Ten Plagues

Paul was glad to oblige.

Keren was poring over the police files of the suspects they couldn’t eliminate, looking for a face that matched one of those five men in the car Murray was driving. It had to be one of those men. Or did it? Had someone else come in, maybe from the back? Wondering about it was driving her crazy, so she went with what she knew and tried to mentally add years and facial hair and maybe a disguise to the pictures, maybe even plastic surgery.

Paul came in and started sorting through files without talking to her or O’Shea, who was working beside her. She thought Paul believed her about why she was at the mission, but she didn’t ask, settling for the quiet rather than start something. They’d deal with it later.

Dyson came and asked Paul a few questions about how the Lighthouse Mission operated. “Where does its funding come from? Who does the books? Who has keys?”

“We may have culled too deep on these files,” O’Shea muttered. “I’m going to look at a few we eliminated.” He left, probably to return very soon with a lot more work.

Once they were alone, Paul said, “You’re sure it’s one of those five?”

“I’m sure that Pravus was in the mission after the services. The timing is right. Someone could have come in from the back maybe, or—or—”

“Maybe came down from upstairs, the sleeping quarters.”

“Of the five, Louie is the one with a murder rap. He murdered his wife?”

“Yes, Louis Pike went down for voluntary manslaughter. His other crimes were just thug stuff. Bar fights. A couple of B and Es. He’d done time in juvie. Been in foster care most of his life. He was drug involved. He did five years, and his parole includes community service, which is how I got him.”

“Does he seem capable of this?”

Paul shook his head. “He’s young. He’d have been in his late teens when I was on the force. He’s a known quantity. Not with a missing past like most of the men at the mission. I don’t see how I could have done him damage and now not remember him.”

Paul looked up. “He’s always been Louie Pike, if you know what I mean. He’s accounted for. No name change, no gaps in his history. His face looks the same now as it did in his teens. I’d recognize him if I’d run across him before. Plenty of paper on Louis Pike. So if I hurt him or arrested him, he’d be in here, listed by name.”

“And he’s not.”

Paul shook his head.

“It almost seems more likely it’s someone like McGwire,” Keren said. “All that silence. The way he dresses and looks, that full beard. Even the way he keeps his head down, it’d be a good disguise.”

Paul stared into the distance. Keren was sure he was thinking of the interactions he’d had with all these men. “If he’s faking then he’s never missed a note. He’s a great actor.”

“Listen, while we’ve got a second …” Keren didn’t want to mess up this moment when they were trying to solve this crime and save a life, but she had to say something. “I didn’t come down there on Higgins’s order.”

Paul turned his eyes on her. Cop eyes. Detached, analytical. Rude. “It’s the job, I get that.”

“Higgins suggested it, but I’d already decided I wanted to hear you preach.”

“So showing up had nothing to do with solving this crime.”

Keren narrowed her eyes at him. “Every breath I take involves solving this crime, Paul. And it had occurred to me that I might be able to sense Pravus if he was down there. But I would have come anyway.”

The coldness wavered. Keren thought she caught just a glimpse of hurt.

Before he could mask his feelings, she added, “You saw what happened with Roger.”

Paul’s expression relaxed. He nodded. “I saw.”

“You can’t believe that was part of being a cop. Yes, I was hoping I could pick Pravus out of the crowd, but—”

“The FBI wants you to carry this phone, Morris. It’s more easily traceable than the one you have.” A uniformed officer held out a cell phone to Paul.

“I can’t figure out how to run this dumb thing,” Paul grumbled as the young officer walked away. He sounded like a pastor again.

The tension eased and Keren managed a smile. “You’ll be fine.”

Paul tapped away at the buttons with his brow furrowed. “Have you tried simply concentrating on each file?”

“I can’t get a sense of anything from them. I’ve tried.”

“You’ve never even told O’Shea about this, have you?”

She shrugged. “No, and it’s embarrassing to sit and try to vibe out a demon while I’m holding paper in my hand like it’s some kind of Ouija board. But I’ve tried.”

“Tried what?” O’Shea returned.

“Tried nothing.” Keren had to stifle a groan at the stack of files her partner carried. “Good grief, you want us to go back to considering all those?” Keren turned to glare at Paul. “What were you, the Energizer Bunny of cops?”

They got back to work. As soon as it could possibly be declared night, Paul was ready for the stakeout.

“It’s five o’clock.” Keren held him off. “We can’t even conceal ourselves until dark. No way is Pravus going to strike in full daylight.”

“I’m going to the same frog pond we staked out last night.” Paul went back to combing through files.