Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (classic literature list .txt) 📗

got to them, the woman scooped up the boy in her arms. “You know you’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” she chided the boy, holding her face nose to nose with his.

“Tasha, what are you guys doing here?” The voice of the detective came from up the hill.

Maureen turned to see him and the fireman jogging back toward them. The fireman came to their side and kissed the little boy on the top of the head.

“Hey, Manny,” the woman replied after she put her free arm through the fireman’s, who Maureen assumed was her husband. “We were coming back from staying at my parents’ house. We had dinner there last night and, since Ben had the late shift and I don’t have class until nine today, we decided to drive back down early instead of leaving late last night. When he saw the firetrucks, Benny insisted that Daddy had to be there, and he wanted to see him. I couldn’t say no. What happened here?”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about it in front of Benny,” the fireman replied.

The woman nodded.

Maureen looked down at the little boy again. He was holding on to both of his father’s hands but was facing her, smiling and rocking back and forth. His parents noticed.

“Weird, he’s usually so shy around people he doesn’t know,” the young fireman said.

“I’m taking him home,” the woman announced and gave the fireman a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll be home Monday morning, right?” She received his nod before turning back to Maureen and shooting her a look.

Same to you, bitch, Maureen thought sourly.

The young woman turned and hoisted the boy up so that he was facing her. The little boy broke into a broad grin and raised his hand to wave at her. Maureen, not knowing what else to do, stuck out her tongue at him and made a face. He giggled and buried his head in his mother’s shoulder. Maureen shook her head and then heard a brief sniffle of laughter come from her side. She snapped her head around to Officer Yancy, hoping to catch the crack in his serious facade, but he had mastered himself.

The detective shifted his head from side to side, eyeing Maureen and then the young woman and boy walking up the slope to their car. “What was that about?” he asked.

Maureen shrugged. “Kid just came up to me and started bothering me,” she said. “Nothing more.”

“Okay.” He drew out the word, clearly skeptical of her explanation. He eyed her for a moment longer before turning his attention to the other officer. “Carl, I’m going to head down and speak with the Feds and Dr. Winherst. Can you please take Ms. Allen back up to my truck and keep a tight eye on her? I’ll be taking her back to the station myself when I’m finished.”

“Whatever you say,” the officer returned in an even tone.

Maureen watched Detective Benitez stalk down the hill toward where Agent Layton and his partner were standing, silently watching over the crime scene. The agent’s head turned at his approach, but his eyes looked past him and met her own. Maureen held his gaze, determined not to be the first to break contact. Layton cocked his head after a moment and turned back around to stare back across the field. Small victories.

“Well, Officer,” she chimed as she turned toward the man the detective referred to as Carl, “shall we?”

The officer nodded, placed a hand on her elbow, and guided her back up the hill to await the detective. Maureen tried her best to keep her face even and ignore the queasy feeling creeping up in her stomach.

ELEVEN

“Why did you bring her here?” Agent Layton grumbled as Manny walked up next to him.

“I had a notion she might be useful,” Manny shrugged, staring directly ahead at the smoldering remains of the fire. It all looked much like it had at the Lowes’ residence. He could see Stacey Winherst kneeling down, sifting carefully through the ashes. The body was obscured from his view, but he knew that, before the day was out, he would come face to face with the charred remains of another child. It was not a sight he was looking forward to.

“She’s a suspect, Detective,” Agent Layton returned sharply. “Suspects belong in custody.”

Manny turned and looked back at Maureen. She was leaning against his truck, a few feet away from Yancy, staring out at the field, as if transfixed by the sight of it all. A soft breeze tousled the few strands of her hair not contained by her ponytail as the morning sun lit her face. The image reminded him of how he’d found her attractive when he saw her at Anderson’s less than two days ago. She might even look better without makeup on, he thought.

“Well, she obviously couldn’t have done this from a jail cell,” Manny said, gesturing out at the crime scene. “I figured if she is involved somehow, it might help our case to bring her out here, under observation, and see if she does anything to tip us off.”

It was a flimsy reason and he knew it, but at present, he was unsure if telling Agent Layton about the woman’s supposed prophetic dream was wise. He himself didn’t put it outside of the realm of possibility, but he was certain there had to be some other logical explanation for Maureen’s episode in the cell last night.

Agent Layton paused for a moment, staring uncomfortably at Manny. Then, to his surprise, the agent leaned in and sniffed. “You haven’t been home since yesterday, have you?”

Manny saw no point in lying. “No, I haven’t.”

“Uh-huh,” the agent grunted out of the side of his mouth. “You wouldn’t have happened to have stayed at the station all night, would you?”

Manny nodded carefully.

“And I assume that you spent at least some of that time talking to our suspect?”

Manny nodded again, defeated. He should have known better than to try and pass off bringing Maureen to