The Chosen (26 page)

January smiled. “Thank you. I try.”

He stifled a curse and took her by the elbow.

“So, let's go into the captain's office. They're waiting for you there.”

“Who's waiting for me?” January asked.

“Borger, Rick and two techies from surveillance.”

“Okay,” she said. “I'm ready.”

Ben looked at her, then looked away. “Just so you know, I'm
never
going to be ready for this.”

January slipped her hand into his. “I need to tell you something before we get started,” she said.

“What?” Ben asked.

“I'm so in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you…but, I won't be horrified if you don't feel the same. Still I wanted to say it anyway…just in case.”

Ben's vision blurred. He'd been waiting a lifetime to hear those words from the right woman, and the moment she'd said them, he knew she was the one. Even though he'd been feeling some of the same emotions himself, he hadn't let himself put it into words, and now she'd gone and beaten him to it.

“Ah, honey, you humble me. You know that?”

She shook her head, but he could tell she was lying. She knew he was smitten, and suddenly he didn't give a damn who was watching or where they were. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, then laid his cheek against the crown of her head.

“I would love to spend the rest of our lives together,” he whispered softly. “More than I can say, and what you're about to do may just cost me my sanity.”

January put her arms around his waist, ignoring the whistles and cheers from the onlookers, and planted a long, slow kiss square in the middle of his mouth.

“I'm going to be fine. You're going to see to that,” she said. “Now let's get me wired. I have a news conference to do, and a couple of interviews with some reporters.”

“Hey, North!”

Ben looked up. Borger was standing in the doorway of his office.

“If you two are finished with the CPR lesson, bring her in here.”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, then eyed her closely, admiring her determination. “Just so you know, I'm really proud of you, and I promise I won't let anything happen to you, okay?”

January nodded. “I'm going to hold you to that.”

 

The interview she'd done at the television station had gone out live. Thanks to an understanding producer, as well as the owner of the station, they'd focused the entire feature section of the noon newscast on her. And even better, they'd found a way to work her full given name into the interview five times, as well as use it three times as taglines beneath pictures illustrating different phases of her life.

By now, the entire city of Washington, D.C., knew that their favorite on-the-spot television journalist had been born January Maria Magdalena in a little village outside of Juarez, Mexico, and raised in Houston.

With one newspaper interview finished and one left to go, January felt she'd covered all the bases. Now it was up to Jay Carpenter. If he was on the up and up about trying to relive the life of Jesus Christ, then he was definitely going to need a Mary Magdalene.

And after her trip to the D.C. police department, she wasn't nearly as nervous about setting herself up as bait. The techies from the D.C. surveillance team had used a total of three tracking devices. One had been fastened to the inside of her bra. One was in a tube of lipstick in her purse, and the last one had been fastened to her car. They had also given her a tiny spray can of Mace for her purse.

They talked about her carrying a gun, but January told them that although she already owned one, if she had one in her purse but didn't use it and Jay Carpenter found it later, it might alert him to the fact that he was being set up.

The whole purpose of the plan was to get herself taken to the place where he'd taken the others, and that wouldn't happen if she pulled a gun. It was going to be up to the police to find her and, hopefully, the rest of the missing people, as well. She'd done all she could do. Now it was simply a matter of going through the motions and seeing if the Sinner took the bait.

 

Jay was wearing his last change of clothes and an attitude that was difficult to discern. Although there was a wild, angry gleam in his eyes, his manner was quiet, almost subservient.

When he'd come to in the cab only to find he'd shit his pants, it had been the last straw. He wanted this over. He needed it to be over before anything else went wrong. He still had hopes that he'd done enough good to outweigh the bad. After all, no one on earth was supposed to be perfect. People with the best intentions still failed from time to time. Some even faltered in their faith. They just needed to keep asking for forgiveness. That was what he kept telling himself. That was what kept him moving from place to place.

There had to be a reason why everything was unraveling. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was. But he would. He hadn't worked this long and hard only to have it all blow up in his face.

So when he dropped off his last fare and realized it was almost noon, he turned on the Off Duty sign and headed for a diner to get some food. He'd missed breakfast. He needed to eat something to be able to finish out the day, and right now, he couldn't bear to think about facing what was waiting for him at the warehouse.

Jay's choice of restaurant was dictated by the availability of a parking space, so he passed a half-dozen places before he saw one with an empty spot out front. That it happened to be a barbecue joint didn't matter. He just needed to eat. He parked quickly and hurried inside. His plan was to grab a bite, then get back to the warehouse. He needed to get Matthew's body and give it a proper burial. He wouldn't let himself think of the pervasive anger within the group. They just didn't understand how vital they were to God's plan.

He slid onto a barstool at the counter and picked up a menu from between a pair of napkin holders.

“Coffee, mister?”

He glanced up. A waitress was standing in front of him with a coffeepot in one hand and a cup in the other.

He nodded.

She poured.

“Know what you wanna eat?” she asked.

“Chopped brisket sandwich with fries.”

“Hot or mild sauce?”

“Hot. On the side.”

She set a glass of water beside his coffee. “Comin' right up,” she said, and hurried away to turn in his order.

Jay lifted the coffee cup to his lips, wincing when the first sip burned his tongue. He spooned a couple of ice cubes from his glass of water into the coffee, then stirred. The temperature was perfect.

Half a cup of coffee later, the caffeine had begun to kick in. Jay took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. For a few moments he thought about getting back into the cab and driving it off the nearest bridge into the Potomac, then quickly shook off the thought.

Suicide was forbidden.

He couldn't get to heaven that way.

He had to trust the process.

It would work.

It had to.

“Here you go, mister,” the waitress said, as she slid a plate in front of him. “Can I get you anything else?”

Jay scanned the plate, then pointed down the counter.

“Ketchup.”

She furnished his request and disappeared.

Jay shook the ketchup bottle, then squirted a good dose onto his fries and dug in. Halfway through his meal, someone yelled, “Hey, Trudy, turn up the volume. That's January DeLena on the tube, and she's hot.”

The waitress rolled her eyes, but she did as the customer asked.

The customer wasn't the only one curious as to what January was doing on the noon news. Jay paused in the act of taking another bite as the sound came up. He didn't recognize the interviewer talking to January, but he zeroed in on her and began to listen.

 

“…in Juarez, Mexico. So when did your family come to the United States?”

“When I was nine,” January said. “My maternal grandmother had been a resident of Houston, Texas, all her life, and when she died, Mother, who was a citizen of the U.S., too, inherited the property. We all moved back here, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Fascinating,” the interviewer said. “So what led you to this job?”

January laughed. “If you can believe it…a boyfriend.”

The interviewer laughed with her. “You're kidding?”

“No. It was in college. He wanted to be in television and was taking classes to follow his passion. I followed him. The classes were great. He quit. I didn't. End of story.”

“So that was the beginning for January Maria Magdalena.”

“Yes.”

“Since I've mentioned your given name, it might be interesting for our viewers to know when and why you shortened your name from January Maria Magdalena to January DeLena.”

“Well, it certainly wasn't my idea,” January said. “It was at one of my earlier jobs, and the producer said it was too much of a mouthful. He actually changed it without my okay by introducing me on air one night as January DeLena. As furious as I was, he proved himself right. It stuck. However, I am fiercely proud of my Latino heritage.”

 

The interview went on, highlighting her recent award, but Jay didn't hear it. His mind was in rewind. Now he knew why his plans were going awry. Jesus had had a Mary Magdalene. He needed one, too. Even more, she'd been right under his nose all the time. God had been trying to show him time and time again, and even though he knew he'd been drawn to her, he'd been oblivious to the clues.

But no more.

He dug into his pocket, pulled out some cash and tossed it on the counter before hurrying out into the sunlight. He paused on the sidewalk and inhaled deeply. It was going to be all right.

“Praise the Lord,” he muttered, then headed for his cab.

 

Mother Mary Theresa was lying on the cot in nothing but her shift. Her habit was folded on the only chair in the room, and her shoes and stockings were under it. Sweat had beaded on every inch of her skin, and her breathing was shallow. She ached in every muscle and joint, and was only faintly aware that she was not at the Sisters of Mercy.

Every now and then she thought she could hear someone crying. It sounded like Joseph. She needed to get up and see to him, but her legs didn't seem to want to work. She kept telling herself that she would rest just a little bit longer, then get up. But time passed and the sounds dissipated, and still she didn't move.

The small ray of sunlight coming in through the window near the ceiling began to fade. Shadows lengthened. The room darkened and finally night came to Mother Mary T., marking the end of her second day in captivity.

J
ay didn't make it back to the warehouse until after dark. He thought about removing Matthew's body, then changed his mind. He needed more light than what a lantern would provide. Besides, one more night could hardly hurt. Matthew was already in a better place. All that was left was a shell.

Now that he'd convinced himself of that, all he needed to do was point that out to the others. He wanted to talk to Mother Mary, but there were no sounds coming from inside her room, and he didn't want to wake her, so he bypassed her door.

The others had been without food and water all day. They had to be tended, and he was ready. He couldn't wait to see their faces when they realized what he'd brought them. Chicken dinners with all the fixings, compliments of the supermarket deli where he usually shopped. He wished he'd come earlier so that Mother Mary could enjoy her meal, too, but he would just save it for tomorrow. She could have it for breakfast.

He set one for her in his ice chest, then took the others, picked up a large fluorescent flashlight and started the long walk down.

He paused in front of the barred door and took out one dinner.

Judas.

No. Jude.

God had led him to this woman, so he had to believe it wasn't a mistake. He removed the bar, took the dinner and the lantern, and opened the door, then flashed the light in her face.

Jude was lying on her side. She'd pulled her pants back up to her waist, but they were still undone, revealing a bulge of fat and muscle. The blood from her menstrual cycle had soaked through her jeans and onto the floor.

Jay looked away.

“If you haven't come to let me go, then get the fuck out of my face,” Jude said.

Jay could tell she'd been crying. Her eyes were almost swollen shut, and her nose was red. Her condition was at such odds with her appearance that he couldn't quit staring. Then he remembered why he was there.

“You must be hungry. I brought you some food. It's a chicken dinner.”

Jude pushed herself up from the floor and then held up her hands. In the dark, the palms looked black.

“You see this?” she said. “It's blood. You think I'm going to put food in my mouth with hands that look like this? Get out,” she said. “Get the fuck out and don't come back.”

The absence of emotion in her voice undid him.

“You can wash your hands with some of your water. I'll get you some water.”

“All I can smell is my blood. Get that food out of here before I puke. I mean it. Get the fuck out of the room, wacko!”

Even though Jay was supposed to be the one in charge, he felt helpless in the face of her disgust. He backed out of the room, still carrying the chicken dinner, and then, almost as an afterthought, replaced the bar on the door.

“Fine,” he muttered, as he turned toward the blast furnace. “At least the others will be appreciative.”

He stepped into the opening and was hit with a smell that nearly gagged him. He swept the room with the flashlight and then gritted his teeth.

“Who's sick?” he asked.

“Four of us,” someone said. “We've all got the shits, and Matthew is rotting. Go to hell.”

Jay's pulse kicked.

“Don't say that,” he said. “I told you never to say that.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” another asked. “Kill us?”

A titter of laughter filtered through the space, shocking Jay by the fury it held.

“I brought all of you chicken dinners.”

“Shove them up your ass. Or better yet, bend over and let me.”

Jay swept the light across the faces staring back at him. Dirt and whiskers marked every one, as well as numerous weeping sores. Rattled, he set the sack of dinners down and then toed it toward the man closest to the opening.

“You pass them around,” he said.

“James is unconscious,” Tom said. “Has been for hours. Probably be dead by morning, too, so if you want to get rid of your chicken dinners, take off the lids and leave them on the floor. It'll give the damn rats something to eat besides Matthew.”

Jay swung the light toward the voice, then flinched.

Tom Gerlich was wearing filth and standing in filth, but he
was
standing, and the fire in his eyes was startling.

Jay shifted the lantern from one hand to the other, and then felt behind him for the opening, in case he needed to run. Before he'd seen the error of his ways, he'd done bad things and never known fear. But that was then, and this was now, and every breath he'd drawn since he'd been brought back to life had been taken in fear.

His Thomas doubted him. It was to be expected. But they would all see. Everything would change when he corrected his mistake.

“I know there have been complications,” Jay said. “This just got out of hand. But I promise you, by tomorrow, all will be rectified. We've been missing an important member of our group. Once she comes, this will all go away. You will be healed and comforted as only God can do. You'll see. You'll all see.”

“You're one sick fucker,” Tom said.

“Mister…mister…please let me go. I got a wife and kids back in Kentucky. They're bound to be worried sick 'cause they haven't heard from me. I call them every week. They'll know somethin' is wrong. Please, mister, please. I just want to go home.”

Jay swung the light around the room until it landed on Phillip. The man was down on his knees.

“Get up, Phillip. Begging is beneath you.”

Phillip dropped his head, his shoulders shaking as he began to cry.

“Stop that!” Jay demanded. “You must believe. You must all understand. I need you to be with me to get to heaven.”

Tom laughed again.

“After what you've done to us, you're damn sure not going to heaven. Besides that, the man can't get up. He's the first one who got the shits. He's dehydrated and dying, so you better get ready to lose another disciple, which means you better start worrying, because you damn sure can't get your ride to heaven on a crippled bus.”

Jay turned and walked out.

He would show them. All he had to do was get his Mary Magdalene and the circle would be complete.

 

January hadn't talked to Ben since they'd parted at the precinct. They'd made no plans to be together tonight, and yet she knew he would come.

It was fifteen minutes after midnight when she heard the ding of the elevator on her floor. She got up from the sofa where she'd been waiting, and walked into the foyer. Her hand was on the knob when the doorbell rang; then she heard his voice.

“January, it's me.”

She opened the door.

“Hello, me. I knew you would come.”

His eyes darkened with emotion as he picked her up and kicked the door shut behind him as he entered. It locked automatically.

“I've waited for this all day,” he said.

“Then come to bed,” January said.

Ben carried her down the hall, then into the bedroom. The bedding was turned back; the lights were down low. He could tell she'd been waiting for him, too.

He set her down long enough to undo her robe and take it off; then he began to undress, as well.

“I should probably shower,” he said.

January crawled onto the bed, then patted the mattress beside her.

“Afterward,” she said.

He didn't need a second invitation.

Within moments, they were lying face-to-face and looking into each other's eyes.

“Make love to me, Ben.”

He rolled her over onto her back and straddled her legs.

“Close your eyes.”

January's heart skipped a beat. She started to say something, but when she saw his expression, her breath caught at the back of her throat. Slowly, slowly, she lowered her eyelids. The last thing she saw before they went shut was Ben's face coming toward her.

His mouth was on her lips. His fingers were in her hair, and when she felt his lips move from the hollow at the base of her throat to her breasts, her muscles quivered.

There was a sudden dampness on her nipples, and she could feel his tongue tracing the areola, then moving in a thin line of sensation all the way to her navel.

She grabbed his hair with both hands, afraid to hold on, afraid to let go. He was talking to her now, whispering sweet promises that only the shadows were a witness to, telling her things that made her blush—then made her hot.

She spoke his name aloud—or so she thought—until he spread her legs and she realized she'd been holding her breath. She felt his fingers, then his lips, then went out of her mind.

The climax came suddenly, leaving her breathless and spent, and he still wasn't through. He rose up, put his hands on either side of her shoulders and slid between her legs, then inside her while her muscles were still quaking.

He left her with no doubts as to his intentions, and rode her hard and fast. When she was only a breath away from a second climax, he let himself go.

A grunt, then a guttural groan, came out of Ben's mouth as his seed spilled into January. She bit her lip—a feeble attempt to keep from screaming. Then, overwhelmed with emotion, she started to cry.

They rode the passion of the free fall back down together, then fell asleep in each other's arms.

 

It was just after 11:00 a.m. the next day when January was ordered out on a breaking news story. Less than an hour earlier, two teenage girls had saved a trucker from his wrecked vehicle just before it burst into flames.

Hank, her favorite cameraman, was already out of the station on a different job and had been called to proceed to the scene of the new story, while January would go on her own and meet up with him there.

As she left the building, she was glad she'd worn slacks to work. It would be far more convenient, should she wind up in the midst of on-the-scene turmoil. She was going over the brief set of notes she'd been given as she hurried across the parking lot to her car.

She tossed her bag and notes in the other seat as she got in, fumbling with her keys before she got the right one in the ignition. Her mind was on everything but car trouble until the car wouldn't start. Not a rumble. Not even a grinding sound. Just a tiny click, click, every time she turned the key.

“Oh, for Pete's sake!” she said, and got out. She was heading back to the station to borrow another vehicle when a cab pulled into the lot.

She was so startled by the sudden arrival that her senses went on alert. Was this it? Had her plan worked this fast? She had to find out and flagged the taxi down, then ran back to her car to gather her things.

By the time the cab pulled up to where she was waiting, she was nervous and shaking and trying to hide her fear. She blurted out an address, then added, “Hurry, please.”

When the cab didn't move, she gritted her teeth and looked up. The driver was staring at her from the rearview mirror. She knew those eyes. She'd seen them before, up close and frighteningly personal. Panic hit—hard and fast. It was him!

Oh shit.

“Good morning, Maria Magdalena, I've been waiting for you.”

A muscle at her left eye twitched. This was the moment she'd planned for, expected, yet her first instinct was to flee. She reached for the door handle, only to find it wouldn't work.

“Don't bother, dear,” Jay said. “You're coming with me.”

January had all the tracking devices that the police had put on her, and still she was afraid to trust the process. Her head was spinning. She didn't know what was coming next, but something told her that she wasn't going to have a say in it. Without breaking eye contact with him, she slipped her hand into her purse, feeling for her cell phone.

Well aware that she had to go through the motions to be believable, January began kicking at the back seat and thumping on the door.

“Let me out! Let me out!” she cried, as her fingers curled around the phone. “You must be out of your mind if you think you're going to get away with this.”

Still kicking and yelling, she punched in the code for Ben's cell and hoped she'd hit all the right numbers. Any second now it would connect and he would be able to hear their conversation. She pulled it to the top of her purse, then slipped it into an outer pocket so that the sound of their conversation would not be muted.

“Calm down,” Jay said. “In a short while we'll all be together again.”

 

Ben had come to work with a smile on his face, and it was still there. Last night had been magic, and the morning even better. They'd shared a shower, made love, then eaten breakfast together. He'd already told her he loved her, but after last night and this morning, he was convinced that spending the rest of their lives together would be his idea of heaven.