Chapter 31 Keeping Busy

Rebecca Sunday Night

It had been a long weekend already and now I was looking at another long night tracking down information on people I had no legitimate business looking at. With Jimmy's latest stroke of luck, I was starting to believe the hand of God thing myself; too many things just seemed to 'happen' around that boy. Things no sane person wanted anything to do with. I kept waiting for him to snap under the seemingly ever-increasing load he was carrying. And I knew for a fact that I didn't know everything. Something was going on with Amber, I didn't know what it was, but she seemed to suddenly be showing signs of improvement. Especially in the last two weeks. She was sleeping better for one thing. The reports I had downloaded from my email and looked at in the wee hours of the morning while Bob was sleeping indicated she had developed an overnight interest in something resembling yoga and meditation. She would sit; kneel actually, for hours in one position, just breathing in and out. Every once in a while she would get up and begin a simple routine of stretching and isometric exercises. She then would do about thirty minutes of exercises that they said were intended to improve balance. Then she would carefully settle herself on the floor again and start over. Whatever it was she was doing was working, suddenly it was like she was a different girl.

Several times it appeared that she had injured herself as small spots of blood would appear on her exposed skin or clothing. She seemed to be wearing less of that lately too. As of yesterday she was down to just a sports bra and French cut panties for her workout. Two of the men on the monitoring team had already been warned about comments they had made. Any more infractions and they would be replaced and disciplinary notices added to their personnel jackets.

The security staff in the lobby was more than a little surprised to see me come strolling into the lobby at ten o'clock on a Sunday night. I signed in, exchanged a few casual words with the guards about late nights and unforgiving government hierarchies, and then took the elevator up to my office. Not surprisingly, there was no one in the office. I woke up my computer and went to get some coffee while it went through all of the security checks and protocols. By the time I got back, it was ready and waiting for me to poke and prod it through the various hoops and dark alleys I would need it to slog through before dawn.

It didn't take long to get the basic background information on the people I was interested in; a little longer to pin down the location of the Church of the Inner Circle. I then spent hours pouring through IRS reports and non-profit audits. The founder and High Priest -- yes he actually called himself a High Priest -- made my skin crawl. Elliott Bastion had existed for all of ten years. He had been born Christian Wallace, a relatively harmless individual, average IQ, graduated high school with a 3.1 GPA and then bailed out in his second year of college. After that his life started getting interesting, very interesting. After the second murder trial he had changed his name and moved west. A casual inquiry into the details of the cases got me nothing. A quick trip over to the department of justice using my bureau ID got me more, a lot more. Why this guy wasn't behind bars was a complete mystery. The first case was good, not really solid, but it should have been enough for a conviction. The second one should have been a slam-dunk. Yet both times the jury had acquitted him. Two eyewitnesses in the second trial had changed their stories on the witness stand, suddenly no longer certain that Wallace was in fact the person that they had seen the night of the murder. That hurt but the physical proofs were still strong enough to convict him on their own, or at least they should have been. In spite of that the jury had unanimously declared him not guilty. At three A.M. I was on my third cup of coffee and still having a hard time staying awake, so I finally packed it in, wrote a quick email to Rod, and headed home to grab a quick shower and, hopefully a nap before I had to meet Jimmy.

Power-napping is an art form I had learned in college and mastered during agent training. I didn't even bother getting undressed, just set the alarm for six, pulled off my shoes and curled up on the bed. A little over two and a half hours later I was awake and staggering toward the shower at the end of a lengthening trail of assorted clothing. Jimmy called while I was getting dressed. After that I made myself eat breakfast and then picked up a very large, very black cup of coffee at Starbucks. I'm normally a mocha kind of girl, or at least a cappuccino, and in the darkest moments a cream and sugar. This one was straight, black, and hot enough to melt the roof of my mouth. Just what I needed after the night I'd just had. The call from Rod took me completely by surprise.

"Hampton, where are you?"

"And good morning to you too, boss. I'm on the 10 freeway headed east, why? Didn't you get my email?"

"Yeah, I got it, I figured you sent it from Bob's place, but then they brought up the night's logs and it said you were here all night."

"Researching some leads. Listen, Rod, not that I don't enjoy your conversation but I'm driving so could you cut to the chase?"

"Thirty seconds after I walked in the door I got a call from Washington, they want you on a plane within the hour."

"You called me just to pull something like that? You are kidding, right?" No answer. "Rod? Jesus, you're serious?! What the hell do they want me for?"

"They didn't say; just to get you on a plane yesterday."

"Shit! Rod, I have to make this meeting. I'm dead serious when I say a life depends on it. It can't wait until I get back. Can you buy me some time? Have Eleanor book me something out of Ontario, it'll save me driving back into LA."

"Hampton, did you hear me. This is Washington, they're not real fond of being kept waiting, and they just flat don't do excuses."

"Rod, please, you gotta buy me some time. It's that important. I shouldn't need more than an hour." There was a long pause, "Rod?"

"I'm transferring you to Eleanor, you will have a reservation before you hang up, is that clear."

"Done. Thanks Rod, I'll tell you what I can as soon as I can."

Jimmy

Phoebe was up by the time we got there, still in her too big pj's, sitting and sipping hot cocoa with Susan. She got up to hug me when I came in. Susan had told her I was coming but not that I was bringing Allison. She hugged Allison and offered to get her some hot cocoa. Allison accepted with a smile and I saw a tear creep into the corner of her eye as the young girl bounced away to the kitchen.

"She looks a thousand percent better," She said, dabbing at the tear with a tissue Susan gave her.

I leaned in and kissed her hair and said, "And she reminds you of sleepovers with Shannon, I know."

She gave a little laugh which quickly dissolved into tears and said, "Yeah, she does." Then she hit me, "Now look what you've done." She blew her nose and Susan handed her a fresh tissue which she quickly used to wipe away the new tears before Phoebe came back. She managed to get the tears but her eyes were red and puffy so Phoebe still noticed.

She was walking carefully so that she wouldn't spill the cocoa when she looked up and saw Allison's face, "What's the matter?"

"I'm just happy because you look so much better today," Allison lied taking the cocoa and setting it on a coaster. "The way you bounced off to the kitchen reminded me of someone who is very special to me. You remember my friend Shannon that you met yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Her family was in a car accident last night, and they don't know if she's going to make it." Allison dissolved into tears again and Phoebe rushed over to sit by her, tears in her eyes as well. Amazingly, the cocoa made it safely, too.

"Oh Allison, I'm so sorry," Phoebe said, hugging her new friend. "I hope she's okay, I'll pray for her, I promise." She pulled back a little and said in a very serious voice, "But Allison, no matter what happens you have to be strong and believe that this is all part of God's plan; her whole life, and if it is her time, then even her death, all serves His purpose. Besides, it's not like you'll never see her again. She'll be there with Him, waiting for you to come home."

I had to leave; in the face of her faith I felt life a leaf in a hurricane. I believed in God, I told myself I trusted him, but He scared the crap out me at the same time. What would it be like to live with that kind of faith? To leave everything and run because you believed he had told you to? To say a prayer and give away your last dollar, not knowing what the next moment might bring? It gave me chills thinking about it while I waited in the parking lot at the church for Rebecca to arrive. There were only a few cars in the parking lot and I hoped one of them belonged to Pastor Keen. It turned out none of them were his, but that wasn't a problem as he arrived a few minutes before nine. The good news was that Rebecca was right behind him. I waved as he rolled into the parking lot to let him know I was there. Rebecca spotted my truck but parked a ways over. I guess she didn't want anyone to put the two cars together for any reason. I got out and walked toward Pastor Keen, who was waiting for me by a side door. Rebecca caught up with me just before I reached him.

"Good morning Jimmy, I wasn't expecting you until this afternoon. Is this lovely young woman with you?"

"Good morning Pastor Keen, I'd like you to meet Special Agent Rebecca Hampton, FBI, Los Angeles Bureau, and yes, she's with me. As to why I'm here so early, something came up that couldn't wait."

As his eyebrows tried to crawl over the top of his head he extended his hand to Rebecca, "Pleased to meet you, Agent Hampton; surprised to say the least, but pleased none the less. Should I assume that this is about our little mystery girl from yesterday?"

"Pleased to meet you Pastor," Rebecca answered. "Is there somewhere private we can speak to you right away?"

"Certainly, right this way." He guided us through the door and down a short hallway to a small office area where he waved to several people as we went by. "Good morning everyone, Margaret, what time is my first appointment?"

A middle aged woman answered back, "You have a counseling appointment at ten and then lunch with the deacon's board at eleven thirty."

"Thank you, Margaret. Please hold all of my calls, if anyone asks I am in a last minute counseling session." Once we were inside his office and he had closed the door. "Please be seated. Can I get you anything?"

"Yes," Rebecca answered. "The photocopy you made of Jimmy's driver's license and any other notes or records you may have made about Phoebe. I assume you wrote down all of Miss Swann's information somewhere as well; anything at all that documents Phoebe being here, or where she went when she left here."

"Forgive me agent Hampton, but could I please see your identification?"

"I'm sorry, of course you can." She handed it to him and he examined it carefully before handing it back. "Thank you for asking, Pastor, I hate it when people take my word for it. I'll cut right to the chase; Phoebe's life is in danger. I cannot give you any details at this time, but if anyone, and that includes the police, should come by asking about her, you saw her at services but she left before service ended and you don't know where she went. I know that's asking a lot as it cuts the fine line of being a lie but it is essentially true since you don't know where Susan lives. At this moment your name and the name of this church are on a memo to my boss informing him of this meeting and what I am asking you to do. Should something happen you will have the full protection of the FBI for your actions."

"My goodness, it's that serious?"

"Yes, it's that serious," she handed him a card. "Please keep this with you and do not show it to anyone unless absolutely necessary. This next part is going to sound strange, but the only person outside of the Bureau that you are to speak to about her is Jimmy. I say him because if I need something and can't get out here right away I will send him. If you need to reach me, call that number and they will find me, twenty-four hours a day. Unfortunately I have to fly to Washington in a couple of hours and I don't know when I will be back. If you need something and I am not immediately available then I am probably in a meeting, please leave a message and I will either call you back or have Jimmy contact you. If you feel the situations warrants it, call the main number and ask to speak to Director Rodriguez, no one else. If anyone should come around looking for her, please contact me as soon as possible and let me know who it was and exactly what they said. Also, please instruct your staff not to answer any questions regarding her. If they should mention a reason they are looking for her please write it down. If it's the police and they have a warrant, please ask to see it and, if possible, make a copy of it."

"The staff won't be a problem, they don't know anything about her other than she was here. Are you saying the police are looking for her?"

"It is possible," I said. "The people she ran away from died in a fire several days after she fled. The cause of the fire has been listed as arson and they are looking for Phoebe as a possible suspect. We can prove that she wasn't anywhere near there when it happened but the locals won't know that. They will only know that they have been asked to watch for her and pick her up if they find her."