Diana Racine 02 - Goddess of the Moon

mother didn’t understand. She was lost to me after the death of your brother. S o sad .”
    Maia ’s knees buckled, and she fell back against the wall in despair. C over ing her mouth didn’t muffle the unearthly wail that rose from her soul .
    Diana moved to comfort her. Compton and his group of Satan worshipers were worse than she imagined. Now, with cold calculation, they were about to become murderers. A vision of Lucier smiling, his topaz eyes watching her, flashed in her mind , and the thought that she’d put his life in danger left her lightheaded . She looked up at Slater. “Edward, how … how can you let this happen?”
    A small shrug. “Life is a series of tradeoffs, Diana. I traded off , for love not evil. You’ll see. You’ll be safe here, cherished . Just do what we ask of you and you’ll live a charmed life.”
    Diana wanted to argue the point, but for once she decided to keep her mouth shut.
    Inside her scream would not be silenced.
    Ernie, where are you.

Chapter Forty- Nine
    B reaking the Weak Link

    C aptain Jack Craven followed his gut, and he didn’t like the warning sign churn ing there like a bad case of indigestion. Another day and no word from either Lucier or Diana Racine. So far, the police had ke pt their disappearances quiet, but that wouldn’t last. Someone was bound to talk. If Jake Griffin got hold of the story, the implications would be disastrous.
    No one accused men like Phillip Crane and Silas Compton of heading a satanic cult without irrefutable proof, and they didn’t have it. One incriminating word and Compton’s attorneys would come down on the district like an out - of - control meteor. Owning a house where satanic rituals were pract iced didn’t make Compton the devil.
    Beecher’s visit to the Easley home yesterday produced a big fat zero, other than to pinpoint the boss in the family. Martin Easley was a weak link, and Craven wanted to talk to him without his wife supplying the answers. He phoned Easley’s office personally to make the request , but the secretary said he hadn’t come in this morning . T hen Craven called his home . The lack of response sent an even more ominous signal since Beecher mentioned they employed a housekeeper. Craven decided to follow up . Beecher went with him. In ten minutes, the y pulled into Easley’s circular driveway . ”
    “No cars,” Craven said .
    Beecher pointed to the back. “There’s a three-car garage behind the house. ”
    The house appeared deserted , curtains pulled closed . They climbed the few steps to the gallery and rang the bell. When no one answered, Beecher lifted the fancy doorknocker and rapped. Nothing. He shrugged.
    Tension in the air stretched tight. A spiral of fear slithered down Craven ’s back. He walked to the bay window s that flanked the right side of the door. A small crack in the drapes allowed for a peek inside. He wav ed Beecher over to take a look.
    “Shit,” Beecher said.
    “Call for backup, an ambulance, and a crime scene unit ,” Craven ordered . He pulled out his weapon. “ Probable cause . ” Then h e shot the lock off the door.
    * * * * *
    C raven watched as Charlie Cothran, the assistant coroner of Orleans Parish, bent over the body of Martin Easley and examined the knife stuck in his chest . “He’s still in rigor. Best I can guess is death occurred sometime early this morning,” Cothran said. “Can’t pinpoint the exact time ’cause the air conditioner’s off. Place is like an oven.”
    “Yeah, I know,” Craven said. “Smelled death the minute I walked through the door. S till taste it on my tongue.” He saw Ralph Stallings duck under the yellow crime scene tape that encircled the Easley home. The agent flashed his ID to the cop on guard and lumbered u p the stairs to the front door. He donned booties and gloves and entered the house.
    “Take over, Detective Beecher,” Craven said.
    Stallings nodded to Beecher. “Damn heat,” he said, looking around . “Jesus, you got a mess here.”
    “Another body in the kitchen. The housekeeper.” Craven said. He nodded toward Easley’s body. “My weak link.”
    “Gues s someone else thought so too.”
    “Long as they contained their little cult, Easley went along. But kidnapping babies and a cop involved set off his panic button. He harbored a pa thological fear of the police.”
    “Yup. Read his file. No wonder.”
    Craven motioned Stallings into the kitchen. Blood covered the floor and spattered the