bag.” He’d always been a terrible liar, but he just wasn’t ready to broach the subject of the money, at least not yet.
“ We can take a missing person’s report and investigate, but to be honest with you, most of my deputies are committed to this murder investigation. Unless we get more to go on within the next 72 hours or so, I don’t know what to tell you. We can post her picture on our website and make up some posters, but that’s about it for now. I’ll have one of our guys do a canvass of that neighborhood this afternoon, see if anyone saw anything, all right?” At her bemused nod he shifted gears.
“ Do you have somewhere to stay for now, or would you like to head back up from the Southland in a few days? Your car should be ready by Friday at the latest. Maybe you and your husband could see the Park or something in the meanwhile.”
Arden’s laugh was harsh, bitter, totally at odds with the personality she’d displayed thus far. “Ah, no. I’ll stay here until I can get my car back and figure out where the hell my sister is. My ex is in Korea right now, so he won’t be joining me. Any recommendations on a place to stay away from the maddening crowd?” she asked, referring to the press.
“ Sorry,” said the Sheriff crisply, all business now. “Didn’t mean to hit a sore spot. I just assumed you were married when you mentioned that Henning was your maiden name. As for a place to stay, you might try the Maple Street Inn. It’s a bed and breakfast far enough from the highway that the press probably hasn’t caught on to it yet.”
And so their conversation degenerated into the banalities that pass between a law enforcement officer and a crime victim. But as they conducted their business across the top of the battered, cluttered old desk, each felt a niggling sensation in the back of their minds. Bill dismissed it as something he might have missed in the investigation. Arden chalked it up to being tired and bitchy. Whatever it was, both of them were feeling it, and continued to feel it as he left to talk to the FBI and she checked into her hotel room.
The Third Fold
So, she has finally begun the process. I’m pleased she chose Grimassi’s book, it has been my inspiration. Fort Hood seems so long ago and far away. How cynical and young I was then. When I first attended a coven meeting I thought they were all frauds. How wrong I was. They never knew how close to the real truth they were. If only they had researched their history a little more, learned the true meaning behind The Sun, The Moon. If only they’d applied the lessons of the Egyptians and the Aztecs, the value of blood let in the name of God, they could have been my first disciples. Instead I am alone. Alone and living the only true religion. My religion. The Way.
Samantha knew he was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her as she sat pretending to read the hocus-pocus, “nature is love” drivel she was holding. Who believes this shit? Well, obviously he did, and that really frightened her. The fact that the bookcase held such a broad base of religion was extraordinary as well. She, who had grown up in a liberal Lutheran home, hadn’t heard of half of the religions represented, and couldn’t tell you what the ones she did recognize believed in. She and her secular education had parted ways when she turned sixteen, and she’d never looked back. In retrospect, she thought dryly, that might have been a bad choice.
She was glad she could look at this whole situation with a little detachment, because she knew that was what she’d need to get out of here alive. Allowing terror or any emotion at all, to dictate her moves would surely get her killed sooner rather than later. She was a survivor, and would apply the skills she’d learned on the streets of L.A. to keep her alive from one day to the next. She fleetingly thought of Arden, and that maybe the police would find her car and contact her. But no, her captor
“ We can take a missing person’s report and investigate, but to be honest with you, most of my deputies are committed to this murder investigation. Unless we get more to go on within the next 72 hours or so, I don’t know what to tell you. We can post her picture on our website and make up some posters, but that’s about it for now. I’ll have one of our guys do a canvass of that neighborhood this afternoon, see if anyone saw anything, all right?” At her bemused nod he shifted gears.
“ Do you have somewhere to stay for now, or would you like to head back up from the Southland in a few days? Your car should be ready by Friday at the latest. Maybe you and your husband could see the Park or something in the meanwhile.”
Arden’s laugh was harsh, bitter, totally at odds with the personality she’d displayed thus far. “Ah, no. I’ll stay here until I can get my car back and figure out where the hell my sister is. My ex is in Korea right now, so he won’t be joining me. Any recommendations on a place to stay away from the maddening crowd?” she asked, referring to the press.
“ Sorry,” said the Sheriff crisply, all business now. “Didn’t mean to hit a sore spot. I just assumed you were married when you mentioned that Henning was your maiden name. As for a place to stay, you might try the Maple Street Inn. It’s a bed and breakfast far enough from the highway that the press probably hasn’t caught on to it yet.”
And so their conversation degenerated into the banalities that pass between a law enforcement officer and a crime victim. But as they conducted their business across the top of the battered, cluttered old desk, each felt a niggling sensation in the back of their minds. Bill dismissed it as something he might have missed in the investigation. Arden chalked it up to being tired and bitchy. Whatever it was, both of them were feeling it, and continued to feel it as he left to talk to the FBI and she checked into her hotel room.
The Third Fold
So, she has finally begun the process. I’m pleased she chose Grimassi’s book, it has been my inspiration. Fort Hood seems so long ago and far away. How cynical and young I was then. When I first attended a coven meeting I thought they were all frauds. How wrong I was. They never knew how close to the real truth they were. If only they had researched their history a little more, learned the true meaning behind The Sun, The Moon. If only they’d applied the lessons of the Egyptians and the Aztecs, the value of blood let in the name of God, they could have been my first disciples. Instead I am alone. Alone and living the only true religion. My religion. The Way.
Samantha knew he was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her as she sat pretending to read the hocus-pocus, “nature is love” drivel she was holding. Who believes this shit? Well, obviously he did, and that really frightened her. The fact that the bookcase held such a broad base of religion was extraordinary as well. She, who had grown up in a liberal Lutheran home, hadn’t heard of half of the religions represented, and couldn’t tell you what the ones she did recognize believed in. She and her secular education had parted ways when she turned sixteen, and she’d never looked back. In retrospect, she thought dryly, that might have been a bad choice.
She was glad she could look at this whole situation with a little detachment, because she knew that was what she’d need to get out of here alive. Allowing terror or any emotion at all, to dictate her moves would surely get her killed sooner rather than later. She was a survivor, and would apply the skills she’d learned on the streets of L.A. to keep her alive from one day to the next. She fleetingly thought of Arden, and that maybe the police would find her car and contact her. But no, her captor
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