Mind Sweeper (13 page)

“We are following every lead. If we know his frame of mind, it might help us figure out what happened to him,” Dalton volunteered. “What had David been doing since leaving the priesthood?”

Father Brown shook his head. “I’m not sure. He became very closemouthed about it. Whenever I asked him, he would tell me it was safer if I did not know the details, and I didn’t want to push him. I was afraid he would shut down altogether.”

Dalton stood and pulled out a business card. “Thank you for your time, Father. If you think of anything else that might help us, please call me.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you Lieutenant and Miss…?”

“Smith.” I answered.

Father Brown stared at me for a second and nodded. He had the same look Doc Miller gave me when I lied to her.

When Dalton and I stepped outside the building, he rolled his eyes. “Smith?”

“He doesn’t need to know my name.”

“If you’re going to lie, you could be a
little
more creative.”

“It got the job done.”

He frowned. “Or it made him more suspicious.”

“We need to check out Cowell’s place.”

“Agreed, but we can’t go there now. The detectives and investigative unit are probably still working the scene. We’ll wait until tonight to sneak in and check it out.”

I smiled. “I love being stealthy. Jean Luc will want to come too. He’s the king of stealth.”

Chapter 12

I had fallen into a rut. It was midnight, and here I was again, standing outside my apartment with a box of cream sticks, waiting for my ride. Only I could have a late-night rendezvous which included whipped cream and three beautiful males, none of whom were sleeping with me.

I shook off my pity party when Jean Luc came down Mayfield Road way too fast and screeched to a stop in front of my building, the smell of burnt rubber filling the air. The back door of the van opened and Misha held out his hands. One to help me into the van, the other to snag the pastry box.

“What have we tonight?”

“Cream sticks.”

Misha sniffed. “Chocolate?”

I smiled. “Yeah, and I had them throw in some maple cream for variety.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I sat down in the seat, catching a frown on Dalton’s face which he masked quickly. I had forgotten about the whole
Misha-as-my-boyfriend
scenario I had been spinning. I would need to take care of that at a later and much more private time.

“So where are we heading?”

“Parma,” Jean Luc responded.

“Pierogi,” Misha mumbled.

I laughed. “Eat your pastries, Mish. There are no all-night restaurants serving pierogi in Parma.”

“What are pierogi?” Dalton asked.

Misha gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

Dalton held up his hands. “Sorry, but I’m not originally from here. And I’ve only lived here the past few years.”

I decided to enlighten him. “Pierogi are a Polish food. They are similar to ravioli, but the pasta is thicker, and they’re stuffed with a combination of mashed potatoes and anything else you can think of—cheese, onions, and broccoli, to name just a few.”

“I think I’ve seen them in the frozen food section. I’ll have to try them.”

Misha gasped again. “Don’t you dare!”

“Misha, knock it off. You sound like a debutante with the vapors. What he means is, you have to have authentic pierogi. Come to Parma and find a mom and pop diner with a grandma working in the back rolling out the pierogi by hand.”

“There’s one Kyle and I go to quite often. You’ll have to come with us next time.”

Dalton’s jaw tightened before he spoke. “I’ll do that.”

I flipped open the box lid to distract Misha from saying anything else stupid.

“Oh. Baker’s dozen. Thanks, Kyle.”

Dalton turned in his seat. “That’s a lot of donuts for the four of us.”

“Actually, Jean Luc doesn’t eat and I’m not hungry. I brought the dozen for Misha and had them throw in an extra in case you wanted one.”

Dalton gawked as Misha dug into the box and pulled out a stick, taking a large bite.

I reached into the box and pulled out a maple cream, handing it to Dalton. “His demon metabolism allows him to eat anything he wants without gaining weight. If it could be bottled and sold to humans, we would make millions.”

Thirty minutes later we arrived at Cowell’s house. Misha had eaten half the box already.

Misha and his cream sticks would stay in the van to monitor police traffic while the rest of us searched the house. We parked on a back street and cut through the yard to get to the small bungalow. Police tape formed an ‘x’ across the door. Jean Luc had the door unlocked in about thirty seconds. Even Dalton was impressed.

We slid under the crime scene tape and stepped into the house. Dalton and I turned on our flashlights, but Jean Luc didn’t bother since he could see in the dark. The house looked like a cyclone had hit it.

I aimed my flashlight around the room, taking in the kitchen and the mess. The cupboards were open and the contents strewn everywhere. I wrinkled my nose at the spoiled food littering the floor. “God, the police got a little carried away.”

Dalton spoke up. “Cops didn’t do this. Captain told me the place had been ransacked before today.”

“We should split up,” Jean Luc said. “I will take the front of the house. The two of you should remain in the back so your lights are not detected.”

Jean Luc sped off and we went down the hall to the bedrooms. Dalton and I split up, and I took the first room on the right. All I found were a twin bed and a dresser. The drawers had been pulled out, but they were empty. The closet was bare. Shining my flashlight around the room, I noticed a box under the bed. I pulled it out and found items from Cowell’s childhood, probably mementoes kept by his mother.

Next down the hall was a small bathroom. A few toiletries littered the floor. The next door led into a larger bedroom with a full bed and two dressers. Again, the room was bare, with the exception of a sixties wedding photo.

Through the last door across the hall I found another small bedroom, but this one had been used recently. Sheets and a blanket had been stripped from the mattress, and clothes were scattered around the room. Dalton was sitting at the desk in the far corner, going through the drawers.

He glanced up when I came into the room. “Did you find anything?”

“The other two bedrooms were empty. What have you found?”

“Not much. Cowell wasn’t a hoarder, that’s for sure.”

“Well, he was a priest for twenty years, he probably wasn’t too materialistic.”

Dalton stood up. “There’s nothing in this desk, either. Why do you think he was staying in this small room instead of the master?”

“I think this was his childhood home. Maybe he didn’t think it was right to stay in his parents’ bedroom.”

“Well, I can’t believe he wouldn’t have something stashed here.”

“Maybe the cops already took it as evidence?”

“No, I checked the inventory list. They took very little from here. They’re as confused as we are. They did dust for prints to see if they could figure out if the killer grabbed him here.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think whoever tortured Cowell didn’t get what they needed from him and hoped to find it here.”

“Yeah, but where would it be? Wait, maybe he had a secret hiding place.”

“What?”

“When you were a kid, didn’t you have a secret hiding place in your bedroom? You know, somewhere you could hide your treasures?”

“Under my mattress.”

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t think he could see me in the dark. “Not the most creative place, Dalton. Please tell me you didn’t stick your Playboys there. Your grandma knew for sure about those.”

“I didn’t keep Playboys in my room.”

“Of course not.” I decided to let it drop. “I think the other small bedroom was his childhood room. I’m going to go check the floorboards and the heating ducts in there. You check in here.”

I walked back to the first bedroom, and was crawling around knocking on the wood floor hoping for a loose floorboard when Jean Luc walked in.

“The rest of the house is pretty empty.”

“I’m looking for a secret hiding place.”

Jean Luc nodded and joined the hunt. I loved a male who didn’t ask questions. After a few more minutes, I found a loose baseboard. “Jean Luc.”

He was there in a flash, helping me pry it off. There was a space between the wall and the floor, and I reached in and touched a thin book. Pulling it out and opening it, I aimed my flashlight on the page. It was a drawing of a demon. Quickly flipping through, I found more pictures and writing.

Dalton walked into the room as Jean Luc helped me to my feet.

“I didn’t find anything in the other room.”

“We did. Let’s get out of here before someone notices us.”

As if in answer to my statement, all of our cell phones beeped. It was a text from Misha.
Cops R here.

Jean Luc spoke first. “You hide, I will distract them.”

“But, Jean—” Before I could get the rest of the words out, Jean Luc grabbed me around my middle and I was riding an invisible wave of speed. Within seconds, I came to a halt. My knees were knocking as my stomach tried to catch up to the rest of my body. My flashlight had been turned off and placed in my pocket. In an instant he was gone again. I groped around, trying to decipher where I was and touched an empty coat hanger.
A closet.

In the next second there was a whoosh of air and Dalton was plastered against me. Jean Luc shut the door, closing us in the closet. “Be quiet. I am going to create a diversion.”

I stood there in shock for several reasons. One, Jean Luc had never used his super speed on me before. Two, it was pitch dark and the cops were right outside the door. And three, I was pressed up against Dalton, and it was more than pleasant.

My heart raced and my legs were still unsteady from my
faster-than-the-speed-of-light
trip across the room. I trembled a little and gripped the book harder. Dalton reached around me, placing his hand on the small of my back to steady me. I wanted to see his face, but it was pitch dark. I took a couple of deep breaths, which in hindsight was not a good idea, since it filled my lungs with Dalton’s scent and pressed my breasts up against his chest.

My earlier observation was correct. He was rock solid. Before I could embarrass myself further by rubbing against him like a cat, shouting from outside stopped me.

“Stop! Police!”

Footsteps pounded and then the police car took off after Jean Luc, sirens blaring.

Dalton and I stood there for a second longer before he spoke. “We’d better move. They’ll call in backup to help with the chase and come check the house.”

“Let’s go, then,” I replied, my voice sounding strained to my own ears.

Dalton opened the door and reached for my hand, linking our fingers. We walked through the dark house carefully, not daring to turn on our flashlights. Once out the back door, we dashed across the yard and through the trees to the next street.

Misha waited for us in the van. As we piled in, he started the engine. “Glad to see you two. We have to go meet Jean Luc a couple of streets over. He called me a minute ago.” He pulled away from the curb. “This whole night reminds me of a
Mission Impossible
episode.”

When Misha began to hum the theme song, my normal reaction would have been to reach up and smack the back of his head, but my hand was still warm from Dalton’s touch earlier. Misha could sing all he wanted to.

Five minutes later, we pulled up in front of an all-night laundromat. Jean Luc jumped into the passenger seat, much to my surprise, and Misha’s. “I want to read the book while you drive.”

I handed it to him and he paged through it. After a couple of minutes, my lack of patience got the better of me. “What’s in it?”

“Drawings of various demons. I recognize some of them. Misha can take a look at this back at the office. Cowell’s notes are in Latin and, unfortunately, I am a bit rusty, so I will need to do some research before I can translate it for you. As far as I can tell, the main themes are heaven, hell and damnation.”

Once we were back in the office, Jean Luc and Misha got to work on the book right away. Dalton volunteered to take me home.

We rode in silence, although inside my body was hopping around like a demented bunny rabbit. I hadn’t had a good adrenaline rush in a while. It still surged through me, and being this close to Dalton wasn’t helping it to calm down. He, on the other hand, seemed to be cool as a cucumber. Why couldn’t I control my emotions that well? As the silence continued, memories of the closet and Dalton’s body pressed against mine invaded my thoughts. So much for trying to calm myself down.

Pulling in front of my building, Dalton double parked and got out, walking around to my side. He opened the door and I stepped out. Escorting me to my building, he stood there for a moment outside the door.