Health, Wealth, and Murder (9 page)

Jane parked her car at home and took the bus to school. The bus on her route was a new one, the vinyl seats were free of rips and tears, and the one she sat on wasn’t even sticky.

She was one of four people riding, and the only smell she noticed was the springy scent of cut grass blowing in from the window in front of her. She sighed and leaned her head back. Riding the bus wasn’t what she’d call fun—even a clean one—but it was better than paying for parking downtown.

The rolling pace of the bus as it tooled down Powell Boulevard almost had her asleep when her phone chimed.

She had a text from Detective Bryce.

“Just thought you should know, HM AOK.”

She stared at it. Was he allowed to tell her that? Assuming that meant that Haven Malachi was fine, that is. Could he tell her that? And if he was working outside of normal rules, would she be leading him on to thank him for it?

She skipped the thank-you and went straight to the point: “How? Where? WHY?”

His response came fast: “H
IPPA. Can’t say. Just…don’t worry.”

She scrunched her nose up. Dang HIPAA laws. They kept her from getting all the news she needed. “THNX.” A text-shorthand thank-you couldn’t be leading him on, anyway.

And she was thankful. A lightness, like the smell of the cut grass in the air, came with the news the missing girl was “AOK.” But that alone wasn’t the same as knowing where, why, or how she was AOK. And it didn’t mean that someone in the house wouldn’t kill because she had been sent away.

Why would they send a twelve-year-old away?

She ought to have been too young for an unwanted pregnancy (at least Jane prayed that was the case), and anyway, that would only have been for nine or ten months, not four years. She could have been put in an asylum for mental issues, or a care home if she had been seriously injured. Or a boarding school if she had been acting up. There were several ways a child could disappear and still be safe, in a technical sense. But which one was it?

Jane googled
Haven Malachi Toledo Ohio
in many variations and spellings for the rest of her ride to school, but apart from one false lead, a “Haven House in Toledo, Ohio, run by Malachi Rosales,” she came up empty.

She was glad class was all tests today. It forced her to concentrate on the work at hand instead of losing herself in the investigation while she was supposed to be learning. But as soon as the test was over, she hit the park blocks. The new grass and spring leaves on the trees colored the center of campus like someone had gone over them with crayon.

Jane munched a granola bar while she plotted her next move.

Haven Malachi still existed, but could provide a motive for the murder, so she needed to find out the four Ws on that situation.

Francine had been missing in action. It was about payday, so she needed to be found, and more conversations about the working relationships among the task force team members needed to be had.

Jane needed to double-check her schedule. The Malachi Ministries were definitely having another event, and it sounded like they were having it soon. She needed to be there, 100 percent. Francine would know about that.

Jane tossed her granola bar wrapper in the trash next to her bench and called Francine.

“Francine speaking.”

“This is Jane. When can we talk?” She didn’t mince words. Who knew which of the strolling couples, lounging students, or businessmen out for a lunchtime breath of fresh air were listening?

“Jane…I’m just not up to it right now.” Francine’s voice sounded broken.

“I understand that this is hard, but I have new information and we need to talk.”

“You…you do?” Francine whispered.

“Yes. I’m free after three today. Can we meet somewhere? My office, maybe?” Jane bit her tongue. Of course she meant Jake’s office, but it was beginning to feel like home.

“Can we do it at four? I can be ready then.”

“Thank you. That’ll be great.” Jane explained they’d be meeting above the Roly Burger in Maywood just outside of town, and ended the call. She had half an hour before the next class, so she went over her notes again.

She hadn’t bothered to pursue the name Wilt Peterson that she had seen in the books in one of the boys’ bedrooms, since learning that wasn’t their name. But maybe she should. And she still hadn’t seen or heard from Christiana’s son Nick. But perhaps Wendy from her missional community had—or had heard from the person pretending to be Nick, which could be useful, maybe. Jane texted Wendy.

Wendy responded right away. “Nick called!”

Jane stared at the message. That was bold for someone with a false identity. Her stomach twisted. She texted Wendy right back. “Don’t meet him.” If the person calling himself Nick Malachi was some weird Internet liar, and wanted to get together with Wendy, Wendy could be in a lot of danger.

“Dnt b like that!” Wendy texted. “I’ve knwn him 4ever. Mtng 2mrrw. Coffee Sbx.”

“When? Where?” Jane’s heart was racing. This was how girls disappeared forever.

“LOL! Fine. But pretend like u rn’t there! Sbx across from church @ 8.”

Jane exhaled. She and Jake needed to get out anyway. And maybe she could have Detective Bryce on speed dial.

When her second and last class cut out a little early, she breathed a prayer of thanks and caught the first bus to Maywood she could find.

Jane met Francine in the parking lot, and they headed up the back stairs to the corporate office together.

Jane greeted the admin assistant with a smile, but the girl shook her head at Jane. Red faced and clearly distressed, she put her hand out to stop them from going into Jake’s office.

“Is it the mayor?”

The assistant chewed her lip, then shook her head no.

“Can you give me a moment, Francine?” Jane moved to the door of the office, but the assistant stood up. “I can’t let you go in; I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but she was serious.

“What’s going on?”

The assistant scratched her ear. “Honestly? I don’t know. But Jake is in a big meeting and told me he couldn’t be disturbed at all. I asked about you, and he said not even for Jane!”

Francine inhaled loudly and wrinkled her nose.

“It’s no problem,” Jane said. “Francine, why don’t we go downstairs and get a booth. The parking lot was pretty empty. I think we’ll have enough privacy. And I can buy you a coffee.”

“Fine.” Francine’s single word was clipped short.

Someone in the other room seemed to be yelling, but Jane couldn’t make out the words. Despite her fondness for the eighty-year-old building, she wished it had been made of thinner, cheaper materials so she could hear better.

Downstairs they ordered coffee and took the farthest booth from the kitchen. They were the only guests.

Francine held the paper cup in her thin white hands, but didn’t move to drink it. Her lips were pressed tight and her eyes were shadowed. When she had said she wasn’t up for this, she seemed to have meant it.

Jane sipped her own steaming drink and prayed that she’d be able to warm up her client. “Let me just say that I’ve heard back about…” She lowered her voice and took a deep breath. “I’ve heard back about Haven. She is fine.”

Francine’s lips parted, but otherwise, she was perfectly still.

“Because of the HIPAA laws, I can’t get any details from the police. But…it’s good that she’s safe.”

Francine sucked a breath in. Then her shoulders relaxed. “I am so very glad to hear that.” She lifted her cup to her lips and blew into it.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Francine nodded.

“Where has Nick been? I’ve met Theo a couple of times; I’ve seen Christiana in passing. I’ve run across most of the task force. But I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Nick, and after cleaning out his room the first day, his stuff seems to be untouched.”

“He moved back to the hotel with the rest of the team.”

“But why did he do that?”

Francine exhaled slowly through tight lips. “I assume it’s because he is angry with someone at the house. His mom, or his brother. I know that he wants to be more involved in the ministry, so maybe that played a part in it.”

“Why wouldn’t he have been at the task force meetings?”

“Because he wasn’t a member. He…how do I say this…” She chewed her lip. “He hasn’t been baptized in the Holy Spirit, so he can’t be on the task force.”

Jane rolled her eyes.

Francine chuckled. “I know it seems like it wouldn’t follow…”

“Don’t they manufacture that through a carefully choreographed event with lots of bells, whistles, lights, emotions, and drugs?”

Francine shook her head. “Josiah manipulates the audience, it’s true. And he uses hallucinogenics. But they were different with their kids. They would be, I suppose. They didn’t let them in on any of the business side of things. They prayed together as a family, they served the needy together. That’s what Nick, Theo, and Haven were shown. It’s all they were allowed to see. The boys spend time with their dad, yes, but otherwise, it’s been homeschooling, church, church camps, revival meetings, and the full appearance of a devout family life.”

Jane ran her fingers through her hair. “So they expected the boys to have a spiritual baptism—their praying-in-tongues moment—before they’d let them into the ministry. But what about the task force? Did everyone in the inner circle pass the same kind of test? Are they all legitimate?”

“Yes.” Francine sipped her coffee, then breathed in slowly as though she had burned her tongue. “I’m the personal assistant. A businessperson, not part of the ministry in action, so I knew about the drugs from the beginning. I was the one…I was the one who worked with his contacts in Berkeley. As with all things, nothing but the best for Josiah Malachi. If it wasn’t expensive and exclusive, he didn’t want it. But as to everyone else…I think he wanted everyone to believe his visions were the…normal…kind. I think Josiah even wanted Christiana to believe it was all real. He had been using for several years before he introduced the LSD to the team.”

“He had been trying to fool his wife, even?” Jane interrupted.

“Yes, he had been. But he didn’t confess, really. He just said that God had told him to do it. Told him that he had more to show him, and that he would use a new tool.” A look of disgust passed over Francine’s face. “So he confessed that he was like Jonah and that he had withheld the message of truth from us all; then he passed around the tabs and asked us all to take them.”

Jane inhaled sharply.

“I pretended to, and watched what happened with everyone else.”

“Who was on the team at the time?”

“The team hasn’t changed since that day, and I don’t think it would have, ever again. Much too risky to let someone else in on this.”

“So he couldn’t let his boys in on the task force until he knew they fully believed in the second baptism and were willing to accept whatever Josiah told them the Holy Spirit had said.”

“That, or he would never have invited them, in the end.”

“What’s going to happen at the next revival meeting?”

“I don’t know. Josiah’s supply of drugs is missing, so whoever preaches will have to do without the enhancement. And I still don’t know who will be preaching.”

“I want to be at that meeting.” Jane was forming an idea, a way to learn more about her key suspects. “Would you do me a favor?”

Francine looked wary.

“Would you encourage the task force members to share the preaching? Let Christiana and Lucas preach? And Tiffany, if she is willing. Or anyone else. Tell them…tell them it won’t be filmed.”

Francine nodded. “So that they will take more risks?”

“Yes. Exactly. I want to watch them interact, and I want them to feel free…”

“If word gets around that it isn’t being filmed, don’t you think that could be dangerous?”

Jane paused. Was she inviting the killer to kill again?

Maybe so.

If the killer was angry at Josiah for something the ministry had done to his life, continuing with their revival schedule might incite him to kill again. “No, I think you’re right. Just tell them it won’t be aired live.” Jane drummed her fingers. If the task force knew the event was on film, they would probably be more subtle, more cautious, but they wouldn’t be as likely to kill.

Of course, Josiah’s death was on film.

Jane shook her head to clear the tangle. There was no way around that. If the revival was when the killer wanted to strike again, the housemaid wasn’t going to be able to stop them from holding it. She’d have to call Detective Bryce and tell him about her fears…or let Bryce tell her who else to call.

“I have another favor to ask.”

“Yes?”

“A friend of mine thinks that Nick Malachi is her dearest online friend. She also thinks she’s meeting him at Starbucks tomorrow for coffee—their first-ever real-life meet up. Would you have a current picture I could check out? I’m going to be sitting quietly in the background. I just want to make sure she’s safe.”