Touching the Past (10 page)

“Very,” Mallory whispered under her breath as they walked away. She had to concentrate on moving at a reasonable pace. She wanted to run. Run away from Jerry Herkel and the visions he’d invoked. She put her hand over Zac’s to steady herself and felt his slight start of surprise. She caught his sideways glance and nodded. “It’s him.”

Chapter 11

Mallory had given Zac his suspect.

Finally. After all these weeks. Somebody. And he would get him. Oh, yeah. He’d get the bastard who had brought so much misery to the Kennedys, Yeuns, and Gersons. And he’d make sure Herkel paid for it to the full extent of the law.

It had never occurred to him to doubt Mallory. He’d seen her face after the reading. Her eyes had been—

A chill touched his spine as he remembered how they’d looked. The shadows in them reminded him of the shadows in the eyes of men in his unit in Iraq. During the days when they’d been trying to clean out insurgents. When you never knew if the man next to you—or you yourself—would make it back to the base.

It had hurt him to see that shadow in Mallory’s eyes. It’d been an actual physical pain in his heart. He’d wanted to wipe the shadow away. Erase it and the things that had caused it. He wanted Mallory happy and safe.

He pushed the memories away with an effort. He couldn’t think about that now. He had work to do. Beth and the others to find. A nutcase to catch.

He hadn’t pinged on Herkel. The sense that warned him of something off hadn’t reacted at all. That happened. Rarely. Even the most experienced officer sometimes missed one. It wasn’t good. No one liked it. And the guilt over failing never entirely went away. But it happened.

He’d watched the older man discount him and fasten on Mallory at the psychic fair. That was fine. It was the way Zac wanted it.

Herkel was good. He inventoried Mallory without seeming to give her more than a casual glance. His gaze moved over her, checking for rings, mentally pricing her wardrobe, and estimating her economic status. Then his question, gauging whether she knew anything about tarot cards. It had been very innocent sounding and very slick. If Herkel wasn’t the kidnapper, he was a con man of some sort. Zac was so busy professionally admiring the other man’s style, he almost missed the way Mallory slipped Beth Kennedy’s name in.

He’d repressed a start and quickly looked for any reaction from Herkel. It seemed to Zac that the other man went extra still for a beat, the way a wary deer in the hunter’s sights did, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure. Even if he had been, it wasn’t something that could be used as evidence.

The reading interested him. What little he knew about tarot cards and their meanings came from the kiddie horror novels he’d skimmed back in elementary school. He couldn’t tell whether Herkel knew what he was talking about or if he was making it up as he went along.

It wasn’t an upbeat reading. Not like the horoscope and palm reading sessions he’d been through. Those might have said he was stressed, worried, and confused, but they’d all offered an out. A “the moon coming into Jupiter will bring good fortune” kind of thing. Herkel wasn’t doing that. In fact the whole reading seemed designed to make the hearer depressed. “Your plan will fail” had an ominous ring to it. Especially in the context of the investigation, though, of course, Herkel didn’t know about that. At his side Mallory tensed. Zac glanced at her from beneath lowered lashes. She wasn’t taking this seriously, was she?

“That reading Herkel did,” he asked her now.

“Yes?” Mallory looked up. She was curled in his easy chair, holding a cup of coffee in her hands. He’d made her the promised cup of dark roast as soon as he got her through the door. It was his one culinary talent—making coffee—and she’d looked like she needed it. He’d thought of taking her home after she told him about Herkel, but dismissed it almost immediately for two reasons. One, she didn’t look like she should be alone, and, two, he didn’t want to delay looking into Herkel. He couldn’t get a warrant to search the man’s property—yet—but he could treat Mallory’s information just like any other tip and begin an investigation. He’d log in to the city database and look into Herkel’s financials and property records. Tomorrow he’d start questioning neighbors and associates.

“Was it accurate?” Zac noticed her color was better and the tense set of her mouth had relaxed.

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment before answering. “The cards could be interpreted the way he read them. He used secondary meanings for some of them. That changed the overall reading. I’d have to look up each card to be sure, though. Why?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Zac wrenched his thoughts back to the present. Mallory gnawing on her lip had vividly reminded him of that kiss in her study and how much he wanted to repeat the experience. Soon. “I was just wondering.” His mind shifted back to the case. “If I had a reading like the one he gave you, I don’t think I’d want to hear another one from him.”

“He did suggest another one might turn out better,” Mallory reminded him.

“He did.” Zac chewed the inside of his cheek. “Maybe that was the line he used to lure them into his vehicle?” Would Beth, a seemingly intelligent woman, or any of the others get in a car with a relative stranger just to hear a better prediction? It didn’t make sense to him, but then he preferred to believe he made his own choices. Not that his life had been pre-ordained. And if Herkel had set them up for a better reading in the future, the way he had Mallory…

“Why does he want them, though? What he’s
doing
to them?”

Zac looked up. Mallory turned the cup in her hand and stared into space. “It’s weird.” She shivered. Her gaze met Zac’s and darted away. “Creepy.”

Zac leaned back against the loveseat, then scooted forward again. The cushion was too firm and resisted his effort to get comfortable. “From what you saw, it doesn’t sound like he’s doing anything to them. He seems to be keeping them.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know.” Zac shook his head. “Organs? White slavery?” He shook his head again. “I...It’s anyone’s guess.” He looked at the multiple open windows on the laptop’s screen.

Jerry Herkel was a local man. He’d been born in Flint, but his family moved to the Tri-City area when he was in his teens. He was the only child of older parents, both of whom were deceased. He’d had an undistinguished academic career, but had gotten into computers and worked as a computer programmer. Five years ago he’d taken early retirement and started to do tarot card readings. He also had some EMT training.

There was no record of his having ever been married or having children. His taxes and bills seemed to be paid on time. There was no record of a complaint ever being filed against him. He hadn’t even gotten a parking or speeding ticket in forty-some years of driving.

Zac stared at the driver’s license photo. Nothing. There was nothing in his face that suggested he was the kind of man who would kidnap three people.

What had made him turn to the occult? Zac couldn’t see anything to account for it in the public record. Herkel was a very ordinary man. But wasn’t there some line about ordinary men leading desperate lives?

On impulse Zac typed the words in.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them. Thoreau.

A chill went down Zac’s spine again. What quiet desperation was driving Herkel? And did he plan to take Beth and the others into the grave with him?

“What’s wrong?”

Zac looked up at the sound of Mallory’s voice. “What?”

She stared at him, a frown etched between her eyes. “You look…” She lifted a hand and waved it. “What did you find?”

Zac didn’t meet her eyes. “Nothing.” He shut the window and moved the cursor to expand another window. “You said you saw metal. Like a shed.”

“Um-hum.” He heard Mallory move. “Did you find something?”

Zac stared at the image in front of him, vaguely aware that Mallory had sat down beside him. “Maybe.” He looked up, then started. Her face was next to his, her gaze focused on the screen. She was so close he could see the sweep of her lashes against her cheek. The part of her lips. Feel the warmth of her body, as her leg pressed against his.

No. Not now. This wasn’t the time. After. After they found Beth and the others. Then—

He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on the computer. “Herkel has a house here in Midland, but his parents had a parcel of land in Jerome Township.” He scanned the lines of the tax records, trying to inch unobtrusively away from her. “It’s never been transferred out of their names, and the taxes are being paid.”

He switched screens, bringing up the satellite view of the area. Jerome Township was a densely wooded area containing, among other things, the Pine Haven Recreational area, farms, and the town of Sanford.

Zac zoomed in on the address of the Herkels’ lot. Next to him, Mallory leaned closer to the screen. “There.” She pointed. “Isn’t that some kind of shed?” She turned to Zac. Her eyes had lost their weary, pained look. They were sparkling. “Could he have them there?”

“Possibly.”

The word was barely out of his mouth before Mallory jumped off the couch. “Let’s go.”

“Hold it.” Zac grabbed her arm. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Mallory looked down, her forehead creased in a confused frown. “Why—”

“First, because I have no legal authority to go on the property and conduct a search.”

“I told—” Zac watched understanding replace frustration. “A psychic image doesn’t count as—what do they call it? Cause?”

“Someone’s been watching
Law and Order
reruns.” Zac’s grin faded as he added more soberly. “I have to be careful how I do this, Mallory. If Herkel has kidnapped Beth and the others, I want him in prison. I don’t want to screw it up.”

“But—” Mallory’s shoulders slumped. She sank back down on the couch, farther away from Zac this time.

He wanted to put his arm around her. Comfort her. He understood how she felt. He’d love to call out SWAT and break down the door of that shed. But they had to do this the right way.

He took her hand and squeezed gently. “A good lawyer and the wrong judge could get any case I make thrown out.” He tried to lighten her mood—and his. “Besides, it’s too dark to go tramping around in the woods.” He nodded toward the picture window behind the couch. Outside, the sun was just about to slip beneath the horizon. Darkening shades of blue filled the sky above it.

“I didn’t realize it was so late.” Mallory pulled free of his loose hold. “I should get home.” She hesitated, obviously remembering she didn’t have her car. “I—”

Zac finished clicking out of the programs and stood. “I’ll take you home. After dinner?” He silently cursed himself. He’d meant to sound authoritative and instead he’d sounded like he was asking a question.

“I…shouldn’t. You have—”

Mallory’s indecision reassured Zac. He took her arm and gently herded her toward the door, grabbing his keys off the stand beside it. “It’s been a long day. We both need something to eat. Then I’ll take you home so you can get some rest. I promise. All right?”

Her mouth quirked up in a half smile as he pulled the door shut behind them. “You don’t seem to be giving me a lot of choice here.”

Zac stopped, releasing her arm. He looked into her face. The last thing he wanted to do was make this woman uncomfortable or unhappy. “Do you really want to go straight home?”

She met his eyes, then dropped her gaze, the smile fading. Her lips trembled before firming. She peeked at him through lowered lashes. “No.” Her voice was soft, but decided. “I’d lo—like to have dinner with you.”

Feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Zac took her arm again. “Good. I’m starved.”

He took her to the Creek Grill. The band was playing something that could have been slow rock or jazz when they walked in. It was loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to make the customers converse at the tops of their lungs.

“You could have ordered something to drink,” Mallory said as the server walked away. “I don’t mind.” She’d ordered water.

Zac shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m not much of a drinker. Diabetes runs in my family, so I try to watch it.”

“You’re diabetic?”

“No.” Zac frowned. His uncle had lost a foot because of diabetes and heart complications and his brother Pat had been in and out of the hospital since high school trying to get his blood sugar stabilized. “And I’d rather not become one, so I try to watch what I eat.”

They avoided discussing Herkel, the kidnappings, or Mallory’s visions. Instead they started with their shared past over Southwest eggroll appetizers.

Mallory wiped a tear of laughter away. “I forgot all about that.” She shook her head, her smile lingering. “I wonder what happened to Craig. He used to do the best Donald Duck impression.” She grinned at Zac. “Generally it was in the middle of biology, but still.”

Zac could have told her. Their old classmate had become an alcoholic, habitually collecting DUIs. But he didn’t want to spoil the moment. Didn’t want to talk about anything that could be connected to work. Anything that would remind her why they were here together. He didn’t want this meal to be about business. He’d spent so many hours poring over the photos and files, trying to find connections. A lead. Now, for the first time in a long time, he was having dinner with an attractive woman. That was all he wanted to think about.

It might be their last time together.

The thought depressed him. She’d helped him because he’d pushed her and she cared. She’d responded to his kiss and kissed him, but that didn’t mean anything. It could have been the moment.

Mentally Zac shook himself. He was giving up without even trying. He wanted to spend more time with Mallory and see where this…this
thing
between them went. Once they found Beth and the others, that’s what he’d do.

“Ummm. That looks good.” Mallory was eying the pulled pork platter the server was setting in front of Zac. “Maybe I should have gotten that instead.”

“I was just thinking that about yours.” Zac nodded at her plate of lobster mac and cheese. The good-sized pieces of lobster were firm and pink-red against the creamy cheese sauce.