Part 13 (1/2)
THE PATROL SKYE SENT to Juan's location came up with nothing: his car was there, he wasn't, and there was no sign of a struggle.
”I'm going to talk to the Davieses,” Skye said to Anthony as she slid behind the steering wheel of her Bronco. ”I have some more questions.”
”If this Ms. Davies has anything to do with Ianax, she's dangerous,” Anthony said.
”You said the demon needs three humans,” Skye said, exasperated. She really wasn't in the mood to listen to Anthony's religious garbage right now. Juan was missing. ”If she poisoned those men, she's just as guilty for their deaths as if she stabbed them herself.”
Based on the evidence-something Anthony Zaccardi seemed to be ignoring-the twelve priests had committed a ma.s.s murder-suicide. Coupled with the poison, at least it proved that human beings-not some fict.i.tious ”demon”-had been responsible for the deaths. That gave her a modic.u.m of peace. Murder, she understood. Supernatural forces? She'd leave that to Hollywood.
On the way to the Davies' cottage, Skye called Dr. Wicker. It was after nine in the morning and he was in his office. ”Dr. Wicker? Sheriff Skye McPherson in Santa Louisa.”
”You're calling about Santa Louisa Mission.”
”Yes. It's my understanding that you served as psychiatrist to the mission priests.”
”I did.”
”Have you spoken to Detective Juan Martinez regarding this case?”
”He left a message after hours last night on my answering machine stating he would be coming by first thing this morning, but he hasn't arrived yet.”
She'd a.s.sumed that Juan had been traveling to SLO, but he could have also been heading farther north, to Santa Clara, to speak with Wicker. ”Thank you, Doctor. I'll be in touch.”
Anthony held out his hand. ”May I?”
She handed over her cell phone.
Anthony said, ”Charles, it's Anthony Zaccardi.”
”Anthony? When did you arrive?”
”Yesterday morning. I was too late. Rafe told me he talked with you about the strange behavior at the mission.”
”Rafe is safe?”
”He's in a coma.”
”Someone betrayed him. Someone betrayed all of them.”
”The housekeeper, Corinne Davies?”
”Rafe believed she was partly responsible, but he didn't know how. And even after he fired her, the men weren't right. He was looking internally.”
One of the priests? Anthony didn't want to believe it, but he'd witnessed worse betrayals. ”Who was it?”
”I don't know. They all pa.s.sed every test I know. But one of those twelve-Anthony, one of them was communicating with demons. I know it, it's the only explanation for the fear.”
”Fear?”
”Rafe didn't tell you?”
”Tell me what?”
”They couldn't sleep. They could barely eat. They were jumping at shadows. They got to sleeping in the chapel during adoration, the only time they felt safe. But after a while, even adoration terrified them.”
The tabernacle had been replaced.
”Thank you.” Anthony hung up.
”What?” Skye asked.
He told her about the abnormal fear, but refrained from explaining the significance of the fake tabernacle. She wouldn't believe him anyway, not with her focus on finding Detective Martinez.
”If they were drugged long-term with what I consumed only once, it's no wonder they freaked out.” Skye's voice was laced with sympathy.
When Skye pulled up in front of a small cottage near the cliffs outside Santa Louisa, Anthony's instincts hummed.
”Something is wrong,” he said.
”What?”
”I can't explain.”
”Or won't?”
He took a leap of faith. ”You know I'm a historical architect, but you seem to have forgotten I'm also a demonologist. I study demons. I also have a certain-empathy-where demons are concerned. I sense evil. This house is evil.”
”Houses can't be evil. The people inside, maybe, but houses are wood, nails, and gla.s.s.”
”Demons can be trapped in inanimate objects,” Anthony tried to explain further, but Skye's eyes darted away. She was letting him help-but she refused to listen to the truth.
As they approached the house, Anthony's body grew cold and his head throbbed painfully. A spell. He reached the path leading to the porch and his heart felt like it was being shredded. He could go no farther.
Skye didn't have a problem crossing the threshold. As his fear for her grew, he stepped forward and fell to his knees.
She knocked on the door, and when no one answered, walked around the perimeter, finally declaring, ”No one's home, the house is locked up tight.” She frowned at him. ”What's wrong with you?”
He'd been sitting at the edge of the path, physically unable to cross the spell's threshold. He slowly rose to his feet and said, ”They cast a powerful spell around that house to stop me. Don't come here without me, not until I find a way to reverse it. You're in danger.”
”Stop.” She spoke softly and held up her hand.
”Skye, listen-”