7
Donatella
FBI Special Agent Kelly McClain threw his arm over Donna’s shoulder and leaned into her. What looked like intimate whisperings in her ear was really intel on each member that crossed their path.
Together, they made their way across the large, crowded field until they were close to the main stage where a band was playing upbeat, sacred music. Hundreds of people wearing loose-fitting clothing were praise dancing and singing along with the band. As she looked around at the smiling faces, it all seemed sickeningly Stepford. Almost nauseating. She’d smiled so much since the hour and a half she’d arrived; her face was beginning to hurt.
“Here is good,” Kelly said, dropping his backpack to the grass. He removed the small blanket that he had thrown over his shoulder and spread it across the grass. “You’re in the perfect position to be seen. He’ll definitely notice your fine ass.”
Donna frowned and placed her purse on the blanket. Apparently, their entire case rested on whether or not Robert Lee took notice of her and invited her into the fold. In order to make that happen, she wore a tight crop top that showed her pierced belly and a long, flowing, hippie skirt. The packet had indicated that Robert Lee was fascinated, almost obsessed, with Native America and Native American women, or women that look Native American.
Kelly sat on the blanket and began to clap and sing along. He raised a brow at Donna, encouraging her to play her role. On cue, she started waving her arms and swaying with the music as if she was having the same spiritual experience as the rest of the believers. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she stopped dancing and turned around. In front of her was a young woman, maybe in her late twenties. Her blonde hair with green streaks was pulled into a messy ponytail. She was pretty, but it was hard to see behind the dark eye makeup and heavy foundation.
“Here you are, hon,” she said with a big smile.
She held out a tambourine. Donna looked at the instrument. Not knowing how to play it, reluctantly, she accepted it.
“Thank you.”
The woman must have gauged her reaction because she held up another tambourine and began to demonstrate how to play, tapping it against her hand to the beat of the drums.
“It’s easy,” she assured. “Try it.”
Donna smiled and mimicked her actions. Once she had the hang of it, she and the woman turned toward the stage and created their own music with the metal jingles. They danced joyfully, clapping the tambourine until the music gradually tapered off.
“I’m Vera, Vera Holt,” the younger woman introduced with her and held out.
Donna accepted her hand. “Kateri Montoya. Nice to meet you.” She turned to Kelly, who was stretched out on the blanket. “This is my boyfriend, Cameron.”
“I know Cam.” Vera giggled childishly. “Everybody knows Cam.”
“Is that right?” Donna asked with a raised eyebrow, playing the jealous girlfriend.
“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Vera assured with a nervous smile. “He…well, he’s a perfect gentleman. It’s just…well, he’s very handsome.”
A deep blush covered the woman’s face. She appeared uncomfortable and a bit embarrassed.
“Aww, he’s alright.” Donna chuckled, trying to ease the woman’s discomfort. “Since nobody’s actually from Springfield, where are you from?”
“True.” Vera grinned. “I’m from the Bay area. You?”
“I’m from St. Louis.”
Kateri Montoya, half black/half Native Americana from a St. Louis ghetto was her covert identity. She’d been a waitress in a rowdy strip club in a shitty part of town, and Cameron was her on again, off again drifter boyfriend who’d fled to find the meaning of life. He eventually found The Blood of The Chosen. Supposedly, it was a profound and enlightening experience. So, he eventually convinced her to quit her job and follow him to salvation.
“Welcome, brothers and sisters,” resonated from various speakers placed throughout the park. “This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”
“Amen,” the crowd choired.
Donna looked toward the stage. Behind a microphone was a forty-something man with dark brown hair and thick, horn-rimmed glasses. He was thin and fairly tall. Kind of a geek. To her, he seemed the type to easily be swayed into worshiping a better looking, more magnetic man as a god. It was probably his only way of being part of the “in crowd.”
“Brothers, sisters, you are among the blessed. You are among a privileged few to have witnessed the return of the Messiah.”
Amidst the crowd’s harmonious accords and the jingle of several tambourines, the announcer continued.
“Behold…The Prophet.”
Roaring cheers and thunderous applause caused Donna’s brows to wrinkle. She turned and studied the crowd with disbelief. When she turned to look at Kelly, he was jumping up and down, throwing his fist in the air, and screaming, “Yes!” at the top of his lungs.
