Beyond the gate surrounding the Shining Light compound, the glass and steel of the main building gleamed silver in the morning sunshine. Pulling up to the guardhouse that was the size of a toll booth, Holden was glad that Special Agent Becca Hammond had decided to accompany him. Having an expert on the cult be there during the interview would give him a greater degree of insight.
As an armed guard approached, Holden rolled down the window.
“Morning,” the man said. He wore jeans, boots, a dark gray knit pullover beneath a heavyweight jacket. “May the light shine upon you.”
Holden cleared his throat at the greeting. “I’m Chief Deputy Holden Powell. This is Special Agent Hammond, and back there is Deputy Russo. We’re here to speak with Marshall McCoy.”
The guard narrowed his eyes to slits. “Empyrean,” he said, “is unavailable unless you have an appointment or a warrant.”
Holden smiled. “We have neither. Just want to talk. About one of your own, back in town. She’s dead. We’d appreciate it if your leader,” he said, refusing to use the title McCoy had given himself, “could spare us a moment of his time.”
“One minute.” The guard returned to the gatehouse. Inside, he closed the door and picked up a phone.
Holden couldn’t overhear the discussion, but he doubted they would have any problem getting in. Death tended to open doors.
The medical examiner had confirmed the young woman’s neck had been broken during a fall off the balcony of the landing. Based on the way her body had landed, she had been pushed. The ME also found marks on her neck consistent with strangulation. Grace had been right about the assailant choking the victim prior to the fall.
While getting a statement from the other guest staying at the B and B, Ashley had learned the silver truck was a rental belonging to Hughes, the out-of-towner. The scratches hadn’t been there prior to him going to bed. Which meant they had forensics to tie the motorcycle to the scene of the crime.
Find the bike, find the killer.
The security guard finally hung up the phone. A buzzer sounded. Then the gate rolled open. “Drive up to the main building. Someone will meet you there.”
Holden tipped his hat in thanks.
They drove up the long, paved drive slowly. The building sat on a hill, overlooking the rest of the property.
“Those are the barracks.” Becca Hammond pointed to four smaller buildings, large cabins really, set off to the side. Farther east was an expansive meadow. On the periphery was what appeared to be a chapel and work buildings. “Everyone lives there except for Empyrean and his family.”
Not surprising. The man in charge had the best residence—one that looked down on all the others.
“Are they like dorms?” Ashley asked.
Becca shook her head. “Not like what you’re thinking of from college. The setup is closer to that of bunkhouses.”
That meant the barracks consisted of a large open room with narrow beds for each individual, communal bathrooms and little privacy. His family’s ranch had a bunkhouse for the cowboys working there.
“They’re almost completely self-sufficient here,” Becca said. “They grow all their own food, make most of their clothing and sell handmade goods for the rest of what they need.”
Adjacent to the main house was a detached garage with ten bays. Some of the doors were up, revealing a couple of the white Shining Light vans and several motorcycles.
He wished he had already gotten Grace’s statement since she was the only one who had seen precisely what the assailant had been driving. There was a wide variety of motorcycles with differing body styles as well as engines.
The ones visible in the garage were dual-sport motorcycles. Designed to be slim for agility when going off-road. Great for commuting without lugging around much weight.
He had only ever seen their vans around town. It was too bad he hadn’t known the Shining Light used motorcycles. Otherwise, he would’ve brought Grace along to see if any looked familiar.
At least he hoped she was sleeping in and had been able to get a good night’s rest. Although the hospital had considered her fit enough to be released, last night she had looked weary and unwell. And nonetheless captivating.
In the car, when she’d tilted her head and looked at him, there it had been, that irritating and wondrous tug of attraction.
And he hated it—that visceral urge. To know her better. To draw closer to her. Touch her.
Kiss her.
He almost had, until sanity stopped him.
She was so pretty and sweet. Fearless, too, which was an irresistible combination to him. He’d been with attractive women before, but none that he’d been drawn to. It was much more than her looks that fueled the internal battle he fought every time he was around her.
A battle he didn’t want. Didn’t need. Actually, he couldn’t afford to lose it, giving in to that primal attraction. Not with Grace Clark.
Unfortunately, she was the only one who made him feel anything good.
“What’s the deal with the big building?” Ashley asked.
“They use it for almost everything. Meetings. Education. Counseling. The dining hall. Movie night. Celebrations. Also, Empyrean and his adult children live there. A son and a daughter.”
Ashley leaned forward, putting a hand on Becca’s seat. “How do you know so much about the inner workings if you’ve never been inside the compound?”
“I pick up tidbits here and there,” Becca said nonchalantly.
A few months ago, Nash had confided in Holden that their task force had gotten a huge boon. Becca had managed to convince someone inside the ranks of the Shining Light to be a confidential informant. That fact was privileged information, usually need-to-know only, and as a liaison with the task force, he’d been brought into the loop. Also, unlike the rest of the town, Nash still trusted him.
Holden would never endanger that person, whoever it was, since he didn’t know their identity.
All he could say for certain was that after Becca had taken a look at the deceased, she’d been relieved that it hadn’t been her informant.
In front of the wide stone steps of the building, Holden threw the gear in Park. As they got out of the vehicle, another guard greeted them.
“Please follow me.” The security guard led the way up the steps.
This one was unarmed, no holster on his hip and no telltale bulge of one under his jacket. But Holden had no doubt men with weapons were watching them. The Shining Light had an arsenal on this compound. Illegal arms that had become the focus of the joint task force, which aimed to find the supplier and shut them down.
They were shown into the sweeping two-story foyer of the building. The place was immaculate, flooded with light from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The guard unzipped and removed his jacket and hung it on a coat rack next to the door. He was dressed the same as the other at the gate, wearing a gray knit sweater.
The Shining Light didn’t have a caste system, but everyone had a function and wore a color that represented it. Security donned gray. Basic workers, green, like Skye. Artists, musicians—the creatives—wore orange. Yellow was reserved for counselors and educators. New recruits considering whether to join could be singled out by the color blue.
When they came to town as a group, to hawk their goods or to spread the word about their way, they wore Shining Light T-shirts that had the address, a phone number to the compound and an email on the back. En masse, they were something to see.
A smiling troop of calling cards, spouting love and forgiveness.
“Remove your shoes,” the security guard said as he took off his steel-toe boots.
“Are you serious?” Holden asked. “Is it really necessary?” Didn’t seem very professional to take off his boots like this was a social visit.
“He’s quite serious,” a man said, appearing at the top of the staircase. “We live here. Eat here. Commune here. Our family puts forth great effort to keep things tidy. All we ask is that you respect their hard work by not tracking in dirt.”
Put that way, the request sounded reasonable. Still, Holden bristled, not liking it.
Becca didn’t hesitate in taking off her boots. Ashley shrugged and followed suit. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it, Holden did likewise.
The man sauntered down the ridiculously dramatic grand staircase. With bright green eyes and sandy-blond hair that fell below his collar, he looked sophisticated in tailored slacks, a T-shirt, blazer—all in white—and bare feet.
No hand-knit clothing for Marshall McCoy.
“Welcome to the Shining Light,” he said, extending his arms wide. His necklace—a pendant of a half-moon and sun—gleamed in the sunshine. “I’m Empyrean.”
Holden made the round of introductions. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. I was told you wish to speak with me about an urgent matter. Please come with me.”
McCoy led them down a long hall to a set of double doors and showed them into an office that must’ve also served as a library. Holden had never seen so many bookshelves packed tight in a home office. Then again, nothing about this place was ordinary.
A large mahogany desk faced two chairs. The room was spacious enough to comfortably fit a long sofa as well. The back windows brought in lots of natural light and overlooked a greenhouse and garden that must have been gorgeous in the summer.
They all sat, Holden and Becca taking the chairs. Ashley sat to the side on the sofa. Looking around the room, Holden realized he hadn’t seen any curtains or blinds in any of the windows.
“Thank you,” McCoy said to the guard. “You may leave us.”
“But they’re armed, sir.”
“We’re law enforcement,” Holden said, confused as to why this was a necessary discussion. “Here on official business.”
His comment didn’t erase the concerned expression on the guard’s face.
“It’s okay.” McCoy gave the man a reassuring look. “They mean us no harm. Feel free to leave the doors open if it will put your mind at ease.”
“As you wish.” The guard touched his necklace, the same as the one McCoy wore, as he bowed his head and eased out of the office, keeping the doors wide-open.
“I understand that one from my flock has passed on,” McCoy said, growing somber.
“She was murdered,” Holden corrected.
McCoy frowned. “How did it happen?”
“We’re not at liberty to say. We were hoping you could identify her for us. She went by the name Skye Starlight.”
McCoy leaned back in his chair, tilted his head up and closed his eyes. “My goodness. Skye will be sorely missed. She was a bright star among us.”
“What was her real name?” Holden asked.
Opening his eyes, McCoy fixed him with a stare. “Skye Starlight is her real name. Or rather was. All who join my flock are reborn. In that sacred ceremony, they shed their former selves and are given the surname Starlight. Then they choose a new forename. You are a guest. Do not disrespect our ways while here.”
“He meant no disrespect,” Becca said. “What was Skye’s name when she came to you?”
“Emma Burk.”
Holden didn’t voice the profanity that sprang to his mind. Sure enough, he knew her. Simply hadn’t recognized her. Emma. Daughter of Lorraine and Gary. The Burks had three children, all spaced three years apart in age. Todd, the eldest, was thirty-two. Kyle was the middle child. That made Emma twenty-six at the time of her death.
Lorraine and Gary lived over on Sudley Drive and owned the Custom Gears Garage, located across the street from their home. The garage was first doing basic automotive repairs, and still did, but over the last fourteen years had begun specializing in motorcycles. They’d been handling all the business for the Iron Warriors—an outlaw motorcycle gang—once Todd became a member.
“Why wasn’t she here at the compound?” Becca asked. “What was she doing in town?”
“Skye went to visit her secular family.”
Holden took out his notepad and pen. “Did she leave often to visit them?”
“Every month, for three days.”
“Why only three?” Holden asked, recalling that Mr. Quenby told him how the deceased had to leave.
“Each phase of the moon lasts a little over three days. So no member is allowed to be gone longer than that from the compound.”
“Allowed?” Becca asked, wanting to dig deeper into the same word that had piqued Holden’s curiosity. “What exactly does that mean?”
“There are rules here, just as there are beyond our gate. To be a member of my flock means you have agreed to abide by them.”
“And what happens if someone breaks your rules?” Becca asked.
“There are consequences. I would not be a good shepherd if there weren’t.”
“Please elaborate on the nature of those consequences.” Holden gestured for him to speak when McCoy hesitated.
“It depends on the rule broken. For example, if Skye had stayed away longer than three nights, then she would not have been allowed to spend the night away from the compound the following month. Break that rule three times and you are asked to leave the flock.” McCoy set his forearms on the desk and clasped his hands. “Before you ask, we do not engage in corporal punishment. And anyone is free to leave our family permanently at any time. No one is forced to be here. The way of the light is a choice made with a willing heart and an open mind.”
Sounded good. Maybe too good to be true. “Was anyone here upset about Skye’s trips away from the compound?”
McCoy stiffened. “You’re asking if anyone here killed her. The answer is no. She came to us broken, addicted to drugs and suicidal. I saved her, pulling her back from the brink. This family embraced her, got her clean and loved her.”
The last time Holden had seen Emma she had been strung out on drugs and looked like hell. Dirty, drawn, her eyes sunk into her head. A stone-cold junkie, making her parents’ lives miserable.
Cleaned up and sober, she had been unrecognizable from the woman she had once been.
“Whoever killed Skye,” McCoy added, “is out there, beyond our gates, living in the darkness.” He rose from his seat. “If that’s all?”
Holden stood. “How long was she a member?”
“She was reborn unto us almost a year ago. The celebration of her rebirth was to take place in January.”
“If it’s so perfect here,” Holden said, “why did Skye visit her secular family so often?”
“To see her three-year-old daughter, Amelia.”
The child in the photograph. “Do you not allow children here?” Holden asked, putting away his notepad.
“We have many children. All are welcome here regardless of age. Skye lost custody of her daughter to her parents before she joined us. A bond between a mother and child is special. I persuaded her to initiate the visits. Even gave her special dispensation to see Amelia every Sunday for a few hours after worship, but her parents wanted Skye to stick to the three-day window once a month to minimize disruption to the little girl’s schedule. That’s why I encouraged Skye to seek custody. I even paid Mr. Nagle, a family lawyer, to give her advice on how to proceed.”
Becca exchanged a glance with Holden that told him she was thinking the same thing as him.
Marshall McCoy had just given them a motive for murder. Fighting over custody of a child could get emotionally charged. Easy for things to turn nasty.
Even deadly.
Before picking up Grace, his next stop would be to the Burks’.