Westermann walked along the periphery of a silent Godtown, taking his time. He’d arranged for two uniforms to do a night walk. Their orders: Keep Koss occupied, if only briefly. Westermann had left them less than five minutes ago and was giving them time to attract Koss’s attention before he moved in. Not exactly what Kraatjes had in mind, Westermann thought, but a hell of a lot better than sending Morphy and Grip again.
Koss was taking on new dimensions in Westermann’s mind. His intimidation of Rudi Odeline was startling. Rudi was notoriously tough; maybe psychotically so. And Koss backed him down. Ran him off and Rudi wanted no further part of him.
Westermann needed a better read on Prosper Maddox, who was emerging in his mind as the key to the investigation, like a figure materializing from the fog; Maddox and the missing Dr. Vesterhue. Was this an accurate assessment? Was he chasing connections where there were only coincidences? Would he be this eager to pursue Maddox if Maddox wasn’t the only way to absolve the Community and, in doing so, absolve his own actions in moving Lenore’s body?
Westermann came to the next corner and took a left, walking toward the Church of Last Days. The lights of downtown towered over the low buildings in this part of the Hollows, an almost violent intrusion upon the dark and quiet.
He stopped at the church, rubbing the sweat from the back of his neck, listening to the singing coming from inside. A hymn he didn’t recognize; the words hard to decipher in the wave of voices. He walked to the opposite side of the street and sat on the high curb, leaning back on his elbows, legs in the street, crossed at the ankles. He listened to this hymn and then another, dimly recognizing the tune. He sensed eyes on him—probably Koss—but he was beyond caring, so exhausted that he could have leaned back and fallen asleep. But he heard footsteps and watched as Ole Koss appeared around the corner across the street and to his right. Koss ambled over, arms slightly away from his body as if his musculature wouldn’t allow them to fall any closer.
“Lieutenant,” Koss said.
“Evening.”
Koss approached, his eyes alive, scanning the street, turning once to check behind his back. He sat down next to Westermann, leaning forward, his corded forearms resting on his knees. The man radiated physical strength.
“Any more of you out tonight, more than you and the two officers?”
Westermann shook his head.
“Why’re you people suddenly in our place all the time?”
“I think you know.” The singing had stopped. The street was silent but for their conversation.
“Those girls? Those girls didn’t come here, sir. They’d have stuck out. This is a small community, Lieutenant.”
“How’d they get the flyers from the church?”
“Dr. Vesterhue? Maybe spreading the Good Word? Lots of ways it could have happened.” Koss was tense, head turning from side to side, looking for something.
“Well, it’s my job to figure exactly how it did happen.”
“Lieutenant, I don’t know if you realize the amount of consternation and stress you’re causing in Dr. Maddox’s flock. These are God-fearing, honest, simple people. They’re not used to the ways of the world.”
Westermann looked at Koss, trying to read if he was aping Maddox.
“Mr. Maddox gives us that congregation list we’re asking for, maybe we can end this intrusion and things here can get back to normal.”
Koss turned his head away from Westermann and spat. “Well, I don’t speak for Dr. Maddox, but my strong impression was that he’s not going to provide that list.”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t think pushing the issue is going to do you any good.”
They sat for a moment until the silence was shattered by noise from inside the church, like a group yell. Or scream. Or howl. It continued for maybe thirty intense seconds. Westermann felt the charge in his neck and scalp. He looked over at Koss, who stared hard at his hands. The howling ceased and the street returned to silence.
Westermann said, “What the hell was that?”
Koss looked over at him, lids heavy, and Westermann caught the vibe of imminent violence that must have spooked Rudi Odeline.
The howling started again and Koss’s head shot to the church. Westermann watched him. Clearly, this communal outpouring of noise bothered him.
The sound ceased again and this time Koss rose to stand over Westermann. Behind Koss, Westermann thought he saw movement in the shadows, but Koss commanded his attention and the impression was lost.
“I think it might be time for you to be on your way, Lieutenant.”
Westermann stood, too. “Tell Mr. Maddox that I’ll be in touch.”
Koss nodded. The howling began again.