Page 10 of Deadly Secrets
“That’s part of The Rev’s MO.” Polly ushered her through the doors, pointing to a wall just inside the vestibule with a painting of the moon in its various phases. Blood cut a swath across it. “He follows the moon’s cycle and apparently smears someone’s blood over the painting before he leaves.”
Brooke studied the painting. “That’s new.”
The comment was so soft, Roman wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “New? Both of the previous groups had the same painting. He convinces his parishioners that the Second Coming will arrive the night of a full moon and it’s God’s Will that they meet the angels coming to collect their souls.”
Brooke studied the picture. “That’s not biblical though. There are mentions of the moon in the Bible, but not exactly corresponding to sacrifices or the Rapture.”
“The sigils he carves on their foreheads aren’t biblical either.” Polly shot him a look and Roman conceded, “At least, we don’t think they are. That’s why we could use you to confirm it.”
“Are the bodies still here?”
Polly paled slightly. She was a CSI, and damn good at her job, but examining a mass suicide was a lot to stomach for anyone. “In the sanctuary. He delivered communion there.”
Brooke started toward the sanctuary, face a grim mask. “And once they’re dead, he mutilates their bodies and disappears.”
An official police CSI tech with a camera hanging from her neck strap brushed past them. She’d worked with the taskforce before and she called over her shoulder, “Sending the pictures to you, Polly, as soon as Detective Clyffe gives me the all-clear.”
“Thanks, Ferne!” Polly called back.
The green commercial carpeting led them to the sanctuary. Here, too, the doors were pinned open.
“Detective Clyffe?” Brooke asked Roman. “Why is San Diego PD handling the case? Where is the FBI?”
“The Reverend is our case.” He stopped, seeing Clyffe at the head of the main aisle speaking on his phone to someone. Around him were empty wooden pews, the back ones displaying laid out bodies covered with white sheets. “We’re stretched thin so the locals do the discovery work for us and help where they can.”
Brooke hmm’d under her breath and Roman heard the criticism in her tone, although he didn’t know why she cared.
Above the podium, Christ hung on the cross, staring down with sad eyes at the dead who’d died in His name.
“If you don’t need me,” Polly said, clutching her tablet, “I’ll hang out here and notify the rest of the team about the apostle thing.”
Roman nodded, then took Brooke’s elbow to escort her in while waving at Clyffe. “You sure you want to actually look at a body?”
Cooper Harris’s words about Brooke not being a field agent rang in his head. He’d inadvertently lured her here, but now wondered if this was a good idea. All he needed was his potential new expert to go lights out on him once she saw the body. “Polly can show you the pictures. Might be…you know.”Less graphic.
“I’ll be fine.” Brooke’s gaze was glued to the nearest white sheet. Her throat constricted as she swallowed hard. “I need to see what he did to them.”
Her tight voice told him there was something more, something personal here, and it hinted at the doctor already knowing more about this case than he did. Was that possible?
She started forward and he gently touched her arm to stop her. “Have you come across The Rev’s work before?”
“I…” Her hesitation was accompanied by a gray pallor that washed over her face. “I’m familiar with his ritualistic killings.”
Familiar, hell. She looked like she’d seen far too much of this bastard’s signature work. “You’ve worked on a case related to him? Was it for the FBI?”
“Not exactly.” Her throat constricted again. “Let’s just say, I’ve studied him to a certain degree.”
On one hand, Roman knew this was a score for him—finally, he had the expert he’d needed for the past year to complete his team and bring The Rev in.
On the other hand, there was no way he wanted to subject Brooke to the nightmares that accompanied the job he did. The things he’d seen that couldn’t be unseen. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized she might be in the field with him. He’d planned to keep her safe behind a desk, researching homegrown terrorists and those like The Reverend, who committed mass murder on American soil. The Reverend was no different than the Urban Warriors, a gang who blew up federal buildings, or the Outlaws motorcycle gang who killed cops up and down I-5. They all believed they were true Americans, and that those who weren’t should be exterminated.
He let his hand linger on her arm. “Studying him is different than seeing his handiwork up close and personal.”
She scrutinized his face for a moment, her eyes searching his. A ghost of emotion chased across her expression. “Thank you for trying to protect me. I assure you I will not lose it when I see the body under that sheet.”
Tough, controlled, determined. Yep, she was going to be one hell of an asset to his team.
If he didn’t scare her off.
