Perfumed Girls
There was a backwater behind the church, a mirror of rippled sky that twisted and wound miles through woodland till it met with the Red somewhere near the county line.
The church was burned till just a skeleton of the building remained.
The West End Mission.
It was Della Palmer’s church, ’cause if you cut through the pines it was only ten minutes to Standing Oak.
They’d had trouble after, when someone decorated it with a pile of dead squirrels and a large pentagram. Rumor was their own pastor lit the match, maybe ’cause he wanted to see if it would burn and not consume. The Mission took a hard line; their faith was unflinching.
A year back, when the case was red hot, Black had been called to a party that got outta hand at a rental near Brookdale. They’d got there and found the usual; high school kids getting lit and getting high, music loud. But then he’d gone round the back and seen the girls, three of them, scared white. They were pointing in the direction of the woods. Black had called for backup, gone in with Milk, locked and aiming. They’d nearly blown the kid’s head off. A jock, big and dumb, as was the custom. He’d made the feathered suit himself, thought it’d be funny to scare his girlfriend.
That was the first of the hoaxes.
The newspapers had been first to speak of the devil. There weren’t no grounds for it. Folk lapped it up, what with the Panic looking for kindling. Some idiot at the Briar County News cooked up a cover sketch of Baphomet with feathers, said they sold out in every town so ran it again week after week till it was burned in the minds of every kid in the area. It kept them outta Hell’s Gate, though into Ouija boards and other nonsense that freaked them out enough to call in every weekend.
Black walked over to the church and ran his hand along a piece of charred timber twenty foot long.
“You lookin’ for a rabbit at the altar? Or was it a parakeet?” Milk said.
“It was bullshit, that’s what it was.”
Black looked down and saw a BOWDOIN CONSTRUCTION sign in the dirt.
“Don’t look like Ray’s done nothin’ at all,” Milk said.
Pastor Roberts had made the complaint. He reckoned the church had paid Ray Bowdoin five grand to begin clearing the site ready to rebuild it. Ray had taken the cash months back. Hadn’t done shit yet.
“You still friendly with the mother? That girl that came here, I forget her name.”
“Peach Palmer,” Black said. “Her name’s Peach Palmer and her daughter’s name is Della.”
“Della was the first,” Milk said, his tone softening.
“Yeah.”
Black rubbed his eyes.
“They made the link already. Connected dots that ain’t there.”
Milk was talking about the hacks. The Bird was back, God sent the cloud ’cause the devil was at work in Hell’s Gate.
“So now we’re back chasin’ shadows,” Milk said.
“This guy ain’t even got a shadow.”
“There’s somethin’ we’re missin’.”
“Maybe. We’re tryin’ to see what others couldn’t. But maybe there ain’t nothin’ out there.”
Milk glanced at him.
“Could be some guy, no record, just started up and can’t stop. The only hope we got is that he makes a mistake. But how many girls go before he does that?”
Black sighed.
“How about Tommy Ryan? Anything on that?” Milk said.
“I found the lady he was seeing, Greta Gray, she confirmed it. Dates line up too, she dragged him to Pinegrove, then he dropped her cold.”
“Tommy Ryan goin’ to church and volunteerin’ at Pinegrove. What did she look like?”
“The kinda lady worth findin’ God for.”
Milk laughed.
“Funny thing was he visited the place a couple times after he’d canned her, when he knew she weren’t workin’.”
“Jesus,” Milk said. “Tommy Ryan helpin’ others, what’s the world comin’ to?”
They were about to get in the cruiser when they heard a car pull up. The track was deep so they couldn’t make out who it was. They walked the leaves till they reached the clearing and Chason Road and they saw an old Taurus, wheels in the hard mud, engine running but no one inside.
Black glanced around, and then he saw her. She was coming outta the trees, young-looking redhead with tired eyes and a sweep of freckles across her nose.
She was startled when she glanced up, took a step back and nearly tumbled.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Milk said.
She licked her lips like they were dry. “I don’t see nobody out here, that’s all.”
“You part of the Mission?”
“Yes,” she said, glancing about like they weren’t alone. “The mail . . . I collect the mail, some of the folk in White Mountain still send letters to this address. It’s overgrown now, I have to wade through just to find the box.”
“Where you guys at now?”
“Wherever Pastor Roberts can get, sometimes the hall in Ayling, sometimes in the fields. Don’t matter, God hears us wherever.”
“Right,” Milk said, throwing a glance at Black.
“You here about the money? We raised funds, all we got we gave to that Grace man,” she said.
“We’ll talk to Ray Bowdoin,” Milk said.
She nodded, began to walk, and then turned. “We pray for Della, all of us, every day we pray for her.”
They watched her drive away and they walked slow back up the track toward the cruiser and the burned church.
“All these people prayin’ for these girls,” Milk said. “I really hope there’s someone listenin’.”
*
It was a little before midnight when Joe Ryan walked into the police station and asked to speak to Black. It weren’t the way anyone thought he’d come—alone and through the front door.
Black appeared quick with Milk behind him.
Black ushered Joe into the back room while Milk locked the door and kept an eye on the four trucks sitting out front. The square was calm and sleeping but Milk knew how quick it could turn.
Joe sat, Black offered him something to drink but Joe waved him off.
“I heard Samson lawyered up,” Joe said.
Black recounted Samson’s version of events and didn’t leave nothing out, even offered to let him listen to the tape just to prove he was showing his hand early and honest.
“You believe him?” Joe said.
“At the moment I ain’t got reason not to.”
Joe sighed, rubbed the muscles in his neck, and closed his eyes. His arms were big; his hands were scarred across each knuckle. The beard was thickening as each day passed.
“So I’m just supposed to leave it at that? Take your word, take his –”
“Ernie is sendin’ someone over first thing in the mornin’. We’ll go over to the Lumen house and search every inch; if Summer was there we’ll know about it. To be honest it ain’t much of a reason to search the place. We got so little, Joe.”
“I appreciate you being straight with me.”
“I appreciate you not comin’ in heavy.”
“There’s still time.”
“I know.”
Black tried to put himself in Joe’s shoes, found it weren’t a nice place to be. Black’s girls had been small when his wife took them. He’d tried to write them a couple times; RETURN TO SENDER was all that came back. He tried to imagine what it was like raising teen girls. A fuckin’ nightmare was the way he saw it.
“How’s Ava holdin’ up?”
Joe looked down at his hands, fiddled with his wedding band, spinning it back and forth. “Ava’s just about the strongest woman I ever met, but she’s startin’ to lose herself now. She was all right the first days . . . but it’s so dark, this storm comin’, and Summer being out there alone. The newspapers gettin’ ready, talk of the Bird again. We’re still searchin’, do it in shifts so we can keep people here and watchin’.
“I remember when we found out it was twins, I was thinkin’ maybe we’d get one of each, or maybe two boys, I could take ’em to ball games, take ’em fishin’. I didn’t even think about two girls, I ain’t even sure why.” He cleared his throat. “I fucked up bad, missed out on more than you can imagine.”
“Holman is a rough place.”
Joe shrugged. “I ain’t never been scared, not even when I was small, fear . . . it ain’t somethin’ I remember. But when I knew I’d miss it, first steps and first words . . . that smell, their hair when they’d come visit. I’d sit there, one on each knee.”
Black smiled.
“They held hands all the time, you remember that?” Joe said. “When I got out Ava made that party, but I stayed outside awhile, just lookin’ in, watchin’ my girls holdin’ hands, nervous faces ’cause they thought I weren’t gonna show.”
“You’ve changed a lot, Joe.”
“I ain’t, not really. It’s all right though, doin’ a job I hate, Ava pickin’ up extra shifts, scrapin’ to get by. They made it all right. Raine blames you, you know that?”
“I know that.”
“Tell me this ain’t linked to the Briar girls. Tell me this guy ain’t got my girl.”
Black looked down at the table between them.
“Five girls . . . the church, is that somethin’ to do with it? All this talk about rituals and shit. Devil worship. When I was inside Ava was mad with it, the Panic, keepin’ the girls safe from somethin’ that maybe ain’t even real.”
“There’s nothin’ that says Summer’s been taken. The Briar girls, they didn’t pack bags. They weren’t runnin’.”
Joe nodded, his eyes heavy. “Could you have got him, that day, the Bird? Way people tell it . . .”
Black dropped his head a little. “Rumor ain’t fact.”
Joe nodded like he could see through.
“Can I ask you some more about Summer? I been tryin’ to build a picture, I spoke with some of her teachers.”
“You see her play at St. Luke’s that time?”
Black nodded. He’d been there, it was a day no one would forget.
“I saw her that day. Really saw her.”
“How?”
“Before it was talk, you know, just numbers and words, shit I’d never get. But watchin’ her play, even though I ain’t exactly sure what it was she was playin’, that was beautiful. There were people cryin’, not just those old coots you got that sit up front and cry every Sunday. I saw Dale Crashaw cryin’, and Dale’s mean as they come. So that’s when I saw just how special my little girl is.”
They heard noise outside. Black got to his feet quick, looked at Joe and fixed him with an even gaze. Joe stood and followed him out.
Milk was standing still, a hand on his gun but he hadn’t drawn. He saw Tommy Ryan by the door.
“What’s up?” Black said.
“I told Tommy to stay put, this ain’t on us,” Joe said.
“He’s hammerin’ on the door, said he needs to come in,” Milk said.
“Let him in then,” Joe said.
“Where’s Samson?” Black said.
Milk nodded toward the back. “Safe.”
“He ain’t come for Samson. You reckon if we wanted Samson I would’ve walked in like this?”
Tommy banged the door again, getting pissed off now.
Black walked over quick and unlocked the door. Milk drew his gun and trained it in front.
Black half expected to get rushed, but then Tommy stepped aside and Raine was standing there, looking small beneath the station lights.
“What’s goin’ on?” Joe said.
Raine spoke. “There’s somethin’ I gotta tell you.”
*
Raine sat opposite Black, with Joe standing by the far wall.
Milk was outside, at the top of the steps that led down to Samson.
“Summer had a boyfriend.”
Black smiled and tried not to see Joe flinch.
“Well, I ain’t exactly sure if he was her boyfriend but there was somebody she liked.”
“That’s okay, it’s important we know this, Raine.”
“She made me promise . . . I ain’t sellin’ her out. It’s been long is all, so I’m gettin’ worried. I thought maybe I could find her myself, but that ain’t workin’ out –”
“Don’t matter that you didn’t say. You were being loyal to your sister, ain’t nobody that’d blame you for that,” Black said.
Black poured her a glass of water. “Got anything stronger?” she said, and Joe shot her a look.
“She was nervous about askin’ me,” Raine said.
“What’d she ask you?”
“How to do shit.”
Joe stared on, his gaze hard to read, his shoulders low and his hands jammed into his pockets. Raine twisted the ring she wore, the ring with the blue stone. Summer wore a matching one.
“How to do what?” Black said, willing her not to look at Joe, to stay with him and with Summer.
“Like how to get a boy to notice you.”
“All right. And you know more about that sort of thing.”
“I ain’t a slut,” she said, nose turning up as she glared at Black.
Black shook his head. “That’s not what I meant, Raine. I just meant that Summer thought she could turn to you for that kinda thing.”
“I guess. She ain’t got experience of datin’. ’Cept this ain’t what it was.”
“What was it then?”
“She said the guy was older. Much older.”
Black felt the tension.
“This boy –”
“Man,” Raine said. “It weren’t a boy.”
“She didn’t tell you his name?”
“She wouldn’t. Said he’d get into shit.”
“You must’ve wanted to find out.”
“I thought she was lyin’ at first. I thought maybe she’d made the whole thing up, read it in a book and wanted to live it or somethin’.”
Black thought of Samson, with his funny ways and ten-dollar boots, that pallor of sickness, halo not horns. He thought of Summer Ryan, gifted and gold. No way it fit, however he tried to see it.
“What did you tell her?”
Raine glanced at her daddy.
“You want to step out for a while, Joe?” Black said.
Joe shook his head, managed to smile at Raine, which was an ask, but Black was grateful.
“I told her to smell nice, boys like perfume.”
“That perfume we found in her bedroom –”
“It weren’t mine. I know what Momma reckoned . . . she don’t never believe me.”
“You know where Summer got it?”
Raine shrugged. “I figured maybe this guy bought it for her. It looked fancy, expensive.”
“What else did you tell her?”
“To wear some lipstick, ’cause that makes them think of your lips, which makes ’em think of kissin’ your lips.”
Black smiled. “That makes sense. That all?”
Raine looked down. “She . . .” Raine’s voice shook a little. “She asked me what kinda underwear they like.”
Joe moved fast, so fast he was out the door before Black could get to his feet.
Black heard Milk yell something but by the time he made it to the door Milk was on his ass, his nose a mess of blood.
Black followed the steps down quick and heard heavy thumps, fast and solid.
He found Joe outside Samson’s door, hammering it with red fists, streaks of blood against the hard white.