Her heart skipped a beat. Love hadn’t been good to her. She didn’t know if she could do it again. Whether she could survive losing another part of herself.
She’d never thought about, never looked for, a love like the one she’d had with Peter. He had saved her, loved her, cared for her. Yet-she’d been young. Naive. In many ways, foolish. But she had loved deeply. When Peter died violently at her hands, she no longer wanted to live. And had she been truly alive ever since? Or had she merely survived?
Rafe wasn’t Peter. What she felt for Rafe wasn’t the pure, innocent love she’d had with Peter. It was deeper, far more terrifying because of its intensity. She couldn’t admit to these feelings, because she feared they would be used against her by her enemies. If Fiona knew … she could use Rafe against Moira. Another tool in her mother’s arsenal of weapons-the man she loved.
A woeful moan escaped her throat and she swallowed it. It was her secret for now. She had to keep it buried deep. To protect herself. To protect Rafe.
Moira saw Jackson and Nina go into his house. She followed, and caught up with them before he closed the door.
“Come in.”
“The paramedics are here. The police are soon to follow. We need to be on the same page.”
Nina said, “I’ll help take care of any problems. I work for the Board of Supervisors-it might help.”
“Skye originally told Grant she was investigating a cult,” Moira reminded Nina.
Nina nodded. “Grant said something about drugs. I’ll make sure he’s with us on this. Wendy and Pam sure acted like they were high.”
“One little thing-I shot Wendy in the leg with Grant’s gun.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not a legal resident. And, um,” Moira looked sheepish, “I might be in the system for stealing cars. But,” she added quickly, “I always left them undamaged and with money for gas.”
“Let’s see if we can keep your name out of it altogether, okay?”
Nina left, and Jackson took the first-aid kit from Moira and took out the supplies.
“Let’s get you fixed up here, since you’re being stubborn about the hospital,” he said.
Moira let him clean her wound with antibacterial spray and seal it with medical glue before rebandaging it. She didn’t know how to bring up the subject she’d wanted to discuss, but finally said, “Jackson, did you take something from Wendy’s house?”
He repacked the first-aid kit. “Why?”
“Wendy thought I took something other than the chalice. I don’t know what, but you were alone for at least ten minutes. What did you take?”
He let out his breath. “Names. Contacts. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to expand my information. You know how important it is to put the associations together, to be able to track these people through the country-”
“You’re looking for Courtney.”
Jackson’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t avert his gaze. “She’s my daughter.”
“I’m afraid for you, Jackson.”
“I’m not blind.”
“About this, you are.”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same.”
“True. I don’t have a daughter. But Courtney was over eighteen.”
“You don’t give up on your children just because they’re adults.”
“Jackson-”
“Don’t. You won’t understand. I’m not going to be rash. I need to know where she is.”
His face was hard, but it was an act. He was hurting inside, and Moira couldn’t do anything to help him. So she let it go. At least for now.
“Why don’t you stay here while I talk to the police?” Jackson said. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you and St. Michael’s.”
“Thank you. And thank you for your help. I’m sorry about your church.”
“It is replaceable.” He touched her lightly on the chin. “You are not.”
Julie was dead by the time the paramedics took her from Grant’s arms. Grant seemed to be in shock. He didn’t speak to anyone, only stared straight ahead. Rafe looked around for Moira, but as soon as the paramedics- followed by a cop car-pulled into the church parking lot, she’d disappeared.
Rafe didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened. He wished they’d had more time to come up with a believable story.
Two uniformed officers approached. One spoke to the paramedics; the other approached Rafe, who was standing near the door.
“Sir, what’s your name?”
“Raphael Cooper.” He pulled out his wallet and identification.
The officer looked at it, wrote down the information, and handed it back. “We need to remove you from the crime scene if you’re able,” he said.
“Pastor Moreno’s house is across the parking lot.”
“This is Jackson Moreno’s church?” the cop asked, recognizing the name.
“Officer?”
Nina Hardwick strode purposefully across the portico until she stood in front of the cop. She was a mess, just like all of them. There was blood on her white blouse and two buttons had popped off, revealing a very white stomach. The cop stared at her, as if trying to place her.
“Yes?”
“Nina Hardwick, staff counsel for Supervisor Vochek. I was here for this unfortunate tragedy, and I’m happy to answer any questions. Have you spoken with detectives Nelson and Johnston?”
The officer looked at the two men sitting on the ground. A paramedic was looking each one over. Grant pushed the EMT aside. “Help me up,” he told the cop.
“Sir-”
“Detective Grant Nelson.” Grant held out his hand. The cop took it. Aided, Grant rose to his feet, his body beaten and pale. “Pacific Division. You remember Kent Galion died last week? I was investigating his death, and my partner and I uncovered a drug ring operating out of Velocity. It spiraled out of control today. We were caught unawares. Ambushed. The two dead women inside were high on something. The coroner has been looking into designer drugs, but-” Grant shook his head.
“Is Pastor Moreno under investigation?” the cop asked.
“Of course not,” Grant said. “He had some information for us. I wish I could share with you all the details, but right now it’s still an ongoing undercover operation and you’ll have to talk to my boss.”
He glanced at Nina. Rafe watched the unspoken communication, and Nina excused herself.
Rafe didn’t know whether Grant’s quick talking would get him out of trouble, but for now it had saved his and Moira’s hides.
It was time for him to take Moira someplace to rest. They both needed sleep.
THIRTY-FIVE
Anthony landed in Missoula, Montana, after traveling for more than sixteen hours. A thick blanket of snow covered the ground, eerily beautiful in the stunning moonlight. He watched out the window of the taxi that wound carefully through the mountains to Olivet.
He was exhausted. More than anything, he wanted to hold Skye. If he’d gone straight to San Francisco, it
