It was destined. His middle name was Michael. He wasZachary Michael Reed. Zachary, father of John the Baptist, who’s birth wasforetold to him by an Angel. John the martyred prophet who baptized Christ.
Michael the Archangel.
Finding Michael was challenging. For the past twodays, Keller saw nothing at the house, except for Doris Crane’s comings andgoings. Although he tried to remain calm and trust in the Lord, he worried. Solast night he took Doris Crane’s garbage. He probed it, finding a copy of atravel company’s itinerary for Ann reed. She had two round-trip plane ticketsto Chicago. The tickets were for A. and Z. Reed. She was attending a conferenceat the Marriott. They were scheduled to return this morning. Keller checked hiswatch. The plane had landed in San Francisco two hours ago. He was convinced hewould see the third Angel today. For Heaven continued to shower him withprotection.
Virgil Shook was the latest miracle. His arrest and shootinghad dominated the front pages of this morning’s papers. Shot him dead, somereports said.
In a church. It was preordained.
Sanctus. Sanctus. Sanctus. Keller’s mission was divine.
He was invincible.
Soon police would learn that the repulsive child abuserwas not the enlightened one. The incident was divine intervention, designed toshield Keller long enough to complete his work. He was so close to thetransfiguration.
Keller’s body tensed.
A cab stopped in front of Doris Crane’s house.
A woman got out of the rear passenger’s side, whilethe driver unloaded luggage from the trunk. The woman was in her earlythirties, attractive, very business-like.
Ann Reed.
She was tired, angry, as she rummaged through herwallet and called into the cab.
“Come on, Zach, wake up, we’re home.”
Keller held his breath.
Michael. The third Angel.
The drowsy boy dragged himself out of the car. He waswearing a Chicago Bulls T-shirt, baggy jeans, new sneakers. As his motherslapped bills into the cabby’s hand, the boy wearily grabbed a canvas travelbag and trudged into the house.
Keller watched.
His heart nearly tore free from his body.
Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus. Dominus Deus sabaoth.
Michael.
Commander of Heaven’s army! Conqueror of Lucifer!
Behold!
A prince in God’s celestial court!
Keller had gazed upon Michael the Archangel.
And he shone with the light of one million suns.
He was overwhelmed in the presence of divine majesty.Soon, he would realize his exalted mission.
The transfiguration.
The reunification with his lost children.
It was his destiny.
Keller clasped his hands together tightly, bowed hishead, touching his lips to his whitened knuckles.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Sydowski kept his promise.
Angela Donner cradled twelve white sweetheart roses inher arms, as if carrying a baby. Sydowski pushed her father, John, in hissqueaking wheelchair along the pebbled paths of the cemetery to Tanita Marie’sheadstone. Sydowski had vowed to make a pilgrimage to Tania’s grave with hermother and grandfather once her murder had been solved. It had. Her death hadbeen avenged. Her killer killed.
When they stopped at Tanita’s marker, the earlymorning sun was hitting the polished granite. It was emblazoned in the light.The grounds were silent but for the distant traffic, and John’s soft moans.Sydowski patted his shoulder.
Angela knelt, setting the flowers at the foot of thestone, kissing it as a breeze rolled through the oaks sheltering Tanita’s plot.Tears streaked her face as she caressed the epitaph tracing the sun-warmedletters of her daughter’s name. “You know, Inspector, I’ve been part of theuniversity’s bereavement group.”
“I know.”
“I have come to accept that my baby was a lambsacrificed for the sins of this world.”
Sydowski nodded. Angela continued.
“I see her everywhere in the faces of children. I achewhen I see mothers hug their daughters. I know my baby is with God. Probablymaking Him laugh. I have to carry that in my heart to survive.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you for working so hard. I know you reallycared. I just hope with all my heart you find the other children. Alive.”
Sydowski swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Wouldthere be two more deaths? Two more funerals with little coffins? He needed alead. Something. Anything. Sydowski’s pager bleated.
Clamping his teeth on his unlit cigar, Lieutenant LeoGonzales grunted angrily, seating himself with the detectives at the table inRoom 400 at the hall. By the grave way he was rearranging the fresh pages inhis hands. It was a safe bet something was fucked. Badly. This was the firststatus meeting of the Yellow Ribbon Task Force since Virgil Lee Shook waspronounced dead at San Francisco General sixteen hours ago. Papers and reportswent round the table. The cork and chalk boards bearing maps, notes, and photosof Tanita, Danny, and Gabrielle, Shook, the suspect’s composite, and a blurrystill of him from the home video, were again wheeled to one end of the room.
“Listen up. It’s just like we figured. No way is thisover. We’ve got the serology tests. From the saliva on the envelopes of theintercepted letters to the families, we got an O-positive blood type. From thesemen in Tanita Donner’s homicide, we got an O-positive. Shook is O-positive.And we got one of Shook’s latent’s on the knife used in Donner. We put the labstuff, along Shook’s identification through his tattoos, the Polaroids, histaped confession, and we’ve got him for Donner, with Franklin Wallace asaccomplice. DNA will nail it.”
“What’s the problem?” Lonnie Ditmire wondered.
Gonzales halted the question with his hand. “Let mefinish.” He shuffled his papers. “The blood-typing tests on Gabrielle Nunn’ssevered braids found in the Sunset were redone. We just got the results.Gabrielle is A-positive. Shook, O-positive. The problem is, the blood on herhair is B-positive, a male Caucasian.”
“Just like we feared, we’ve still got another playerout there,” Turgeon said.
“Exactly.” Gonzales dropped the pages, as the impactsank in.
“Could we have some kind of pedophile ring goinghere?” asked Bill Kennedy, Deputy Chief of Investigations.
“Could be,” Gonzales said.
“What about Shook’s friend, Perry William Kindhart?”Nick Roselli, Chief of Inspectors, asked. “Have we leaned on him, Walt?”
“We’ve leaned hard. He’s got a lawyer now. We’ve gotnothing on him. No leverage. He’s under surveillance.”
“What about the taped confessions, Florence Schaferand the priest, people at the shelter, Shook’s past?” Roselli said.
“Nothing substantial beyond what we’ve already got.”
“What about Shook’s place in the Tenderloin?” Gonzalessaid.
Sydowski, Turgeon, Ditmire, Rust, and several othersfrom the task force had scoured Shook’s room overnight and into the earlymorning hours.
“More pictures of Shook with Tanita,” Rust said. “Adiary detailing his desires. He mentions Wallace, taunting the police withconfessions, and he wrote that whoever took Becker and Nunn was making it hardfor him to ‘go hunting’. At this point, it looks like Donner and the recentabductions are unrelated.”
“What about Kindhart?” Roselli Said. “Is hementioned?”
“In passing,” Sydowski said. “Other than the cameralink to Donner, we got nothing that puts him with any of the cases.”
“Claire”-Gonzales turned to Inspector Claire Ward, theexpert on cults-“you went to Shook’s place. Anything there to suggest a cultconnection?”
“Other than the fact we maybe have a minimum of threepeople involved in the abductions, absolutely nothing.”