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  Okay, Dad’s a nut job. “Well, I know you can’t watch T.V. all the time.” Patrick laughed.

  Officer Wright scrunched his face in a disapproving manner, but he laughed as well.

  “Yeah, he’s probably right,” Aiden whispered.

  Patrick sat down on the stained couch. He pulled out the notebook. “Aiden, one of the officers mentioned you’d seen someone going in and out of the old church?”

  “Sir, for the last few weeks, I have seen someone going behind the church into the graveyard. But in the last couple of days, I saw someone actually inside there.” Aiden lifted a skinny finger and pointed towards the living room window.

  A graveyard? Patrick jotted down the information. He exchanged a glance with Officer Wright. This was apparent news to him as well. Wright grabbed the cell phone from his belt and headed towards the kitchen.

  “Aiden, did you get a good look at him?” Patrick asked.

  The boy quickly looked away. “No, not too good.”

  Patrick knew the boy was scared. “Did he see you?”

  “Not really…” Aiden stammered. “I think maybe I saw his face.” He closed his eyes.

  Patrick was on the edge of his seat. “Aiden, come on. Don’t leave me hanging here.”

  The boy looked up. His pupils fixated on the window. “Pale…it was like the color of snow.”

  Not a fucking coincidence. “You ever see him before?”

  “No, I would have remembered him.” Aiden’s body trembled.

  Patrick moved closer and knelt beside him. “Hey, we are going to keep people around here. We won’t let him hurt you.”

  “He looked dead…like a ghost.”

  He’s gonna wish he was. “Did you see if he had a car?”

  “He was walking. I don’t think he drove.”

  Patrick scribbled down a few more notes. “So, you saw him go into the graveyard?”

  Aiden’s eyebrows narrowed. “Um, that wasn’t him.”

  Patrick stopped writing. He cocked his head. “I thought you said someone was in the graveyard.”

  “I did…but that wasn’t the same man. This guy was huge…and he was lugging a large bag.”

  What the fuck? Who was this guy? “Okay, you’re sure?”

  Aiden cringed. “Yeah, two different guys. Didn’t really see his face, but man…he had a freaking sweet car.”

  “Really? What kind?”

  “Not too sure of the model, but I can tell you it was a Mercedes,” Aiden said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Mercedes?”

  “Yep. Saw that car in the new auto magazine at the gas station.”

  Officer Wright came back into the living room. A stern look on his face told Patrick this wasn’t good news.

  Patrick turned his attention back to Aiden. “Great, did you catch the plate info?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Didn’t have any…just a new dealer paper plate on the back.”

  “Remember what color?” Patrick smiled.

  Aiden bit his lip for a few seconds before blurting it out. “Black and red.”

  Can’t be too many dealerships in town with that combination. “Aiden, this really helps us get a start on things.” Patrick patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll give your parents a call later tonight. I’d like you to give our sketch artist the best description you can. Could you do that for me?”

  Aiden’s face turned white. “I guess I could.”

  Patrick gave him a warm smile. “Great. I know you’re scared…but we’ll be here. Officer Wright will keep extra patrols around the house.”

  Officer Wright smiled. “You’re going to be okay, Aiden.”

  Aiden had stopped shivering and stared at Patrick. “Sir, do you think this guy will come after me?”

  I hope not. “You don’t need to worry…we’ll protect you. You didn’t get a great look at him…right?”

  “No, just his weird face.”

  Enough for a sketch, at least. Patrick dropped a business card on the table. “If you remember anything else, give me a ring.”

  “Sure I will, sir.” Aiden opened the door, escorting them out.

  The two investigators walked to the edge of the driveway, staring at the crumbling church.

  “Well, now were looking for two people, instead of one.” Patrick zipped up his coat.

  “I sent several officers to the area. So far, doesn’t look promising. Too much white stuff covering all the headstones.” Officer Wright tapped the snow from his boots.

  “I’ll do some checking on dealerships. If it was a recent purchase, shouldn’t be too hard to track.” Patrick flung open his car door. “You know, a second person on the abandoned property doesn’t make sense.”

  “Unless the boy was wrong.”

  “There is that possibility.” A grim look appeared on Patrick’s face. “Hmm. Even though this place is dump, someone still has ownership.”

  “Patrick, I’m not positive, but I think the former pastor of this church still has some relatives in this area…a boy, possibly?”

  Patrick shrugged. “I don’t do church.”

  “Shit, I know who his son is. The name Brandon Thornley ring a bell?”

  Patrick pulled up his collar. “The corporate security guru?”

  Officer Wright nodded. “Yup, about fifteen years ago, a parishioner of the church found his father hanging from the church rafters.”

  “Sounds fucked up.” Really fucked up.

  “You think that’s fucked up? They kept a few secrets out of the papers.”

  “About the suicide?”

  “It wasn’t a suicide.” Officer Wright walked over to him.

  “Someone hung him up there?” Patrick scratched his head.

  Officer Wright nodded. “Crucified him…just like back in Biblical times. His hands were barb-wired behind his back, feet nailed to the rafter wood, and something was engraved in his forehead.”

  “Nailed and barb-wired? What are you talking about?” Patrick stopped brushing at the snow. “You sure?”

  Officer Wright bit his lip. “Yeah, I couldn’t tell you anything about what was carved into his flesh, but apparently, the police brass didn’t want to release any of the details.”

  Wouldn’t want to scare citizens. “Should be annotated in the police report.”

  Officer Wright turned to walk away. “Or so you would think?”

  Patrick threw the ice scraper in the back seat. “I’m going to check in the archives. Do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Keep this conversation between the two of us.”

  Officer Wright put a finger to his mouth. “Consider my lips to be sealed.”

  Patrick smiled. “Thanks, I’ll keep you posted, if I find anything.”

  Officer Wright waved, pulling the patrol car from the alleyway. Patrick retreated inside his own vehicle, thinking, Nails and barbwire were used on all of the victims, including the former pastor…fifteen years ago. This is hardly a coincidence.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Law Offices of Glover, Beston, and Stamner were situated in the heart of New Haven’s ethnic melting pot. The simple, one-story brick structure resembled most of the others on the block, except for the thin metal sign above the entryway identifying the occupants. Collin Glover was the most senior of the trio, and his fixation with easy-to-win law suits made him the most approachable by prospective clients.

  The stout, forty-something-year-old had a heavy addiction to the neighborhood drug of choice, and most others in his profession believed that alone had taken away his projected career running the gambit in corporate law. Most days, he needed to take a hit of methamphetamine just to get through, but today was different. Collin smiled as he opened the black folder. The jury had seen fit to award his client the amount he proposed. That never happens, he thought. He stared at the bank draft, and the urge for celebrating took over his body. A few choice ladies are just what I need.

  He jumped from behind the desk and strutted over to a
cracked wall mirror. The puffy bags underneath both eyes told him he was becoming old…fast. Collin straightened out his dark suit coat, trying to look the part of an established professional. He cracked the office door; his other associates were standing around the cappuccino maker. The two stopped chatting when they saw their partner emerge.

  Collin gave them a fake smile. “Gentlemen, we did well today.”

  Rich Beston took a sip from his Styrofoam cup. The University of Dallengreen graduate and former collegiate athlete needed a place to get his feet wet. Collin had given him a chance to shine.

  “Hey, moneybags, I know that means you’re splurging on fine cuisine?”

  Collin playfully punched him in the arm. “Hmm, you did a great job on the brief. How about a microwave burrito and a diet soda?”

  Reginald Stamner, a Univeristy of Southern Nebraska alum and second year corn-fed associate, almost dropped his own cup. “Damn, not cool, Collin.”

  “I’m messing with you guys. I have something planned for tomorrow night for the three of us, but right now…I have something to take care of.” Collin winked at the two.

  Carl looked down at his watch. “It’s still pretty early in the evening. You got a hot piece of ass lined up?”

  Two, actually. Collin waved them off. “Nothing like that. I have to visit a potential client. I’ll keep you both in the loop, if it pans out.”

  He eased out the door and headed down the rusty staircase. Collin turned up the street. The slick sidewalks made it difficult to walk, but his destination wasn’t too far, and his reward would be far greater than this little annoyance. He crossed over to a side street, but the lack of lighting made him uneasy. I don’t like this.

  Collin slowly reached down and unzipped his briefcase. He fumbled through the interior with urgency until his hand was gripped around the nickel-plated object. The small caliber handgun was just a precaution, but Collin felt solace knowing he could act if one of the local neighborhood dwellers decided to attack. He eased the weapon into his coat pocket as he rushed across the final street and home to tonight’s activities.

  Ravine’s Goldmine was the perfect getaway for people wanting to try their odds in the gambling world. The glass building looked more like an energy-saving residence than a state-of-the-art casino. Marveling at the overcrowded parking lot, he pushed his way through the double doors.

  Collin gave an I’m-here-don’t-fuck-with-me nod to the acne-ridden, pencil-necked security officer stationed in a small booth. The young man returned the gesture, motioning for Collin to walk to the elevator. A few seconds later, the door to the elevator opened. He removed his keycard and pushed a button on the panel. A minute later, he stepped out on the fourth floor onto a red-carpeted catwalk, high above slot machines, table games, and simulated racing monitors.

  Collin followed the narrow path until it emptied out into a massive foyer. Several feet away, two heavy, dark-skinned males were standing guard over a series of closed doors. The bulges in their suit coats told Collin the owner was serious about protecting her business.

  One of the men knocked on the door, and within a minute, a scantily clad Asian woman appeared and whispered to them. She turned and made eye contact with the attorney, almost causing him to erupt right where he was standing. The thin layer of satin was unable to hide her feminine attributes. She motioned for him to follow her, and Collin was eager with desire.

  One of the men tapped him on the shoulder as he passed. He handed him a small clear baggie of white powder. Collin reached into his coat and stuffed a wad of bills into the man’s hand. With a quick nod, Collin was behind closed doors and in a passionate embrace with the dark-haired beauty. A fix and a fuck. What more can I ask for?

  * * *

  Brandon Thornley had almost been discovered. The hooker-seeking drug user had turned around several times during the brisk walk to the casino. Once he had realized the destination of his prey, Brandon hurried back to his own car. He followed the directions he had printed off the Motor Vehicle Registration web site. Within fifteen minutes, he had set up temporary residence in a parking ramp across from Collin’s condominium. A few police patrol units passed through the lot, but with the combination of frigid temps and lightly fallen snow, it would be difficult to tell if anyone inhabited the Mercedes. You gotta love this weather.

  Brandon opened the middle console and removed a dark plastic case. He chose one of the metal devices and placed it inside his shirt pocket. He picked up his laptop and stared at the photo of the exterior lock of Collin Glover’s residence. I just love technology. He shut down the operating system and stowed the laptop beneath the passenger seat.

  Brandon peeked at his watch. Eleven thirty. Just a few more hours. He eased the driver’s side door open and scanned the area for potential witnesses. When he was satisfied the area was secure, he scurried to the stairwell entrance, stopping at the foyer to the building’s entrance. It wouldn’t budge. Fuck. This could be a quick trip.

  After a few seconds of staring at the door, he realized the door had no secondary access point or installed card reader. He again tried it; this time, it opened. The sound of scraping metal from the worn floor plate eased his tensions. Temporarily frozen, I guess. He walked through the maze of interior tunnels until locating the hallway that gave the killer access to the condominium’s entryway. Within a few minutes, he was in front of Collin Glover’s home. Brandon made quick work of the lock and slipped inside. The scent of cinnamon permeated the confines as he moved throughout. Please, no surprises.

  He removed a compact light, searching one room at a time until he was satisfied the complex was empty. Then, he returned to the front of the house, stopping in front of a black and red oval table with matching chairs. From inside his coat, he removed several items, inspecting each, before placing them on the table. Brandon slumped down in one of the chairs, as he began to wait for Collin Glover to return. A glance of his watch quickened his pulse. A thin line of perspiration started to bead on his forehead. Just a matter of time now…a matter of time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Collin Glover’s sexual appetite had been satisfied, but the two women had more than convinced him their skills would be useful for the rest of the evening. Collin did have a preferred taste for Asian women, and after he supplied them with all the drugs and booze they wanted, they decided not to charge him for the extra time. Free is always the choice. The three walked back to the law firm, but Collin was sober enough to realize that wasn’t the best idea. They piled into his Jaguar, and after a short ride, they pulled into a parking garage adjacent to his condo. The tires squealed as the car came to stop well outside the yellow parking lines. Collin reached down to pick up his briefcase, but a wet kiss on his neck made him start thinking with another part of his body and prompted him to leave the case in the backseat.

  Collin took a quick glance at his other guest. She was passed out and in the fetal position. Shit, no more fun for her tonight. But I can’t let her freeze here. He threw his suit coat over her, the mixture of cocaine and Champagne having taken full affect. Well, I still have one.

  He led the other girl through the parking garage. The automatic doors slid open, and soon, they were in a maze of hallways. The two stumbled along, in search for his condominium. After wandering aimlessly through the passages and nearly being beaten by another unit resident for decorating the man’s welcome mat with a cocaine/Tequila mix, Collin finally found his door.

  Azure pressed against him. “Me happy you like company.” She ran her hands along his chest. “Really happy…Glover-man.”

  Collin leaned in, giving her a deep kiss on the neck. “Let’s get in…and we’ll continue with this.”

  He opened the door, leaving his keys in the lock. The immediate darkness caught him by surprise. Thought I left something on. He reached to the right and flipped on the light panel. The room was still dark and too quiet. Shit, what the hell is going on? He pushed the button a second time. Again, nothing happened. Collin c
ould feel Azure tighten her grip on his shoulder as they moved further inside the house. No worries. Probably just burnt out.

  He turned to Azure, touching her on the arm. “Wait here.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I wait.”

  Collin reached out in search of the familiar leather chair he knew was just a few feet away. Collin almost fell but quickly regained his balance. Strange…it should be right here. He again grasped out, but a sudden shove from behind sent him catapulting through the air. His head bounced against the linoleum surface of the kitchen floor, a heavy flow of crimson erupted from his forehead.

  “Uh!” He winced.

  “Glover-man…you okay?” Azure inched along the wall, trying to reach him.

  Collin tried to scramble to his feet, but the alcohol, combined with hitting his head, made it near impossible. “Azure, I’m over here…follow my voice.”

  Before he could utter another word, the glimmer of Brandon Thornley’s blade flashed in front of him. The first slice severed the attorney’s vocal chords. Blood sprayed in all directions, creating abstract art throughout the darkness. The second movement of the blade thrust deep into his flesh, piercing his life source. Collin Glover’s spent his final seconds gasping for the precious air he would never inhale.

  The scared voice of Azure Sutaki penetrated the killer’s ears. Brandon Thornley rolled off his victim and focused on the dim outline of the Asian whore. Didn’t plan on this. He sheathed the knife as he groped inside his jacket for the stun-gun. Brandon crept away from her voice, but the woman must have possessed extraordinary hearing because she suddenly stopped her movement. Brandon’s pulse increased, and his heart started to race. Let her go…too dark to tell who I am.

  The woman, satisfied the noise was from Collin Glover, again started to walk in the downed man’s direction. “Glover-man, you play games with Azure? Me no like so much.” Azure fumbled through her coat, pulling out a cell phone. She flipped it open and used the screen display to brighten her path.