GODDESS OF THE MOON (A Diana Racine Psychic Suspense) (18 page)

“None of the other parents remembers seeing Ridley Deems at their respective hospitals.
G
ood work by your detective, Ernie. The theory that the babies were taken because of their genetic makeup gives us hope they’re still alive.
From o
ur investigations at the hospitals
,
Deems kept to himself. Janitors are part of the scenery. No one notices them. When they fail to show up for work, the employment office fills the vacancy. Deems worked third shift.
Quiet time.
Perfect for stealing a glance at records, see
enough about the mother to
run the name through the computer
and find out all he needs to know―p
apers, conferences, whatever.

“So we have four babies taken, all
―
how did one of my sons describe the smartest kid in class―
genetically enhanced
?”

The memory of his dead son stopped Lucier
cold
. Those times from his past life still shot arrows into his heart. He noticed a strange look on Stallings face and wondered if the sadness showed on his own.

“Right.
The fifth seems like a mistake, wouldn’t you say?”

“That’s what I thought. I don’t get it. A kidnapper and sexual predator who’d rather commit suicide than talk to us, a satanic cult, a billionaire, two young women who’ve disappeared and who possibly tended the babies, and payment to return a
n erroneous abduction
. What else?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Stallings asked. “This is one of the weirdest cases I’ve ever worked.”

“What’s Deems’s background?”

“Born in Alabama, raised in an orphanage.
Mother gave him up at birth, but that’s all we know about his parents.
He had good grades in h
igh school
but dropped out.
W
orked a series of odd jobs, mostly as a laborer or janitor.
The only time he got in trouble was when he hit on the girl.”

“Maybe he was soliciting young runaways for the cult.”

“Could be.
G
uys
like him
prey on
young
girls.”

“
A
ny religious activity?”

“Not that we can find. I doubt he’d broadcast he
was
a devotee of Satan.”

The waitress put Lucier’s iced tea in front of him, and he took a long swallow.
Sugar sweet, lemon tart, and icy cold.
The drink
felt good after his
sweaty
walk. Both men ordered a grilled fish sandwich and side salad. The waitress refreshed
their
glasses.

“
O
ne link t
ies
three of the things I mentioned,” Lucier said.

“What?”

“The Sunrise Mission.
Deems worked there, both girls had a
n
association
, and Silas Compton is the main benefactor.”

“Didn’t you say Slater wanted to meet with Ms. Racine again? That they had some kind of psychic connection? I know you’re worried about th
e
note, but she might be our only entrée into the Mission without a warrant,
and we don’t have
probable cause.”

“She received a second note yesterday. This one said they were still waiting for her. I’m more spooked than she is. Th
e
note has a purpose.”

When they finished lunch, Lucier speed-walked back to the station, not only because of the brutal heat, but because the note now weighed heavily on his mind.
What was its purpose?
A scare?
A warning?

He called Diana as soon as he got to his office. No answer. He called her cell.
Still nothing.
When he arrived at her house, her car wasn’t there, and neither was she.

A
s
cent from Hell

S
later met Diana at the door of the Sunrise Mission and ushered her to his office, still refusing to let her make contact.
“I was delighted to hear from you, Ms. Racine
.
Frankly, I didn’t think you’d call.”

Ernie will be furious I did.
But c
uriosity prevailed
because Diana was
anxious to get inside
Slater
’s head.

“
W
hy is that, Mr. Slater?”
She focused
on the red light of the camera above Slater’s desk and ma
de
sure he saw her doing it.

“Call me Edward.”

“Or Osiris?”

His smile emphasized the crinkles around his eyes.
Steel gray, penetrating, unnerving.
Diana pondered whether she
found him charming or arrogant.

“If you wish,” he answered.

“I think I prefer Edward.”

“
M
ay I call you Diana?”

“Of course.”

Their
formal
banter reminded her of a tennis match, with the ball trading sides of the court. She was struck by the man’s charisma. He was as handsome as any leading man. The wrinkles etched on his face only made him more appealing.
The hard-drinking detective in a noir film, struggling to stay on the wagon.
The lone gunfighter taking on the bad guys, squinting into the sun.
She understood how a woman like Jean
nine Highsmith became obsessed.

Diana didn’t have to touch Slater to sense the mass of contradictions. A man who claimed he wanted nothing sexual, yet he exuded a raw sensuality
,
a powerful magnetism, as if drawing in a woman were on his agenda, but it clearly wasn’t, as in the case of Highsmith. Was he still trying to prove his maleness? There was no denying his allure. Diana dis
liked the effect he had on her.

He leaned over and extracted two bottles of water from a small fridge
next to him
and offered her one. When she nodded, he placed it on the desk. She
smiled
at his continued reluctance to touch her and not
ed
he kept
a
barrier between them. He looked relaxed and comfortable in jeans a light blue button-down
shirt,
sleeves rolled up.

“You were going to tell me why you didn't think I’d call,” Diana said.

“Obvious.
Lieutenant Lucier, of course.
You two are together, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”
Slater
waited, letting a long moment pass before speaking. He wore the same half-way smile. “You and I have a connection he’s not part of, or didn’t you notice?”

He drove straight to the point, and the point made Diana even more uneasy. “I wouldn’t put it that way, and I wish you wouldn’t either.”

“How
would
you put it? He’s not comfortable in certain areas.
Higher planes of thinking, for instance.
Your lieutenant may be good at what he does, but I think he’s out of your league.”

Diana forced a smile. “Why, Edward, you’re an intellectual snob.” He didn’t refute her, and she figured he probably agreed. “We all have different areas of expertise. You must judge yourself above mere humans? Has the mythology of the gods gone to your head?” Diana noticed a crack in his composure. Did she strike a nerve?

“My pursuits are entirely
philosophical.”

Diana wanted to contradict
him
, but it would be like fueling a fire that burned out long ago, with no chance of reigniting. Still
…

“You came here because you’re curious about me. You wanted to know what it’s like to go to hell and back.”

Again, to the point.
The man didn’t waffle. “Yes.”

“Mine is just one experience. Hell is different for everyone.” He didn’t flinch. “Have you been to hell?”

Dozens of pictures flashed through her mind. Visions she hoped had been filed away forever. Images of carnage she wasn’t supposed to see but sometimes did. Visions her fat
her failed to protect from her.

“Yes, many times through someone else, and one time recently through my own experience. Certainly not as intense as
what you’ve been
through,
nor
as constant, but hell nevertheless.”

“
Yes, that must have been a terrible experience.
”

Diana thought back to
her captor’s
Adonis-like face
,
not unlike the man before her
,
and picked up on
her
inadvertent reference to another mythological god. “Yes, I looked in the face of evil, and I’ll never forget it. But sometimes evil is developed through personal history. Others made
him
the way he was. I doubt he was born that way.”

“Interesting.
What about the other times?”

“
M
y journeys took me
into
people’s
minds. Places I didn’t want to go
,
but
I
had no choice
.”

Slater leaned across the desk, closing the space between them. “Could you have stopped if you wanted?”

His scent, Patchouli, she thought, wafted off the heat of his body, and the room suddenly felt as if all the air had escaped.
Rattled, s
he leaned back in her chair
and squirmed
from the situation
in which
she’d put herself. “No, not once I found a connection to the missing person.”

“
D
id you always locate that person?”

She shook her head.
“No, regrettably.”

“But most of the time.”

“I revealed clues that led to their discovery. Is that why you don’t want to touch me?”

“I’m not lost,” he said. “Not anymore.”

“But you want me to know about you. Why?”

Slater’s
expression hardened
,
his mouth rigid,
and for the first time he took his eyes off
her
.
“Because I’ve never been able to talk about it.
You don’t strike me as judgmental.”

“Why would anyone judge the course you took?”

“It’s ugly.” Now Slater
tensed,
his jaw a series of clenches.
He slunk further back
in his chair
and closed his eyes. “Remember, I was twenty-one, brought up in a rather restrictive atmosphere. I’d discovered women and they me. I have some wear and tear on me now
―
life has a way of showing, doesn’t it
?
―
but at the time I was considered quite good looking. I ha
d no trouble attracting women.”

Slater paused. There was nothing innocent about the sensual way he looked at her, whether he meant it or not. Diana felt th
e
heat
rise to her cheeks
, the thrumming of her heart.
The
moisture in
h
er mouth
disappeared
. No, Edward Slater would have no trouble attracting women. Even now
with the
wear and tear
. If he noticed her discomfort, he didn’t let on.

“I doubt I would have pursued a career in the ministry. I loved God, but I loved other things too.
Things that would have conflicted with the li
fe of a preacher.”

Again he stopped and studied
her
. She forced herself to sit still
, eager to hear the rest of his story
.

“I began to think about teaching philosophy and decided to change majors when my whole world came crashing down.
That disease.
”
He stopped for a long moment, took a deep breath.
“
It couldn’t be happening to me, I thought. There must be some mistake. Penile cancer is an old man’s disease, not the curse of a twenty-one
-
year old. My choices weren’t very appealing. I had the surgery. I lost weight, my hair fell out, and I was in tremendous pain, both physically and psychologically. I wanted to die, to disappear off the face of the earth.” H
e sat
statue still, the only movement a slight tic at the corner of his mouth
. “So I did.”