I Will Fear No Evil Page 5

“What about her coven? Maybe one of them would know where she is.”

  Michelle shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have a name or phone number for any of the other members?”

  “No, she was always really weird, paranoid almost, about talking about the others. She would never say anyone’s name but she’d call them different things if she wanted to talk about one of them.”

  “What would she call them?”

  “Creepy tall guy, sweaty fat dude, sweater girl, trust fund brat, freaky eyes.”

  “Freaky eyes?” Mark questioned.

  “Yeah, apparently they were some weird color, although I’m not sure what.”

  “And she talked about these people a lot?”

  “Yeah, she hasn’t talked about sweaty fat dude or sweater girl for a while, but the other three all the time.”

  “What else would she say about her coven?”

  “Not a lot. She was pretty tight-lipped. I mean, in the beginning she would gush about how wonderful it was and all the cool things she could do. She kept trying to get me to go to one of their meetings or circles or whatever.”

  “Did you?”

  “No way. I was not into that,” Michelle said emphatically.

  “So when did she start talking less about what they did?”

  “Gosh, almost two years, I guess. Somewhere in there.”

  “Anything else happen at that time?” Mark asked.

  “She had broken up with the guy she was dating and she was pretty upset. She was constantly raving that he was going to get what was coming to him and that no one could treat her that way and get away with it. Honestly, she started freaking me out.”

  “Then why didn’t you move out?”

  “Because I can’t afford a place on my own and I didn’t want her to catch me looking for a new roommate in case she’d somehow accuse me of betraying her then. Just when it was getting really bad, though, it all of a sudden stopped. That’s when she became a lot quieter and didn’t talk about the circles and the things they did even though she still mentioned some of the people. I was just relieved that she seemed to have gotten over it or whatever.”

  “What was her boyfriend’s name?” Mark asked.

  Michelle shook her head. “She always just called him by nicknames, like my sweetie or jerk face.”

  “Helpful,” Mark said with a sigh. “You say you don’t actually know the names of any of her coven members. Do you have any idea where they held their meetings?”

  Michelle nodded. “She told me, in case I ever decided to drop by. They hold them in the park downtown near the really tall Redwood tree. They liked to be outdoors as long as the weather held.”

  “Do you know when these meetings occurred?”

  “I know for a long time they met at least twice a month. They liked to meet on the nights of the full moon and the new moon. Lately, though, it seemed like she’d been going more often, maybe once a week, but I’m not sure on what day. It seemed to vary.”

  “Okay, can you show me which bathroom was hers?”

  Michelle nodded and he followed her out of the room and to the bathroom just down the hall.

  “This one is Lizzie’s. I have my own,” Michelle offered.

  After a quick thirty second inspection Mark relaxed. He should have started with this room first and it would have saved him a lot of time.

  “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “There’s no toothbrush or toothpaste. Wherever she is, she planned to be gone.”

  Uncertainty flickered across Michelle’s face. In that moment it was easy to see her real concern and unease over the entire situation.

  “She’ll probably turn up in a couple of days and tell you all about her little vacation,” Mark said.

  Slowly Michelle shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she murmured.

  “Why not?”

  The girl hesitated, biting her lower lip for a moment. Finally she answered him. “I’ve got this bad feeling, like in the pit of my stomach. I keep thinking something’s wrong and that she’s in danger. Last night I had a dream that…it doesn’t matter.”

  “Do you often get these kinds of bad feelings?” Mark asked, watching her expression closely.

  “Not very often, but when I do…I’ve never been wrong,” she said, fear flickering in her eyes.

  As a detective Mark had learned long ago to trust his gut. Sometimes you couldn’t explain how or why you knew something, you just did. Since he’d had those experiences he was always loathe to dismiss it when others told him that they felt something in their gut. Sometimes they were wrong, but it never hurt to pay attention.

  He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. She jerked slightly and for a split second he felt like his hand was tingling.

  “I’ll do what I can to find her,” he said.

  Michelle nodded.

  He removed his hand and got a business card out of his pocket. He handed it to her. “If you think of anything or hear anything, call me right away, any hour. Understood?”

  “Yes,” she said as she took the card.

  “We will find her,” he reaffirmed.

  “Thank you.”

  When he left a minute later he wasn’t entirely sure what to think. All he really knew was that he’d be no good to anyone if he didn’t go home and get some sleep. He called Traci and filled her in. No need to keep her waiting and worrying while he drove home. She sounded slightly relieved when he told her about the missing toothbrush and he intentionally omitted Michelle’s gut instinct that something was wrong. Given how strongly Traci had reacted earlier to hearing about his latest case he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire of her worry. At least, not until he was convinced that they actually had something to worry about.

  Like most people Cindy had never been a fan of needles, but she had been able to tolerate them. After today she was sure she never wanted to see another needle again for as long as she lived. After explaining to her doctor what had happened to her the day before she had been subjected to several dozen needle pricks all over her back with various possible allergens on them.

  Now she was laying on her stomach, waiting for the doctor to return and tell her what she was allergic to. There had to be something because she did feel a distinct itchy sensation on one part of her back and another spot felt like it was on fire. Finally the door opened and the doctor came in.

  Cindy waited impatiently while he examined her. After what seemed like forever he cleaned her back with some cotton balls dipped in alcohol.

  “Okay, you can go ahead and put your shirt on. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to discuss the results,” he said.

  As soon as the door had closed Cindy put her clothes back on. A minute later he was back, chart in hand.

  “The good news is, you don’t appear to have many allergies. In fact there were only two things you reacted to. You had a minor reaction to ragweed. That’s pretty common. The other reaction you had was much more significant and it was to acacia.”

  “Acacia? As in the tree?”

  “Yes, it’s an invasive species and is far more prevalent in the San Francisco Bay Area, but you can find it several places along the coast.”

  “When I had the allergy attack or whatever it was yesterday we were in a basement,” Cindy said.

  “It’s possible it was growing outside and that you were exposed on your way in. Some cultures also burn it as incense.”

  “Are you sure that’s it?” she asked.

  “I’m fairly confident. You had a very strong reaction to it just now. The ragweed reaction wasn’t strong enough to cause an incident like what you’re describing, but it’s possible the acacia could have. We could do another battery of tests, delving more into food allergies and the like, but you said you hadn’t eaten for several hours before the attack and that you ate what you usually do at breakfast.”

  She nodded.

  “I
’m going to prescribe a rescue inhaler, in case you ever have that strong a reaction again. If you do, call me and come in for another exam. If it’s severe go to the emergency room. Severe allergies can become life threatening under the right circumstances.”

  “How come I’ve never had a problem before?”

  “It’s possible that until now you’ve only had very light exposure, if any. It’s also possible that you did have a reaction but just put it down to hay fever or a cold or something of that nature.”

  “I guess I just thought if I had a severe allergy it would have been more obvious years ago.”

  “It’s also possible the allergy is a newer one or that it has increased in severity over time.”

  Cindy couldn’t think of anything else to say. It didn’t entirely make sense to her that all the symptoms she had experienced were the result of a tree allergy. What else could she say to the doctor, though? It wasn’t like he could do a skin test to see if she was allergic to evil plain and simple.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You can go ahead and take an over-the-counter antihistamine for relief if minor symptoms spring up.”

  Half an hour later Cindy was back at work after dropping off her prescription at the pharmacy. She was just outside the office when she heard someone shout her name. She turned and saw Wildman running toward her, holding his hands out in front of him in an awkward manner.

  “I need help,” he called.

  “With what?”

  He didn’t answer, but a moment later he was close enough that she could see why he was holding his hands out in front of him.

  They were covered in blood.

  6

  “What happened?” Cindy asked, horrified.

  “There was an explosion,” Wildman said in distress.

  “What! Where?”

  “In the gym. One of the tubs of fake blood burst open and the stuff is everywhere.”

  Cindy sagged against the door in relief. “Fake blood.”

  “Yeah.” He glanced down at his hands then back at her. “Oh gosh, you didn’t think this was real blood did you?”

  “It looks like real blood,” she admitted.

  He stared at her for a moment and then grinned and said, “Yes!” He punched the air with his fist and fake blood splattered on the door. “Oops.”

  “Let’s get this cleaned up before this whole place looks like a massacre zone.”

  “Good idea,” he said.

  “Why don’t you go wash off your hands in the bathroom and I’ll meet you back in the gym with some cleaner and paper towels.”

  “Solid plan. I’m on it,” he said, turning and heading for the nearest bathroom.

  Cindy went into the office, deposited her purse in her desk drawer and waved at Geanie before heading for the supply closet. Armed with cleaning supplies she left and headed over to the gym.

  She hadn’t been inside since construction on the haunted house had started the week before. Temporary walls draped in black fabric had been put up in the left half of the building. More stacks of wood, ladders, tools, and boxes of props littered the right side. It was easy to see where the accident had occurred. There was a bright red spot in the middle of the chaos with streaks of red radiating out from it for several feet. Some had even splashed on the walls. As her eyes drifted upward she discovered that some of it had even managed to make it onto the ceiling.

  A few seconds later Wildman came in and moved to stand beside her. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “We’re going to need a bigger ladder,” she said.

  “I should probably get the janitor,” he said sheepishly.

  Carl the janitor was prone to fits when things got too messy. Cindy wrinkled her nose at the thought of what he’d say about this place. Then again, even if it hadn’t been a total mess he’d probably complain. He’d been the only person on staff to speak out against the haunted house complaining it would cause too much mess and would inspire hooligans to acts of vandalism.

  Cindy took a deep breath. “No, we can handle this.”

  “Really?” Dave asked, the relief on his face nearly comical.

  “Sure. We’ve dealt with worse.”

  That was true, but she still had no idea how they were going to reach the ceiling. She moved one of the trash cans in the room over closer to where they’d be working then tossed him one of the rolls of paper towels.

  Before she started using the cleaner she began to mop up as much of the liquid as she could. Dave did the same.

  “So, what all is going to be in the haunted house?” she asked as they worked.

  “It’s going to be awesome. The kids and I worked hard to pick some of the more frightening passages from the Bible, or at least ones that could easily be made frightening. We’re starting off with the plagues in Egypt. We’re going to show locusts consuming a body, have fake animal bodies representing the killing of the firstborn. The people in that sequence will be made up as dead, too, but they’ll be the actual people instead of props so they can jump up and scare everyone who’s going by.”

  “Are you using all this fake blood for the plague sequence?”

  “Some of it. We’re actually setting up a sort of sprinkler system so it looks like the walls are bleeding and we’ll have buckets filled with the stuff.”

  “Gross, but cool.”

  “Thank you. Next we move on to the fiery furnace and we’ll be blowing hot air through that section so people feel like they are Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. All around them we’ll have people who are burning in the fire with skin melting off and everything.”

  “That is disgusting.”

  “I know! Isn’t it awesome?”

  It was something, alright. Just because it wasn’t her cup of tea didn’t mean that she was going to rain on his parade, especially not after he’d explained to her how important he thought this event was as far as outreach.

  “What next?” she asked.

  “We’re going to show the battle where the Israelites under Barak defeated their enemies and the last part of it will show Sisera having the tent stake driven through his temple by Jael. One of our kids has an uncle who works for a special effects house in Los Angeles, and he’s rigging up something for us so that it will look like she’s actually hammering the stake into his skull and fake blood will spurt out. I can’t wait to see that.”

  Cindy was very, very glad that she wouldn’t be seeing that. Having mopped up a lot of the excess liquid she began to use some of the cleaner on part of the floor. “What next?” she asked.

  “We’re going to have one of those shaking floor sections and the scene is going to depict Samson pulling down the pillars of the building and slaying the Philistines. We have some fake rock falling effects to go in that section. So the ground will shake, it will look like the ceiling is collapsing. It’s going to be epic.”

  “It sounds like it,” she said. She had to admit to herself that she’d actually like to see that section because it sounded frightening without being gory.

  “From there we move on to the New Testament and we have an assortment of demon possessed people roaming the maze trying to scare people. We also have a few squealing animatronic pigs to represent the herd that Jesus allowed the demons to go into when he cast them from the one man.”

  “That’s going to be a bit disturbing. Not nightmare inducing at all,” she said unable to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

  “That’s the point. Then we’re going to show the slaughter of Christians in the coliseum but we’ll make the people going through the maze feel like they’re the ones being rounded up to be slaughtered. Then for the end we have a massive dragon with many heads.”

  “Ending with Revelation?”

  “It’s a classic.”

  “Sounds like this should be the most terrifying haunted house around.”

  “I really hope so. The kids are so excited and they’ve been working so hard. A lot of them have already got their friend
s and classmates to agree to come.”

  “You’ve done some amazing work,” she told him.

  “Thanks. There’s still so much left to do, though. Opening night is in nine days.”

  It was hard to believe Halloween weekend was coming up that quickly. Time had flown since July. Before she knew it Christmas would be on them. She felt herself beginning to tense up at the thought of all the work ahead of her, but then forced herself to breathe and focus on the task at hand.

  They worked on in silence for a couple more minutes. Finally they had the floor clean and they moved over to the wall.

  “Can I ask you something?” Dave asked, his voice far more subdued and serious sounding.

  “Sure,” she said, wondering what was troubling him.

  “Do you ever get bad feelings about things, like you know there’s something wrong even if you can’t quite place your finger on what it is?”

  “I don’t know, sometimes I guess. Although usually I have a pretty good idea what it is when I have that kind of feeling,” she said. Her mind instantly conjured up images from the creepy house the day before. She wondered if Mark had found anything else about the case yet. She knew part of her would be unsettled until that one was solved. Part of her was also a little bit frightened to hear what that solution would be, though. She turned her attention back to the pastor. “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just…I’ve had this weird feeling the last day or so and it keeps getting stronger. It’s like my stomach is clenched in this tight little knot of anxiety and nothing I can do makes it better. I keep feeling like something bad, really bad, is about to happen. I don’t know what, though, and as much as I’m trying to ignore it the feeling is getting worse. I’m really getting edgy and I don’t like feeling this way.”

  “Have you ever felt this way before?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I felt this way for three hours before I got the phone call that my father had been killed in a car crash.”

  “Sometimes with close relatives there can be an extra connection there, I guess,” Cindy said. At least, she’d heard that could be the case although she didn’t have family that she was close enough to that she’d have a connection like that with them.