The Storm Killings by Iain Henn

Author:Iain Henn [Henn, Iain]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Three

After saying our goodbyes to Arthur, we headed out to our hired car, this time a white Audi. Although it weighed on my mind, I pushed away thoughts of the dancing woman’s collapse and her and Arthur’s warnings of a watcher in the woods. A malevolent force. Surely not, and yet I had myself, inexplicably, as I’d run into those woods, felt the same strong sense that there had been someone spying. Someone who had run when they’d realized their presence had been detected. Perhaps I’d simply been caught up in Arthur Fire Heart’s charismatic ways and words. There was no way that the storm killer could know that the FBI was aware the tornado deaths were murders.

If someone had been in that scrub, watching the team, then who? And why?

We stood by the vehicle for a moment as I brought the focus back to Billy Joe Garrick, one of the main reasons we’d been talking to Arthur. I held up my phone with Garrick’s photo displayed. “He looks to be early to mid-thirties, so Garrick would have been around eighteen to twenty, fifteen years ago – when these murders might have started. He’s had access to traditional farming tools, has spent time here learning about the American Indian legends, and could have been here volunteering back then.”

“And he’s also one of the looters,” Zoe added.

“He could have been the forward scout for the gang before Dan Walker got involved,” Zach said.

“And still could be on those occasions when Walker isn’t.” I slid the phone into my jacket pocket. “He could have murdered those women and then raced back out to the van, telling the others the place wasn’t suitable.”

“And they head off, unaware one of their members has just committed a murder,” said Zoe.

“Walker will be on the spot,” I pointed out, “if any of the upcoming robberies target the address of a potential murder victim. He’ll alert us if that happens, and if Garrick’s the man, we’ll also have the chance to catch him in the act.” It was what I had asked of Walker during our first meeting, and I’d given him our list of potential targets.

We were heading back to our motel in the Audi, Zoe driving this time, me in the back passenger seat, making a call to Rowdy Baines. “Rowdy, you told us you once spent some time at The Daughters of Gaia retreat.”

“I think it was Jock who brought it up, but yeah, I did. If I had the time, I’d probably revisit the place. Great for meditation and it’s run by a brilliant, beautiful soul, Agnes Night Moon.”

“And they have classes on the ways and wisdom of the ancients?”

“The best. Very immersive. As you’re probably aware, in Greek mythology, Gaia is the Goddess of the Earth, the ancestral mother of all living things, and is paid homage to by New Age groups from many different cultures and countries. Has this got something to do with the man you’re after?”

“The person we want to speak with might have sought out spiritual groups.

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