I was pretty certain that our question-and-answer session would last more than fifteen minutes. Once Jacob had the opportunity to gloat and deem himself worthy of being listened to, a lengthy self-absorbed story would begin. At least, his arrogant personality made me think that. Our questions needed to be answered first, then he could talk all he wanted.
I sat back and continued. “During the time you abused and sacrificed animals, what was the largest animal you killed?”
“Strange question, but a cow. Sacrificing cows has been around for centuries along with goats and sheep.”
“And you killed them too?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“It was part of our”—he air-quoted the word—“ceremony.”
I cleared my throat and continued. “A satanic ceremony is what you mean to say, right? The police report says you boasted about being the leader of a cult.”
“We had our own religion. First Amendment thing, you know? Anyone can practice or even invent their own religion, even if others call it a cult. A number of well-publicized religions come to mind.” He glanced at the clock again. “Why don’t you get to the real point?”
The man irritated me more with every passing minute. I tipped my head at Rue, and he took over.
“Did you know anyone back then who sacrificed or currently sacrifices living, breathing people in their ceremonies?”
Jacob’s eyes widened, and he grinned. I felt like slapping that grin off his face. It was obvious that he enjoyed that type of question. He rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty. So, somebody is sacrificing people in Savannah, huh? That’s some wild shit.”
I interrupted his elation. “I’m sure you’re enjoying this, but we don’t need your personal opinion. We need names of anyone now or in the past who has done that, whether it’s in Savannah, the county, or the state.”
“Hmm…” He rubbed his chin and appeared to be thinking.
I stood. I’d had enough of his taunts. “Obviously, you don’t know shit. Guess you weren’t the big cult leader you tried to portray.”
“Hey, wait. I didn’t give you an answer yet.”
“And our time is almost up. Do you have names or not?”
“Depends.”
I groaned. “On what?”
“On what you mean by sacrificing. Isn’t simple murder a way of sacrificing?”
Rue cut in. “There’s nothing simple about murder, especially for the victim and their family. We’re talking about removing human organs to sacrifice, eat, worship, or rub all over your body. You name it. So, do you know anyone who has done that?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say that I do.”
“Can’t say or won’t say?” I asked.
“That was a long time ago, and we smoked a lot of weird shit. My mind is foggy about what went down at those ceremonies and who did what.”
I pulled open the door and stepped outside. “Like I said before, you obviously weren’t the big man you led people to believe you were.”
Rue took up the rear, and we left.
I grumbled as we headed to the cruiser. “Why do jerks like him think so little of life? Everything was a joke to him.”
Rue swatted the air. “Don’t give that ass a second thought. He must have been a real jerk ten years ago, too, and it’s apparent he hasn’t changed. Time to move on to the next person.”
We drove to the next closest house, one that belonged to Lance Green. His crimes were similar to Jacob’s but hadn’t occurred quite as frequently. Torturing and killing animals sickened me, especially as much as I loved Gus, and I couldn’t fathom somebody doing something so heinous to an innocent pet. I already despised the man, and I hadn’t even met him yet.
We reached the house, and I slid into an open curb spot one property away. After walking to the door, I banged on it twice. Since there wasn’t a garage and no car was parked directly in front of the house, we had no idea whether he was home or not. After five minutes of knocking, I chalked it up to the guy not being there and made a note to check back on another day.
The third person on the list lived on East Henry near the Carnegie Library. The drive took only five minutes. Again, we walked to the front door, knocked, and waited. A minute later, the door swung open, but the person standing there wasn’t who I’d expected to see. We’d double-checked all addresses on the DMV website, and Dan Clayton’s was confirmed. His, like the others, was current, yet an older woman stood there as if waiting for us to say something.
“Hello, ma’am. We’re Detectives Cannon and Rue from the Habersham precinct.”
“Yes? What can I help you with?”
“Is this your home, ma’am?”
She frowned. “Well, that’s a stupid question. Would I be here answering the door if it wasn’t my home?”
“We aren’t quite sure. Does a Daniel Clayton live here?”
“He does. He’s my grandson. Why?”
“We need to have a word with him, so would you mind calling him out here?”
“No, I wouldn’t mind, but he isn’t home.” She wedged her hand into her hip and waited.
She had a way of making me uncomfortable. Whether that was deliberate or not, I didn’t know. “Do you know where he is?”
“Nope. He doesn’t report to me. He said he’d be gone for a week or so, and then he up and left.”
I pulled my notepad and pen out of my inner sport jacket pocket and wrote that down. “What day exactly did he leave home?”
“Saturday night.”
“And he didn’t say where he was going?”
“That’s what I said.”
Rue took over. “Was his leaving planned?”
She chuckled. “Obviously, it was to him. Otherwise, he’d still be here. Did I know about it? Nope, I sure didn’t. Sometimes, it’s nice to have a quiet, clean house, though, if you know what I mean. Is there anything else?”
“Did he say what day he was returning?” Rue asked.
She shook her head. “Don’t you folks listen? He said he’d be gone a week or so.”
I sighed. We wouldn’t get anything more out of her. It seemed she was being deliberately evasive. “Okay, thank you, ma’am.” I handed her my card and told her to call when he returned but knew she would crumple it up and throw it away as soon as we walked out the door.
Back in the car, I groaned in disgust. “Why is it so hard for people to cooperate? Why play the guessing games?”
“Because it’s their family and they don’t want to share information with the police. We’re the bad guys, remember?” Rue said.
“Whatever. Don’t you think it’s a bit convenient that Mr. Clayton suddenly left town about the same time Valerie was dumped in the marsh?”
“Yep, and that’s why Daniel Clayton just moved up to the top position on our person-of-interest list.”
I unfolded the sheet of paper that was lying in the cup holder. “Okay, one more name, and then it’s back to the drawing board.”
“So, where are we headed now?”
“Would you believe only a few blocks from the street Valerie lived on?”
“Humph. That could be something. Maybe the guy knew her.”
I nodded. “Maybe, so let’s go find out.”
We reached Tim Grandon’s house, parked and headed up the sidewalk, and I gave the door a knock. By then, it was after ten o’clock. Anyone who wasn’t extremely lazy or worked the graveyard shift would be up and around by that time of day. Seconds later, a face peered out between the drawn curtains. He was home and awake. I knocked again, not giving him too much time to decide whether he was going to answer the door or not. I watched the doorknob, and it finally turned. It was obvious by the lack of footsteps sounding on the floor that he was in socks or barefoot and possibly hadn’t left the house yet that morning.
The door opened about a foot, and he stared out at us. “If you’re going to preach to me, I’m not interested.”
“We’re detectives,” I said, “not evangelical zealots.”
“What do you want?”
“To talk to you. That’s obviously the reason we’re here, unless you aren’t Tim Grandon. Are you?”
He nodded and opened the door farther. “What is this about? I haven’t caused any mischief for a good year now.”
“We don’t care about that,” I said. “We’re looking for information.”
“About what?”
“About the activity you used to participate in.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry. We aren’t here to bust your balls. You’ve served your time”—I cocked my head—“and don’t do foolish things like that anymore, right?”
“That’s what I said.”
“So, we need to know about the people you used to associate with who may still be into that type of thing. Voodoo, animal sacrifices, weird cult shit, you know. Anyone come to mind?”
Tim grumbled. “I keep to myself.”
“But those things still go on, don’t they? Behind closed doors, out in the woods, inside abandoned buildings.”
I stared into his eyes. His face told me he was uncomfortable. He looked at the floor and jammed his hands into his pockets.
“I suppose so, but I mind my own business.”
Rue took over. “And that’s good, but I’m sure you remember some of those names, and we need them. Do the right thing, Tim, and tell us.”
I tipped my head toward the couch, indicating that he should sit. He did, then Rue pulled out his notepad, and we listened.
“I didn’t know a lot of people, only the ones that were part of my clan.”
“Clan? That’s what you called it?”
“Yeah. We didn’t use the word ‘cult,’ but it was more or less the same thing.”
“How many people were in your clan, and why weren’t all of them arrested when you were?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Anywhere between ten and fifteen people, and the reason everyone wasn’t arrested is because the ones who squealed out the others first got the deal. They gave names, we were arrested, and they got off scot-free.”
“Why not arrest everyone?”
“Because the cops didn’t know who we were. Everyone scattered when they rolled in, and only a handful of guys were caught.”
Rue nodded. “Gotcha. So are some still practicing animal sacrifices for the clan?”
“I’ve heard things. Whether they’re true or not, I don’t know.”
I cocked my head. “Like?”
“Like Dylan Marx, Joey Nisbett, Trent Fremont, and a few others started that shit up again.”
I raised my brows. “Recently?”
Tim nodded.
“Has anyone gone further than that?”
He frowned at me. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“What I mean is that we found a dead woman with her organs removed. Let’s not beat around the bush, Tim. Who is the sketchiest person you know, and would they do something like that?”
I was tired of getting the runaround from people. They’d either heard of someone or knew someone who might have advanced to eating human organs or sacrificing them.
“I’ve never—”
“Yeah, yeah. Nobody has ever known someone who took that leap. But if you did, who would they be?”
He hesitated, likely weighing his options. “If I give you a few names, will I remain anonymous?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I give you my word.”