expect to have.
“We were a family, but I missed—we all missed—having a mother. Skye, I know how betrayed and hurt you feel. But you are strong, beautiful, smart. It’s your mother who lost out on knowing what an incredible woman you have become.”
She tilted her face to Anthony and said, “You’re a miracle worker. My headache is gone.” She spontaneously kissed him, then turned away. Almost embarrassed. But this felt—right.
“I need to talk to Rod about the fire, follow up with my detective about the housekeeper—”
“Let me drive you. Just until we know the drug is out of your system.”
She felt herself—more herself now than she had for a long time—but she nodded.
Her cell phone rang, and she jumped up, popped the phone from its charger, and said, “Sheriff McPherson.”
“Skye, it’s Rod Fielding.”
She glanced at her watch. “I thought we weren’t meeting for another hour.”
“After you called about the fire, I came back to the morgue. I’ve had a guard posted outside all night.”
“You think someone is going to come after the bodies?”
“Possibly. But now I have a larger concern.”
“What?”
“I ran the tox screen myself. Twice. These men were drugged.”
“Drugged? So they couldn’t fight back?”
“I don’t think so. I think they were drugged to become aggressive, and it’s been happening for a long time. Months, up until two weeks ago. But I’m checking their blood for more possibilities.”
Two weeks. The same time the housekeeper was fired.
“How can you tell?”
“Hair samples. It’s not a routine screening, but after the fire I decided to test for a wider range of narcotics, hallucinogens, and heavy metals.”
“Test for mercury poisoning.”
“Mercury? That would explain my findings. How did you know?”
“I’ll explain when I get there. What about Cooper?”
“The hospital drew his blood, he had no alcohol or recreational drugs, but I’ll need to broaden the panel. Now that I know what I’m looking for, it won’t take long.”
“Good.”
“There’s one more thing. I think I know what happened.”
Finally, answers based on hard physical evidence. “What?”
“You need to come down and see for yourself. You won’t believe me if I tell you over the phone.”
Chapter Ten
O N THE WAY to the sheriff’s department, Anthony asked Skye about the conversation he’d overheard between her and Dr. Fielding.
“They were drugged?”
“Apparently it had been happening for months and ended two weeks ago. The same time as your friend fired the housekeeper.”
“Housekeeper?”
“Corinne Davies. Know her?”
Anthony shook his head. “Do you know anything about her background?”
“Not much. Detective Martinez is working on it. She came from Oregon highly recommended from the diocese up there. The bishop was ticked off that Cooper fired her, but apparently has no control over the workings of the mission. She’s on vacation.”
Corinne Davies. “I can make some calls,” Anthony suggested. “Someone in the church might feel more comfortable talking to me than the police.”
Skye didn’t say anything for a moment, and Anthony wondered if she was going to tell him to stay out of the investigation. Instead, she surprised him and said, “I’d appreciate that. Anything about her history, complaints, background. She has a daughter, Lisa, but there’s no father in the picture. I don’t even have his name.”
She’d taken a step toward trusting him. Anthony was elated.
“What happened to the journal, Anthony? How did”—she paused—“the killer erase all those pages?”
She couldn’t say demon. But asking for his advice was a huge step. “I think Rafe used blessed ink.”
“Excuse me?”
“When the demon touched it, the ink disappeared.”
“Disappearing ink.”
By her cool tone, he was losing her. He changed tactics, using a cop’s logic. “Rafe must have written something the killer doesn’t want us to
“We were a family, but I missed—we all missed—having a mother. Skye, I know how betrayed and hurt you feel. But you are strong, beautiful, smart. It’s your mother who lost out on knowing what an incredible woman you have become.”
She tilted her face to Anthony and said, “You’re a miracle worker. My headache is gone.” She spontaneously kissed him, then turned away. Almost embarrassed. But this felt—right.
“I need to talk to Rod about the fire, follow up with my detective about the housekeeper—”
“Let me drive you. Just until we know the drug is out of your system.”
She felt herself—more herself now than she had for a long time—but she nodded.
Her cell phone rang, and she jumped up, popped the phone from its charger, and said, “Sheriff McPherson.”
“Skye, it’s Rod Fielding.”
She glanced at her watch. “I thought we weren’t meeting for another hour.”
“After you called about the fire, I came back to the morgue. I’ve had a guard posted outside all night.”
“You think someone is going to come after the bodies?”
“Possibly. But now I have a larger concern.”
“What?”
“I ran the tox screen myself. Twice. These men were drugged.”
“Drugged? So they couldn’t fight back?”
“I don’t think so. I think they were drugged to become aggressive, and it’s been happening for a long time. Months, up until two weeks ago. But I’m checking their blood for more possibilities.”
Two weeks. The same time the housekeeper was fired.
“How can you tell?”
“Hair samples. It’s not a routine screening, but after the fire I decided to test for a wider range of narcotics, hallucinogens, and heavy metals.”
“Test for mercury poisoning.”
“Mercury? That would explain my findings. How did you know?”
“I’ll explain when I get there. What about Cooper?”
“The hospital drew his blood, he had no alcohol or recreational drugs, but I’ll need to broaden the panel. Now that I know what I’m looking for, it won’t take long.”
“Good.”
“There’s one more thing. I think I know what happened.”
Finally, answers based on hard physical evidence. “What?”
“You need to come down and see for yourself. You won’t believe me if I tell you over the phone.”
Chapter Ten
O N THE WAY to the sheriff’s department, Anthony asked Skye about the conversation he’d overheard between her and Dr. Fielding.
“They were drugged?”
“Apparently it had been happening for months and ended two weeks ago. The same time as your friend fired the housekeeper.”
“Housekeeper?”
“Corinne Davies. Know her?”
Anthony shook his head. “Do you know anything about her background?”
“Not much. Detective Martinez is working on it. She came from Oregon highly recommended from the diocese up there. The bishop was ticked off that Cooper fired her, but apparently has no control over the workings of the mission. She’s on vacation.”
Corinne Davies. “I can make some calls,” Anthony suggested. “Someone in the church might feel more comfortable talking to me than the police.”
Skye didn’t say anything for a moment, and Anthony wondered if she was going to tell him to stay out of the investigation. Instead, she surprised him and said, “I’d appreciate that. Anything about her history, complaints, background. She has a daughter, Lisa, but there’s no father in the picture. I don’t even have his name.”
She’d taken a step toward trusting him. Anthony was elated.
“What happened to the journal, Anthony? How did”—she paused—“the killer erase all those pages?”
She couldn’t say demon. But asking for his advice was a huge step. “I think Rafe used blessed ink.”
“Excuse me?”
“When the demon touched it, the ink disappeared.”
“Disappearing ink.”
By her cool tone, he was losing her. He changed tactics, using a cop’s logic. “Rafe must have written something the killer doesn’t want us to
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