Angel Fire - Lisa Unger [98]
Lydia just nodded. She knew with a cool certainty that Bernard Hugo was somewhere close by, waiting, that he wasn’t done with whatever he had set out to do. Jeffrey placed an intimate hand on her hip and she leaned into him. She felt her face flush as the warmth of his presence washed over her. It was such a new feeling, to feel personally happy, even though the sight that faced her was grim.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Horrible and wonderful,” she answered. “Horrible about this, wonderful about … everything else.”
“I know,” he said, grabbing her hand and squeezing.
It had been a long day and the sun was going down as Lydia sat on the stoop outside the Hugo home, writing longhand in her notebook the events of the day, narrating them already. In the house behind her, she could still hear the activity of the crime scene. Jeffrey’s voice was clear and strong, full of authority. The sound of it comforted her as she wrote. A parade of people rushed back and forth, carrying evidence away, delivering coffee and files.
She looked up from her notebook when she heard a vehicle approach, and saw Wizner emerge with three police officers and walk toward the house. “I think you’ll be interested in this, Ms. Strong,” Wizner said without stopping or looking at her as he passed. She got up to follow them.
Jeffrey looked up from the conversation he was having with one of the forensics officers when Wizner walked in.
“Well, Mr. Mark, it looks like those organs weren’t put to such good use after all.”
“That’s what I hear, Wizner,” said Jeffrey, not in the mood for a flashy presentation.
“They were buried in the church garden … four human hearts preserved in jars of formaldehyde.”
“How long will it be before you are able to determine whether the hearts belong to the victims?”
“I’m on my way to the office right now. I just thought you’d like to know first what we found.”
“No sign of Father Luis?” asked Chief Morrow.
“No bodies in the garden, only the hearts,” Wizner answered with a ghoulish smile, as if he’d just said something witty.
After another hour, the room and the house started to clear out as Forensics completed the gathering of evidence. All Hugo’s equipment had been removed, and only a few technicians remained, combing for hair and fibers, searching for minuscule blood samples in the carefully scrubbed and sanitized room.
Jeffrey and Lydia stood alone in the room and stared at the walls.
“You certainly figure rather prominently in his imagination,” said Jeffrey.
“It must run in the family,” she answered, trying to sound light but failing.
She got up and walked over to him, and without hesitation wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself against him. She felt his body relax and he folded her in his arms. She didn’t care who saw them or what anyone thought. She was just glad she didn’t have to face her demons alone anymore.
The chief approached them. “Jeff, can I have a word with you?”
Lydia bristled at her exclusion, but she tried not to eavesdrop as the two walked out into the hallway, and pretended instead to be looking closely at the collages on the walls. At first the chief looked contrite and almost ashamed. Jeffrey’s jaw was set the way it generally was when he would reprimand Lydia. And then she saw the chief’s face flush in anger as he raised his voice a bit.
“Don’t forget who runs the show here, Mr. Mark,” he said, and stormed from the house, climbed into his car, and pulled quickly down the drive, his tires spitting up gravel.
“What was that all about?” she asked as Jeffrey returned to her, shaking his head.
“Let’s get out of here. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”
They walked out the front door of the house and got into Lydia’s Kompressor, and started for home.
On the way back, Lydia shared with Jeffrey her conversation with Juno.
“It doesn’t seem possible that someone could believe a story like that,” Jeffrey said skeptically.
“I agree that it’s hard to believe, but trust me when I tell you it’s true. He had no idea