“Have you done it yet?”
Dr. Schaefer asked, “How can you know he’s here? What’s going on?”
Keren snapped, “Have you done it yet?”
“Yes, once.”
“Get them to do it again—quietly and thoroughly. I didn’t feel him before, so he may have just joined the crowd. We can look at the tapes and compare who came in just now.”
Dr. Schaefer gave her the look that she might normally have reserved for a mold slide under a microscope, but she turned to the closest assistant. “Norm, have Tommy take another video of the people gathered around.”
Her helper was unfolding a body bag a few feet away. “He’s done already, Doc.”
“Norm!”
The young man, apparently not very brave, said with wide, worried eyes, “What, ma’am?”
“I wasn’t making a suggestion. I was giving an order. Tell him to be casual about it, but I want everyone who is gathered around here on tape. Everyone! If he sees someone ducking behind someone else, or walking away, get them. Understand?”
“Yes ma’am.” The young man dropped the body bag and turned away.
“Casual, Norm,” Dr. Schaefer demanded.
Norm did as he was told.
“Whoa, you’d make a great mom.” Keren thought Norm’s acting was a little stiff, but, after all, he’d studied pathology, not theater.
Dr. Schaefer turned back to the body. “You’re going to tell me what this is about sometime, right, Keren?”
Keren still felt the evil. She knew Pravus was within her reach. “You’re a trained investigator, Dee. Figure it out yourself.”
“I will,” Dr. Schaefer said.
Norm was back in a couple of minutes. With some help, Dr. Schaefer wrapped Wilma in the body bag then said to Norm, “Back the meat wagon in here.”
Paul flinched.
“Pansy,” Dr. Schaefer said dryly.
Very carefully, Keren eased away from Wilma’s body. While the forensic team worked, she slowly moved toward the crowd. When she got close enough to the mob, the press attacked, which eliminated any chance she had of moving around incognito. She pushed through the press and the onlookers. The crowd kept stirring, coming and going. There were gang members, homeless people, businessmen, people of every description.
There was nothing about any she got near that told her this was the one. Knowing that lifted a weight off her shoulders about the shooting she’d done at the car. She really had followed faint running footsteps. She really had pulled the trigger because of more than just this feeling of evil. She walked through the crowd several times, praying God would open her eyes.
Looking particularly for homeless people, she made a point of touching them when she could, but most of them slinked away when the press identified her as a police detective.
Anyway, not all the people who worked at the mission were homeless. She hunted for those five men who’d been in that car out in front of the mission, photographed by Higgins, but she couldn’t pick them out of this mob.
Wilma was loaded and the coroner’s wagon drove slowly across the expanse of green.
Higgins stepped toward the reporters. “I’ll make a statement now.”
The press abandoned Keren without a backward glance.
Pulling Keren aside, Paul asked, “If you can feel the demon, why can’t you cast it out?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Well, what is it like?”
“It’s not something I can do. My gift is to discern spirits. I can’t cast them out like some exorcist.”
“Are you sure?”
“The person with the demon has to do it. Like with Roger, I can help them believe such a thing is possible, but the choice to be free has to come from the one who’s possessed. That’s the only way I know.”
Keren watched the video camera being swept across the crowd. Keren turned to Paul but only for a second. She couldn’t stop moving through the crowd, searching, praying. “You’re done here.”
He nodded. “I think I’ll walk back to the mission now.”
“I’m not letting you go alone.” As casually as possible, she pressed on shoulders, eased past people, making sure to brush against them. Paul kept pace. “We both know that one of these times this”—she turned to hiss at him—”this maniac is going to turn his attention on you.”
“I don’t think so,” Paul said. “He’s after women. He may be blaming me for this, but his hatred is for women.”
“Maybe so, but you seem to be his real target. Maybe he only plans to torment you, but I wouldn’t count it as an established fact that it’s some mommy dearest situation.” Keren felt the demonic presence ease and wanted to scream. Who was it? There were people walking away in all directions. She checked her watch. The video would be time stamped. She’d see who walked away at just this time.
“The profiler is researching his background since we know his name now.” Keren kept studying the crowd, trying to fine-tune her sense of evil. “He’s hoping, if we look into his past, it’ll help us predict the future.”
“You don’t have to escort me home. I see Roger over there.” Paul pointed at Roger, standing alone.
“Okay. But don’t go alone with him.”
“You don’t trust Roger?” Paul looked alarmed.
“Yes. No. Look, it’s not him, but just… just make sure there are several of you.” Keren studied the people near Roger, but none of them were the killer. The killer was gone. But maybe she could eliminate a few suspects. “Are any of the men still here that were riding with Murray that morning?”
“I don’t see them.” Paul studied the crowd.
Frustrated, Keren dragged her cell phone out of her pocket. “Let us know if anyone calls so we can start a trace.” She pushed a couple of buttons. “That’s how you record. Don’t forget it, even if he calls in the middle of the night.”
“I don’t like you going without a cell.” Paul accepted the phone only when she jammed it into his hand. “He may have his eye on you, too.”
“I can get another one from the station. And I’ll ride back with O’Shea. I’m not going anywhere alone either, Rev.”
They stood and watched Higgins finish his little press conference then approach them across the killing field of the park.
As soon as he left the press, his expression turned grim. His perfect hair even seemed a little flat. “We have another woman missing.”
The top of Keren’s head almost blew off. “And you told the press before you told me?”
“No.” Higgins’s eyes glittered gold and icy.
“So you lied to the press?” “bure.”
“We really try not to tell blatant lies to the press here. They don’t forget.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. I’m going back to DC when this is over.” Higgins shrugged, not the tiniest speck of concern for Chicago cops and their relationship with a skeptical press. “She’s homeless, but someone saw her being taken, and when they went up to the spot she’d been dragged away from, they found a sign that said this.” He held up a scrap of paper that said, “Pestis ex ulcus.”
“I can’t take any more of this.” Paul ran one hand into his hair.
Keren grabbed his arm. “Tell us what it means first, Paul. I’ve got them all written down back in the car and at the office, but I can’t remember them.”
Paul said, “I can barely remember my name.”
“Morris,” Higgins said sharply.
Paul reached for the paper but pulled his hand back at the last minute as if touching it would bring the plague on himself. “Plague of boils.”
“Boils?” Higgins grimaced. “What does that mean?”
Paul said, “This one might be the worst yet. He could go a lot of different ways with boils. He could infect someone with anthrax or smallpox.”