“She makes a good cop, huh?” Stuart said weakly. “We could be hardened criminals, but she’s still going to try to tonguelash us into quivering jelly.”
“Ashley, I’m sorry,” John Mast said. Both the white eyebrows and contacts were gone.
“Hi, I’m Mary,” the young woman said.
“You do realize you’re guilty of kidnapping and God knows what else?” she said. “And you—you son of a bitch!” she said, staring at the man. “And you’re John Mast. I doubt there even is a David Wharton.”
“Ashley, I don’t have much strength, but I’ll try to explain,” Stuart began.
“Save what strength you have,” John Mast advised him quickly. “She’s still too groggy to beat me to pieces. I have a few minutes to explain.”
“You lied to me,” she told him.
“Yes, but for a good reason,” he protested quickly. “I had to. I had to get to know you. Yes, I’m John Mast. And yes, I went to prison, along with Bordon, for bad bookkeeping. But I wasn’t part of what was really going on. Back then, there were things I kept my mouth shut about because Peter Bordon warned me we’d be killed if we didn’t just go to jail, do our time and keep silent about whatever we knew until we were in our graves. You may not believe this, but I really don’t know who killed those women. All I know is that at least one of them is a cop. I was in the house the night Nancy Lassiter was there, I saw her briefly, with Peter. Peter…liked women. I thought she was just someone he had charmed off the street. I pretty much ignored what was going on, stayed in my own room. Then, late that night, I heard the door…heard someone coming in, berating Peter. Peter was an idiot. Peter had picked up a cop. And he was damned well going to help make sure that she wouldn’t leave. Not only that, she could finger the guy yelling at Peter, because they worked together. That’s how I know there’s at least one cop involved.”
She shook her head. “You’re telling me that a cop murdered Nancy Lassiter?”
“I’m afraid so,” John said. “But there was another man there that night, too. I didn’t see him or the cop, though. I—I never opened my door. I have to admit I was terrified. But I heard a third voice. And I figured that had to be the man Peter always called the cult’s ‘godfather.’ I knew that something went on at times, but I never knew ahead of time when that would be. I was always locked in on those nights. And the girls and the others…they were locked into their quarters, as well. And the godfather had something to do with it, whatever it was. Anyway, the police had already been hounding us, because of the murdered girls. But Peter and I, we weren’t the ones killing the girls.” He hesitated and took a deep breath.
“Peter knew they were being killed, though. And he knew why. But he kept silent. He knew that the murders were being made to look as if they were for some kind of religious transgression, but they weren’t. That was just a cover-up. They must have seen something they weren’t supposed to, so they had to die.” He was silent for a moment. “Everyone thought I died in a plane crash when I got out of prison, and I figured it was safer to let them. I washed up on shore with another man’s identification. He was a few years older than me, but…it was easy enough to find forgers to get me some decent documents to go with what I already had.”
The anesthesia was beginning to wear off. Ashley inched up, rubbing the back of her head. “Sorry—we kind of dropped you getting you into the ambulance,” Mary explained.
“Great,” she muttered, then looked at Stuart to see how he was doing. What was his involvement in all this, anyway? He was lying down, his eyes closed. He looked unconscious. “Stuart,” she said anxiously.
His eyes flew open. “Sorry, I’m just trying to rest. I’ve—I’ve been conscious for almost twenty-four hours, actually. I just didn’t dare let anyone know. Not even my parents,” he said sadly.
“They might have given him away,” John Mast explained.
“Did you know?” she asked sharply.
“I only knew I had to get him out of the hospital before someone succeeded in killing him.”
“Okay. And, Mary, who are you?”
“I was a member of the cult,” she said, and added, “The women who were killed were my friends.”
Ashley digested that. “I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, then she shook her head. “Where are we? And why did you knock me out and kidnap me?”
“We need you. And also because you insisted on coming to the procedure with me,” Stuart said. “So we had to do something with you. Plus you’re a cop.”
“I’m not a cop,” she said wearily. “I just work for them.”
“Whatever. You have connections.”
“All right—where are we?”
“At the house, of course,” John said.
“What house?”
“Next to the commune.”
“You do realize that eventually you’ll be tracked down here?”
“Eventually,” John agreed. “But hopefully not until we’ve got proof.”
“Proof of what? And how are you getting it?”
“There’s something going down tonight.”