Higgins looked at Dyson and Dyson turned his spooky blue eyes on her.
“We’ve come to the conclusion that Pravus has too much inside knowledge of the mission to have done research on it from the outside.”
A chill raced up Keren’s spine. “You mean he comes and goes in that building all the time.”
Higgins nodded. “It’s possible it could be a deliveryman or someone with a reason to be in the mission, but it’s more likely—”
“It’s one of the street people.” Keren hated the thought of it.
“No, it’s someone who’s masquerading as a street person.”
Keren considered her impression of evil. She needed to go in the mission when the inhabitants were around. But there was no way to explain that to these men.
“What is it, Detective Collins?” Dyson asked. He was watching her like a hawk… or maybe a vulture.
“There’s a church service in the morning, during breakfast,” Keren said reluctantly. “Someone should attend and get a closer look at those people.”
“We need a list of everyone who is associated with the mission.”
Keren hated the thought of using Paul’s mission service in her police work. It seemed like such a betrayal of people who might be making a fragile step in faith. “It’s a very transient group.”
“It figures this guy hasn’t gone anywhere,” Higgins said sarcastically.
“And they’re not going to cooperate.” Keren was getting tired of Higgins, and all the while he sparred with her Dyson stared, trying to pick up nuances. When he asked questions it was like her every word, gesture, and expression was being watched under a microscope. He was sitting beside her, so if she focused forward she could ignore him, but she could feel his creepy gaze boring into her brain. He was probably a real bust at parties.
“Not cooperating is almost a defining characteristic of street people.” She wished she’d never mentioned Paul’s church. She should have let it come from the FBI. “A lot of them probably don’t even go by their real names.”
“I’ll bet every one of them has a rap sheet and a mug shot.” Higgins slumped back in his chair, but the sense of his utter alertness never eased.
“You know, Higgins, the people at the mission are really going through a tough time.”
“They’re bums.”
“They’re mostly mentally ill, with no family to care for them.”
“They’re drug addicts and alcoholics who did so much damage their families finally washed their hands of them and dumped their problem on the streets.”
“A little compassion wouldn’t be out of place here.” Keren’s jaw tightened. She should drop this. She should get some sleep. “A lot of them are bipolar and they drink and drug to silence the voices in their heads. And a lot of families just can’t deal with it. A lot of them have tried and tried until they’ve given up to save what’s left of their own lives. That mission is trying to do more than just feed them. Paul is trying to lead them to a Christian faith that will give them hope, help them find a purpose for living and a reason to reclaim their sanity.”
“ ‘Paul’?” Dyson asked. “Is he more to you than a witness to a crime?”
Suppressing a flash of irritation, Keren kept quiet. She preferred talking things through, bouncing ideas off O’Shea. The two of them worked well that way. But Higgins just seemed to delight in pointing out the obvious when she’d only meant to run through her thoughts aloud. And Dyson, with his eternal search for the key to everyone’s thoughts, was about halfway to a mental patient himself.
Higgins made a soft scoffing sound. “Figures a mission would force hungry people to sit through a sermon in order to get food.”
Keren’s impression of Higgins dropped through the floor.
“You’re a believer?” Dyson was still watching her. Still reading her mind.
“Why don’t you”—Keren turned and met Dyson’s spooky blue eyes directly—”use whatever ability you have to profile Pravus instead of trying to pick up messages from every tiny expression that flicks across my face? Or is reading minds some trick you do to win bets in a bar?”
Dyson kept staring.
Higgins sat watching, too. Keren decided she’d had enough of it.
“Maybe if I wasn’t running on little to no sleep for the last few days I could enjoy being stared at. I’d enjoy having my faith sneered at. I’d enjoy listening to you mock a man who has committed his life to helping people in need.” Keren rose from her chair. “Yes, he preaches a sermon. He’s trying to give them more than a meal that will last a few hours. But no one is denied food if they refuse to stay. If you don’t have anything to say about the case, then I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
“One more thing before you go, Keren.” Higgins spoke mildly again, but he might as well have shouted at her to stop.
“What is that?” Keren turned to face him.
“We’ve listened to the tapes. You have to know Pravus has you in his crosshairs. It’s very possible he sees you as one of his potential victims.”
“Wow, Lance. Did you figure that out all by yourself? Or did you fly a whole bunch more people in from DC to help you?”
“We expect cooperation from local law enforcement agencies, Detective.”
“And you sometimes don’t get it, is that your point?”
“I’m not talking about sometimes. I’m talking about now, and I’m not seeing much of it from you.” Higgins’s golden eyes had seemed so attractive and contained such strength when she’d met him earlier. Now they repelled her. Between his rudeness and his crude remark about the mission’s outreach and the contempt he held for the homeless, she was fed up.
“And why do you think I’d hesitate to work with you? What possible reason could I have? I’ll bet you don’t even need Dyson reading my mind to get the answer to that. Unless you’re both idiots, you should get it loud and clear.”
Dyson stared. Higgins stood as if he needed to be on the prowl. Neither of them answered.
“Good night, gentlemen. If I have any spare time tomorrow, maybe I can stop in again to be insulted for things that have nothing to do with this case. I’m sure it never gets old… for you.” Keren left the room, closing the door behind her with a firm click.
The lousy bed made it easy to get up early.
She ran home to shower and change. As she entered her apartment, a chill went up her spine. She’d known Pravus was possibly going to target her, even hoped for it so they could get him. But now Higgins’s voice haunted her. It made her furious that her own home spooked her. Stepping into the main room, she suddenly saw all that was wrong about her apartment. She was savvy about personal safety, but she lived in a decent neighborhood and hadn’t ever worried much.
The building had a secure entrance. But she was on the ground floor. It wouldn’t exactly take a CIA agent with cat burglar skills and high-tech electronics to get in. Access could be gained with a hammer slammed through her patio window, for heaven’s sake. And there were bushes and shade trees on the side where her glass patio doors were. There was a stylish streetlamp back there, but it was more for show than illumination. The shrubs and trees shrouded the area in darkness.
Now, in full daylight, she stood for a moment, looking out in that pretty little green space. She’d always loved it. It had helped sell her on this apartment. Now it scared her and she hated that. Hated knowing she was vulnerable and that, along with her own danger, she might bring danger to her neighbors.
She’d already known she might be a target, but she didn’t think it was her time yet. Not while Pravus was busy pouring out his madness on poor LaToya.