The Killing Edge

  She nodded to him gravely, not rising. Despite her modern garb, there was something of the wise priestess about her.

  “You’re looking for someone who has caused a lot of terror and death, aren’t you,” she said, and it wasn’t a question. “I will do my best to help you.”

  He thanked her again, and they started to leave.

  “Wait!” she called suddenly.

  She reached into a drawer and took out a necklace. It was a beautiful piece, and a strange one, hung with a wide variety of symbols: a cross, a star, a hamza hand, a four-leaf clover, a crescent moon and a pentagram. In the center was a delicate gold circle with the words Believe in Love and Goodness.

  “Take this,” she told him.

  “No, no, I couldn’t. Thank you so much,” Luke said. “But it’s—”

  “It’s not for you. Give it to the one you love.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You don’t believe in talismans, and maybe you don’t believe in love. Give it to a special friend, then. But take it, please. It will mean a great deal to me.”

  He realized that it would be churlish of him to refuse, but he felt bad—the piece was gold, and obviously not a cheap trinket.

  He thanked her sincerely, reminding her that any help she could give him would be vastly appreciated, and he and Joe left.

  “You’ve got about an hour before I have to get you to the airport,” Joe told him. “And I’ve arranged another meeting for you.”

  Luke knew what was coming and tried to come up with an excuse to get to the airport early. No luck.

  “We’re going to the carousel bar at the Monteleone, just around the corner and down the street. I know you think it’s going to be a waste of time,” Joe told him. “But at least you’ll get a farewell drink out of it.”

  Sure. A drink before he headed home. That would be fine.

  He wasn’t sure how he knew, but when they entered the bar, he saw the couple and knew they were the ones Joe wanted him to meet. He was a distinguished-looking older man, slender, with white hair, sitting at one of the window tables with a beautiful teal-eyed blonde who was perhaps Chloe’s age or a year or two older. They stood, and Joe was greeted with a kiss from the woman, and a warm handshake and a pat on the back from the man, who was almost Luke’s height.

  Joe introduced them as Nikki Black hawk and Adam Harrison, and they both shook Luke’s hand.

  “A pleasure,” Adam Harrison said as they all sat. “I’ve heard about you, so it’s nice to actually get to meet you.”

  “You’ve heard about me?” Luke said, surprised. “I can’t say the same.”

  “I don’t advertise.”

  “I don’t, either.”

  “But I’m always aware of people who work a little differently from everyone else,” Adam said.

  “I’m not a psychic, you know,” Luke said.

  “No, you’re not,” the woman told him.

  He looked at her, regretting the fact that he had come. The whole thing seemed ridiculous. “Do you read minds?” he asked politely.

  She smiled, glancing over at Adam Harrison. “No, I don’t.” She leaned toward him. “But I do read corpses.”

  He didn’t have a chance to decide just how she meant that, when a fifth person joined them.

  He was definitely a Native American, tall and muscular, with light-colored eyes betraying European blood somewhere in the past. “Brent Black hawk,” he said, introducing himself. “Nikki’s other half.”

  “Mr. Cane isn’t happy about being here, Brent. He thinks we’re a bunch of frauds,” Nikki said.

  “I never said that,” Luke protested.

  “But he doesn’t believe in ghosts,” Joe said unhelpfully.

  “Look,” Luke said. “I’m sorry, but in my experience, knowledge comes from following physical clues, determining a criminal’s mind-set, studying the victims…from what we can see, feel, touch.”

  Joe was shaking his head. “Nikki found Jill for us, Luke.”

  Luke looked over at the woman. He had a feeling that her husband would be fiercely unforgiving if he mocked her in any way, though the man had a pleasant enough manner. And he honestly didn’t mean to mock anyone; he just thought there were too many corpses piling up for playing games. “How?” he asked her.

  She glanced over at her husband.

  “You seem like a decent sort, Luke, and Adam said that you’re the real deal when it comes to solving murders,” Brent told him. “So we’re all here to help if we can, especially because the corpse Nikki helped find might be a victim of the same killer you’re seeking.”

  “How did you find her?” Luke asked Nikki again. “Did you hold something she owned and try to sense her?”

  Nikki smiled politely. “No. I run one of the local ghost tours.”

  “I don’t understand,” Luke said.

  “I was giving a lecture when I saw her. She wasn’t an accomplished ghost—you’re laughing at me, Mr. Cane,” she said.

  “I just didn’t know that ghosts could be accomplished or unaccomplished,” he said, but he couldn’t help remembering how serious Chloe had been about seeing ghosts.

  Nor could he forget the dampness on the rug in her room.

  Brent spoke up. “There are actually all kinds of hauntings. Residual hauntings, for instance, happen a lot on battlefields. Ghosts stay to relive the last traumatic moments of their lives—over and over again. Sometimes they become very strong, what we call accomplished. There are areas at Gettysburg where even people without a hint of a sixth sense can feel the dead around them. New ghosts are seldom as talented as those who’ve been hanging around a long time, but the longer they’re around—and the harder they work at it—the better they get at appearing to others, and even creating physical manifestations.”

  “Like rattling chains,” Luke murmured.

  “Yes,” Adam said pleasantly. “Like rattling chains.”

  “Jill appeared on the corner where she had been abducted,” Nikki said.

  “She didn’t happen to mention her killer’s name, did she?” Luke asked.

  “This is a waste of time,” Brent said, but Nikki ignored him and went on.

  “He wore a mask, so she never saw his features. But she felt she’d met him a day or so earlier at a bar. She would have told me more if she could have, Mr. Cane. He raped and tortured her before he killed her. He kept telling her that he was saving her soul. That he was a warrior for God. Does that help you at all?”

  Luke was startled. Maybe Nikki Black hawk was playing up the religious angle because Joe had told her about his own interest in the religious angle, but there was something sincere about her. About all three of them.

  And he couldn’t forget Chloe’s insistence that she’d been seeing ghosts. Or her belief that they were trying to help.

  He sighed softly, then grinned ruefully at the others. “It does. Thank you. I believe that the killer is a religious fanatic. I don’t mean to have a closed mind, but I have never believed in ghosts. Dead is dead—and gone. I lost my wife. For a while I actually prayed she’d come back as a ghost so I could beg her forgiveness.”

  “Perhaps you always had her forgiveness, or there was nothing for which she felt she needed to forgive you,” Nikki said. She was studying him intensely with her aqua-colored eyes. “She was murdered, wasn’t she? But her killer is dead.” She leaned back. “By your hand.”

  He was startled. And defensive. Then he remembered that Adam Harrison had said he knew about him.

  Joe suddenly cleared his throat. A waiter was standing there, ready to take their drink order. Luke opted for a beer, then looked at his watch while the others ordered. He had about fifteen minutes left. Looking from Nikki to Brent, and then to the soft-spoken Adam Harrison—who hadn’t ordered a drink, he realized—he wondered if he wasn’t a fool to refuse to accept any help, no matter what the source.

  “To be honest,” he said, “I have a friend who would love to talk to you. She was one of the sur
vivors of the first massacre, a friend of the currently missing girl, and involved with the agency where the latest murders took place—and now she believes she can see ghosts.”

  “Then she probably can,” Brent said with a shrug.

  Luke wanted to say that was impossible, but he refrained.

  Joe pitched in then. “We’ve just been to see Mama Thornton. Luke believes that the symbol on Jill’s back was a hamza hand, and he believes that the killers a decade ago painted a hamza hand on the wall in blood. Mama Thornton is going to ask her staff and go through her records to see if she can come up with the name of someone from the Miami area who might have been up here and shown an interest in hamza hands and been a religious fanatic.”

  “I’ll give her a call and mention the importance of the project,” Nikki said.

  She had a soft drawl and, unlike her husband, was obviously a native of the area.

  Adam rose suddenly. “I have a car outside—five-thirty flight to D.C., I’m afraid.” He glanced at Luke, amused. “Appointment at Quantico. But if we can be of any help…” He offered Luke a card.

  Luke accepted and thanked him, then rose, as well. “I’d better skip that beer, because I have a flight, too. I’m afraid to be away from Miami too long.”

  “Ride with me, then,” Adam said. “Save Joe the trip.”

  “Thank you,” Luke told him, though he privately wondered if he was going to be lectured about the paranormal all the way to the airport.

  The others rose to say goodbye. Nikki shook Luke’s hand, then hesitated, before smiling suddenly. “For what it’s worth, I thought I had lost my mind the first time I saw a ghost,” she told him. “If it hadn’t been for Brent and Adam…” She shrugged. “If I can help you or your friend, please let me know.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.

  He left with Adam Harrison. Not only did the car taking him to the airport have federal government plates, it wasn’t a car at all. It was a stretch limo. Someone certainly thought Harrison was the real deal.

  As they drove, the older man kept the conversation casual but still focused on the paranormal. “I envy them so much. People who have the gift.”

  “You don’t have it?” Luke asked, surprised.

  Adam shook his head. “My son did. He knew I would lose him. And when I did, I discovered that he’d passed his gift on.”

  “To Nikki? Or Brent?”

  “No,” Adam said, smiling and shaking his head. “I have many agents. That’s my talent. Finding them. It’s only recently that I’ve been able to see Josh.”

  “Your son,” Luke said politely.

  Harrison nodded, still smiling. “He’s here in the car, sitting right across from us.”

  Luke didn’t know how to react. There was no point in telling the other man that there was no one sitting across from them.

  “Does he know anything?” he finally asked politely. “Can he help me?”

  Harrison laughed and looked over at Luke. “He said that you’re a skeptic with a closed mind, and that you should listen to those around you.”

  Luke looked at the empty seat across from him. “Nice to meet you, too, Josh.”

  Harrison merely smiled.

  Luke debated as he stared at Harrison. Every government agency in the country seemed to respect the man, even though he was obviously crazy.

  What if he wasn’t?

  Luke let out a breath. “All right. Maybe Josh is there, but I don’t see ghosts. I only see what’s real and tangible.” One more hesitation. “But someone I care about very much believes that she’s seeing ghosts, and I believe in her. What would you say to that? What would Josh say?”

  Harrison lowered his head for a moment, then looked up at Luke. He didn’t look insane. He looked confident, like a man who didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.

  “Josh says that it’s a start, and he also points out the fact that you’re deep in a quagmire and wants to know what the hell you have to lose? I’m willing to send Nikki and Brent down to Miami, and they’d be happy to help you. If nothing else, trust me when I tell you that Brent is as solid as the day is long. He’s a brilliant investigator whether seeing ghosts or—and I know you’ll find this hard to believe—proving that they don’t exist. Since you have nothing to lose and only help to gain, why not say yes?”

  Luke was surprised to find himself laughing.

  He still didn’t see Josh. But Brent was flesh and bone, and it would be good to have someone around who wasn’t involved, who was rock solid—and another few bodies to keep watch wouldn’t hurt.

  Josh—or the ghost in Harrison’s mind—was right.

  “I am in a quagmire. And I can use all the help I can get,” Luke said.

  Harrison nodded. “Good.”

  Luke smiled ruefully. “Mind if I ask Josh a question?”

  “Not at all,” Harrison said.

  “If ghosts exist, why have I never seen my wife?” Luke asked, and he was surprised by the huskiness in his voice.

  “Because,” Harrison said after a moment, “she loved you, and she knew you loved her in return. Because her murderer was stopped—by your hand. She’s moved on, and that means it’s time for you to move on, as well. She’s gone, Luke. She’s happy and at peace, and she would want the same for you.”

  Luke was surprised by how deeply the answer seemed to affect him, surprised by the tension inside him.

  Surprised at how much he wanted to believe.

  He decided it didn’t matter what he believed. Having outside help from a crack agency would be great.

  At the airport, they parted ways, but he couldn’t stop thinking about everything Adam Harrison and his agents had said, and he had plenty of time for thinking, because his plane was scheduled to take off almost forty-five minutes late. He wasn’t sure why, but after his meeting with the Harrison Investigations team, he was more anxious than ever to get back.

  He was worried. No, he was more than worried, he was afraid. Afraid for people he was coming to care about. Afraid for Chloe.

  He chafed, looking at his watch.

  This was the night that the Church of the Real People had been planning to host its potluck supper. At least that wouldn’t be happening, not after everything that had gone on.

  He called Stuckey from the plane, while they were still at the gate, just to check in, and discovered it hadn’t been canceled after all.

  Stuckey was well past annoyed. “Oh yes, the righteous indignation of Brother Mario Sanz has been all over the airwaves. And get this—they’ve been so cooperative that it’s almost ridiculous. An entire list of past and present members arrived on my desk this morning. Not one of the current members would object to any questioning, and we were invited to search any and all premises. Since we’re all afraid of what might happen tonight, we have more officers than we can spare guarding the church. It’s a zoo, and that’s exactly what I don’t need.”

  “Do you still have someone outside the Marin house?” Luke asked.

  “You bet. Leo has come and gone, but the girls have stayed in. I got a report from my patrolman just a few minutes ago—both cars are there and the girls are inside.”

  Luke thanked him and said that he’d be in the following morning to report on what he had seen, what he thought, and compare notes.

  He hung up and dialed Chloe’s number. It went straight to message.

  He was concerned and about to try again, but the flight attendant came by, asking him to please turn off his phone. She waited for him, watching with knowing eyes.

  He turned off his phone.

  The flight was barely an hour and a half, but it seemed to stretch for an eternity.

  Before they left the restaurant, Chloe and Victoria remembered that it was a potluck supper, so they ordered a large salad and bread to go. The streets were crazy when they neared the church, with the police stopping anyone who looked even slightly suspicious.

  Victoria’s makeup and costuming passed muster, becau
se the officers let them right through, along with their contribution to the meal, and they walked up to the church. Neither of them had ever seen the building before, and they were both surprised by the onion domes, but then again, as Victoria mentioned, at least one nightclub in New York City had once been a church.

  At first, they might have been at any church gathering. People greeted them, thanked them for the food and told them to help themselves, and offered them punch.

  Neither of them drank it, though they accepted the paper cups.

  After a while a bell rang, and everyone put down their plates and moved into the sanctuary. Brother Sanz, the man who had appeared on television, welcomed the congregation and their guests, and explained that despite what they might have heard, the church never preached violence of any sort, because human life was always sacred. “What we teach is tolerance for others, accompanied by our belief that we know the true way to reach heaven. And that way is through goodness to others and a knowledge that we are blessed, and that our bodies are our temples. Our members eschew the poisons that are so easily available everywhere you turn. We don’t imbibe alcohol, we don’t smoke—legal or illegal substances,” he said, bringing a laugh from his audience. “We promote a community in which all of us care for the welfare of children. We are friends to one another. Yes, we ask for a portion of our parishioners’ earnings, but all to fund the church and her outreach programs. We help those who are stricken with illness, and we are there to support our members who find themselves without jobs. Giving of oneself is everything, and it earns one everything in return. Tonight, we are here to tell you who we are. No one is ever compelled to join a church or stay in a church, but we hope you will join us and stay with us. We hope to provide the hope, faith, love and charity that we are all seeking in life.”

  His rhetoric went on for a while longer. Chloe looked nervously at her watch and saw that it was almost nine, nearly an hour later than they had planned to stay. She was relieved when Brother Sanz blessed those present, and people rose to leave.

  Afterward there was coffee in the garden area beside the church. Chloe was impatient and ready to leave, but she went stock-still when she saw a man streak past the police barricade, shouting, “Whore of Satan! Killer—murderess!”