"But why?"
"To seduce the faithful away from the Lord and lead them onto the path toward eternal damnation. Your brother attracted the demon, but it is you it is after, Charles." He stabbed his finger across the table. "You! It lusts after your fragile soul so that it can serve it to its evil master on a silver platter!"
The target of supernatural evil… not me, Charlie thought, terror rising like a flood tide. Please, Lord, not me.
Charlie jumped as the rev slammed his palm onto his desktop. "Now will you leave your evil brother?"
"He's—" Charlie cut himself off.
The rev's eyes narrowed. "He's what? Are you going to tell me again he's not evil—after he's called up a demon?"
He'd been about to say just that. And Lyle didn't call up no demon. Least not on purpose. He wasn't evil, just off track. He hadn't seen the light yet. But Charlie knew the rev wouldn't accept that.
"He's in danger too, Rev. His soul, I mean. Shouldn't we try to save his soul too?"
"From what you've told me I fear you brother's soul is lost forever."
"I thought you always said no soul was lost forever long he still had a chance of accepting Jesus Christ as his personal savior."
The rev's gaze flickered. "Well, that's true, but do you really believe your brother will do that? Ever?"
Lyle? Not very likely, but…
"Miracles happen, Rev."
He nodded. "Yes, they do. But miracles are the Lord's province. Leave the miracle of your brother's salvation to Him and see to your own by leaving that house."
"Yes, Rev."
"Today. Do I have your word on that?"
"Yes, Rev."
But not without Lyle. Charlie wasn't going to leave his brother in the clutches of no krunk demon.
The rev hoisted himself out of his chair. "Then you better get to it."
Charlie rose too. "I will." He hesitated. "Um, is Sharleen round about?"
The rev fixed him with a stern gaze. "I've seen the way you've been looking at my daughter. And I've seen the way she's been looking back at you. But I want you to steer clear of her until you've removed yourself from this evil. Right now you're at a dangerous crossroads. I want to see which path you choose before you involve yourself with Sharleen. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes." Stung, Charlie backed away. "Very."
Reverend Sparks thought he was a danger to his daughter. He'd have to prove himself worthy. Okay. He'd do that. Today.
8
"I still don't believe you did it," Jack said.
Gia sipped her green tea and tried to read his expression: Shock? Dismay? Anger? Fear? Maybe a mixture of all.
"I'm fine, Jack. Besides, it wasn't as if I had much choice."
"Of course you had a choice." He'd settled down from his original outburst and now wandered her kitchen, circling the breakfast table with his hands jammed into his jeans pockets. A barely touched beer sat on the table, condensation pooling around its base. "You could have said to yourself, 'Going alone to visit the possibly psycho father of a murdered girl and not telling anyone where I'll be is a dumb idea. Maybe I'll just skip it.'"
"I had to know, Jack. It was going to drive me crazy if I didn't find out about her."
"You could have told me what you were doing."
"You would have thrown a hissy fit, just like you're doing now."
"I don't throw hissy fits. I would have tried to talk you out of it, and if you still insisted I could have gone along as backup."
"Who are you kidding? You've become so superprotective since I told you I was pregnant, you'd have probably locked me in a closet and gone yourself."
"Maybe I'm suddenly superprotective because you're suddenly Repairwoman Jane."
This was getting nowhere. Another sip of her tea—too sweet. She'd overdone the honey.
"Do you want to know what I found out?" she said.
"Yes, I do." He grabbed his beer and quaffed a few inches. "I just wish you hadn't found out the way you did." He sat on the end of the table. "Tell me. Please."
Gia told him about Joe Portman, about Tara's mother and brother and what had befallen them since her abduction. She told him about the day of her disappearance, how she'd been wearing the exact same clothes, how she'd left the stable area to go down the block for a pretzel and was never seen again.
"She did that every Thursday?" Jack said.
Gia nodded. "Why? Is that important?"
"Could be. Means she had an established pattern of behavior. That says to me there's a good chance it wasn't a random snatch. Somebody had been watching her. She'd been marked."
Gia felt a chill. An innocent child, walking the same route every Thursday afternoon, just going for a snack, never realizing she was being stalked. How many pretzel runs had her abductor watched before deciding to pounce?
She rubbed her arms to smooth the gooseflesh. "That's so creepy."
"Because you're dealing with creeps. Just like…" His voice drifted off as he frowned.
"What?"
"Just like Bellitto and his buddy. The kid they snatched the other night—"
"Due."
"Right. He had a pattern too, at least according to his mother. Down the block for ice cream every night around the same time. The kid was already in the store when Bellitto and Minkin arrived and parked outside. They knew he was coming out. They were waiting for him."
"Just like someone was waiting for Tara between the stables and the pretzel cart. A pattern of behavior?"
Jack stared at her. "You mean a pattern of behavior in the abductors of looking for victims with a pattern of behavior?"
"You don't think this Bellitto could be responsible for Tara too, do you?"
"Be a hell of a coincidence if he was."
"But—"
"Yeah. I know." Jack's expression was grim. "No more coincidences."
"I still don't see how such a thing could be."
"Neither do I. Let's face it, just because some crazy old lady said it doesn't mean it's true." He could still hear the old woman's Russian-accented voice as he leaned over Kate's grave. Is not coincidence. No more coincidences for you. He shook his head, willing the memory away. "What else did you learn?"
Gia snapped her fingers. "Oh, I learned that the sixties tune was really an eighties tune. Tiffany—"
"Right! Tiffany covered 'I Think We're Alone Now'! How could I have missed that? Especially after she was in Playboy."
"She was? When?"
"Don't remember. Heard it on the radio or something."
"Well, according to her father Tara sang the song all the time. But you know what really creeped me out? She was a Roger Rabbit fan."
Jack didn't exactly go white, but his tan abruptly became three shades paler.
"Jeez."
"What's wrong?"
He told her about the locked display cabinet in Eli Bellitto's shop, how it was filled with kids' knickknacks that he wouldn't part with at any price, and how one of them was a Roger Rabbit key ring.
Gia's skin crawled. "Do you have it with you?"
"No. It's back home. Let's not go jumping to too many conclusions here. Probably sold a million or two Roger Rabbit key rings back in the eighties."
"You could take it to the police and—"
He blinked. "The who?"
"Sorry." What was she thinking? This was Jack. Jack and police didn't mix.
He said, "I wish I had a way to connect Tara and the key ring… so I could know for sure. Right now I can only suspect Bellitto."
"Why not take it to the house. See if she reacts."
Jack stared at her. "What a great idea! Why didn't I think of that?"
"Because you're merely Repairman Jack. Only Repairwoman Jane could come up with that."
"Touche," he said with a smile and toasted her with his beer. "You think she'll respond?"