Reichs, Kathy - Death Du Jour

“A family was slashed and mutilated and an old woman shot in the head not two hundred kilometers from here. Babies! They slaughtered two little babies! An eighteen-year-old girl was torn apart, stuffed in a trunk, and dumped right in this city. They’re dead, Dr. Jeannotte, murdered by a group of loonies who think they’re the posse for all morality.”

I felt flushed, despite the freezing cold.

“Well, let me tell you something.” I jabbed a trembling finger. “I’m going to find these self-righteous, malevolent bastards and put them out of business, no matter how many altar boys, or guidance counselors, or Bible-toting swamis I have to harass! And that includes your students! And that may include you!”

Jeannotte’s face looked ghostly in the darkness, the smeared mascara transforming it into a macabre mask. A lump had formed above her left eye, throwing it into shadow and causing the right to look strangely light.

I dropped my finger and rewrapped the arm around my body. I had said too much. My outburst spent, the cold was causing me to shiver.

The street was deserted and utterly silent. I could hear the rasping of my breath.

I don’t know what I expected to hear, but it was not the question that came from her lips. “Why do you use such imagery?”

“What?” Was she questioning my prose?

“Bibles and swamis and altar boys. Why do you make these references?”

“Because I believe these murders were committed by religious fanatics.”

Jeannotte held herself completely still. When she spoke her voice was icier than the night, and her words chilled me more than the weather.

“You are out of your depth, Dr. Brennan. I’m warning you to leave this alone.” The colorless eyes bore into mine. “If you persist, I will be forced to take action.”

A car crept down the alley opposite my building and stopped. As it turned onto the street, the headlights made a wide arc, sweeping the block and momentarily illuminating Jeannotte’s face.

I tensed, and my nails dug deeper into my sides.

Oh, God.

It was not an illusion created by shadow. Jeannotte’s right eye was eerily pale. Stripped of makeup, the brow and lashes flared white in the passing beams.

She may have seen something in my face, for she pulled her scarf forward, turned, and picked her way down the steps. She did not look back.

When I got inside, the message light was flashing. Ryan. I phoned him back with shaky hands.

“Jeannotte’s involved,” I said, wasting no time. “She was just here telling me to back off. Seems your call to Anna really irked her. Listen, when we went back to Saint Helena, do you remember the man with the white streak?”

“Yeah. Skinny guy, scarecrow-thin, tall. He came in to talk to Owens.” Ryan sounded exhausted.

“Jeannotte has the same pattern of depigmentation, same eye. It’s not obvious because she hides it with makeup.”

“Same hair streak?”

“I couldn’t tell, but she probably uses dye. Look, these two must be related. The trait’s just too unusual to be a coincidence.”

“Siblings?”

“I didn’t pay much attention at the time, but I think the guy on Saint Helena was too young to be her father and too old to be her son.”

“If she’s from the Tennessee mountains there are limited genetic possibilities.”

“Funny.” I was not in the mood for redneck jokes.

“Could be whole clans that share the gene.”

“This is serious, Ryan.”

“You know, different stripes in different hollers.” He imitated Jeff Foxworthy. “If your stripe is the same as your sister’s, then you may be—”

Stripes. Something about stripes pulled at me.

“What did you say?”

“Hollers, it’s what you folk—”

“Will you stop it! I just thought of something else. Do you remember what Heidi Schneider’s father said about their visitor?”

The line was quiet.

“He said the guy looked like a skunk. A goddam skunk.”

“Shit. So maybe Daddy wasn’t being poetic.”

In the background a phone rang and rang. No one answered it.

“You think Owens sent Streak to Texas?” Ryan asked.

“No, not Owens. Kathryn and the old man both talked about a woman. I think it’s Jeannotte. She probably directs the show from here and has lieutenants at her other camps. I also think she recruits on campus through some sort of seminar network.”

“What else can you tell me about Jeannotte?”

I related everything I knew, including her behavior toward her assistant, and asked what he’d learned in his conversation with Anna.

“Not much. I think there’s a shitload she’s keeping bottled up. This kid makes Zelda look stable.”

“She could be on drugs.”

The ringing started up again.

“Are you alone there?” Save for the phones, the squad room sounded unnaturally quiet.

“Everyone’s been pulled out for this friggin’ storm. Are you having problems?”

“Like what?”

“Don’t you listen to the news? The ice is really screwing things up. They’ve closed the airport, and a lot of the minor roads are impassable. Power lines are cracking like dry spaghetti, and stretches of the south shore are cold and dark. The city fathers are starting to worry about old folks. And looters.”

“I’m fine so far. Did Baker’s men find anything to tie Saint Helena to the group in Texas?”

“Not really. The old guy with the dog talked a lot about meeting his guardian angel. Seems Owens and his disciples had the same idea. It’s all through their journals.”

“Journals?”

“Yeah. Apparently some of the faithful had the creative urge.”

“And?”

I heard him inhale, then exhale slowly.

“Tell me, goddamit!”

“According to some expert down there, it’s definitely apocalyptic and it’s now. They’re heading for the big one. Sheriff Baker’s taking no chances. He’s called in the feds.”

“And they found no clue as to destination? The earthly destination, I mean.”

“To meet their guardian angel and make the crossing to a better place. That’s the kind of crap we’re dealing with. But they’re well organized. Apparently the trip has been planned for a long time.”

“Jeannotte! You’ve got to find Jeannotte! It’s her! She’s the guardian angel!”

I knew I sounded frantic, but I couldn’t help myself.

“O.K. I agree. It’s time to drive Miss Daisy hard. When did she leave your place?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

“Where was she going?”

“I don’t know. She said she was meeting someone.”

“O.K., I’ll find her. Brennan, if you’re right about this, the little professor is a very dangerous woman. Do not , I repeat, do not do anything on your own. I know you’re worried about Harry, but if she’s been sucked into this thing it may take professionals to get her out. Do you understand?”

“May I brush my teeth? Or is that considered risky?” I snapped. His paternalism did not bring out the best in me.

“You know what I mean. Find yourself some candles. I’ll get back to you as soon as I learn anything.”

I hung up and walked to the French doors. I wanted more space around me and slid the curtain aside. The courtyard looked like a mythological garden, the trees and shrubs fashioned of spun glass. Filmy nets covered the upstairs balconies and clung to the brick chimneys and walls.

I located candles, matches, and a flashlight, then dug my radio and headphones from my gym bag and placed everything on the kitchen counter. Back in the living room, I settled on the couch and clicked to the CTV news.

Ryan was right. The storm was big news. Lines were down throughout the province and Hydro-Québec could not say when power would be restored. Temperatures were dropping and more precipitation was on the way.