“ Iowa, yeah… it was Iowa.”
“ Anything else distinguishing about the old man or his ride?” pressed Keyes, now held up at the door by the turn of the conversation.
“ It was spanking clean and brand new, one of those newest models, foreign-made for sure… Couldn't tell you which, but large enough to hold two caskets side by side. Man looked like the Grim Reaper himself.”
'Truly, sir, you do have a way with words,” replied Jessica, picturing this image. A van large enough to hold two caskets.
“ Did you ever at any time think that maybe you ought to… you know… intervene, Dr. Marsden?” asked Keyes, an edge that had not been there before now creeping into her voice.
“ Hell, I can't straighten out my own life. I wasn't about to get involved, but I did kinda sorta confront the old man.”
“ You confronted him?” asked Keyes.
“ You had words with him?” asked Jessica. Both women approaching the old man anew, their eyes pinning him to where he sat. “How?” asked Jessica, her eyes telling the old man that she wanted every single word of this latest revelation, and she wanted them now.
Marsden's voice quaked a little bit, a small anxious crackling sound, as if he might go either way, explode with words or contract into himself and say little or nothing. “Just after…”
“ Just after what?” Damn this man, Jessica thought.
“ Just after he… he put her into it.”
“ Into the van?”
“ Into the casket… the casket in the van.”
“ Whoa, wait up there, sir,” replied Jessica. “Are you saying that he actually did have two g'damn coffins in back of his van?”
“ God's honest truth, yes.”
Again the women exchanged a long, amazed look. The conversation had held Keyes planted in the room, and she, like Jessica, had turned her full attention to Marsden. 'Tell us, sir, how you actually confronted the abductor.”
“ Well, maybe not confront… that may not be the word.”
“ What is the damned word?” Jessica felt on the verge of slamming her fists onto the table. The man infuriated her. Keyes must have sensed this. Shannon placed a soft hand over Jessica's and asked Marsden to go on. “I… I mean we had words. We spoke to one 'nother.” Just like that? Jessica wanted to scream. “What precisely did you say to him, sir?” she pleaded.
“ I asked him… let me see… asked if he thought… if he was… you know… if he was doing the right thing here.”
“ Jesus,” Jessica muttered. 'To which he replied?” asked Keyes calmly. “The old feller said something from the Bible straight out.”
“ What… what from the Bible did he say?” pressed Jessica, her back now like a staff.
“ He stood there eyeballing me like I was an old friend the whole time, but never letting his eyes off me, burned a hole through me.” Now came the explosion of words out of the former Georgia school principal's mouth.
“ What did the old man say to you?” Jessica again pressed. “Said, 'Fear not, for I am about the Lord's work, and you'-he said to me straight out-'you have come from God as a messenger, John out of the wilderness,' and how I was a sign… yeah, a sign.”
“ A sign?” asked Keyes.
“ A good sign that he was doing exactly as God intended him to do.”
“ Damn,” cursed Jessica. “We not only have a lunatic on our hands but one that is inspired by God's divine message.”
“ The worst kind,” agreed Keyes.
Jessica's hand meandered across the table in Marsden's direction, stopping short of his. “You say he put the woman into a coffin in the van?”
“ Yes ma'am.”
“ And you let him leave without another word?” demanded Keyes, finally losing some of her control.
“ He had a look about him that told me it wasn't none of my business. Fact is, he had a strange look in his eyes.”
Jessica kept eye contact with Marsden. “What kind of look is that, sir?”
“ Like he was doing what he said he was doing.”
“ God's work, you mean?” asked Jessica.
“ The business of God's work, yes, and his eyes… that look he had… told me I wasn't to interfere, that no one was to interfere.”
“ Is there anything else? Did he say anything else to you?” Jessica was glad the interrogation had been taped.
“ There was one other thing he said. He said, 'Who can know or judge God's work,' he said.”
“ I see.” Jessica stood again, turned, and spoke to the others behind the glass. “Sounds like our man is hearing voices from God.”
“ Or reading too much into 'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,' “ added Keyes.
Jessica had to control her anger with Marsden. She sucked it up and returned to him, sat, and calmly asked, “You didn't think to call the police?”
“ He had two coffins in the back of his van!” Now Mars-den began to show some agitated anger, weakly defending his inaction. “Damn it, I didn't want to be put into the other coffin beside her, and that van… it smelled… smelled of a horrible odor.”
“ What kind of odor?”
“ Like decay and death all balled up into one.”
“ And you aren't exaggerating about the size of the van,” asked Keyes, “or that it contained not one but two coffins?”
'Two coffins, side by side.”
“ This means she could be buried alive somewhere,” said Keyes, trembling.
Marsden began to prattle, “I thought it was some old guy come to carry his woman or maybe even his child on back to a home she run from. I saw an old Iowa farmer come to fetch what belonged to him. Maybe she was his runaway wife or daughter, I told myself. Maybe he was rescuing her from a cult or something. How should I know?”
“ Daddy come to fetch his little girl with a box to restrain her in, all to save her from the big bad city, huh?” asked Keyes, shaking her head.
“ That's 'bout what I was thinking, ma'am,” replied Marsden to Keyes. “Like that, yeah. I didn't get a fair look at her to determine if it was the wife or daughter, but yeah… that's why I didn't get involved. Thought it was family business, you know?”
“ Family business,” repeated Jessica, feeling weakened by this process of getting information out of this man. Still, she felt great relief that she had excluded Santiva and the other men from the questioning. Perhaps not Richard or J. T„but Santiva most certainly would have shut Marsden down like turning off a faucet. At least she and Keyes had been patient in finding and turning that faucet on. Eriq Santiva would most likely have sent the mole scurrying to the dark underground of a splintered personality that existed deep within him, and they would have gotten little or no information from Marsden. Even J. T. might have exploded on learning that Marsden had wasted their time with a doggie death, while all this vital information about DeCampe's abductor remained off the table and inside the man's head.
“ Family business,” muttered Keyes.
“ That's 'bout what I was thinking, ma'am,” repeated Marsden, his eyes glued on Keyes yet vacant. “Like that, yeah,” he repeated. “Were you drunk at the time you witnessed the attack?” asked Jessica, looking for something mitigating about the sheer cowardice of the man.
“ Not nearly drunk enough. Bothered me some that I didn't help out that woman.”
Jessica released a long breath of air. She had smelled Marsden's odors long enough. She stood beside him,
