Twisted

  “Great.” Derek felt as irked as he sounded. But McGraw wasn’t the reason. “I feel like a friggin’ marionette, with my strings being pulled.”

  “I don’t think that’s how the Trumans see it.”

  One dark brow rose. “I actually wasn’t referring to the Trumans. There’s another puppeteer in all this—a real master manipulator.”

  Tony’s lips twitched. “Yeah, I see Sloane’s hand in this, too. Truthfully? If you two are in the middle of a battle of wits, I’d say this round goes to her. You must have really pissed her off.”

  “That’s my MO.”

  “Someday you’ll have to tell me the whole story behind you two.”

  “Maybe. But first, I have to figure it out myself.” Derek rose.

  “Going home to pack?”

  “Nope. Going to make a phone call.”

  Sloane jumped when her cell phone rang. She’d had two more hang-ups since she got home, and it was beginning to grate on her nerves.

  Glancing at the caller ID, she was relieved, but not relaxed. This was one call she’d been expecting. And dealing with it would be a challenge of a different kind.

  Steeling herself, she leaned back on her sofa, plumped a pillow behind her, and took a break from scratching Larry’s ears to punch on the phone.

  “Hello, Special Agent Parker,” she said, propping her legs on the ottoman. “What can I do for you?”

  “Smooth work,” Derek responded drily. “Fast, too. Not great for inspiring a positive working relationship between us, but hey, that wasn’t your intent. The important thing is, you got the job done.”

  “I aim to please.”

  “Now that, you didn’t. Then again, that’s standard operating procedure when it comes to us—except in bed. So why change now?”

  That one stung. Sloane had expected Derek’s feathers to be ruffled, but she hadn’t expected such blatant hostility.

  “You’re being a bastard,” she informed him, all banter vanishing in the blink of an eye.

  “That’s how I get when I’m manipulated.”

  “I didn’t manipulate you. I sidestepped the obstacles you were throwing in my path.”

  “And the difference is?”

  “This wasn’t a power play. Nor was it an attack. You were dodging my questions. I had no way of figuring out why. Whether it was to cut me out of the picture or to minimize your involvement in Penny’s case, the end result was unacceptable. So I found a way to keep you in the forefront and me in the loop.”

  “You did more than that. I’m not only handling the case, I’m running the show from our RA in Atlantic City. I’ll be leaving before dawn and checked in to the Best Western by eight. I’m on my way home to pack. Wanna pick out my clothes for me? I wouldn’t want you to feel out of the loop.”

  Sloane sat straight up. “They’re sending you down there? What about your other cases? You just finished your C-6 training.”

  “Life’s a bitch. Until I solve this case, or Chinatown explodes into gang warfare, I’ll be handling my C-6 responsibilities long distance.”

  “Now, that wasn’t my doing. I never meant for—”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. It never occurred to me that you had that much influence, not even with Tony. You just planted the seeds. The rest was an ADIC who goes way back with Ronald Truman. So what do you think? The navy Brioni suit and the striped Gucci tie you gave me for my birthday? Or the charcoal Lauren suit and the maroon Armani tie I left at your place in Cleveland and you mailed back to me?”

  Sloane’s anger was rapidly escalating. “First cruel, now childish. Cut it out, Derek. Look, I’m sorry you’re being shipped off to the Jersey shore. It wasn’t my idea. In fact, I’m less than thrilled at having you in my face every step of this investigation. But we play the hand we’re dealt. So get over yourself. I’m not trying to control you. I’m just determined to solve Penny’s case. Which means you and I are going to have to find a way to work together—like it or not.”

  “Right.” Derek snapped his briefcase shut. “I’ll be at Richard Stockton tomorrow around nine-thirty. So will McGraw.”

  “Then I’ll meet you both there.”

  “I assumed you would.” A tight pause. “Sloane, do not come charging in and start running the show on your own. If we want to maximize our chances of getting information on Penelope’s disappearance, we need to pool our resources and logically decide who’ll be most effective at handling what. Once we’ve divvied up assignments, then we’ll act.”

  “Agreed. I had no intention of jumping the gun. I planned on waiting for you to arrive and for us to devise a productive strategy. I’m aware that my consultant status gives me less influence with law enforcement than an SA has—at least where it comes to those agencies who’ve never worked with me. But it also gives me a better foundation for connecting with laypeople, who are intimidated by being questioned by the feds and who react better to an empathetic approach—which, in case you haven’t noticed, is not your forte.”

  “That’s not what you said when you asked me to meet with Deanna Frost.”

  “I said you had a certain macho charm. That’s a far cry from being able to connect with people using psychology and compassion.”

  “Really? They sound a lot alike to me.”

  “They’re not. As for your I’m-in-charge speech, don’t worry. I may be gone from the Bureau, but I still remember the rules. You’re the agent of record.”

  “Meaning you’ll let me take the lead? I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “You will—tomorrow. Oh, and Derek?”

  “What?”

  “Wear the Gucci. I’ve got great taste in ties. Much better than I do in men.”

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  DATE: 1 April

  TIME: 0500 hours

  My plan would make the gods proud.

  Hera. She could accomplish what I could not. She could do it without compromising my time line. And she could do it in a way that was ideal for Athena.

  Hera would be rewarded. Athena would be soothed.

  And one problem would be resolved.

  I should have thought of this sooner. From the moment I first seized Hera last June, she’d been the ideal acquisition. The initial fight she put up was minimal. Her acceptance was swift. And, all these months, she’d cooperated without incident.

  Maybe it was because she was older and recognized her own limitations. Maybe it was because she was older and valued life more than youth was able to foresee. Or maybe it wasn’t her age at all, but simply her character. It didn’t matter. She was the perfect choice.

  When I unlocked her room and entered, she looked surprised to see me. I don’t usually visit the goddesses so early in the morning. But for me to be comfortable, my plan had to be carried out before dawn. After that, the risk would be too great. Caution has always been my ally; recklessness my foe. I believe in order. Without it, chaos ensues.

  I shut the door behind me and walked in. I stood respectfully at the foot of Hera’s bed. I never sit on a goddess’s bed. When I do sit, it’s always in a chair, and always keeping an appropriate distance. I only approach the goddesses to give them their food or to accompany them to the bathroom. I make sure never to touch them, except with the blade of my knife or when discipline is necessary, after which I make sure to cleanse myself and them. To touch them for any other reason would be blasphemous.

  Hera looked startled and then enormously pleased when I asked if she’d like to enjoy some fresh air. I felt proud that I could make her happy. I do so with all the goddesses, each in their own right. In Hera’s case, I’d predated her arrival by decorating her chamber with a plush velvet chair, as regal as any throne, and a crown with an attached veil on the table beside it. Of course I also made sure to neatly place the chapter on Hera at the edge of her mattress. I’d seen her reading it several times, and looking at the illustrations. That pleased me immensely.

  As the goddess queen, Hera deserved extra cons
ideration. Pleasing her was an honor unto itself. Therefore, to ensure her contentment, I’d purchased an exercise bicycle a month after her arrival, and placed it in her room. That would nourish her physically. To nourish her mentally, I bought her copies of the New York Law Journal—a small connection to her former life—and had frequent chats with her about current events. And to nourish her spirit, I brought her bowls of fresh fruit, which always made her face light up.

  I didn’t lie to her, not even now when she was so eager for fresh air. I explained that in order to give her her walk, I’d need something in return. That made lines of concern crease her forehead—until she heard my request, and the reasons behind it. Then, just as I expected, she agreed, with all the compassion intrinsic to the goddess of marriage and childbirth.

  Even in the predawn hours, with the air still cold and touches of frost on the grass, the grounds were lovely. Hera and I strolled in the garden behind the house. I chose that particular spot because it’s buried in a cluster of evergreen trees. Again, that was my caution prevailing. The rutted road was miles away, the main road even farther. No matter where on the grounds we walked, spotting us would be a virtual impossibility. The manor is so deep in the woods and so high up in the mountains that it’s nearly invisible. A worthy Mount Olympus.

  Hera sucked in the cold morning air as if it were the most precious gift in the world. I was touched by her reaction. I found myself offering to take her walking again, both as a kindness to her and as an incentive for her to succeed with the favor she owed me.

  She thanked me with all the grace befitting her. And when I escorted her inside, she was eager to reach out to Athena.

  I brought her directly to Athena’s room and unlocked the door. I was decidedly uneasy about what I’d find inside.

  She was lying on her back, an arm flung over her face, her hair a tangle that said she’d tossed and turned all night. Her chiton was clean, as was she, which brought me a great sense of relief. It meant that because I’d refrained from administering the drugs, she hadn’t vomited. But she’d withdrawn into herself. I could sense that because a fine tension rippled through her when I walked in, and yet she made no overt move to acknowledge my presence.

  That changed abruptly when I urged Hera forward.

  “Athena?” she asked softly.

  Athena’s arm jerked away from her face, and her head turned toward the sound of a woman’s voice.

  “It’s all right,” Hera assured her in a soothing tone. “I’m…Hera. I’m a visitor here, just like you. I thought you might enjoy some company. I know I would.”

  “Oh my God.” Athena sat up, her disoriented gaze scrutinizing the older woman. “Are you real? Or am I hallucinating?”

  I decided to insert myself at that point. I assured Athena that she wasn’t hallucinating, that I’d brought Hera to her as a source of comfort. I reminded her how she’d called out for her mother last night. She clearly didn’t remember having done that, but she flinched with emotion when she heard that she had.

  Hera took a tentative step in her direction. “May I come in?”

  Athena looked like a bewildered child. “Are you the person I heard through the wall? Is he keeping you here, too?”

  “My room is next door, yes.”

  “And it’s not just you. There are others here as well?”

  Hera glanced at me for direction, and I nodded. There was no point in keeping it a secret. Soon all the goddesses would be united at the sacrificial altar, each one representing a gift to be savored in the afterlife.

  “Yes, there are others,” Hera told her.

  “How many? How long have you been here? Where is this place? Why is he keeping us locked up like prisoners? What does he plan to do to us?”

  I wasn’t pleased with the rapid fire of Athena’s questions, nor with the direction they were taking. Hera must have sensed it, because she placed a silencing forefinger to her lips.

  “Take a deep breath and calm down,” she advised. “I want to help, to offer you the comfort of a mother. But I can’t if you won’t let me. Nothing is going to be accomplished by this kind of agitation.”

  Athena’s eyes were still glazed, and she was shaking with suppressed emotion. I thought, at first, that my plan had failed, that even Hera couldn’t get through to her.

  Then, abruptly, things changed. Athena met Hera’s soothing gaze, and she promptly fell silent. As Hera had directed, she inhaled slowly, then exhaled. Finally, she nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a small, quavery voice. “I’m just frightened, and I feel so alone. Please, please stay. I won’t lose control again.”

  I’d been right. This was exactly what Athena had needed.

  I was so exceedingly pleased, and yes, relieved by the results, that I made an immediate mental note to stop by the market later today and pick up a mango and some kiwi for Hera. Those were her favorites.

  “Delphi?”

  At first, I didn’t hear Hera addressing me, her voice was so quiet. But when she repeated herself, I turned and responded at once. “Yes?”

  “Athena needs to speak freely and to accept my comfort without censure. That’s essential if you want me to establish the kind of bond that exists between mother and daughter. I realize this request is unprecedented, but may I speak with her alone? You can lock us in here and stand guard just outside the door. You have my word that I’ll keep her in check. But if we want your plan to succeed, I must gain her trust. If you allow this, it’s much more likely that you can gain hers.”

  She had a point. Athena already looked calmer, and her shaking had nearly stopped. She was just sitting in the middle of the bed, watching us and waiting to see what we were discussing.

  The room was escape-proof. Hera was trustworthy. And I had a goal to accomplish.

  “Very well.” I gestured for Hera to join Athena. “I’ll allow you to talk alone. You have thirty minutes.”

  I waited while Hera walked over, perched at the edge of the bed beside Athena. Then I reversed my steps to the door.

  I’d made the right decision. I knew it the minute I heard Hera’s soothing voice, saw her reach out her arms to Athena.

  By the time I locked the door, Athena was holding on to Hera and sobbing on her shoulder.

  Once he was gone, and she heard the sound of the key turning in the lock, Eve Calhoun didn’t waste an instant. Gently, she gripped the arms of the young woman who was clinging to her, and eased her away.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “We have to talk quietly. And we have to talk fast. He won’t leave us alone for long. He’s cautious to the point of paranoia. So I’ll explain as much as I can, and you can ask me whatever you want. Just watch the tone of your voice. He has to believe I’m comforting you.”

  The young woman nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Cynthia. Cynthia Alexander.”

  “I’m Eve Calhoun.” Eve made sure to keep her tone soft, almost crooning—a direct contradiction to her words. “Tell me the bare essentials of your background, and everything you remember since you were kidnapped.”

  “He thinks I’m Athena. The Greek goddess,” Cynthia managed.

  “I know. He thinks I’m Hera. Now stay calm and talk to me. Maybe together we can figure out a means of escape.”

  That gave Cynthia the impetus she needed. Swiftly, she told Eve who she was, and relayed the details of her kidnapping—including how hard she’d been fighting to escape.

  “Don’t,” Eve advised her. “Don’t fight. It only makes things worse. Although I’m sure he expected you to. Athena is the warrior goddess, and the goddess of wisdom. You’re intelligent, athletic, and strong-willed. The correlation made sense. Just as mine does.”

  “How?”

  “Hera’s the mature goddess of marriage and childbirth. I’m a matrimonial attorney. The rest of my story is just like yours. I was doing laps at the pool at NYU. I left via Washington Square Park. He grabbed me, pressed a combat knife to my throat,
and injected me with something that knocked me out. When I came to, I was here.”

  “When was that?”

  Eve swallowed. “June second.”

  Cynthia turned sheet white, and stifled a gasp. “That’s ten months ago.”

  A nod. “And I’m not the first of his victims. He kidnapped another woman last April. She’s his ‘Aphrodite.’ And there have been two more victims since then. My frame of reference is fuzzy, but I think one arrived in September, and the other at the beginning of December. I know nothing about either of them, nor have any of us met. After that, months passed. The holidays came and went. He seemed calmer, more grounded. He stopped muttering bizarre things to himself about the honor of sacrifice, the rage of the demons, and the glory of the gods. His conversations became almost normal. He seemed content, almost tranquil. No new captives arrived. I began to assume—or maybe to pray—that the December victim had been the last.”

  “Clearly, you were wrong.”

  Again, Eve nodded. “Everything changed the week before you arrived. It’s like he made a one-eighty, became totally unhinged. I still don’t know what caused him to snap the way he did. But whatever it was, it made him angrier, more embittered, more frenetic. His eyes were veiled in madness, and he was fueled by some new brutality that I didn’t understand, nor could I get him to open up and talk about it.

  “That’s when he started raving about seizing more goddesses, bringing them here to complete the circle as soon as possible. Sometimes he mentions three, sometimes four. And there was a ‘she’ he kept talking about, and another ‘she’ he kept talking to. Whether they were among the women he planned to kidnap and turn into his goddesses, or whether they were just voices in his head, I had no idea. What I did know was that other victims were inevitable.”

  “So when I was kidnapped and locked in the room next to yours, it came as no shock.”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  Cynthia raked both hands through her hair. “I have so many questions.”