for each
other."
Just for a
split-second, she had seen something else in his usually kind eyes. Disbelief?
Ire? But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by friendly, unshakeable Pete,
who handed her the keys without any further argument.
Back in the
apartment, she told Martha, "Now, that was weird." The dog barked
once in agreement. Shaking her head, Lindsay pulled the front door closed,
wondering why Cindy wasn't here yet. She'd just grab a quick shower and then
call her.
On a night
like this, Lindsay just wanted to make sure that she was alright. That, and
after Pete's strange visit, she really longed to see her.
***
There was no way in
hell this day could get any worse.
Up until this
moment, Cindy hadn't even been sure what had spooked her most: Pete appearing
literally out of nowhere, or the utter conviction, arrogance, he carried about
himself. Something about too-good-to-be-true Mr. Scone Boy Pete had seriously
freaked her out when she'd run into him in the parking garage with no one else
around. He'd been nothing if not the perfect gentleman, apologizing and all,
but somehow his idea to enlist her help in winning Lindsay back had shaken her
even more.
She'd been
driving too fast, giggling at the idea of having to confess to Lindsay that
she'd gotten a ticket, then nearly cried. Cindy wanted to be with her badly,
to be reassured that Pete's plans were nothing but his own private illusion.
About ten
minutes ago, Cindy had parked Maggie a bit of a distance from Lindsay's
apartment, for the lack of a better spot. It hadn't saved her from witnessing
the scene on the porch. Her heart clenched painfully as she flashed back on it
again: Pete had already been there. Lindsay calling something she couldn't
understand from that far, calling him back,
and they had kissed.
Cindy had sat
and stared in mute shock, literally stunned into immobility.
When her cell
phone rang only a couple of minutes later, and the caller ID showed Lindsay's
number, the spell broke. She punched the steering wheel hard, seconds ticking
by until the pain registered with her - outside and inside.
The tears
finally came.
***
When Cindy
finally answered her phone, Lindsay's relief was so profound she nearly
snapped at her: "Where are you?" The memory of Officer Graham
wanting to lead Cindy back onto the 'right path' was still too vivid. Among
others, that, she figured, gave her right and reason to be cautious.
There was a small
pause, some static, and then Cindy said, "Just a block away. I'll be
there in a few."
"Good. I
brought that pizza. It's still warm... I think."
Cindy
chuckled. "I'll hurry." The attempt at humor aside, she sounded just
as tired as Lindsay felt. Figures. She'd been working nearly the same hours as
they'd been, closing in on the murderer of Charles Moore, not to mention the
HM case. "Please do. I've got plans for you," she whispered.
Innocent as they were and involving mostly sleep, they were plans all the
same. Lindsay loved how a comment like this could sometimes get Cindy all
flustered and blushing, or on other occasions, evoke a reply in kind, but it
seemed like tonight she was too tired for either, so Lindsay just let it go.
"Drive
carefully," she said softly. "I love you."
It wasn't
good timing with the Hallelujah Man still out there, but then again, she
wouldn't let her life revolve around another serial killer for years to come,
wouldn't let him kill another relationship she believed in. Maybe with the
copycat amateur behind bars, she could beg a few days off, and they could just
go... somewhere. It didn't really matter as long as it was far away from the
demands of their jobs, just the two of them, so she could prove to Cindy that
she mattered more than anything.
When it came
down to it, she mattered more than any case, and that was as big a commitment
as Lindsay had ever made before.
Since
she had asked Cindy to help her take down the pictures from the attic, they
were certainly clear on the subject.
***
Cindy let
herself into the apartment silently, but Martha happily pounding her tail on
the floor in anticipation of her favorite visitor had obviously alerted
Lindsay to her arrival.
She stood by
the door for a moment, the inner movie playing, scene by scene: Her leaving
the Register, running into Pete, until just a moment ago when she thought she
had calmed down enough not to give herself away. Jealousy, fear and anger
finally melting away as she stepped into Lindsay's arms, holding on tight.
"Whoa,
I'm happy to see you too," Lindsay said with just a hint of teasing.
Fresh from the shower, the familiar scent of black currant and vanilla wafted
from her still wet hair. Her hands came up to cup Cindy's face, then she
kissed her softly, pushing the doubts further away.
Just not all of them.
How
long has Pete been in San Francisco? And, were you going to tell me about it,
or is it just not that important?
The questions
stayed in the back of her mind, and Cindy nearly groaned in frustration at her
inability to give voice to them. There she'd thought the Hallelujah Man was
their biggest problem, the one obstacle that could make them stumble.
Cindy was
willing to give Lindsay the benefit of doubt, though. Pete had seriously
underestimated her if he really thought she'd give up that easily. Help him? In
your dreams.
"I hope
so. You promised dinner?"
There was
just the slightest hesitation on Lindsay's part to let go, and Cindy was
determined to see it as a good sign.
***
They had sat
down to eat in the kitchen, ending up throwing half of the pizza away. Lindsay
figured they were both simply too exhausted. Cindy claimed she still had some
work to do even though her article on the copycat was done, while Lindsay
spared a thought for the man who wasn't a religious nut, but an abusive ex who
had cost a life and wrecked others nonetheless. Not unlike the guy who had
died in the accident today, if you thought about it. There hadn't really been
a good moment to talk about it yet, and maybe it was better not to bring it up
at all. Leave it in the past. Just like Pete Raynor.
She frowned
as she gazed at the used dishes, the thought of doing them now holding
absolutely no appeal. "Let's leave them," she suggested, reaching
out briefly for her fingers to brush Cindy's before she got up.
"Sure."
Cindy smiled, but she looked pale in the kitchen light, shadows under her
eyes.
She sat in
the same spot, intently staring at the screen of her laptop when Lindsay
returned a few minutes later, waiting in the doorway. "You coming?"
Cindy seemed
almost startled, but then she cast Lindsay an apologetic glance. "I'm
almost done. Soon, okay?"
Lindsay
walked back into the kitchen to stand behind her, bending to drop a kiss on
her neck. "Okay. Don't stay up too long."
She'd hoped
for some wise-crack like 'Yes, mom', but Cindy just gave her a tired smile.
***
Secrets.
Cindy had some of her own. Not regarding their relationship, granted, and they
wouldn't be so secret anymore by tomorrow, but still. She'd almost jumped out
of her skin when Lindsay had come back and nearly seen what was on the screen,
no article, but the email she'd been typing in answer to the many she'd gotten
lately.
Today, or
tomorrow, she could just tell that Lindsay wouldn't be happy about it. The
meeting she had with her boss tomorrow would bring the final decision, but
there weren't that many possible outcomes for this. Cindy clicked on 'Send',
trying to keep at bay the fear that she'd just made a big mistake. Was it
really a smart decision to leave with Pete hanging around?
She remained
restless, waiting for the light to go out in the bedroom, did the dishes next
- supposing nothing short of an earthquake would wake Lindsay from her sleep
now. There was nothing left to do then, and Cindy aimlessly wandered around
the apartment, from the kitchen to the living room, and back again.
Martha was
watching her intently.
Cindy stood
by the window, gazing out into the night, wondering if he was out there, the
Hallelujah Man, watching them, laughing at them. Despising them, because they
couldn't see anything in him but a sick psychopath, not God's tool as he
believed himself to be.
It was only
one of too many subjects weighing on her mind.
She turned
her back to the window, starting at the sight of what she could only think of
as an insult.
Her first
impulse was to rush into the bedroom, shake Lindsay awake and ask her what the
hell this was supposed to be. She didn't. Cindy kept standing in the same spot
until her breathing calmed, practicing breathing exercises she'd learned in
her Yoga class - letting go.
The hell she was letting go, but this would have to wait.
A small
bouquet of white roses. Cindy didn't assume it had been left behind by any
serial killer - or stalker. They usually engaged in a bit more grandeur. This
was more the style of someone who thought he'd already arrived where he wanted
to be.
Screw
you, she thought, the
rudeness oddly satisfying. She wouldn't hesitate to say it to his face, the
next time they met, which hopefully happened... never.
Why had
Lindsay kept the flowers? Of course, she had been nearly asleep on her feet.
Carelessness?
The
conflicting thoughts didn't leave, not in the time she spent in the bathroom,
staring at her still somewhat shell-shocked expression in the mirror, not when
she went into the bedroom without turning a light on, slipping under the
covers next to Lindsay.
She scooted
close, laying an arm around Lindsay's waist, holding her. No way, she wouldn't
let go of her, serial killer obsessions and all. Never in her life had she
loved anybody like this. The ego of a man who'd known Lindsay for two weeks
just didn't count in comparison. Her resolve and the close contact were
calming her a little, but Cindy already knew that sleep wouldn't come for a
long time.
***
Present
Jill
stared at the mess on her desk with a sense of trepidation. Could it really be
only Tuesday morning?
The case of
Allan Pierce should have been cut and dry; he'd stolen a car, forced his
pregnant ex-girlfriend to accompany him on the ride during which he'd managed
to cause considerable damage to property. In the resulting pursuit by the
police, he'd eventually wrecked the car. Pierce was killed, Beatrice Lazar had
a miscarriage and barely survived the accident. On top of it all, it was found
that Pierce had been drinking.
Cut and dry,
right? Only that Lazar had retracted her statement that Pierce had abducted
her; according to her, it was all one big misunderstanding resulting in the
death of her baby and the father.
Adding
fuel to the fire was the fact that both Lazar and Pierce were members of a
religious commune just outside of San Francisco that was claiming foul play by
the system whenever Children's Services knocked on their door.
Jill sighed,
reaching for the coffee mug, knowing the contents had long gone cold. She
wondered how Lindsay was holding up, as that case was obviously bringing up
some sad memories - again,
though this time she felt assured that her friend would find less
dysfunctional ways to deal with them.
Beatrice,
however, was now looking into suing the SFPD. Not that she had the money, so
there was most likely someone else behind that plan, but the press would be
interested in the case anyway.
After a short
rap against the glass, the door was opened, and she looked up to see Cindy
standing in
"Do you
have a minute?" Cindy didn't comment on the greeting.
"Honestly?
No, but I love you for interrupting this, even more so for the coffee you
brought, so come on in."
Cindy's smile
was hesitant, and a closer look revealed her pale complexion and bloodshot
eyes. She closed the door behind her and took a seat.
"You
look worse than I feel this morning. What happened?" Jill asked quietly.
There was some more hesitation, but then Cindy shook her head as if confirming
to herself that she was not going to talk about whatever was bothering her.
"I'm
preparing for an assignment," she said instead, "and I was hoping
you could tell me anything I might need to know about New Faith, before I go
to join them."
Now Jill sat
up straighter. "New Faith? Does Lindsay know about this?"
Cindy
shrugged. "The meeting was this morning, and she was still asleep when I
left. So I came here first."
Jill took a
moment to absorb what she had just said - and what had been left unsaid, but
remained between the lines. They had all seen each other only yesterday, after
the arrest of one of the world's most stupid murderers who, unfortunately, had
not been the Hallelujah Man. Jill hadn't picked up anything unusual from
either Lindsay or Cindy, nothing that suggested this tension. Trouble in
paradise?
"Okay,
what do you need? These people are all over my desk anyway, since Lazar
decided the SFPD is to blame for the death of Pierce and her
miscarriage."
Cindy gazed
at the papers strewn all over Jill's desk, though she seemed
uncharacteristically distracted. "Yes. I have three days, and I don't
even know where to start. The contents of their websites are rather
vague."
"How are
you going in?" Jill asked, wondering what Lindsay would have to say about
it. Hell, she didn't like it, but at times, they had to remind themselves that
none of them really had a say in Cindy's work assignments.
"A
source." Cindy shrugged. "She keeps telling me that they're just
harmless people, open to anyone willing to leave their sins behind and serve
God, but if that were all, the FBI wouldn't be looking into them, would
they?"
"Hardly.
Why don't we meet tonight and I'll see what I can give you on them?"
"That
would be great. You know, I'm wondering if it's really just a coincidence -
this group getting on the FBI's radar at the same time the Hallelujah Man
shows up. Do they know something that we don't?"
Cindy seemed
to expect her to have a theory there, but Jill could only draw a blank. Hadn't
Lindsay said the trace regarding the Bible order had gone nowhere? "New
Faith has gotten a great deal of attention lately," she said
thoughtfully. "Okay, now talk to me. What is it--"
She didn't
get to finish the sentence, as Denise entered her office after knocking
briefly. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were busy," she said with
a smirk.
Jill barely
refrained herself from sighing. Whatever was up with Cindy, she probably
wouldn't get to hear it tonight at Papa Joe's with Lindsay around, and knowing
Denise, there would be no opportunity to talk about it beforehand either.
"I need
to go anyway," Cindy said quickly. "See you later."
Great timing.
Jill gave her
boss a smile that did nothing to hide the displeasure at the interruption.
"So, what can I do for you?"
***
Reaching out
blindly, Lindsay's hand encountered soft fur, making her snap her eyes open
and sit upright in bed. Martha yawned and settled down again.
"Ah, no,
haven't we agreed that this wasn't such a good place for you to spend the
night anymore?"
There was no
reaction from her bedmate. "And if Cindy has to go to work early, that
doesn't mean that rules are suspended," Lindsay lectured on, well aware
that her words fell on deaf dog ears.
She felt too good to care after a
good night's sleep, deep and dreamless, but with the lingering sensation of
Cindy's embrace. It had proven to be more healing than any talk about
yesterday's incident could have been.
A quick check
told her that Cindy had filled the coffeemaker before she went. "I love
you," Lindsay murmured, inhaling the aroma of freshly ground beans. While
the coffee was brewing, she went into the living room barefoot, stopping at
the threshold.
At that
moment, Lindsay had a hard time figuring out whom she was more mad at - Pete
for being that insolent, getting a vase from the cupboard and arranging the
flowers in it as though they had still been lovers, or herself, for forgetting
to dispose of them. They were beautiful, granted, but she didn't want this
reminder of their brief and ill-fated relationship, and she certainly hoped
that--
The thought
left her literally winded for an instant. Even if Cindy had seen them, she
couldn't have known who they were from, could she? It had been a mistake, one
that Lindsay didn't want to discuss any longer with anyone, least of all with
Cindy, and God forbid, Pete himself.
She fed
Martha and made herself breakfast, but her good mood was gone as she recalled
yesterday's unexpected visit. Hopefully the last one - if he showed up again
like this, she'd go to Jill for a restraining order.
Before she
left for work, Lindsay threw the bouquet into the garbage, thinking ruefully
that there was a metaphor in it somewhere - something allegedly beautiful
turned awry.
She closed
the lid of the can resolutely. There wasn't really time to dwell on past
mistakes and regret. The copycat was behind bars now, but it was all the more
a reminder of the serial killer who was still out there. She had a job to do.
The time-out was over.
***
Cindy was
last to arrive at Papa Joe's, and given the conversation they'd had this
morning, Jill suspected it had been on purpose, if this was the first time
Lindsay was going to hear about her plans. This wasn't going to be easy... and
Jill felt torn about it already. So far, the pursuit all over the city ending
with Pierce's death was the most spectacular incident associated with New
Faith, but there were other rumors that didn't die down.
The suspicion
remained when a group like this cut itself off from the outside world.
Extremist ideas always began simmering behind closed doors. And there were
many children on the compound, too.
Uneasy with
these thoughts, Jill directed her attention back to Cindy. She was hurried and
breathless, but lacking the usual bounce to her step. Jill noticed that
Lindsay was giving her worried sideways glances, but she seemed clueless.
"I guess
you've waited for me to make the big revelation," Cindy began after
ordering a coffee.
Jill
just nodded, trying not to be aware of Claire's and Lindsay's questioning
gazes.
"Alright
then. I've got a new assignment this morning... and it will require me to go
away for two weeks." Cindy looked up at Jill briefly, then went back to
studying the tabletop. "The Register is running a story on New Faith. I
know someone who can take me inside."
Lindsay was
silent, which could never be a good sign, her face unreadable, though this had
to be a surprise for her.
"Why
them?" asked Claire. "As far as I remember, they have been around
here for quite some time, and they're by far not the only conservative group.
What is different about them?"
"Well,
you tell me. Why not start with the fact that they seem to use the same
bookstore as someone else we all know?"
For long
moments, there was an awkward silence in the wake of her question.
"It's
not like we held something from you, Cindy. Not this time." Lindsay's
words sounded honest, but they held a hint of regret, for sins of omission
then and now, and for the fact that they'd probably cause her to lose the
argument that was going to follow. "We
looked into that Bible order, but there was nothing to suggest that there was
a connection to the killer."
"You
could have told me," Cindy insisted.
She wasn't
entirely wrong about it. It had been months ago, the first and only time they
had intentionally lied to her about inside information, but she hadn't
forgotten. Jill thought that neither of them had. It was a barely healed
wound, easily torn open.
"There was no
point." The impatience was subtle, but noticeable to everyone who knew
Lindsay. From the way Cindy's jaw tightened, she had noticed it, too.
"The
truth is," Lindsay continued, "I don't think that the New Faith
people are connected to our man in any way, however I do think that they are
potentially dangerous, so I'd rather have you do your interview off their
compound."
Cindy gave an
unhappy laugh at that. "Not a chance. Scott is already breathing down my
neck; I need more than just an interview. I need to find out how New Faith
works from the inside, and I can. Remember the girl I knew in Heather's
kindergarten class? Her mom became a member right after the shooting. She
invited me."
Lindsay shook
her head. "I don't like it. Do you even know who you're dealing with?
Even if HM never set foot on their grounds, Beaumont, the guy who started New
Faith, came here a few months ago from Arizona. They call him a prophet."
"I've
been known to do research, Linz,"
Cindy said, a flash of heat in
her voice. "Beaumont's got a degree in--"
"Biology,"
Lindsay cut in. "Worked for the army 'til 2003, then got transformed by his Faith. Cindy, there's absolutely no way you're going undercover
in a group of potential terrorists."
"That is
not for you to decide."
Jill winced,
sharing a worried glance with Claire.
Lindsay tried
to look annoyed, but didn't do a very good job to mask the raw hurt
underneath. She had always tried her best to keep Cindy out of dangerous
situations, but since they'd made the transition from friends to lovers, the
obligation was even stronger. It didn't go unnoticed.
"I have
to do this," Cindy continued, softer now. "And I'm going to need
your help," she admitted.
Aware of the
expectant looks on her, Lindsay murmured, "This is crazy."
Jill thought
of the copies she had made while Denise was on her lunch break, and brought as
promised. As for now, there was a lot of suspicion of New Faith. If any of
this proved to be true, 'crazy' was a rather optimistic expression.
"Please."
That made
Jill smile, because if Cindy used that look more often, it was easy to tell
why Lindsay could hardly ever tell her 'no'.
Resistance - futile.
Indeed, you couldn't have missed the shift in Lindsay's composure, the
relenting.
"I could
talk to the cops who investigated the death of Allan Pierce," she offered
finally. "There must be a reason why Lazar suddenly turned around and now
wants to sue the department. I bet someone higher up gave her the tip, maybe
Beaumont himself."
Jill rolled
her eyes. "There's no way she could ever win such a case. It could be a
distraction. It sure causes our office a lot of work."
"I can
go over Pierce's autopsy report, see if there's anything unusual."
Claire's eyes met hers for a moment, questioningly, and Jill shook her head in
response. I don't know what's
up with them either.
"Thanks."
Cindy finally smiled, albeit with the hesitation Jill had seen on her all day.
"And I
guess I can give you some advice on going... undercover." Lindsay was
clearly not okay with this, but she made an attempt at least.
"Too
much information." Claire smirked.
"Hey, I
didn't mean..." Lindsay protested.
It
had the desired effect though,
making everyone laugh for the first time since they'd arrived here. Jill
couldn't help but feel the sentiment would be short-lived for all of them.
There was a variety of reasons for investigating New Faith, and not a single
reason that was not depressing in itself.
The amount of
danger - hard to gauge.
She finally
produced the manila folder she'd brought with her. "And that's what you
get from me."
***
"Please,
don't go."
"What?"
Cindy couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say. It could have been
the absurdity of the statement, or maybe just the fact that her knees were
weak from the frantic way they'd started making out here up against the door
of Lindsay's apartment the moment they'd come in.
"Say you
can't make it. You have your hands full with HM anyway. For once, let someone
else have the story, and let's disappear for a week."
Cindy looked
up at Lindsay, searching her face in the near dark. Trying to form any
rational thought with Lindsay's hands all over her. She couldn't be serious
about this, could she? Not Lindsay, who had given a serial killer's victims
room in her own home. Was doing it again, if they were all honest, just not in
the extreme graphic way it had happened last time.
"It's
only a couple of weeks. Maybe less. You know I can't turn down that
assignment, or Scott gets it. What's going on? You wouldn't drop everything in
the middle of an investigation just to go on a vacation with me."
"You
don't get it." If Lindsay was frustrated with the situation, she wasn't
the only one.
"Maybe I
don't. Because you'd never turn down a case just because I'd ask you to. Hell,
I'd know better than to ask." Cindy flinched at the anger in her voice;
worse, she knew where it was coming from, and it had nothing to do with their
current argument.
She could tell that
her words had hit home, because Lindsay had gone very still, maybe reminiscing
on the moments they'd spent up in her attic. She didn't really have a lot of
talking room where this subject was concerned.
"I'm
sorry. I know you worry, but this is not a crazy risk I'm taking. It's plain
work. I don't go, someone else will. How would you feel about the Hallelujah
Man case being taken away from you?""
She
half expected Lindsay to snort at her reasoning, but her lover's reaction was
a different one.
"I have
a bad feeling about this. They are... up to something." Subtly, she
stepped a bit closer into Cindy's personal space, more seeking comfort than
being demanding.
"Yeah,
probably. Retrieving the money of their wealthier members."
"Your
friend isn't all that wealthy. It can't be that alone."
"They
are annoyingly conservative and probably condemning what we're doing. Right
now." Sensing that Lindsay was about to give in, Cindy pulled her closer,
sliding her hands under her shirt.
"The
perfect environment for someone who thinks of himself a tool of God to punish
the sinners. If not HM, then maybe another crazed individual."
Lindsay's
voice had gone darker with the slight diversion of her attention. Though
neither of them was exactly backing down, they both knew that this was a done
deal; Cindy would go, and it only intensified the desperate pull between them.
"Then
this will be my last opportunity to sin in a while."
She couldn't
exactly say if Lindsay did it on purpose, a last attempt to hold her back, but
Cindy didn't feel capable or even interested in analyzing it now.
As Lindsay bent to
kiss her neck, she let the door support her, letting her head fall back. The
infinite tenderness of the hands caressing her, starting to undress, warm
fingers dancing over the skin revealed... Cindy was tempted. So very tempted.
One entire week alone with Lindsay, a chance to leave the city and their jobs
behind, it was indeed a heavenly prospect.
She also knew
that as long as the Hallelujah Man was still out there, it wouldn't happen.
They might
not have a lot of time, but they had tonight, and Cindy was determined to make
the most of it. "We'll have that week," she said, her voice reduced
to a breathless whisper. "No work, no cell phones, not even the club.
Just us. Soon."
***
Sarah was
thrilled that Cindy had finally decided to follow her invitation, and she gave
Cindy instructions needed for her first days with New Faith, from clothes to
wear, to introductory classes to take, to the shared work. New Faith owned
farmland, and they were nearly self-sufficient.
Depending on their qualifications, NF members also taught or worked in
administration.
Busy with all
kinds of preparation, Cindy had hardly any time to obsess over the reason why
she had accepted the assignment without even thinking, but it crept up on her
at night. Despite the fact that Lindsay had been extra-attentive and gotten
her inside material on New Faith that could have gotten her in a lot of
trouble, or maybe because of it. She wondered how much of it was guilt.
And then,
remembering that last email in her inbox, she felt guilty herself.
Lindsay had
indeed tried her best to help, sought out the cops who'd been at the scene of
Allan Pierce's death, although she'd made it clear she still wasn't happy
about this endeavor. Half-joking, she had picked up the cuffs from the
nightstand, metal glinting in the light of the little lamp as she let them
dangle from her fingers.
"I
wonder if there isn't any way to make you stay."
Cindy had
frowned at her. "You're going kinky on me?" In another situation she might have appreciated it, and she couldn't deny
the heat that idea sent coursing through her body, and the pleasant shiver at
the imagined cool touch of metal against her wrists, fed by a very real
memory.
"Really?
You... don't have to do that."
"You
don't have to break and enter."
She
had pushed, because she'd wanted that story, and she'd wanted in on this
extraordinary circle of successful, professional women - friends. As early as
that, Lindsay had also made her way nervous for reasons completely unrelated
to whatever charges she could possibly whip out, and they'd both known it.
Lindsay had obviously enjoyed it.
"Then
again, it could be worth a try." Cindy smiled invitingly.
"Another
time, maybe," Lindsay said with a sigh, stretching out beside her, and
they settled into a loose embrace. Who cared about the guy who lived a
continent away anyway? "I'd let you, you know," Cindy whispered,
enjoying that the suggestion made Lindsay shiver. Something to file away for
later, after this temporary period of high collars, long skirts and pants, no
heels, and wearing her hair in a braid.
"One
more day, then."
"One
more day," Cindy agreed, blushing at the blatant lie.
***
Lindsay
slammed the newspaper on the table with such vigor that Martha cringed and
cowered under said table.
"How
could you!"
Martha whined
softly, and the sound broke through the haze of anger and disappointment that
had enveloped her ever since she had found Cindy's note. The past few days...
she had almost forgotten what would come after this period of preparation, had
completely forgotten about Pete's eerie visit.
There had
been a time and date set for when Sarah would come to get Cindy to take her to
the New Faith compound, and it was supposed to be in a little more than
twenty-four hours. Lindsay had been dreading that moment, she remembered, as
she was pacing in the living room, but she'd done her best to help Cindy
prepare for the assignment, and also arrange her own work schedule so that
they could spend as much time as possible together those last few days.
Now, Cindy
was gone, one day early.
She had spent
the night, like she had most nights recently, and stole away, leaving behind a
note that said something about how she was sorry.
"Why the
hell did she do that?"
Martha, who
had finally dared to come out from under the table, gave her what seemed a
thoughtful look. "Yeah," Lindsay sighed, as she sat down, picking up
the note again. "I'm just worried about her, you know?"
About
us.
But
that, she didn't even share with Martha.
***
