Unholy Shepherd, Robert Christian [fastest ebook reader TXT] 📗

as sacrificial altars. We know he’s been killing just after midnight or early in the morning. This sick bastard lights up a signal beacon every time he kills someone, so why not now? The kid’s alive, that’s why.” Manny felt his whole body shaking. He was losing control. He felt himself slump on the couch next to Maureen and bury his face in his hands.

“Why can’t you just see who it is?” he lamented, throwing himself back and staring at the ceiling. He could feel his cheeks begin to flush and tears blurred his vision. “What good is being psychic if you can’t save people? If this kid dies, it’ll be our fault! How do I live with something like that?”

The pain of what he was saying hit him all at once, and Manny closed his eyes and lowered his head into her lap, seeking some kind of comfort. He couldn’t hear anything except for the soft whimpers coming out of his throat.

Manny felt her hands slide under his chin and lift his head up to look into her eyes. Their deep pools, usually protected from betraying the emotion underneath, now held endless depths of pity and understanding. She ran her hand down his face, drying the tears that held on to his skin.

“I’ve been asking myself those same questions all my life,” she whispered. “And in all that time, I’ve never managed to find the answers. I’ve lived with this torment from my earliest memories, and I’ve never been able to save anyone or at least turn this curse into something that does good. I’ve told you that it’s always easier to walk away.” Her eyes narrowed. “But not this time,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know if we can save the kid, but I swear, even if it kills us, we’re gonna find a way to bring this fucker down!”

Manny’s heart rose at her words. He sat up, took both her hands in his, and kissed them. Then he got to his feet and stalked over to the window. The sun was already setting behind the river banks. Time was getting short. They needed to get to work.

“All right,” he said, turning back toward Maureen, “maybe we should take another look through the evidence box. Look again for something we mi—”

The sound of his cell phone vibrating on the coffee table cut him short. Maureen reached over and picked it up, staring at the display.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“No name, just a number.” She tossed the phone to him. It was a local number.

He hit the button to answer. “This is Detective Benitez.”

“Manny,” a woman’s whispered, tentative voice on the other end said, “I need to talk to you.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Tasha. Is there some place we can meet? It’s important. I don’t want to talk over the phone.”

“Okay,” he said, trying to sound calm. “Why don’t you head down to the police station, and I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

“Isn’t there some place else we could meet? Somewhere private?”

“The station will be private enough at this hour,” he replied. It was the truth; there would only be one officer there. Manny would have to come up with a reason he was talking to the kidnapped child’s mother when he wasn’t officially on the case, but he had the car ride to figure that out.

“All right,” Tasha said tentatively. “Ten minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll see you and Ben there.”

“Ben won’t be there.”

The line clicked dead before Manny could respond.

“That was Tasha Naismith,” he told Maureen. “She’s got something she wants to talk to us about. Let’s go.”

Maureen nodded and got to her feet, tying her flannel shirt around her waist.

“Don’t forget your phone,” he reminded her.

Maureen smirked slightly and bent to pick up the old flip phone he’d given her. “Still can’t get used to having this thing.”

They ran out of the house and jumped into the truck. Manny felt his stomach tighten as he pondered Tasha’s last words. She was coming to meet them alone. What could that mean? Where was Ben, and why wasn’t he coming? Did he even know she was doing this? The questions would drive him mad, so he gripped both hands on the steering wheel, stared ahead into the growing darkness, and focused on the road instead.

The truck’s lights splashed across the figure of Tasha Naismith and silhouetted her against the building as Manny pulled into the parking lot of the police station. He swung his truck into his usual parking spot and let out a long sigh.

“You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to,” he told Maureen as he shifted the truck into park.

“I’m coming in,” she replied stoically, still staring straight ahead.

Manny tilted his head toward her but said nothing. She had been silent throughout the whole drive, just staring off into the night. He wanted badly to ask her what she was thinking about, but there wasn’t time. He pushed his door open and stepped out of the truck. Maureen followed suit.

“Why am I not surprised that she’s with you?” Tasha said sourly, pointing at Maureen as they approached.

“Knock it off, Tasha,” Manny said. “I already told you yesterday, Maureen is helping me with this investigation. So anything you say to me, you can say to her.”

Tasha eyed Maureen for another moment before nodding in agreement. Manny nodded back and motioned for them to head into the station. As they approached the door, he looked back to Maureen, who was shuffling along half a step behind him. Unsurprisingly, her face didn’t betray whether or not Tasha’s cold reception had troubled her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Officer Collins shouted, springing to his feet as the group walked through the door. Clearly, he had not expected any company tonight.

“Trying to catch a killer,” Manny said, calmly walking past the befuddled officer. “Is there coffee?”

“Wh—ye—no,” Collins stammered. “Hang on! You can’t be here!”

“The hell I can’t,” Manny shot back, rounding on the young man and