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Tucker raised his eyebrows. “You’re asking me?”
“Good point.”
Rita looked at Barbara. “You ready?”
—
The church was packed. Around a hundred people seated, with more standing. Not the whole town by any means, but certainly a lot of people.
The dead pig and writing had gone from outside, but the half-burnt cross remained. Inside, the glass had been cleared up, but the boarded-up windows meant the light was dim. Only a couple of bulbs in the ceiling provided illumination. It gave a gloomy, funereal feel to the scene. Which was perhaps appropriate.
A small wooden altar and lectern stood at one end of the church and, behind, on the wall, hung a large white cross. Three chairs had been arranged next to the altar. Colleen Grey stood by one, talking to Carly. No sign of Colleen’s shadow, Grace. Barbara and Rita walked down the aisle toward them. As one, heads turned in their direction. The murmur of conversation subsided. No pitchforks, Barbara thought, but if looks could kill, she’d be flapping on the floor like a landed trout.
“Rita, Detective Atkins,” Colleen smiled warmly. “Welcome to our gathering.”
Barbara was damn sure the choice of words was deliberate.
Carly gave Barbara a poisonous look. “ ’Bout the only place people can gather right now.”
Before Barbara could reply, she turned on her skinny heels and strode back to her seat.
“Thanks for doing this.” Colleen clasped Barbara’s hand. “The town appreciates it.”
“You’re wel—” Barbara started to say, and then stopped. She stared at the cross. It was constructed of bones.
Colleen saw her looking. “It’s antique,” she said. “Passed down from an old friend.”
“Of course,” Barbara said tightly. “Shall we get on?”
Barbara and Rita took their seats as Colleen turned to address the crowd.
“Thank you for joining us here this morning, in this place of worship. The last few days have been hard for all of us in Deadhart. A child is dead, and a shadow has fallen over our town bringing sorrow, anger and fear.” She paused. “Last night this church came under attack from the Colony…”
A ripple ran through the crowd. Great, Barbara thought. That’ll help.
“But we are not cowed. Darkness always seeks to destroy light. And it will always fail. God will give us strength in our fight against evil.” Another pause. “But many of you want to know how the authorities are going to help us in our battle. That is why I have asked Detective Atkins here this morning, to explain what she is doing to apprehend Marcus Anderson’s killer and keep our town safe.”
Colleen stepped aside and gestured for Barbara to take her place. Fire them up with religious fervor and send out the sacrificial lamb. Barbara steeled herself and walked up to the lectern. She looked around. She couldn’t see Marcus’s parents, but she recognized Mowlam slouched carelessly on a chair near the front. Carly and Hal sat partway back, Carly still glaring at her with undisguised hostility. Barbara had expected Jess Garrett to be here, but maybe she had already said her piece. Other faces she had seen around but couldn’t put names to. They all regarded her with hard eyes and crossed arms.
“Thank you, Reverend Grey.” She cleared her throat. “As some of you already know, I’m a detective with the Department of Forensic Vampyr Anthropology.”
“We don’t care about your fancy title,” a voice called from the back.
“Fine by me, sir. It’s certainly something of a mouthful.” She smiled. “I’m here today to update you on the investigation and try to answer any questions you might have.”
“Where’s Chief Nicholls?” asked an older man three rows back.
“He’s in Anchorage Hospital with a broken leg.”
“I got a question,” another male voice called out from the left. She turned. Bearded, scrawny, mid-fifties. “When are you going to authorize a cull so we can be rid of those damn vampyr scum for good? What are you waiting for?”
“I’m happy to explain what we are waiting for, sir. Culls are not authorized lightly. In recent years, only two full colony culls have been approved. In both those cases there had been numerous attacks and multiple fatalities.”
Disgruntled noises, hollow laughter.
“So we have to wait till another child is killed? That’s what you’re saying?” The bearded man looked at Barbara stonily.
“No, sir. Any loss of life is a tragedy.”
