[Charlie Rhodes 06.0] The Incubus Impasse Read online

  That was another question I couldn’t answer. I was always afraid of churches in my youth because I was convinced I might turn to ash if I tried to cross the threshold. I watched a lot of movies that only fueled my imagination. I wasn’t keen to test my theory now, but I didn’t want to be cut out of the action, so I would have to suck it up.

  “If anyone can tell us about our dead woman, I’m guessing it’s the people at the church,” I said. “I think that should be our next stop.”

  “Agreed,” Chris said, exhaling heavily as he took another look around the living room. “There’s nothing here. We need help if we’re going to figure this out.”

  “Church it is,” Jack said, pushing himself to a standing position. “I don’t see where it can possibly hurt.”

  “Then let’s go,” Chris prodded. “I’m anxious to find a direction to start looking in.”

  That made two of us.

  Four

  Jack drove the rental car as Chris pored over maps of the area. He was the sort of guy who absolutely loved anything visual. He kept rattling off observations from the passenger seat as I watched the scenery fly by the window. I was looking forward to having a chance to explore later with Jack. For now, I had a job to focus on.

  “It kind of makes sense for the incubus to be transient,” I offered, my mind busy. “I mean ... the murders only started a few weeks ago. Our guy had to be somewhere else before then.”

  “I don’t know,” Jack replied, his eyes bouncing from the GPS unit in the dashboard to the road. “I have a hard time believing a demon needs to work on a ship.”

  “Why not?” I was curious why he believed otherwise. “Even a demon has to find a way to fund his lifestyle.”

  “Can’t he just — I don’t know — snap his fingers and make people bow to his will? Can’t he steal from his victims?”

  “Even paranormal creatures have rules to follow,” Chris countered. I wasn’t even sure he was listening to us until he spoke. “I think if it was easy to steal money, every demon in the free world would do it.”

  “How do you know they’re not?”

  Chris shrugged. “I guess I don’t. But according to the police reports, nothing of value appeared to be missing from any of the homes. That seems to indicate that the murderer was there for a different reason.”

  “Like sex and essence stealing,” I muttered darkly.

  Jack lifted his eyes until they locked with mine in the rearview mirror. “You make sure you stick close to me,” he ordered. “I’m serious.”

  “Yes, Dad,” I said dryly.

  “I agree with Jack,” Chris said. “You resemble all the victims, Charlie. We don’t want to take a chance with one of the most valuable members of our team.”

  I preened under the compliment even as I fought my disgust at being guarded like a prissy princess who couldn’t take care of herself. “I very much doubt an incubus would go after me,” I said after a beat. “He probably has his victims scoped out days or even weeks in advance. I’ll be fine.”

  “You will be fine,” Jack agreed as he pulled onto a one-way street. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

  I remained quiet until he parked in the lot of one of the fanciest churches I’d ever seen. It was huge, the spire jutting high into the sky. The lot was so big I found myself counting spaces as I exited the vehicle and stretched my legs. I wasn’t tall, but the backseat was hardly comfortable.

  “This congregation must be humongous,” I noted as Jack moved to stand by me. His eyes were alert as he scanned the parking lot. “Chill out,” I suggested. “The incubus isn’t going to come for me in a church parking lot in the middle of the day. He attacks at night.”

  “You’re the only one convinced it’s a demon,” Jack argued. “If it’s a bargain-basement serial killer — one who somehow managed to kill without being overt — he very well could attack in the middle of the day. He could also simply be scoping out the church for new victims, and if he sees you he might be intrigued.”

  “I think it’s a demon,” Chris volunteered, winking at me as Jack scowled. “Charlie isn’t the only one.”

  “Sometimes I want to gag you two so you can’t feed off each other,” Jack complained, inclining his head toward the large wooden doors at the front of the church. They were beautifully ornate, to the point they took my breath away. The inlaid stained glass was a work of art. “Let’s see if we can find someone knowledgeable inside.”

  Even though he acted annoyed, Jack made sure to fall to the back of our formation, sandwiching me between him and Chris. I could’ve called him out on his overprotective nature, but he was simply trying to protect me.

  Chris pushed on the heavy doors, which opened with an echoing creak that reminded me of an old Scooby-Doo cartoon. Jack arched an eyebrow, amusement evident when I spared a glance for him, and then prodded me forward.

  The church was immaculate. It was obviously old, probably built in the 1800s if I had to guess, but it had been painstakingly restored. The arched ceiling and pews were carved from polished mahogany. The floor was marble, the grout pristine, and the air was fresh and clear as the overhead ceiling fans did their job.

  “Wow,” I intoned, my voice echoing.

  “It’s pretty fancy,” Jack agreed, his eyes moving to the front of the church, to where a casually dressed man stood. He seemed surprised to find interlopers in his building. “I’m guessing he works here.”

  “That would be my guess, too,” Chris agreed. He plastered a friendly smile on his face — he was ridiculously good with people, strangers and friends alike — and extended his hand as he approached the man. “Hello. I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of the day. I’m sure you have work to do.

  “My name is Chris Briggs and I’m here as part of an investigative group that’s been put together by the city to look into the deaths that have been occurring,” he continued, not pausing even for a breath. “The most recent victim, Savannah Billings, was a member of your congregation. We have some questions.”

  The man, who looked to be in his early thirties, arched an eyebrow. “That was a mouthful,” he said after a moment’s contemplation. “I’m not sure I absorbed everything you said. Give me a moment.”

  “Certainly.” Chris rocked back on his heels and waited.

  After a few more seconds, the man nodded. “Okay, I think I’ve got it. You’ve been brought in to work on the law enforcement task force that’s investigating the serial killer the police believe is hunting in our fair city. Do I have that right?”

  Technically we weren’t involved with the task force — at least not officially — and I was curious if Chris would correct the man. He didn’t.

  “That’s it in a nutshell,” Chris agreed. “We’re with the Legacy Foundation out of Boston. We just arrived today and we’re digging into Savannah’s background because she’s the latest victim. Her ties to this church seem deep, and I was hoping you might have time to answer some questions.”

  That man didn’t look thrilled at the prospect. “I cannot divulge secrets about our parishioners.”

  “Not secrets,” Chris said hurriedly. “It’s more that we’re looking for insight. It’s possible that whoever did this inserted himself into Savannah’s life within the last few weeks. We were hoping you might know if there was any such individual.”

  Instead of immediately responding, the man licked his lips and dragged a hand through his sandy hair. He looked conflicted, as if he was having trouble making up his mind. Finally, he nodded and gestured toward a door at the back of the church. “Come to my office. I’m Samuel Rodriguez, but everyone here calls me Reverend Sam.”

  “You look young to be a reverend,” I noted.

  “I’m thirty-one.” He flashed me a friendly smile. “I grew up in this parish and discovered my calling at a young age. I returned to the church after my schooling, and I don’t foresee ever leaving.”

  “Are you in charge here?” Jack asked.

  Sam shook his he
ad. “I’m second in command, I guess you could say. The head reverend has been here for a number of years.”

  “And who is that?”

  “I’ll introduce you.”

  Since Jack and Chris seemed to be taking the lead, I fell into step with them and studied the church. The adornments on the walls were ornate, so overblown as to be almost garish. I’d never been one for church decorations. Religious icons — it didn’t matter the religion because they were all the same — gave me the willies.

  The office Sam led us into was simpler than the public areas of the church, which allowed me to breathe a little easier. The furniture he directed us to sit in was comfortable. He held up a finger indicating we should wait before disappearing through yet another door.

  “What do you think?” Jack asked in a low voice as we arranged ourselves in the chairs.

  “Churches are freaky,” I automatically answered, frowning at the crucifix on the wall. It looked to be homemade, a regular piece of art, and someone had gone overboard with the blood. “Seriously freaky.”

  He chuckled and patted my knee in a reassuring manner before turning his attention to the opening door. Sam entered, followed by a much older man who wore formal black robes and had snowy white hair. He looked to be in his eighties, and the juxtaposition between the two men was on full display.

  “This is Reverend Alexander Johnson,” Sam offered. “This is his church.”

  “This is the Lord’s church,” Alexander corrected, his sparkplug eyebrows furrowing as he glanced between faces. He didn’t look all that impressed by what he saw, but because he had that “Hey, you kids, get off my lawn” vibe going for him, I didn’t hold it against him. “Reverend Rodriguez says you’re here about Savannah. We heard about her death, of course, and the entire congregation is stunned. We want to help ... within reason.”

  His knees creaked as he took the big chair at the edge of the room. It gave him a position of dominance over the rest of us. That was clearly by design. “You understand that we can’t share personal information about one of our parishioners. That would be breaking faith and that’s something we just won’t do.”

  “We don’t want you to break faith,” Chris assured him. He took a moment to make introductions, something that was uncomfortable for me because Reverend Alexander gave me a long once-over that caused butterflies to flit through my stomach. He had an overbearing presence that made me nervous.

  “We’re here because we’re trying to help,” Jack explained. He was seated next to me but made sure we weren’t touching. I had a feeling he was just as uncomfortable with the religious icons littering the room — which all seemed to be staring at us — as I was. “What’s happening in Charleston right now is a travesty. We want to catch the individual responsible and make sure he’s put behind bars.”

  “It’s not a man,” Alexander shot back. “It’s a devil.”

  I leaned forward, my interest piqued. “What have you heard?”

  “Just what the news is reporting. A man didn’t do this. You know that, right?”

  “You think it was a demon, too.” The statement escaped before I could think better of what I was saying — which was normal for me — and I didn’t miss Jack’s groan as the older reverend shot me a curious look.

  “Men have personal demons they sometimes can’t overcome,” he said finally. “If that’s what you’re talking about, I agree.”

  It wasn’t what I was talking about, but he gave me an easy way out, so I took it. “Personal demons are the worst.”

  Jack shot me a quelling look and shook his head as Chris took over the conversation.

  “We understand that Savannah was a regular here,” he started. “I don’t suppose you saw anyone new in her life, perhaps someone on the perimeter who was always looking in? We’re not necessarily saying the culprit could be a member of your congregation, but it’s likely he would’ve watched her given the time she spent here.”

  “The time she spent here?” The new voice that took over the room was female and I jolted when I realized a third individual had joined us from the back room. The petite brunette, her dark hair sprayed to the point it didn’t as much as flutter despite the strong fan blasting overhead.

  “Gretchen,” Alexander said, shaking his head. There was an admonishment in his tone. “I thought I told you we would handle this.”

  “You did.” Contrition flitted across her face. “I heard the discussion from the office, though, and I finished recording the tithes from last night’s service. I couldn’t stop myself from adding my two cents. I knew Savannah better than you and Reverend Sam combined.” Her tone was pious and she batted her eyelashes when appealing to the older man. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Her demure attitude when talking to Alexander made me uneasy. I glanced at Jack to see if he felt the same way, but his expression was unreadable. If he thought there was anything weird about the interaction, he didn’t show it. I, on the other hand, couldn’t stop myself from squirming. Gretchen was almost being treated like a misbehaving child rather than an autonomous woman, and it was ... well ... weird.

  “This is Gretchen Dunlop,” Sam offered, a tight smile clamping down on his features. “She volunteers her time to work in a secretarial position three days a week.”

  “And I’m here the other four days a week,” Gretchen added. “I know the inner workings of this church better than anyone.”

  Alexander shot her a questioning look.

  “Well, almost anyone,” she conceded. “As for Savannah, while she was in regular attendance here, she was hardly what I call pious.”

  Oh, well, now we were getting somewhere. I was a fairly good judge of character and it was obvious that Gretchen didn’t like Savannah.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Jack said. “Everything we found in her apartment seemed to indicate this church was her life.”

  “And it was,” Sam reassured us. “She was a regular face under this roof. She attended Sunday and Wednesday services, was a member of the adult fellowship group that met every other Thursday, and was a regular participant in the Saturday singles group.”

  The way Gretchen’s lips twisted told me the singles group was the avenue to drive down. “What’s the Saturday singles group?” I asked.

  “It’s an excuse for heathenism,” Gretchen replied before either man could answer.

  Alexander shot her a look that would’ve shriveled the nerves of most ordinary individuals. Gretchen obviously noticed and took a pronounced step back.

  “The singles group is for parishioners who have not yet married,” Sam explained. “Most of our members hope to find love within our group because it’s simply easier. Savannah was one of our most popular members.”

  “Popular?” Gretchen snorted and rolled her eyes. “We all know why that is.”

  Alexander looked to be at the end of his rope as he cleared his throat. “Gretchen, we’re all aware that Savannah was not your favorite person. There’s no reason to speak ill of the dead, though. She was a young woman, in her prime, and there’s a chance she was stolen early by a violent individual. Show some respect.”

  Gretchen had the grace to be abashed. “I’m sorry, Reverend. I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful. I just ... I ... I’m sorry.” She clasped her hands, lowered her eyes, and stared at the floor. “I apologize for speaking out of turn.”

  Okay, that was definitely weird. This time when I glanced at Jack I found his forehead wrinkled. He was obviously picking up on the same strange vibe.

  “You’ll have to forgive Gretchen,” Sam said hurriedly. “She’s a good woman who can occasionally come across as harsh. Her heart is pure. She is dedicated to the Lord.

  “As for Savannah, her path was a bit ... rockier,” he continued, holding Alexander’s gaze long enough to get a nod from the older man. It was obviously a silent acknowledgment that he should continue. “She was a true believer. That was never in doubt. She didn’t always live the life, though.”


  “I’m not sure what that means,” Chris hedged.

  “She was a partier,” Gretchen sputtered before either reverend could respond. “She went out to clubs all the time. That strip of down-and-dirty clubs near the port in the downtown area? She was there at least twice a week, and we know the sort of filth that occurs there.”

  I pressed my lips together and fought to maintain an even expression. I wanted to laugh, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well. Instead, I folded my hands on my lap and let Jack and Chris run the conversation. Anything I said was bound to come out as accusatory ... and maybe a little angry. That wouldn’t help our cause.

  “I don’t suppose you have the name of those bars?” Jack asked.

  Gretchen nodded as Sam let loose a world-weary sigh.

  “We can get you the names of the bars,” Sam answered. “That’s hardly a secret; nor was Savannah’s regular attendance at the establishments. However, there’s not much else we can help you with.”

  It was a dismissal, cold and to the point.

  “That’s fine,” Chris said, his smile never wavering. “You’ve been a great deal of help. We really appreciate it.”

  I wasn’t sure how much help they were, but I was eager to get out of the church. “Yes, thank you for your time,” I said when I finally found my voice. “Hopefully Savannah’s charlatan ways didn’t hasten her demise.” It was meant as a sarcastic response, but Gretchen took it as truth.

  “Oh, it was her charlatan ways,” the secretary intoned. “God paid her back. You can be assured of that.”

  Five

  There were five bars on the list Gretchen supplied. Three had stars by their names because they were regular haunts. Two were establishments she didn’t like because she was certain those who frequented them were getting freaky with one another. I kept my opinion on her to myself — which was a mighty struggle — until we were back in the rental.

  “She’s nuts,” I announced as I fastened my seatbelt.