“That’s reassuring. For a minute there, I wasn’t sure.”
“Mandina’s—” Parker pointed to one of the restaurants. “—best fried oyster po’boys around. But go early, while the oil’s really fresh. That’s when they’re best.”
He pulled to a stop into front of one of the repurposed homes. On the boulevard’s neutral ground, two streetcars passed each other going in opposite directions, a red blur from the corners of his eyes.
His focused on the building. Two story. Victorian. At least a century old. Stained glass side window, though he couldn’t make out the imagery. A lovely shade tree in the small patch of green in front, a concrete patio table with sea glass blue shade umbrella. A single wooden placard swayed in the breeze.
Lost Angel Ministries.
He couldn’t help thinking of Angel Gomez. She had been lost. He and Mick had found her.
Now, here he was.
They climbed out and slammed their doors in unison. Parker looked at him. “C’mon. They’re waiting.”
Parker, Zach realized, wasn’t in charge of this meeting. He was simply a courier, here at the behest of someone higher up the food chain.
The realization peaked his curiosity. They stepped through the iron gate. Zach noticed it was wired to alert those inside that visitors had arrived; at the front door, a surveillance camera transmitted their image.
Parker rang the bell, looked up at the camera. Whoever was watching buzzed them in.
They entered. A lovely parlor. Colored light from the stained glass window falling on the Cypress plank flooring. A double landing staircase, the railing old and solid-looking.
Something skittered along Zach’s nerve endings. Like shards of glass. But it didn’t pierce or sting. It sang.
There was energy here. A lot of it.
As Zach processed that fact, Professor Lester Truebell appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Hello, Detective Harris. Welcome to LAM.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Thursday, July 18
3:05 P.M.
Truebell: the friend who had told Parker about Gomez, Zach realized. He looked at Parker. “He’s one of us?”
“That depends on what you mean by ‘us,’” Truebell answered, bounding down the stairs. He held out a hand. “It’s good to see you again, Zachary.”
Zach took his hand. Nothing. No feedback whatsoever. He yanked it back in surprise. “What the hell? This morning—”
“You read me.” He smiled. “I recognized you immediately. I’m familiar with what your gifts are, so I manipulated them.”
More like, manipulated him. It rankled and Zach narrowed his eyes. “I’m at a disadvantage.”
“One we are ready to correct. Come. We’re meeting in the conference room. Eli’s bringing some refreshments.”
“Eli? So you lied to us.”
Truebell motioned him into the small conference room. The oval table would seat eight comfortably, ten in a pinch. A flatscreen monitor hung on one wall; an old fireplace occupied another.
“Everything I told you this morning was true. Eli did withdraw from school to tend to a family situation. It was you who assumed home was someplace else.”
“And the family emergency?”
“Our sister Brite’s murder and our concern for Angel’s whereabouts.”
“But now I know she’s safe.”
Zach turned. Eli in the doorway, holding a tray. No wonder Angel had called him hot. Strikingly handsome. Built like a Greek statue. Blond hair. Vivid blue eyes. Easy smile, brilliant white.
That smile grated. Hard. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but you have about two minutes to explain it in a way that doesn’t piss me off more than I already am, or I’m out of here.”
“Sit down, Zachary,” Truebell said. “Let us smooth those ruffled feathers.”
Zach sat. Eli put the tray of water and glasses on the table, along with a plate of assorted summer fruits.
Truebell began. “We decided it was time to bring you into the fold.”
“The fold,” Zach repeated. “Which means I haven’t been.”
“You weren’t ready.”
“But I am now?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But you’ve forced our hand.”
He frowned slightly. “Because of Gomez.”
“Yes. She’s important to us. Our cause. But also because of last night. What happened.”
“What do you know about last—”
“Remember, Zachary.” He held Zach’s gaze, said it again. “Remember.”
And he did. It came roaring back, filling his head. The Dark Bearer. Hunting him. Being certain he was going to die. Telepathically contacting Parker for help. A safe house. The old priest looking down at him. Voices.
“My God.” He looked at Parker. “It tried to kill me.”
“It almost succeeded.”
“You saved my life. The safe house—”
“We’ll get to that.”
Truebell again. Zach looked at him.
“Like I said, it’s time to bring you into the fold.”
“Not Sixers?”
“No, not Sixers.”