“Ah … geez,” said Danny. “She looks pretty bad.”
Gerlach cursed under his breath and then reached for the phone, dialed a number, and waited through three rings. “Sheriff,” he said, “you’re going to get an emergency call in a few minutes. No … no one’s dead this time. This is going to be a couple of broken bones and maybe some head trauma. Maria Sanchez, age eleven. She’ll be irrational. Make sure you put a deputy on her who knows how to keep his mouth shut. A specialist will be at the hospital within four hours. He’ll have all the right papers. I need you to make sure he is afforded every courtesy and that no one gets in his way. He’ll oversee her treatment. That’s right. Thank you, Sheriff. As always, you can expect an envelope in the glove compartment of your car.”
Gerlach set the phone down and let out a long, tired sigh. Danny gave him a hopeful smile.
“Hey,” said the younger agent, “at least he didn’t kill this one.”
Gerlach unwrapped a stick of gum. “Day’s young, kid.”
CHAPTER 62
Francis Scott Key Regional High School
12:18 P.M.
School the next day was a drudge and a blur. Dana was sure she did not actually learn anything. She was called to the nurse between classes for her test. The nurse’s face was wooden as she tied a rubber tourniquet around Dana’s arm, swabbed, with alcohol, jabbed, with a needle, and drew off a glass vial of blood. Five volunteer nurses worked with her. Six students at a time. Rinse, repeat. And all of it in a ghastly silence. Afterward, she looked for Ethan and finally found him in the lunchroom with the rest of the science club. Dana and Ethan told the others about the latest developments.
When they were done, Tisa Johnson swiveled her praying mantis head from Ethan to Dana and back again as she said, “I’ve been reading about ESP. The Soviets have been doing a lot of research about psychic spies. My aunt Sallie works for our government. Something in the Department of Defense, and we’re going over to her house on Saturday. I’m going to see what she knows.”
The others said they were also looking into it, but none of them had anything specific.
“We’re going to see the psychics at Beyond Beyond,” said Ethan.
Tisa nodded, but Sylvia rolled her eyes. “There’s real research and then there’s airy-fairy stuff.”
“It’s what we have,” said Ethan. “Besides, Dana says they’re pretty sharp.”
“Worth a try,” said Jerry, blinking his big frog eyes.
So Dana and Ethan found themselves at her usual table at Beyond Beyond half an hour after their last class. Sunlight sat across from them, stirring his tea, eyes hooded, lips pursed, saying nothing. He had listened to everything Dana and Ethan had to say, occasionally interrupting to ask clarifying questions, and then lapsed into a long and thoughtful silence.
Ethan was like a stone statue next to her, but Dana couldn’t help but fidget. Around them, the usual hustle and bustle of the store continued, as if the world hadn’t turned darker and stranger. Behind the partition, Dana could hear Corinda ringing up café customers, chatting with them, occasionally laughing. As if life were normal. Dana reached under the table and took Ethan’s hand, squeezing it, giving comfort as well as holding on for dear life.
Finally Sunlight leaned back and folded his hands on the tabletop. “This is bad.”
Dana and Ethan said nothing.
“I caught glimpses of this yesterday, Dana,” continued Sunlight. “And I can see why you built this theory.”
“It’s not just a theory,” she began, but he raised a single finger to silence her.
“Oh, I believe you,” he said. “It all fits. As ugly and bizarre as it is, everything fits.”
“I don’t know whether to be relieved or cry,” admitted Dana.
“What you should be,” said Sunlight, “is very, very careful, because I believe this is bigger than you think.”
“What?” asked Ethan. “Bigger than six teens getting killed by some kind of religious psychopath?”
“Yes.” Sunlight glanced around, then lowered his voice. “If these murders were this well orchestrated, then how likely is it the angel is acting alone?”
“That’s what I thought,” said Dana. “Maybe there’s two of them. Like Leopold and Loeb.”
“Anything’s possible,” said Sunlight. “It could also be one extraordinary person and some lesser persons assisting him.”
“Assisting?” asked Ethan. “Who would do that?”
“A charismatic person can often exert control over others. Ask Charles Manson. And I will not be surprised at all to discover that’s what we have here.”
Ethan looked unconvinced. “Is this a guess or did this theory come to you in some kind of vision?”