Satan’s Lambs (16 page)

“Judith, do I look okay?” Lena tucked her shift in and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Your hair's fine, leave it alone. Unbutton the first two buttons of your shirt.”

“
Judith
. Listen.” Lena fiddled with her buttons. “I'm having trouble with … I think it's body language, Judith. I want to be saying yes, but I think he's getting no. What I have to figure out is whether he's
getting
no, or
telling
me no.”

“Stick to cleavage, Lena.”

“It's the fuzz.” Rick came back into the kitchen. “Lena, babe, you're coming apart at the seams.”

Mendez paused in the doorway. His tie was loose, his hair rumpled. Lena stood up.

“Joel. Come in. You know Judith Barnes?”

Judith leaned toward him and offered a hand. “Hello.”

“Get you a beer?” Rick said. “There's pizza if you're hungry.”

“Thanks.”

Lena guided Mendez to the chair beside her. “You okay?”

He nodded. His face was tight with exhaustion.

“Give me a plate, Rick,” Lena said.

“Sure, hon. Just like old times, you giving me orders.”

“You weren't such a big help back then.”

“So, Sergeant Mendez.” Rick put a plate on the table. “Where do we go to report a stolen light bulb?”

“A what?”

“Somebody took the light bulb out of the socket on the front porch.”

Mendez looked at Lena.

She shrugged. “I know I had the light on when I left. Somebody took it out of the socket.”

“And we know who that somebody is,” Rick said. “So what you going to do about it?”

“Such as?”

“Can't you dust for
prints
or something?”

“Shut up, Rick,” Lena said. “What's the point?”

“And what about all those messages he left on your answering machine? Surely that proves something.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, “Intent to sing.”

“With a voice like his, honey—”

“Nice to meet you.” Judith leaned across the table and shook hands again with Mendez. “Come on, Ricky, it's time to go home.”

“What's the hurry? I want another piece of pizza. You want another—”

“Come
on
, Ricky.”

“Take the cat,” said Mendez.

“Be glad to,” said Judith. She snatched Maynard off Lena's lap and tucked him gently into the carrier. “'Bye, Lena. Be sure and call if you need anything.”

“'Bye, Judith.”

Lena and Mendez were silent until the front door opened and closed.

“Come home with me tonight,” Mendez said.

26

Mendez lived on the north end of town in a neighborhood that had hit bottom, but was bouncing back. His apartment was on the third floor of an old house that had been subdivided. Lena followed him up a black metal staircase that ran alongside the house.

Mendez went in first, turning on lights.

The wooden floor of the great room was dark with age and glistening with polish. On the right was a stone hearth and fireplace; straight ahead, windows shuttered against the night. A worn love seat and a rocking chair faced the fireplace. Behind the couch, against the outside wall, was a massive, scarred oak desk, flanked by old wooden file cabinets. A horseshoe of counters set off the kitchen, and a short length of hall led from the left.

“Coffee?” Mendez asked.

“Sure.” Lena peered through the wooden slats of the miniblinds. The sky was black, speckled with the lights of downtown. “How'd it go in Knoxville?”

Mendez put coffee beans in a grinder. “They found the hubcap.”

“Yeah? Nothing else?”

“No.”

“But you were looking.”

“Yes.”

“Enlarge on that, Joel. What
did
you find?”

“Found a family of four, living in the dump. Mother, two kids, and a baby.”

Mendez ran water, and the coffeemaker bubbled. Lena took a deep breath. “That smells good.”

“Be ready in a minute.”

Lena sat in the rocking chair. It was old, mahogany, and it made a comforting creak when she rocked. Something moved on the arm of the chair.

“What
is
this?” Lena narrowed her eyes. A lizard wandered onto her wrist and stared at her, its left eye rolling in a complete circle.
“Mendez.”

He came over with a cup of coffee. “Garcia? What are you doing out?”

“He's a resident, I take it. Get him off me, okay?”

Mendez picked the lizard up. “He won't hurt you.”

“This is your pet?”

“Garcia. A Senegal chameleon. Stroke his back.”

Lena touched the lizard. It was soft and dry, like suede. The lizard's eyes closed, but his sides heaved with the quickness of his breath.

“He's scared,” Mendez said. “I'll put him up.”

Lena followed Mendez to the bookshelves that lined the wall behind the desk. On the bottom shelf was a glass terrarium, with a water bowl and a few dry branches. Mendez opened the lid and put Garcia inside.

“There are bugs in there,” Lena said.

“Crickets. That's what he eats.”

“How come they're hanging out on that rock? Why don't they hide?”

“It's a hot rock,” Mendez said, pointing to a cord that ran from the bottom. “It's the big social spot. They hang out there all night.”

“You have to go and catch them?”

Mendez grinned. “I buy them at the pet store. Eight cents apiece.”

“That's cute, Mendez. That my coffee over there?”

“Yes.”

Lena went back to the rocking chair, and held her mug with both hands. The coffee was very good. Mendez raised the blinds and turned off the lights.

“It's kind of like being in a planetarium,” Lena said. She looked at the array of city lights in darkness. She could hear Mendez moving around, settling on the couch. She pictured him sitting here at night, thinking through his cases.

“You were supposed to sit on the couch,” Mendez said.

“Why, this your favorite chair?”

“For reasons of seduction.”

“I can move.”

“I'll manage.”

She could track him moving in the darkness. He squatted in front of her chair and took her hands.

She pulled them away. “It's not good to be too happy, Joel. People can take it away from you.”

He pressed his hands on her thighs and the rocking chair tipped forward. “There are no ghosts here, Lena.” He leaned close and kissed her.

Lena sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. He loosened his tie and eased it out of the collar. Lena slid her hands under his shirt and across the warm flesh of his back, scratching lightly with her fingernails.

He whispered her name. He unbuttoned her shirt, then reached up underneath to unhook the catch of her bra.

Lena tilted her head sideways and looked at him. “Can we really do it in a rocking chair?”

He stood up and took off his shirt, undid his pants, stripped. He was solid, compactly built, and she ran her fingernails across his belly to his hip, then down the side of his leg to his thighs.

He bent down and unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse, and pulled it away from her arms. Her bra sagged loose and she took it off, letting it drop to the floor.

“You aren't going to run away this time?” he said.

“No.”

He pulled her close and kissed her, unfastening her jeans, pushing them down her legs. She moved away.

“Shoes,” she said, stumbling, off-balance. He knelt down and unlaced her tennis shoes, fingers precise and competent, the laces whipping from the closures. She took off her shoes and socks and jeans, letting them heap at the front of the chair. He shoved them aside, and held her again, his hands running along the top of her panties. He hooked a thumb under the elastic and eased the panties over her hips.

“Sit down,” he said, pressing her into the chair. He pulled her forward to the edge, and knelt in front of her. “This is how it's done.”

“You're not sleeping.”

“Strange house, strange bed,” Lena said.

Mendez rolled to his side and scratched her back. “Strange man.”

“I like your house,” Lena said. “I like your bed.”

“Anything else you like?”

“I've been mad at you a whole long time, Mendez.”

He kissed the back of her neck, pressing his body into hers. “Are you still mad at me?”

“You know that time I told you all that stuff about my house? How it was my family's place, and I got my strength there?” She rolled onto her back. “It's not true. Hayes took all the good things, the good years of growing up. It's all overlaid. One bad night, Joel. One bad night can kill years of good memories. And they can come and get you anytime.”

“Who are ‘they,' Lena?”

She was sleepy. “I like your house better than mine.”

“You're welcome anytime.”

“Joel, what if we never find Charlie? What if we
never
know what happened to him?”

“Lena.”

“Hmmm? Don't stop, that feels good.”

“We've had developments.”

She opened her eyes. “You said you
didn't
find a body.”

“I think we have the shooter. Valetta's killer.”

“Mendez, that's
good
. Isn't it?”

“He's a high school kid, from Louisville.”

“A
high school
kid? How'd you find him?”

Mendez rolled onto his back. Lena turned her head so she could see him.

“He talked about it when he got back to school. Told all his friends, and word got around. One of the parents called the police. Since it had that old cult flavor, it hit the desk of a Detective Casey. She's the Louisville ghostbuster. She called Knoxville last night.”

“Are they sure this kid did it?”

“They have the gun, the car, and a confession. Hackburton is going up tomorrow to get a match on the hubcap.”

“Why'd he do it? Why'd he talk about it?”

“It's stupid, but not out of line. The kids that get into this stuff, working cult crime for an adult group, they're easy to catch. For exactly that reason. They brag about it at school. Don't destroy the evidence. They have the ultimate protection, the devil on their side. And when they get arrested, and it all falls apart, they're children again and they go to pieces.”

Lena took Mendez's face between her hands, and made him look at her, not the ceiling. “Why did he do it?”

“That he won't say. They have to go easy, he's a juvenile. Seventeen. They may try him as an adult, or go after bigger fish.”

“Somebody put him up to it.”

“Casey thinks so. I agree. So does Hackburton.”

“But the kid won't say who?”

“No.”

“Does he know anything about Charlie?”

“I don't know. I'm going up to talk to Casey tomorrow. We've filled her in. She's doing what she can.”

“Can I go with you tomorrow?”

“I ought to say no.”

“You won't.” Lena smoothed hair out of his eyes. “What does this mean, then, for Charlie?” She propped her chin on her fist. “You think this kid is involved with Hayes somehow?”

“I'm not sure. I think they're connected to the same people. I think Hayes and Archie were deeply involved with the top hierarchy of a hard-core, generational, satanist cult—based somewhere in the area where Jeff Hayes grew up. And I think Hayes has tried to get back in a position of leadership. And that Valetta wanted to skim off some blackmail money, and got killed for his trouble. He was looking for a stake when he got out of jail. He didn't get it from Eloise, so he tried to burn off some quick cash from the cult.”

“Poor little Charlie. Right smack in the middle.”

“It's always the kids in the cross fire.” Mendez was quiet a moment. “One of two things has likely happened, Lena. Archie killed him, and we haven't found the body. Or he got taken up by the cult.”

Lena rolled sideways and stared at the wall.

“Hackburton is watching the clinic in Knoxville,” Mendez said. “There must be some reason Archie went there, instead of somewhere else.”

“You think somebody there is part of this cult?”

“Consider the sequence. Archie goes straight to the clinic. Hours later, he has a meet. And then he gets killed—thirteen bullets and sacrificial mutilations. I think there's no doubt of a connection. Hackburton is checking out that doctor, taking down plate numbers of patients and employees. And we may get more from this boy who killed Valetta.”

Lena put her hands over her eyes. “Which is worse, Joel? That Charlie is dead? Or that he's in the hands of this cult?”

Mendez didn't answer.

27

The lion blinked and smiled benevolently across the deep pit that separated him from his admirers. There were almost no visitors at the Louisville Zoo—it was midweek, lunchtime, off-season. But the weather was cool, and the animals were alert and amorous.

“He can jump over that pit anytime he wants,” Lena said.

She and Mendez sat side by side on a stone wall. Mendez looked at the lion and nodded.

The tap-tap of heels caught their attention. A woman approached, smiling but wary. She was slender and tall, and wore black flats, a navy skirt, and a soft wool jacket. Her hair was short, blond, and curly.

Mendez stood up. “Detective Casey?”

She shook his hand. “Anita.”

“Joel Mendez. This is Lena Padget. She's private. From Lexington.”

Casey frowned slightly. “I see.”

“She's okay.” Mendez held up a grease-spotted paper bag. “Chili from Ralph's.”

Casey grinned. “Who set this up?”

Mendez smiled. “Clint Rosenburg told me that if I wanted a minute of your time, I should get you a quart of chili from Ralph's and offer to meet you at the zoo.”