The Soul Catcher (64 page)

T
ully tried to blend into the crowd. It took him a minute to pick out the plainclothes agents from the Cleveland field office. They were scattered throughout the park. If Everett expected to find the place crawling with men in black, he wouldn’t be able to pick them out. All of them were in place, and they were ready. Tully knew most of the agents, though he could hardly recognize them in their ordinary, everyday disguises. He had worked with this group on plenty of cases before his transfer to the District. In fact, it felt comfortable being back home.

He looked for Racine and spotted her close to the rest rooms at the back exit of the park. He had to admit, in her baseball cap, worn blue jeans, a borrowed Cleveland Indians T-shirt and her leather bomber jacket, she looked like one of the locals, checking out the pavilion’s excitement. No one probably even noticed her mumbling into the cuff of her jacket or the bulge at the back of her waistband. Whatever O’Dell’s misgivings about Racine, the detective was doing a hell of a job. Maybe it was simply the threat of suspension or possible demotion. Chief Henderson was still adamant about a discipline review board. Perhaps Racine was trying to make up for past mistakes. Whatever it was, Tully didn’t care. The important thing was that she not screw this up.

The prayer rally had started without Reverend Everett, but according to Stephen Caldwell, the good reverend would be here anytime now. Although none of them had seen Everett or even Caldwell, for that matter. In the meantime, a beautiful black woman in a purple choir robe had the crowd stomping, clapping and singing at the top of their lungs. Tully could barely hear the other agents, checking in. He tapped his earpiece just to make sure it was functioning properly.

“Tully,” he heard Racine whisper in his right ear. “Any sign of him?”

“No, not yet.” He glanced around just to make certain no one noticed he was talking to himself. “But it’s early. Any sign of Garrison?”

There was a buzz, then, “I thought I saw him when we first got here. Not sure if it was him, though.”

“Keep an eye out for him. He can probably lead us to the action.”

Just then, he noticed the kid, the tall redhead, going up the hill on the opposite side from him. He had a girl with him, a girl with long blond hair. Immediately, he was reminded of Emma.

“Here we go,” he said into his cuff. “Southeast end of the pavilion, headed for the trees on the hill. I’m going up. I’ll wait for backup.”

He glanced over at Racine, who seemed distracted, looking in the opposite direction toward the rest rooms.

“Is everyone clear?” Tully whispered to all the agents but meant it for Racine.

Hers was the only voice he didn’t hear check in. And now he couldn’t see where she went. Damn it! What the hell was she up to? He didn’t have time to rein her in. The kid, Brandon, was already leading his next victim up into the trees. Tully squeezed through the crowd, not taking his eyes off the pair. He remained so focused that he practically slammed into an attractive blond woman without stopping. It wasn’t until she grabbed his elbow that he turned back.

“R.J. What in the world are you doing here?”

“Caroline?”

Then Tully saw Emma and his stomach began to knot.

“What are you doing in Cleveland?” his ex-wife demanded.

“I’m here on business,” he said quietly, trying not to draw attention. Caroline’s face already sprouted lines of anger. Yet, all Tully could think about was getting his daughter as far the hell away from this park as he could.

“I just can’t believe you’d pull a stunt like this,” Caroline was saying now, but she was looking at Emma instead of him. “So is this the reason you wanted to come here tonight, because you knew your father would be here?”

Tully looked at Emma, and her face went red. He could be dense sometimes, but evidently, he knew his daughter better than her mother did. He knew Emma was here because of the athletic-looking young man beside her. The young man whose eyes had been darting around everywhere as if he wanted to be anyplace but here.

“Please, Caroline,” he tried again, taking her by the elbow to lead her away from the crowd.

“You two think this is funny?”

“No, not at all.” He kept his voice as calm as he could while trying to yell over the noise. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Yeah, Mom, you’re really embarrassing me.”

Tully glanced around, looking to see if anyone was watching them. But everyone seemed fixated on the stage. His eyes scanned the area, and suddenly he could no longer see Brandon or the girl. Jesus! It was happening.

He couldn’t use his mike or Caroline would really blow his cover. Instead, he turned back to Emma and the young man, meeting the boy’s eyes and addressing him more than Emma.

“Please, get out of this area now.”

Then he left them, ignoring the new list of names Caroline called him in front of their daughter. He pushed through the crowd, whispering into his cuff to the others, letting them know what he was doing and trying to find out what the hell Racine was doing.

Again, she was the only one not to respond.

T
ully tried to blend into the crowd. It took him a minute to pick out the plainclothes agents from the Cleveland field office. They were scattered throughout the park. If Everett expected to find the place crawling with men in black, he wouldn’t be able to pick them out. All of them were in place, and they were ready. Tully knew most of the agents, though he could hardly recognize them in their ordinary, everyday disguises. He had worked with this group on plenty of cases before his transfer to the District. In fact, it felt comfortable being back home.

He looked for Racine and spotted her close to the rest rooms at the back exit of the park. He had to admit, in her baseball cap, worn blue jeans, a borrowed Cleveland Indians T-shirt and her leather bomber jacket, she looked like one of the locals, checking out the pavilion’s excitement. No one probably even noticed her mumbling into the cuff of her jacket or the bulge at the back of her waistband. Whatever O’Dell’s misgivings about Racine, the detective was doing a hell of a job. Maybe it was simply the threat of suspension or possible demotion. Chief Henderson was still adamant about a discipline review board. Perhaps Racine was trying to make up for past mistakes. Whatever it was, Tully didn’t care. The important thing was that she not screw this up.

The prayer rally had started without Reverend Everett, but according to Stephen Caldwell, the good reverend would be here anytime now. Although none of them had seen Everett or even Caldwell, for that matter. In the meantime, a beautiful black woman in a purple choir robe had the crowd stomping, clapping and singing at the top of their lungs. Tully could barely hear the other agents, checking in. He tapped his earpiece just to make sure it was functioning properly.

“Tully,” he heard Racine whisper in his right ear. “Any sign of him?”

“No, not yet.” He glanced around just to make certain no one noticed he was talking to himself. “But it’s early. Any sign of Garrison?”

There was a buzz, then, “I thought I saw him when we first got here. Not sure if it was him, though.”

“Keep an eye out for him. He can probably lead us to the action.”

Just then, he noticed the kid, the tall redhead, going up the hill on the opposite side from him. He had a girl with him, a girl with long blond hair. Immediately, he was reminded of Emma.

“Here we go,” he said into his cuff. “Southeast end of the pavilion, headed for the trees on the hill. I’m going up. I’ll wait for backup.”

He glanced over at Racine, who seemed distracted, looking in the opposite direction toward the rest rooms.

“Is everyone clear?” Tully whispered to all the agents but meant it for Racine.

Hers was the only voice he didn’t hear check in. And now he couldn’t see where she went. Damn it! What the hell was she up to? He didn’t have time to rein her in. The kid, Brandon, was already leading his next victim up into the trees. Tully squeezed through the crowd, not taking his eyes off the pair. He remained so focused that he practically slammed into an attractive blond woman without stopping. It wasn’t until she grabbed his elbow that he turned back.

“R.J. What in the world are you doing here?”

“Caroline?”

Then Tully saw Emma and his stomach began to knot.

“What are you doing in Cleveland?” his ex-wife demanded.

“I’m here on business,” he said quietly, trying not to draw attention. Caroline’s face already sprouted lines of anger. Yet, all Tully could think about was getting his daughter as far the hell away from this park as he could.

“I just can’t believe you’d pull a stunt like this,” Caroline was saying now, but she was looking at Emma instead of him. “So is this the reason you wanted to come here tonight, because you knew your father would be here?”

Tully looked at Emma, and her face went red. He could be dense sometimes, but evidently, he knew his daughter better than her mother did. He knew Emma was here because of the athletic-looking young man beside her. The young man whose eyes had been darting around everywhere as if he wanted to be anyplace but here.

“Please, Caroline,” he tried again, taking her by the elbow to lead her away from the crowd.

“You two think this is funny?”

“No, not at all.” He kept his voice as calm as he could while trying to yell over the noise. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Yeah, Mom, you’re really embarrassing me.”

Tully glanced around, looking to see if anyone was watching them. But everyone seemed fixated on the stage. His eyes scanned the area, and suddenly he could no longer see Brandon or the girl. Jesus! It was happening.

He couldn’t use his mike or Caroline would really blow his cover. Instead, he turned back to Emma and the young man, meeting the boy’s eyes and addressing him more than Emma.

“Please, get out of this area now.”

Then he left them, ignoring the new list of names Caroline called him in front of their daughter. He pushed through the crowd, whispering into his cuff to the others, letting them know what he was doing and trying to find out what the hell Racine was doing.

Again, she was the only one not to respond.

K
athleen checked all the bathroom stalls. Good. The place was empty. She wished she could lock the door. But there was no lock on the inside. No chair to shove against the handle. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. She could hear the rally had already begun. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be interrupted.

She starting filling one of the sinks with lukewarm water. The water kept stopping. One of those conservation faucets. Damn it! At this rate, it would take forever. She punched the “on” faucet again and laid out paper towels on the counter. Silly, really. Why would she need paper towels?

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the razor blade she had confiscated from Reverend Everett’s hotel bathroom, a real razor with a real metal blade. Her fingers shook as she tried to pop the blade out of the razor. It took several attempts. Why couldn’t she keep her fingers from shaking? This was ridiculous. It wasn’t like it was her first time.

Finally!

She laid the blade carefully, almost reverently, on one of the paper towels. The stupid water had shut off again. Another punch. The sink would never fill at this rate. Maybe she didn’t need it to. Maybe she didn’t care whether it hurt or not. Maybe she just didn’t care anymore about anything.

She glanced around the bathroom and stopped when she saw her reflection in the mirror, meeting her own eyes, almost afraid to look too closely. She didn’t want to see the betrayal, the accusations, the guilt or even the failure. Because this time she had tried to make things work. She really had. She had stopped drinking. She thought she had found some sense of direction, some sense of self-respect. But she was wrong. She had even tried telling Maggie the truth, the painful truth that made her own daughter only hate her more. There was nothing left.

She picked up the razor between her thumb and index finger just as the bathroom door opened.

The young woman stopped when she saw Kathleen, letting the door slam shut behind her. She wore a baseball cap over short blond hair and a leather bomber jacket with blue jeans and old scuffed boots. She stood exactly where she stopped, staring at Kathleen and recognizing the object in her hand. But the woman didn’t look surprised or alarmed. Instead, she smiled and said, “You’re Kathleen O’Dell, aren’t you?”

Kathleen’s heart began pounding, but she didn’t move. She tried to place the young woman. She wasn’t a member of the church.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, stepping forward, then stopping abruptly when Kathleen shifted. “We’ve never met before.” She kept her voice friendly and calm despite her eyes which kept darting to the razor blade in Kathleen’s hand. “I’m Julia Racine. I know your daughter, Maggie. I can see the resemblance.” She smiled again. “She has your eyes.”

Kathleen felt the panic twisting in her stomach. Damn it! Why couldn’t they all just go away and leave her. She gripped the blade tighter, felt it against her wrist, the sharp edge promising such warm silence, promising to shut off the throbbing in her head and plug up the hollow place deep inside her.

“Is Maggie here?” she asked, glancing at the door, almost expecting her daughter to come barging in to rescue her once again. Always the savior, pulling her up out of the darkness, even when Kathleen wanted, needed, longed for the darkness.

“No. Maggie’s not here. She’s back in the District.” The woman, this Julia, looked unsure of herself now. Like maybe she shouldn’t have told a truth when a lie would have sufficed. “You know I never got a chance to know my mother,” she said, changing the subject quickly, but with such a smooth, steady voice that Kathleen didn’t mind. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what the woman was doing. But she was better at it than most. Almost as if she had some experience with talking people down off ledges.

Is that what she was doing? Trying to talk her off this ledge? It only worked if the person wanted to be talked down. Kathleen glanced at her wrist and could see blood dripping where she had started to cut. She hadn’t realized she had done that. She certainly hadn’t felt it. It surprised her that it didn’t hurt. Was that a good sign? That it didn’t hurt? When she looked back up she saw the woman had noticed, too, and before Julia Racine could snap back to her professional calm, Kathleen caught a glimpse of something else in the woman’s eyes. Something…maybe doubt, maybe fear. So she wasn’t as cool and calm as she pretended.

“My mom,” the woman continued, “died when I was a little girl. I remember things, you know, pieces of things, really. Like the scent of lavender. I guess it was her favorite perfume. Oh, and her humming. Sometimes I can hear her humming to me. But I never recognize the tune. It’s soothing, though. Kinda like a lullaby.”

She was rambling but still calm. It was distracting and Kathleen knew that was part of the game. It was a game, after all, wasn’t it?

“You know, Maggie’s really concerned about you, Kathleen.”

She stared at her, but the blue eyes were strong, unflinching, no longer playing or maybe just very good at lying.

“She’s so angry with me,” Kathleen found herself saying without really meaning to.

“Just because we get angry with people we love, it doesn’t mean we want them gone forever.”

“She doesn’t love me.” She said this with almost a laugh, as if letting this Racine woman know that she could see through her lies.

“You are her
mother.
How could she not love you?”

“I’ve made it very easy. Believe me.”

“Okay, so she’s angry with you.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Okay, sometimes she doesn’t even like you very much. Right?”

Now Kathleen did laugh and nodded.

Julia Racine remained serious and said, “It doesn’t mean she wants you gone forever.”

When it looked like that sentimental stuff wouldn’t work, the young woman smiled and added, “Look, Mrs. O’Dell, I’m already in a shitload of trouble with your daughter. How ’bout giving me a break?”