The remnants of a baby stroller peeking out from a pile of debris catch my eye. I immediately wonder if it belonged to Lizzie Moreno. And that makes me think about Maggie.
She’s been on my mind a lot since our meeting. Too much. And I’m having thoughts about her I shouldn’t be having. There’s something so overwhelmingly attractive about her. I’m not sure what it is. She’s not really my type. She just seems so familiar to me.
Falling for a recent widow, who I still need to consider a suspect in the case, would mean big trouble. The kind of trouble I don’t need right now… or ever, for that matter.
I need to maintain my focus, which is solving the case. Detective Alex Vento isn’t right about many things that aren’t food related, but he is right about one thing. If I solve the Bookman College case, it would mean a big boost to my career.
“Detective Walker?” A deep male voice startles me.
When I turn around, a middle-aged man wearing a COUNTY FIRE MARSHALL jacket and dark sunglasses approaches. “I’m Wes Dawson.”
I expect him to extend a hand to shake, but he runs his fingers through his shock of red hair instead.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”
He gives me a polite nod. “How’d you catch this case?”
“Detective Alex Vento is getting close to retirement, so the powers that be are looking for someone to lead the State Police arson investigations in our district.”
He looks me up and down. “And you think you’re the man for the job?”
“I think I can fill Alex’s shoes.” I know I can, but I don’t want to come across as too cocky. I’ve heard older guys like Wes don’t particularly care for “young bloods” who they perceive as being overconfident. They want us to pay our dues and show them respect, even if some of them, like Alex, are long past their expiration date.
Wes points to the burnt area where the Bookman Library used to stand. “Do you think you can handle this kind of work? It’s not easy looking at charred remains day in and day out.”
“It beats writing speeding tickets on the turnpike.”
He chuckles. “You’ve got a point.”
“So, what can you tell me about the fire?”
Wes shakes his head. “Not much. Still no idea what caused the building to burn. And as you can see it burned a lot.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Which part? Not finding a cause for the fire or the fire burning a lot?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Yes.”
“Could it have been accidental?”
“Not likely.” He stares at scene. “Most of the time, when the cause of the blaze isn’t immediately apparent, the fire was intentional. There are seven main reasons why fires are started. Pyromania. Terrorism. Juvenile delinquency. Vandalism. Insurance fraud. To conceal another crime. Or fire as a murder weapon.” He turns to face me. “Or maybe it was a fire demon that did it.”
I laugh. “Maybe it was the Jersey Devil. Or Big Foot.”
He grins. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Detective.”
I sit outside of Moreno Industrial Supplies for several moments observing the exterior of the building. It’s one of several old warehouses that line the unpaved road.
It’s eerily quiet. No one has gone in or out, which seems odd for the middle of a workday.
I exit my unmarked police car and head inside.
An attractive receptionist sits behind a name plate that says, KIKI ROGERS. She greets me with a big smile. Her skintight outfit and ample cleavage lead me to believe that she may not have been hired just for her typing skills.
“I’m here to speak with Mr. Sal Moreno.”
When I remove one of my business cards and place it on the desk in front of her, her smile quickly fades.
“Sal is in Florida on business.”
“Who’s in charge while he’s gone?”
“His son, Lenny.”
“I’ll meet with him them.”
She holds up an ornately adorned finger. “Just one moment.” Then speaks into an intercom. “Lenny. There’s someone here to see you.”
“Tell him I’m busy.” A male voice with a thick New Jersey accent booms from the speaker on her phone.
“He’s a cop.”
“Send him back.”
As Kiki gestures towards the door behind her, I head inside.
The sparse office makes it hard to tell what kind of work, if any, goes on here.
Lenny Moreno, who looks like he’s in his early 30s, is seated in front of a SUDOKO puzzle. It’s the only thing on the otherwise bare desk.
I bite my lip to stifle a grin as I look the guy up and down. With his slicked-back hair and oversized-suit, he looks like a caricature of a mobster. Or a bad mashup of Jersey Shore and The Sopranos.
“My condolences on the death of your brother.”
“Half-brother.”
Lenny taps on his desk impatiently. He doesn’t look too broken up about Nick’s death.
I remove one of my business cards and place it in front of him. “I’m Detective Ben Walker. New Jersey State Police.” I gesture towards an empty chair. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Sure. Have a seat officer.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm. I think he’d rather be chewing tin foil than speaking with me right now.
I sit down across from him. “I’m investigating the fire at Bookman College.”
He gives me a forced smile. “How can I help?”
“What kind of business does your father have in Florida?”
“You’ll have to ask him that question.”
I glance around. The place is too quiet. “What kind of work do you do here?”
Lenny points to a worn-out sign on the wall. MORENO INDUSTRIAL SUPPLIES.
“What do you sell?
“Supplies.”
“What kind of supplies?”
“Industrial ones.”
“What industries?”
“All kinds.”
I’m not making much progress. The guy is as slippery as slug. I decide to try a new line of questioning. “How about your brother…?”
“Half-brother.”
“What was your relationship like?”
He glances at his watch. Then rises from his chair. “I’d love to be of more service to New Jersey’s finest, but I have an appointment.”
I gesture towards his puzzle book. “I can see you’re very busy.” I tap the business card that I tossed on his desk. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”
“Absolutely, Detective.”
As I eye him for a moment, he squirms in his chair. What isn’t he telling me?
I rise and exit.
“See ya.” Kiki gives me a flirty wave as I march out of Lenny’s office. That’s when I notice her huge diamond engagement ring glittering in the florescent light.
As I give her a polite nod, I swear she looks a decade older. Then just as quickly, she looks like a 20-something again.
Something weird is going on. I’m just not sure what it is.
I decide to poke around the exterior of the warehouse. There’s not another soul anywhere, not even a rat. When I peek inside the building through a dirty window, the warehouse is completely empty. Nothing but dust.
Chapter 3
MAGGIE
My Volkswagen Beetle is being held together with spit and glue and maybe even a little bit of bubble gum. It doesn’t stop me from racing down the winding country roads like it’s the Daytona 500. I inherited a lot from my grandmother, including her lead foot.
I approach the sign that says WELCOME TO RAVEN CIRCLE (POPULATION 101). The village is located between Dark Moon Drive and Shades of Death Road. It’s horror-movie creepy with its gnarly trees and dark shadows. A raven, perched on the Welcome sign, squawks as heavy winds sweep through the old oak trees that line the main street.
I get the chills… but not because of the strange town.
When I glance i
n my rearview mirror, I notice that I’m being followed by a black sedan with a broken headlight. Inside the car are two scary looking goons in black suits. The driver, with dark hair and features, has a deep scar down the side of his cheek. The passenger is bald and wears an angry expression.
The car behind me comes to a sudden stop right as I pass by the Welcome sign and drive into Raven Circle. It’s like there’s a force stopping them from going any further. Or maybe they’re nervous about entering a town that’s so forbidding. Not that I blame them. Situations like these never end well in horror movies.
Lucky for me, I grew up here.
I put the pedal to the metal and speed away, leaving the black sedan in my dust.
The village isn’t even large enough for a stoplight. There’s a tavern, an old hotel, a general store and a post office. My grandmother’s place, The Curiosity Shop - Collectables and Unique Gifts, is on the edge of town right across from an abandoned church and cemetery.
The shop is brightly decorated, but in an eccentric way, like something straight out Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Directly behind the shop is a bungalow-style house that’s just as colorful.
I park at the shop’s front entrance and hop out of my car.
My grandmother’s nosy next-door neighbor, Opal Opre, is standing on the front porch of her old farmhouse, giving me the stink eye as I walk up to the shop.
The woman isn’t just unpleasant. There’s something utterly dreadful about her. She’s looking at me with so much contempt it chills me to the bone. I wasn’t surprised when my grandmother told me that her husband left her for a much younger woman. I’m just surprised it took him so long to make his escape.
I hurry inside to avoid Opal’s gaze. She’s truly freaking me out.
The inside of The Curiosity Shop is just as unusual as the exterior. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the way in which the gifts and collectables are displayed throughout the store. There’s a hodgepodge of miscellaneous items stacked in every nook and cranny. If the shop was music, it would be free-form jazz.
“Grandma!”
Rita Russo, my seventy-year-old grandmother, pops up from behind the counter. Her unnaturally dark hair is messy and filled with dust. Her face is streaked with soot.
Even though she’s a mess, she immediately pulls me in for a hug. She’s the typical overbearing Italian American grandmother the stereotypes are based on.
“What were you doing behind the counter?”
“Just a little spring cleaning.” She looks me up and down. “I’m glad to see you finally made it out of the house. And you took a shower. Cleaned yourself up a bit. What brings you back to Raven Circle?”
I take in a deep breath. Exhale. Then look into my grandmother’s eyes. “I know I told you that I was done with witchcraft when I married Nick, but I want my magic back.”
My grandmother’s eyes widen. This is big news. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Why the change of heart? Have you decided to take over the family business so I can retire and move to Florida?”
I frown. “I didn’t know witches retired to Florida.”
She cackles. “Sycamore Grove, just north of Daytona. The place is filled with tired old witches like me.”
“You’re not that old.”
“You’re sweet.” She places a kiss on my cheek. “But I’m long past my expiration date. So, why the change of heart?”
“I want to find out what happened to Nick and Lizzie. I want to find out who set the fire and why they did it.”
“Is that all?” Her eyes narrow.
I gulp. I know I can’t lie. She’ll see right through it. But I don’t want to tell her the truth either. I want to avenge my husband’s and daughter’s deaths.
“Women in our lineage act as intermediaries between the supernatural spirit world and the natural world. We serve as channels moving the energy of the Divine to those in need. The great power given to you by the Grand Dea should be used to improve the lives of others. You must remember that whatever you put out into the world comes back to you tenfold. If you choose to practice the dark arts, it will have serious consequences.”
It's like she can read my mind. “I understand,” I lie.
“I hope so.” Her eyes narrow. I can tell she’s not convinced.
“It will be okay. I promise.”
“If you’re sure you want to do this, let’s go.”
I follow her into the backroom.
It looks like an old apothecary shop from the 1800s. The space is filled with jars of medicinal herbs and potions. There’s an antique pestle and mortar set on the center table.
My grandmother removes an ancient-looking manuscript from a shelf and hands it to me.
Spells and Incantations.
“I was going to give this to you when I retire, but if you’re ready to take over the family business, it’s yours.”
I run my finger along the book’s etched cover. I remember looking at it on the shelf when I was a kid. I had no idea what it was or what it meant. I didn’t know that my grandmother practiced Italian folk magic and that the craft has been in her family for generations.
And I had no idea that I was the next in line to inherit our family’s magic.
“Sit down.” She gestures towards a large white pillow on the floor.
I plop down on it. She takes a seat on another pillow directly across from me.
“The path of the magical woman is a contract. You started down the pathway once before and abandoned it because of your family. You won’t be able to do that again. If you make the commitment to use the powers you have inherited, it must be a commitment for life.”
“I know.”
She looks deep into my eyes. “Once I start the process, I can’t stop it. Are you ready to begin?”
I nod.
“You must tell me that you’re ready.”
“I’m ready.”
“Then hold my hands and close your eyes.”
For a few seconds, I hesitate. I intended to give up this life forever when I met Nick and we started a family. I never told him that I came from a family of witches. He thought my grandmother was an eccentric shopkeeper. He had no idea what went on in her backroom.
But now he’s gone, and so is Lizzie. Maybe it’s time to reclaim my powers and my destiny.
I take my grandmother’s hands and close my eyes.
“No matter how difficult it becomes, keep your eyes closed and don’t let go of my hands.”
“Okay.” My heart starts to pound in my chest.
“I’m going to begin the initiation process. This is your last chance to back out.”
“I want to continue.” My voice cracks. What am I getting myself into?
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I reply with a bit more confidence.
“Then repeat after me. I am pure energy emerging from the Great Goddess.”
I repeat her words.
“Through the virtue of the four elements: Earth, Air, Fire and Water, and the use of plants, herbs, and animals, I am your humble servant.”
I repeat those too.
“I will use the power of the Great Goddess for the good of all.”
When I say those words, I can feel energy radiating from my head. As it gets stronger, my entire body begins to tremble.
As the power flows through me, I shake even more violently until I can no longer control the movement.
It’s too much for me to bear. The entire room spins around me before I pass out.
Chapter 4
BEN
My crappy apartment depresses me every time I enter it. You’d never know that I’ve lived here nearly a year. I’ve got boxes I haven’t unpacked yet sitting in the corners of several rooms. I haven’t had the time to deal with them. Or maybe I’m just not that motivated. Probably a combination of both.
I grab a beer from the fridge and plop down on the couch. My nightly ritual. When I mo
ved in, I thought I might paint, so I didn’t hang any art on the wall. But that hasn’t happened yet. So, I stare at the blank white wall in front of me. I haven’t even bothered to get the cable hooked up. When I want to watch a football game, I head over to my sister and brother-in-law’s place. My sister always takes pity on me and invites me over for a Sunday meal. Not that I don’t know how to cook. I just never seem to find the time to buy groceries.
My one-eyed cat, Burt, climbs into my lap. It’s his nightly ritual. I’ve never been a cat person, but he came with the apartment. When I moved my stuff in, he was already inhabiting the place. I just assumed the previous tenants took off without him. Maybe because of the missing eye. I didn’t have the heart to put him out. I grew up with dogs. Burt isn’t anything like the beagles my parents raised. He doesn’t crave approval and doesn’t like to be petted. He just likes to curl up in my lap and snooze.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Buddy. I’ve got to leave in less than an hour. I’ve got a meeting tonight and I’ll get in trouble if I’m late again.”
He looks up at me with his good eye. Meows. Then goes to sleep.
My mind wanders back to the case. I can’t get it out of my head. Moreno Industrial Supplies is obviously not what it seems to be. I’m willing to bet it’s a front for some type of illegal activity.
But what does that have to do with the Bookman College fire?
My mind immediately wanders to Maggie Moreno. She’s obviously devastated about the lose of her family, but I feel like there’s more than that. Something she’s hiding. I need to figure out a way to crack through her grieving widow façade and see what’s going on underneath.
When I finish my beer, I feed and water Burt. Then I quickly get changed. Where I’m going, I won’t need my work clothes.
Shades of Death Road is a winding two-lane street through a heavily wooded area in rural northern New Jersey. The new moon makes the shadowy night seem even darker. As I ride through the dense forest, I feel even more alone than I usually do. Not another creature in sight.
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