I frowned at the phone, not understanding what he meant. “Okay. Need me to pick up something in Dallas before I head south?”
I could almost see him popping his knuckles as the soft crack of his joints sounded in the background. “No, I meant your choice of transportation. Rent a car. Don’t take a Fed vehicle of any kind. Better yet, to fit in down here, rent a truck.”
I blinked at the phone. “Why?”
“Seriously? Do you know where you’re headed?”
I flipped through the notes on my left. “Orin, Texas. Population 1,432.” Damn, the town was small.
“And do you know where Orin, Texas, is?”
I groaned, massaging my brows with a thumb and forefinger. “Straight down Interstate 35 for an hour or so. Listen, I have Waze if I get lost.”
“I’m not concerned you’ll get lost. The town is sixty miles from Waco. Do you remember what your federal friends did in Waco, oh, thirty years or so ago? I can tell you right now everyone in this town—hell, Texas—remembers. And the locals here won’t take too kindly to a Fed showing up and poking his nose around, especially considering the circumstances.”
I scoffed. “First of all, didn’t you watch the documentary on Netflix? That shit show was ATF’s fault. We just—” I waved my hand searching for the word. “—escalated the tragedy. Second, that was about a cult no one understood, not half a dozen brutally assaulted and murdered women.”
“Guessing you haven’t done your research on the area, then.”
A wave of guilt washed over me. Shit. What had I missed? “I was getting to that after looking over all the pictures you sent.”
“Well, I’ll catch you up, because that’s the kind of friend I am.” I huffed out a laugh. Lifting the beer bottle, I sighed, setting it back down when I remembered it was already empty. “There’s a community out here, The Church. It’s about a thousand or so families all living within a fenced-in area. It’s all very similar to The Branch Dividians in the way they keep to themselves and stay protected under the ‘freedom of religion’ banner.”
“What does that have to do with the case and me coming to town?” I asked.
“Well, that’s a little more to explain and best left for tomorrow. Let’s meet tomorrow at the local diner, nine o’clock. I’ll explain everything then.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I grumbled. I hated not having the full picture. If I didn’t, then there would be more victims, more deaths.
“That this case is a fucking mess. An absolute fucking mess that I’ve spent the last seven months attempting to wrangle while managing other issues in my territory. That’s why I need you down here, but having you come to town will also escalate things, and quickly. Between the local authorities being butt hurt that I’ve called in federal help, the locals not wanting an outsider knowing their business, and then The Church, who will lock the fuck down if they think you’re here for them. This is a delicate situation. We need to ease you into the case, not have you show up in a black Escalade with federal plates wearing your ‘Look at me, I’m special’ FBI jacket.”
I smirked at that. He made fun of that jacket daily during the last case.
Then something he said, the way he said it, clicked for me.
“You keep saying ‘here.’ Are you there already?” The iPad case slid easily across the smooth table as I pulled it close and flipped the cover. I typed in the cult’s name and the town into the search bar and hit Enter. Clearly I had zero clue what I was about to walk into, and that was dangerous for me and the case.
“Yeah, I’m here, unfortunately. And I plan on sticking around until we catch this bastard. You know why I asked for you to come down instead of another phone conference, right?”
“He’s escalating,” I murmured as I swiped through The Church’s webpage. Of course they had a webpage. What self-respecting cult didn’t have one to constantly recruit for new members? Fucking internet made it easier for the manipulative assholes to target their victims. “I feel like you’re leaving more than this cult out, Alec. What aren’t you telling me? You know I hate being unprepared.”
“It’s too much to cover on the phone. Tomorrow morning, nine at the diner. There’s someone I want you to meet before we head to the police station and announce your arrival. As soon as that happens, the whole town will know.”
“Meet someone?” My ears perked up at that. I paused my scrolling and stared at the phone. “As in a suspect?”
There was a long pause. I leaned closer to the phone, growing anxious for his answer.
“No, not a suspect.”
“A victim?” There was no masking the hope in my voice. If we had a living victim, someone who could offer any characteristics about the unsub, then we could solve the case in record time, saving more women from a horrible fate, and get me home to my Netflix binge party for one.
“Not a victim like you’re thinking.”
I groaned. “Spit it out, Bronson,” I snapped. “I’m fucking tired and now have to figure out how in the hell someone rents a damn car from the airport.” The last few words were more of a grumble from annoyance from the truth in my words. How long had it been since I had to rent a car on my own?
“Download the damn Budget Rental Car app, you lazy ass. And what I mean is… well… you’ll find out tomorrow.”
I grunted a goodbye, knowing full well he wouldn’t give me any more information until we met, and tapped the red circle with a knuckle, ending the call. Reaching down, I dug through the side pocket of my go bag, feeling around until a hard plastic edge scraped against my fingertips. Tugging the foil-covered gum packet free, I popped two hard white pieces from their encasing and tossed both into my mouth. Jaw working, I inhaled the burst of peppermint, letting the intense smell burn the back of my throat as I gazed at the picture of the recent victim.
Shallow grave. Naked body covered in welts, cuts, and lashes like the other victims. Multiple stab wounds across the chest and sides. But those marks weren’t what held my focus as I worked the gum, swiping it from one side of my mouth to the other. No, I couldn’t look away from the two words carved into the sunken stomach that stretched from one protruding hip bone to the other.
Come home.
Those words struck my curiosity, urging two questions to circle on a loop.
Who did the unsub want to come home, and where was home?
One thing was for certain: if this case had anything to do with The Church, we were fucked. There wouldn’t be a single judge in Texas who would sign a warrant to search the cult’s premises unless I had hard evidence. But even then it might be a long shot.
I shook my head, dislodging the thoughts. No need to get ahead of myself.
Land, rent a car, and meet Alec at nine tomorrow morning. Once I was on the ground, working the case, and could submerge myself into the situation, the clues always found a way to rise to the top.
The plane tipped, causing the bottle to slide an inch to the left as we circled. I glanced out the window as we dipped below the clouds, the ground now dancing with lights from downtown Dallas and the surrounding suburbs. Knowing we’d be landing soon, I grabbed my phone to search for a car rental app when an incoming text had me tapping that instead.