The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [86]
“Goes to show what you know about girls, O’Dell. When was the last time you carried a purse?”
“Okay, good point.” She felt her cheeks flush, surprised that he had noticed such a detail about her. Yes, she hated to admit it, but it was true that she had been anything but the typical teenage girl, and it looked like she was far from the typical woman. Still, it was embarrassing that this scruffy, weathered, forensics relic knew more about women and their accessories than she did.
“One other thing.” This time he went to the metal cabinet in the corner and brought back a plastic evidence bag. Inside, Maggie recognized the slide with a piece of transparent tape attached. It was the slide she and Stan had made from the residue found on Ginny Brier’s neck. “Hang on to that for a minute,” he told her as he walked to the door and reached for the light switch. “Now, keep in mind that whatever cord or wire or rope this guy is using has to be covered with this crap, okay?”
He shut off the light and the glittery substance on the slide began to glow in the dark.
“What in the world?”
“If we can figure out what it came off of, it might be able to tell us something about our guy.”
He snapped the lights back on.
“What about something used in a magic act or for a theater production?” Maggie asked. “Maybe some novelty store or costume shop might be able to tell us.”
“Could be. But I’m wondering, does he use it because it’s a nifty prop or because it’s something he has handy all the time?”
“My guess is it’s a nifty prop.” Maggie held up the slide again. “This guy likes attention. He likes putting on a performance.”
When she looked back at Ganza, he was picking through the assortment of documents again. He pointed to the fax copy of the crumpled piece of paper found in the floater’s throat. “No ID, no cyanide capsule, no quarters. What was this?”
Despite the wrinkles and creases, it looked like some kind of schedule with a list of dates and cities. Maggie pulled out another piece of paper from her jacket pocket.
“Recognize this?” she asked as she unfolded a copy of the Church of Spiritual Freedom’s pamphlet. The one Tully had found after Reverend Everett’s Saturday night rally. On the inside was listed the dates and cities for the organization’s fall schedule of rallies. “Take a look at the first of November. That week’s designated rally was at Falls Lake State Recreation Area in Raleigh, North Carolina. Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence, because you know—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t believe in coincidences. So how does the homeless woman fit into all this? There was no rally close by. And if Prashard’s early assessment is correct, she was also killed Saturday night.”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Maggie, you know all this means is that someone wants us to make a connection to Everett. The murder of Senator Brier’s daughter looked like it could be revenge for the deaths of those boys in the cabin. But the rest—the floater, the homeless woman…” Ganza waved his hand over the spread of photos and reports and faxes. “All it means is that someone wants us to make a connection to Everett. Doesn’t mean he’s involved.”
“Oh, he’s involved,” Maggie said, surprised by the hint of anger in her voice. “I don’t know how or why, but my gut tells me the good Reverend Joseph Everett is somehow responsible. Maybe not directly.”
“Or maybe even directly,” Racine said, appearing at the doorway. Her spiky blond hair looked windblown, her face flushed, and she seemed a bit out of breath. She came in and held up a copy of the National Enquirer. The front-page photo showed Ginny Brier holding hands with Reverend Everett. Without looking at the newspaper, Racine read the headline aloud. “Moments Before Her Death, Senator’s Daughter Attends Prayer Rally. Photo credit by our good pal Benjamin fucking Garrison.”
“Garrison?” Maggie wasn’t surprised. Though she had met him only briefly at the monument Sunday morning,