Field of Graves (32 page)

“Really, officers, you can’t think that Gabriel is involved in these crimes in any way.” He started to get out of his chair, but Taylor snapped at him.

“Sit down. Of course we can. We know that Jill Gates, Jordan Blake, and Shelby Kincaid all took his classes. We know that Mary Margaret de Rossi audited two of his classes. That’s four of our victims that Professor Lucas was at the very least
familiar
with. That’s a lot for us to go on right there. So I suggest you start cooperating before I haul your ass into the station and charge you with obstruction of justice. Now, what is wrong with Lucas?”

“Fine. He has cancer. Brain cancer. A tumor of some sort. He took the semester off to have it treated. Are you happy now? I’ve broken the confidence of a man who begged me to make sure no one at the school found out about his condition. Thank you for forcing me to compromise my morals. I’ve told you all I can. Now, I think you should leave.”

Taylor ignored him. “Have you spoken with him lately?”

The dean was red in the face and looked close to blowing a gasket. “No, I haven’t spoken with him in about a month. He came to the monthly community breakfast. He told me he would be out of touch for a while, and was talking about having a new experience. I just assumed it was a medical advancement that he couldn’t receive here in town and he was seeking treatment elsewhere. We only spoke for a few minutes. The speaker started moments after we greeted each other, and after the presentation he was gone.”

“Would that speaker have been Father Francis Xavier from St. Catherine’s Church?”

The dean’s face crumpled. He put his face in his hands, and all the defensiveness left his body. “Oh my God. It can’t be. He couldn’t have done any of this. It has to be a coincidence.”

Baldwin spoke quietly. “There are no coincidences, Dean Royce. We need to speak with Professor Lucas. Can you get us his address and phone number?”

“Janet!” he bellowed. The diminutive woman came scurrying into the office. “Janet, I need you to give the detectives Professor Lucas’s address.”

Janet was obviously a little afraid of her boss and squeaked her answer like a mouse. “I’m sure I have it around here somewhere. I think he moved recently. I’ll probably have to call down to records, and Melinda is out sick today, so there’s only a student working the desk. It may take a little while.”

“Ma’am, go on down to records yourself and pull the address for me.” Taylor scribbled her number on the back of a card and handed it to her. “The minute you have it, I want you to call me on my cell phone. Do you understand?”

The woman nodded and started to bustle away. Taylor grabbed her arm. “Hold on a second. Do you have any pictures of Professor Lucas?”

“Well, of course, dear. We have the annuals right here.” She motioned to the bookshelf behind her boss. Taylor went to the bookshelf and pulled the most recent annual. She looked in the back for Lucas’s name, found he was pictured on several pages. She started flipping through until she found one of him alone.

Taylor had to admit he was a handsome man. Square jaw, heavy silver hair, green eyes, full mouth, three days of stubble. A rebel-without-a-cause attitude spilling from his smile. She could see why some of the girls would want to take his classes.

Baldwin turned back to the dean. “Mr. Royce, do you happen to know which doctor was treating the professor?”

The dean had gathered himself and was a little more willing to cooperate.

“Surely, surely. A doctor named Hoyt, I believe. Steven Hoyt, over at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. Great man, loves the college. Did his undergrad here, I believe. Before my time, though.”

She stood and stuck out her hand. “Thank you so much for your time. Can I take this with me?” She pointed to the annual.

“Of course, of course, anything I can do to help, just give me a call. Though I’m sure you’ll find our poor professor has had nothing to do with all this tragedy. At Vanderbilt... I’m sure you understand that we cannot be held responsible for any actions any of our students or faculty take outside of campus. We’re terribly upset by these deaths and want to cooperate however we can.” Taylor rolled her eyes at his spin as he saw them to the door, then shut it behind them.

Taylor and Baldwin made their way back to the car. Taylor lit a cigarette, a grimace on her face.

“Smarmy old dope. He gave me the creeps.”

Baldwin started laughing. “Gave you the creeps, huh? He wasn’t the friendliest person I’ve ever met.”

“Ick. Didn’t you love his quick CYA? Always gotta cover your ass.” She picked up her phone and called in to the office. “Hey, it’s me. Is Lincoln there?” She waited a moment. “Linc, I need you to do your magic. Get a number and address on Gabriel Lucas...Right...Cool. Let me talk to Marcus...Hey, puppy, how ya holdin’ up?...Oh, you poor baby. Do me a favor. Get on the phone with a doctor named Steven Hoyt. He’ll be with the oncology unit at Vanderbilt. We need all the records he has regarding treatment of Gabriel Lucas. Brain cancer. See if he has anything we can use for DNA. Yeah, we have a live one. Thanks.” She hung up and lit another cigarette.

“Lincoln will get the records a sight faster than Miss Mouse back there. Hopefully Marcus can find this Dr. Hoyt. Let’s get back over there and see what we can find out.” She realized she was walking alone. Baldwin was standing stock-still ten feet behind her.

“Baldwin? What’s wrong?”

He gave her a look, his eyes shining. “I think I know what’s going on.”

68

“Wake up, love. That’s right. Sit up a little now. You need to drink this.”

The cool water slid down the back of her throat. Jill realized she was awake, and felt Gabriel’s arm around her shoulders. She tried to gulp. She was thirsty, so thirsty, and choked on the water. Sputtering, she opened her eyes.

Gabriel was sitting next to her. She saw he had brought some food, and realized she was starving. She reached out for the tray, but he grabbed her hand gently and set it back in her lap.

“No, my darling, let me.” He reached for the plate, broke off a piece of bread and gave it to her. She took it and started chewing.

“Gabriel, what is going on?” she mumbled through the bread in her mouth.

He just looked at her, got off the bed, and picked up a sheet of paper. Clearing his throat like an actor on the stage preparing for a great soliloquy, he began reading aloud. “‘A Call to Arms’ by Jill Gates.”

Thoughts thrash and tumble

like lions crashing

through the cresting waves.

No movement, no action

lost in the abyss they call my mind,

fleeing like sandpipers

chasing ghost crabs

on the milky white powder expanse.

A calm breeze blows harmless

smiles and stabbing glares

wash away the tumult.

And I lie

in dreamless death,

suspended in my cage.

He finished with a flourish, bowing to his audience. Jill put the bread back on the plate, staring at him. He was absolutely crazy. She could see it in his eyes. And he looked even sicker than earlier, pale and drawn. She had a vague memory, some rumor about him leaving school because he was ill. But that couldn’t be. He was writing a book. He would have told her if there was something wrong.

She tried to access the memory, but her mind was so muddled from all the drugs, and she just couldn’t grasp the memory. And now he was reading her old poetry?

“What, you don’t remember this glorious ode? You wrote it for me. For
me
. When I read it, I knew. I knew you would be the one. You would never betray me, Jilly. I knew it in my heart that we would be together forever.
‘
And I lie in dreamless death, suspended in my cage’? When I read this, I wept. I knew I had found you, the one who could help me become immortal. I knew you would bear a child, a son, who will live on forever. A son who will be strong enough to lead all of us into the afterlife, who will bless us and make us pure.”

Jill was crawling backward on the bed. This man in front of her was not Gabriel. This was not the wonderful, seductive professor she had found so incredibly attractive. This man was a raving lunatic. She hadn’t written the poem for him; it was an assignment from another teacher in another class. She couldn’t even remember showing it to him, which meant he must have gone through all of her old things. But how...oh, that was it. She remembered asking him if she could store some old boxes of work in his attic months ago, after their affair began.

“Oh God, what have I done?” she groaned aloud. It had seemed so simple, so fun. An older professor, so smart and sexy. He had shown so much interest in her from the minute she met him, always wanted to hear her thoughts and opinions. Remarks she made to the boys her age in class were often met by blank stares or derisive giggles. They weren’t interested in talking about philosophy and religion. They just wanted to get in her pants.

But Gabriel, oh, he was so different. He encouraged her crazy questions, made her feel so intelligent. He’d treated her like an equal from the day she met him, pushed her to think about the world in ways she’d never dreamed possible. And when they’d finally consummated their intellectual courtship, she’d never felt anything had been so right in the world. She didn’t think for a minute that she was the only woman he was sleeping with, but it didn’t matter to her. He was sharing his life with her, and when she became pregnant he was overwhelmed with joy, promised to take care of her and the baby forever. No, this wild-eyed thing before her was not the man she’d known. The man she knew.

She swung her head around frantically, trying to find some way out of the room he’d been keeping her prisoner in. The door was open, and she lunged for it, but he was quicker and threw her back on the bed.

“No, no, no, not like that. You need to stay here with me, love. I need to take care of you and our son. I’ve put everything in motion and done all I know to secure his way.”

She continued to squirm, and he screamed, “You must listen to me. Listen!”

“No. Let me out of here, Gabriel. Let me out of here right now, or I swear to God I’ll kill you.” Her venomous threat made him laugh. He knelt on her chest, threw her hands over her head and secured them with handcuffs. He slid down her body till he was off the bed, then took each of her thrashing legs and tied them to the foot of the antique bed frame.

“Jilly. My beautiful, lovely girl, don’t you see? You can’t escape me. You can’t escape our destiny. You were given to me to bear me a son. You are carrying the Messiah.”

“Gabriel, let me go. Undo these handcuffs!”

Gabriel just smiled serenely and reached for her arm. She felt the prick of the needle and started becoming woozy. Gabriel patted her on the head and started out the door.

“God damn you, Gabriel!”

He was back to the bed in a shot and slapped her across the face, hard enough she felt blood filling her mouth.

He spoke quietly, gently. “Don’t ever say that again, Jilly. God will not damn me. He will welcome me to heaven with open arms, thankful that I have given His Son back to the world. I will be rewarded, Jill, not damned. I will be His righteous angel, and I will watch by His side as His Son, our son, saves the world. Do you not understand?”

He left the room and locked the door behind him, ignoring Jill’s shrieks of protest. She heard the phone ringing in the background, but before she could summon the energy to scream, her mind swirled into a blank, and she fell back into the pillows.

69

Price motioned Taylor and Baldwin into his office. “What do you have? Lincoln told me he’s looking for property records for a professor who didn’t make the initial list.”

Taylor threw herself in the chair. “His name is Gabriel Lucas. Professor of the classics at Vandy. He wasn’t on the list because he’s taken a sabbatical. The dean told us he has brain cancer.”

Marcus came into the office. “And pretty bad brain cancer. The doctor at Vandy? Hoyt? He didn’t want to give up any information, doctor-patient confidentiality. I showed him the warrant and threatened him with an accomplice-to-murder charge. He started talking.”

He looked at his notes. “Lucas, Gabriel, forty-eight. 3802 West End Avenue. Presented eight months ago with headaches he thought were migraines. A neurologist did an MRI, which showed a large tumor in his brain stem, something called brain stem glioma. Pretty heavy-duty cancer. The neurologist sent him to Dr. Hoyt, but it was too late. The tumor was inoperable, and a biopsy showed it was stage four, as bad as it gets. The cancer was already moving into other parts of his brain. Because of the size of the tumor and the location, there was nothing that they could do. They offered to try radiation and chemo, but Lucas decided he didn’t want to go through all of the motions with such a small chance of it actually working. They gave him prescriptions for pain medication, which he has been filling; they had to renew the prescription last month. Publix Pharmacy in Bellevue.

“Dr. Hoyt was surprised that he’s made it this long. He gave Lucas an optimistic estimate of six months, and didn’t think he’d make it over four. He’s living on borrowed time.”

Baldwin was fascinated. “A tumor like that, in that position, could easily alter his personality, his speech. Hell, it could make him a completely different person. He could go off the deep end. Whether he already had a propensity toward violence, and the tumor brought it to the surface, or he was a genuinely good guy and it’s altered him into madness, we may never know. But I’m willing to put money down this is our guy. I need to go look some stuff up. Before I go, did Hoyt give you any DNA samples?”

Marcus beamed. “Yep. He had pathology pull the slides from the biopsy. I called Sam, and she met me at Private Match. She and Simon are going to try and match it to the semen we found on Shelby.”