Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [398]
But it wasn’t his enemy who wanted him dead. It was the man who, even as he killed Eric, would still claim to be his savior, the redeemer of his soul. No, he had that wrong—the owner of his soul, not the redeemer. Because that was the price Father charged all his followers in order for them to come into his fold. Their soul.
For the first time, Eric felt grateful that Justin was dead, reduced to a cardboard box full of unidentifiable bones. At least Father could no longer pull the two brothers apart, make them wage war against each other like he had with so many other family members. And, perhaps, just maybe, he had not had time to steal Justin’s soul. If that was true then Justin was, indeed, the lucky one.
CHAPTER 38
“You don’t know it’s the same Joseph Everett,” Tully said from the doorway, watching O’Dell’s fingers fly over her computer keyboard.
“Unlikely that there are two Reverend Joseph Everetts in the Virginia area,” she said without a glance, but he recognized that anxious tone in her voice, and he couldn’t help thinking, “Here we go again.”
He became a little nervous whenever O’Dell got that tone in her voice and a certain look in her eyes, like she was on a personal mission. The last time it happened, the two of them ended up in a burning house with O’Dell saving his life—after he took a bullet to his thigh.
He was relieved, however, that they might actually have some answers. And also relieved that Emma had gotten through the morning. O’Dell was right. Emma was an incredibly brave and smart girl. And before Agent LaPlatz volunteered to drive her back to Reston High, he embarrassed his brave, smart daughter with a hug and told her how proud he was of her.
Tully watched as O’Dell brought up some sort of document and began scrolling through it. He looked over at Dr. Patterson, who sat in the overstuffed lounge chair O’Dell had managed to squeeze into her small office. There had been several late nights when he had found his partner curled up and asleep in it. All of their offices in BSU were small, but O’Dell had a knack for organizing, using every inch of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and little cubbyholes to keep piles off chairs and off the floor, so that even with the lounge chair, her office looked cozy but not overcrowded. Not like his own, which reminded him some days of a storage closet with walking paths to his desk.
Dr. Patterson had removed her heels, and Tully watched absently as she made herself comfortable, tucking her legs underneath her. In doing so, she hiked up her skirt. She had great legs. Trim ankles. Firm, smooth thighs. Jeez! What the hell was wrong with him? He looked away as if caught doing something he shouldn’t.
Usually Gwen Patterson bugged the hell out of him. There seemed to be nothing they agreed on. The last time he and O’Dell were working late, they stopped at her huge Tudor in Newburgh Heights, where Dr. Patterson had been dog-sitting. The three of them decided to order takeout. If he remembered correctly, he and Patterson had gotten into an argument over Chinese or pizza, debating each food’s nonnutritional value. Of course, she was supposed to be the expert, being a so-called gourmet cook. Yeah, she irritated the hell out of him. Didn’t mean she couldn’t have great legs, though. Maybe thinking about Caroline over the weekend had simply reminded him—
“Here’s something.” O’Dell interrupted his rambling thoughts. “It’s a court document. It’s old—1975. That’s over twenty-five years ago. Everett would have been…what do you think…in his twenties?”
“We don’t even know yet if Everett is involved.”
“Cunningham must think so or he wouldn’t be sending you and Gwen to Boston to interview the lone survivor. And he didn’t hesitate when I asked to arrange a meeting with someone from Everett’s organization. Maybe even an ex-member. In fact, he told me he’d call Senator