“Lara, Lara, look at me. Whoever did this to Gracie is still out there, and as long as he is, he could hurt someone else. Weneedto find him, and fast, and withholding information from the police is going to put lives in danger. If you have any information—”
“I don’t, okay? I just don’t!”
The woman nodded and tucked her notebook into her leather sling bag. “We’ll be going through Gracie’s emails, social media accounts, contact lists, phone records, so we’ll be wanting to talk to you again if something comes up.” She handed Lara her card. “In the meanwhile, if you do think of something, anything that could be relevant, no matter how small, please call me. Anytime.” She paused again. “It would be better than having us bring you down to the station if we do find electronic trace that proves you know something.”
As they were leaving, the woman cop turned suddenly and said, “Oh, one more question, Lara. Do you perhaps know Faith Hocking?”
Lara reached for the back of a chair. She swallowed. “No.”
Both detectives eyed her.
“You’ve never met her?” the female detective said.
“No—I don’t know anyone named Faith.”
“Right,” she said quietly. “Call us if you think of anything.”
“She’s lying,” Angie said to Maddocks as they reached his Impala.
“Yeah, and terrified, but why? About what?”
Angie glanced back at the window. She could see Lara Pennington’s shadow behind the sheers. The young woman was watching them.
“Let’s see what the others give us and what Drummond’s electronic devices yield,” Angie said, opening the passenger door. “We’ll bring Pennington in for formal questioning later—it’ll be more productive if we have something we can use as leverage.”
Angie seated herself inside the vehicle. While Maddocks led Jack-O along the grass verge for a bathroom break, she watched Lara Pennington’s silhouette moving back and forth behind the drawn sheers. The teen really was scared shitless. Rolling possibilities through her brain, Angie turned her attention to the other side of the road. A gleaming black Lexus, recent model, tinted windows, slowly pulled off.
THE BAPTIST
He sees the cops outside Lara’s place. Excitement crackles through him as he recognizes Detective Angie Pallorino with her long red hair. But it’s not Detective Kjel Holgersen that she’s with. It’s some other guy, a little older, jet-black hair. This one’s got swagger. The thrill deepens as it strikes him—this game truly is on. Real. Up close and personal. But it also means he will have to act faster with Lara now, if they’re already questioning her. Thoughts of Lara Pennington fill his brain—plump-pussied Lara, bigger-breasted-than-Gracie Lara. Nice rounded-dimpled-butt Lara. He moistens his lips with his tongue, and he grows hard with anticipation. Because after Lara comes Eva—eager-beaver-wetter Eva. But along with the heat in his groin, along with the faster breathing and the galloping of his heart, comes a whisper of trepidation. He doesn’t want to get caught.No sirree, never get caught, Johnny. No-no, Tommy.He’s going to finish this job with these girls. And then there will always be more girls. Bad girls. The world would always be full, full, full with bad, bad girls. Other places. Faraway places. Over the seas and far away. He’ll just have to be more cautious, smarter, now that they’ve come to Lara.
And Peter said unto them, Repent ye, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ unto the remission of your sins; and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.
CHAPTER 28
“Dr.Jacques is with a patient,” the receptionist said, eyeing the badges that Leo and Kjel held out to her.
“We can wait—have a few questions for the doc.”
She glanced up and met Kjel’s eyes. Conservative dresser, he noted. Good haircut. Understated makeup. Expensive-looking designer frames.
“I’m sorry, but his schedule is fully booked today,” she said. “And he already has a waiting room full of patients, as you can see.”
“Like I said, we can wait.” Kjel turned and made a show of taking in the rather plush-looking waiting area. “So if you wants two cops here all day, that’s okay by me.” He began to squeeze himself into a narrow space on a sofa between two well-heeled women, who rapidly moved apart to accommodate him, like he had lice or something.
The receptionist hurriedly pushed her chair back. “Just give me a minute.” She scurried into the back and returned a few seconds later. “Dr.Jacques can spare you exactly ten minutes,” she said curtly. “This way, please.”
She showed them into an office behind the reception area. Big, gleaming desk and shelves. Fancy art on the walls. Framed photos on a chest of drawers. Kjel picked one frame up. The photo was of a man with a thinning blond comb-over that had been sprayed fiercely into place. With him was a slender, dark-haired woman in a very low-cut wedding gown. She looked half the man’s age. A shoo-in for a Victoria’s Secret catalogue if he ever did see one, what with her pouty, collagen-filled lips and cat-slanted eyes. He set down the frame and snagged up another—this one displaying a photo of a young man, maybe in his early twenties. Also blond. Comb-over’s son, he guessed. “I’m figuring child of a first marriage, and this here is the second wife,” he said, showing the photos to Leo. “This woman doesn’t look much older than the kid.”
“Third marriage,” came a voice behind them.
They swung around, Kjel still clutching the framed photos.
“Dr.Jon Jacques,” Comb-over said, declining to offer his hand. He instead inserted his hands into his pants pockets and remained standing in the doorway. “What can I do for you, detectives?”
“Faith Hocking, she was a patient of yours?” Kjel said, setting the frames carefully back on top of the chest of drawers.
“I have many patients. I don’t recall all their names.”
