“This is the place,” Shalimar murmured. “And the Final Harvest? You don’t suppose-”

“Let’s hope not.” Loving pulled out another document he’d found behind the altar. “Wanna hear the Vampiric Creed?”

“Actually, no. Federally registered or not, I don’t believe this place would keep membership rolls any more than the S-and-M palace did. And I don’t believe my sister has become a nun in the Temple of the Vampire.”

Certainly not a nun, Loving thought silently. But he wondered about some other disturbing possibilities. “Shalimar, I’m gonna take another look around and-”

He froze. Footsteps. Just outside the front door.

He and Shalimar ducked behind a pew.

A few moments later they heard the heavy front wooden doors open. Two people came inside, talking animatedly. Loving could make out one of their voices.

“Then tonight will be the night?”

Deep Throat. Back at the Reflecting Pool. The informant who got him started on this crazy quest.

“Yes,” his companion replied. “Are you certain you have no doubts, my brother?”

“Oh, yes, yes.” Deep Throat seemed nervous, just as he had when Loving talked to him at the Reflecting Pool. “That was only temporary. I know we’re doing the right thing. The Inner Circle must be protected at all costs.”

At least that’s what he’s telling you, Loving mused. Not what he told me.

“Are we the last to arrive?” Deep Throat asked.

“Yes. The preparations have been made. We cannot afford to delay any longer. We must deal with her immediately.”

“As you say, Sire.”

The two figures moved down the center nave of the sanctuary. Behind the altar, they unlocked and then passed through a door recessed in the back wall.

Loving and Shalimar looked at each other. It wasn’t necessary to speak the words; they both knew what the other was thinking. They were getting ready to deal with Beatrice.

“I’m goin’ in there,” Loving said.

Shalimar grabbed his arm. “You heard what he said. There are others.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m goin’ in.”

“That’s crazy. We’ll call the police.”

“And tell them what, exactly? Even if they take us seriously, which I doubt, they might not be in time.” To save your sister, he left unspoken.

Shalimar squared her jaw. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Don’t treat me like-”

“Listen to me. We need to make sure someone’s alive to go to the police. And if I go missin’, you’ll have somethin’ to tell them they’ll have to listen to.”

“But-”

“It’s for the best, Shalimar. You wait outside. If I’m not back in an hour, call the cops and tell them I’ve been abducted by a satanic cult. That should get their attention.”

“But-”

“You heard me,” Loving said firmly. “And you know I’m right. So please-wait outside. I’m countin’ on you. You’ve got my back.”

Shalimar’s eyes blazed. “You’re just saying this because you know it’s dangerous. You’re trying to keep me from being hurt. But you’re going to need help and-”

“I’m sayin’ this because I’m not as dumb as I look. It’s a good plan. So do it already.”

Her lips were pressed tightly together. Loving could see she didn’t like it.

She laid both hands on his shoulders. “Take care of yourself in there,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“That’s a promise.” He started toward the rear door. “See you outside, Buffy.”

Her eyes blazed. “Don’t call me Buffy!”

“First of all, Ms. Glancy,” Padolino began, “let’s set the record straight. All this business about your detective and allegedly offering to bribe the deceased-you didn’t tell the police any of this, did you?”

“Todd and I were advised by counsel that we had the right to remain silent and that it would be smart to do so.”

“The defendant has a right to remain silent, ma’am, but the defendant’s spouse-”

“Is protected by the husband-wife confidentiality rule, as you and I both know, so let’s not pretend otherwise.”

“That law does not-”

“That law exists to protect marriages-the same thing I was doing.”

Ben could see the wheels turning in Padolino’s head as he struggled to find an opening. If he’d ever imagined this was going to be an easy cross, he knew better now.

“Blackmail,” he said finally, “is a crime.”

“Yes, but being blackmailed isn’t. We were the victims, not the perpetrators.”

“Failure to report a crime-”

“Honestly, climb off your high horse and come back to earth.” She allowed herself to show some mild irritation-just enough, Ben thought. “People being blackmailed never go to the police. If the blackmailers thought there was any chance of it, they wouldn’t blackmail them in the first place.”

“So instead, according to your testimony, you aided and abetted a criminal act.”

“I gave money to a pathetic drug-addicted, brain-addled nymphomaniac who was threatening to bring down one of the best senators this country has ever had just so she could get her next fix. Was that such a horrible thing?”

Ben leaned in close to Christina. “I think she’s magnificent,” he whispered. “You agree?”

“Big-time,” she whispered back. “Just don’t fall in love. I’ve got a few Evelyn looks of my own.”

“According to your testimony,” Padolino continued, “you told the deceased you could ‘do a lot worse to her than she could do to you.’ That, I think, could be interpreted as a threat.”

“A threat designed to save my husband and marriage.”

“Making threats is also against the law.”

“Oh, fine.” She held out her wrists. “Cuff me. Take me away.”

Several of the jurors had to cover their mouths.

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Ms. Glancy. This is a serious matter.”

“No, it isn’t. I mean, murder is a serious crime, but Todd didn’t do it, and you’d know that if you hadn’t done such a slipshod investigation and settled for arresting the most obvious and available suspect.”

“Your honor!” Padolino said angrily. “I ask the court to strike that remark and admonish the witness.”

Judge Herndon tilted his head to one side. “The court is inclined to think you pretty much asked for it.”

Now several of the jurors were laughing, not even bothering to cover their mouths. Ben could sense Padolino’s desperation. He needed to score a point-and fast.

“You mentioned that you had the money ready to pay off Ms. Cooper.”

“I did pay her off.”

“I assume that money came from a bank account.”

“You would be correct.”

“That’s the funny thing. You see, back when we were doing our slipshod investigation, I went to the trouble of subpoenaing your bank account records. Both yours and your husband’s. We were obviously interested to know if you had made any large withdrawals-or deposits-on or about the time of the murder. As a matter of fact, I have those statements right here.”

Back at the prosecution table, some poor legal assistant was riffling through her files, trying to make good on her boss’s promise. After an admirably brief wait, she produced the statements in question.

“I don’t have to go over them now,” Padolino explained, “because I’ve been over them many many times before. And I know for a fact, Ms. Glancy, that there are no major withdrawals. Certainly nothing in the nature of a quarter of a million dollars.” He slid the statements defiantly under her nose.

“Wrong bank,” she said, without even looking.

“Excuse me?”

“Wrong bank, Mr. Prosecutor. These are our domestic personal accounts. The money I withdrew came from an offshore account held at a bank on Grand Cayman Island.”

“I find that difficult to-”

“The account number is 00945623819. If you call, they will confirm the existence of the account. They won’t give you any information about it without permission from Todd or me, but I will grant you that for the limited purpose of checking withdrawals at or around the time of Veronica Cooper’s death.” She paused. “I think you’ll find a rather large one.”