Disclaimer: See chapter one.
Author's Note: I thought for a change of pace, I would make this chapter back in Las Vegas. Yo!blingers; be pleasantly surprised ;)
Thanks to ScullyasTrinity for the rec at YTDAW :)
Chapter eleven
"You know, for something that sounds so Marilyn-Mansonish-hates-the-world, I was imagining this place to be a little less trailer-park".
Warrick chuckled quietly as he followed Catherine from their parked Tahoe, feeling the desert sun beating relentlessly on his bare arms and through his thin t-shirt. His dark sunglasses protected his eyes, and he surveyed their surroundings through their shade, silently agreeing with Catherine's observation.
He had seen a lot of things in his line of work, and Greg's bizarre descriptions had made this organisation sound much more threatening than it clearly was.
The lines of trailers were covered in dust and grime, arranged at haphazard angles that suggested a vague sort of hierarchy. Patchy trees offered brief respite from the sun, and its isolation promised harsh coldness at night. One thing he could agree on was that these people would have to be pretty obsessive personalities to be able to handle the harsh Nevada elements with such little protection.
One trailer, almost in the very centre of the park, displayed a peculiar-looking inverted pentagram over the door and adjoining walls. Its substance looked distinctly like blood. Greg had explained to him that it was the symbol for the Church of Satan, often mixed up with the similar, but differing symbol for Paganism.
"Think that's Henway's home away from home?" Catherine guessed, lifting a shrewd, slender eyebrow.
Warrick slid off his sunglasses, blinking momentarily against the dazzling overhead sunlight as he bent forward for a closer look. Catherine reached into the jacket of her LVPD vest, removing a swab. She rubbed the cue-tip over the red substance, and tested it for blood. She smirked at the reading. "It's not human", she announced.
"Good to know", Warrick replied dryly, taking a step back. He glanced at Catherine briefly, before tapping loudly on the door. "Las Vegas Crimelab, open up".
They waited a moment, and the screen door screeched terribly as it was opened from the other side.
Marcus Henway proved to be yet another contradiction. He looked more like a gang member than a cult leader, with raw, thick stubble and big, bristling muscles. A tattoo similar to the symbol on his door marked his upper left arm, and he wore a black wifebeater and torn jeans.
"Are you Marcus Henway?" Catherine asked, tilting her head.
"If you're with the police, I've got nothing to say to you", he said curtly, dark, brown eyes scanning over them warily.
His accent, unlike his appearance, was conspicuously educated, with faint Southern origins. Warrick glanced at Catherine, whose green eyes flickered with newfound interest.
"I'm Warrick Brown, this is Catherine Willows. We're with the crimelab", he explained politely. "We just want to ask you a few questions about a homicide that occurred about six months ago".
Henway leant against the outer door, coming to rest on the bottom step. "What makes you think I would know anything about that?" he said coolly.
"We have no interest in making you a suspect", Catherine said carefully. She kept her features perfectly casual, and he smirked inwardly. She always knew how to charm them. "We're just looking for some information".
Henway's army boots disrupted the dusty earth as he dropped abruptly on the ground, and Warrick saw Catherine flinch slightly in the corner of his eye. He nodded slowly. "All right. What would you like to know?"
Warrick spoke up first, feeling the weight of his gun press reassuringly into his side. "How do you go about recruiting people into your, uh… organisation?"
Henway turned his attention over to him, and looked vaguely amused. "You're sceptical. That's understandable. Christianity has caused a lot of misconceptions on Satanism."
Catherine lifted an eyebrow, looking suitably intrigued. "How so?"
"They see us with horns and tails and consider us child molesters and butcherers. It has nothing to do with that. We don't believe in that kind of mindless violence."
"Really?" she said. "So what, exactly, do you believe in?"
He shrugged. "We believe in fulfilling the pleasures of the flesh. While Christianity condemns this as sinful, most of the population does it anyway. We just enable it into our beliefs system. We don't believe in restraint. But we also don't tolerate ignorance or lack of physical aesthetics."
Catherine lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. "So you don't believe that people should be physically unattractive?"
"And the rest of society doesn't? We merely encourage physical beauty to enhance our lesser magical aura. Our beliefs system revolves around following eleven satanic rules of the earth, and avoiding nine basic sins, these included. They were written by Anton LaVey in 1967 and we consider this our bible, just as Christians believe in theirs. As long as those who want to join abide by our principles, they are free to become involved".
Catherine shot Warrick a quick look, and he lifted his shoulders in response.
She cleared her throat. "Does this include underage participants?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes there are teenagers, but most of them are what we would call posers and are rarely accepted into our group. We only take on those who have proven that they are dedicated to our religion, and who understand exactly what is involved."
Catherine nodded, blond locks glimmering in the sun. "And everyone lives here, together?"
He shook his head. "There are several members who decline living in such confinement, and we can respect that."
"Which is why you often hold meetings in Vegas?" Warrick guessed.
He nodded. "All low-key, of course. Our numbers are extremely small, and people rarely understand our position. Luckily for us, it's not difficult to hide unusual passions in Las Vegas."
Warrick couldn't argue with that. "Do you remember a young girl called Hayley Barton? She came from a small town in Northern Nevada. We believe she travelled here to become involved with your group".
Henway frowned, considering. "The name does sound familiar. Yes, I think I remember her. She was here for a few months. She was a very active participant, and she believed fully in the faith. She disappeared a few months ago".
"You didn't find that unusual?"
He glanced at Catherine, eyes piercing into her intently. Warrick shifted uncomfortably. There was something very eerie about this man, and listening to him talk only made it more so.
And he really didn't like the way he was looking at Catherine.
"People disappear all the time, Ms Willows", Henway said frankly. "They find the lifestyle doesn't suit them, or they have people who take them back to wherever it is they came from because they can't understand what it is we do. We can't force them to stay. That's not our job".
Catherine nodded, slowly, taking a subtle step back. "Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Henway".
"Of course." He paused visibly. "There is someone who might help you. Adelaide Faris. She's a disillusioned member who lives downtown. From what I remember, she was fairly friendly with Hayley before she left".
Catherine glanced back at Warrick, who nodded in response. "Thank you".
He offered a brief wave, disappearing back inside his trailer with a resounding slam.
"Well", the blonde said slowly, following him as they strode back through the park. "That was one mondo bizarro guy".
"And this is a messed up circus he has going on around here", Warrick added, feeling her warmth brush against his side as they rounded a corner. "He actually believes all of that crap?"
"Apparently. And so do all of these people", she mused, glancing around vaguely. "I guess this would be about when Grissom starts saying that the great leaders of our time have been very persuasive, blah blah blah."
Warrick smirked in amusement. He missed moments like this, when they could investigate as colleagues with all of their friendly banter, and not as boss and subordinate. "I guess it's a good thing he's not here then".
"Hmm. I just hope he's grateful for this. I have a feeling our job isn't over yet."
"You don't think Henway would have let someone go that easily, do you? There's no way they aren't involved in something illegal, all the way out here."
She smiled grimly. "Why do you think I said our job isn't over?"
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It was places like this that reminded him how seedy Las Vegas really was. Adelaide Faris' cheap apartment building was surrounded by a sea of equally run down apartments, liquor stores, strip clubs and motels.
This time they had an officer with them, and he rapped on the door of Adelaide's apartment. They waited at least five full minutes before a woman peered through the crack in the door, face partially obscured and chain firmly in place.
She had dark rings under her eyes, and oily, messy hair. Warrick estimated her age to be about nineteen, but she looked a lot older.
"What do you want?" she rasped, bloodshot eyes darting over the three of them.
The officer glanced back at them, flashing his badge pointedly. "Las Vegas police, ma'am. We need to ask you a few questions".
She frowned, closing the door, and opening it again a moment later.
The officer waited by the door as Catherine and Warrick stepped inside, struggling not to take in the mess around them. Rotting food and used liquor bottles littered the floor, along with rumpled clothing and trash. The stench was overpowering, and both of them, well practiced in dealing with decomposing flesh, breathed in carefully through their mouths.
"Did you know a woman called Hayley Barton?" Catherine started cautiously.
Adelaide paused, nudging her way through a path in the junk, turning to look at them. She surprised them, letting out a short, humourless laugh. "He sent you here, didn't he?"
They exchanged a surprised glance, eyeing her carefully. "What makes you think that?"
She scoffed. "I was stupid. She was too. She found out about Satanism through some boy in her town, and she decided the run away from her psycho grandmother and join LaVey's Order. I'd only been there about a week when I met her. We thought it was the perfect escape from our crappy lives. God, we were stupid".
She rummaged around on her battered sofa, finally uncovering a packet of half-used cigarettes. Her hands shook as she slid one out, and struggled to light it in her mouth.
She closed her eyes, briefly savouring the taste before exhaling in the air between them. "We lasted about a month before things started to get… bad. Marcus was strict about a lot of things. Rule number three in particular".
"Rule number three?" Warrick prompted, confused.
Adelaide scoffed. "If in someone else's territory treat them with respect for they are protecting you. Satanists believe in expressing and releasing sexual energy. Marcus was big on this 'moral teaching' or whatever crap he liked to call it. He had a group of younger girls who he used as his own personal sex slaves. And since we had no family to watch out for us, he brought us into it too. We couldn't argue because… he gave us everything. He made us rely on him. Food, shelter, clothes. We had nothing without him."
She looked away, clearly pained by the memory. "Hayley was a little smarter than I was. She ran away first. I heard she was living on the streets for about a week before he found her."
She fell into a defeated slump on the edge of her sofa. "I wish I could have done something."
Catherine stared at Warrick, outrage and disbelief fighting for residence on her features. "You uh, feel comfortable enough to share this with us now? What… changed?"
Adelaide looked around pointedly. "I got nothing left to lose now, anyway. Least I can do is help you find Hayley's killer. Maybe save other girls from the same thing I had to live with".
Warrick found himself disgusted by the extremes religion could force people into, but forced his mind away from this revelation long enough to latch onto something Adelaide had said. "Did you say her grandmother was psycho? Why exactly do you say that?"
Adelaide shrugged. "I heard she used to beat her, make her do everything-- held her prisoner in her own house until she had her afternoon nap and Hayley escaped for a few hours. She had… weird ways of punishing her." She shook her head, looking old and sad. "I guess she traded in one prison for another, didn't she?"
"Yeah", Catherine agreed, deflating grimly. "Until she died".
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