“There is a library in the old church that contains many books. Among the books you will find a journal written by a Spanish monk named Father Sebastian Diaz. It is a small book, bound in green leather. The pages are yellow and brittle, but the words can still be read. In this book you will find what you are looking for. You will find how to destroy a Shiru.”
With those words Lily fell silent. Ssabra expected the young black woman to tell them more about the book, but she didn’t. Instead, she vanished quickly from view, leaving Ssabra to wonder if she had ever been there at all. A few moments later Tolomato also disappeared, his voice slowly fading out.
“Sleep here tonight, if you wish. You will need your rest. Tomorrow we will search for the book.”
Ssabra looked around, but the room was empty. She was completely alone, or at least the only one visible. Getting up from the chair, she slipped out of her dress and lay down on the antique bed. It had been a long day, and she was too tired to get underneath the covers. She was asleep a few minutes after her head touched the pillow, unaware of the black servant girl who reappeared a short while later to stand watch over her.
Chapter 21
By Tuesday morning, things had gone from bad to worse at the police station. In addition to the worried, upset, and slightly crazy citizens of St. Augustine, the lobby was jammed with reporters and news crews, standing around waiting for the latest updates on the homicides, or trying to get an interview with Chief Harris or one of the detectives on the case.
Spotting the news vans parked in front of the station, Jack decided to park down the street and sneak in through the back door. He had stayed up late the night before filling out paperwork, and carefully going back through all of the lab reports, and he really wasn’t in the mood to do any kind of interview. Not that he was ever in the mood to do interviews. He had a deep distrust of the news media, and only tolerated reporters because they could sometimes be useful when the police wanted to release information about a suspect for whom they were searching.
Additional police units were needed yesterday to keep the news crews from getting too close to the crime scene. Someone had accidentally leaked information about the third homicide over the police radio, and two different television crews had shown up to cover the story. Jack was not about to let them get a picture of the dead woman’s lower torso, nor would he release any information on the case.
He tried to keep the owner of the gift shop away from the news media, but one of the reporters had grabbed her before he could warn her to keep quiet about what she saw. The owner was obviously quite happy with all the free publicity, and had described in gory detail what her little dachshund had discovered that morning. The brief interview had run on the six and eleven o’clock news, and the owner’s picture had appeared on the front page of the morning paper, along with a detailed description of what she had seen.
If there hadn’t been a panic in St. Augustine before, there probably would be one now. It was one thing for the press to say that pieces of bone had been found in the Tolomato Cemetery, and the police were not ruling out the possibility of a homicide. It was quite another to report that the naked, mutilated lower torso of a young woman had been found in the historic district.
Walking to the station from where he parked his car, Jack spotted Sergeant Steve Avery standing just outside the back door, smoking a cigarette. The sergeant shook his head and smiled when he saw Colvin approaching.
“You think that trick is going to work?”
“What trick?” he asked innocently.
“Parking down the street so no one will see your car, then sneaking in the back door.”
“Steve, I’m surprised you would even suggest such a thing. I’m not trying to sneak in; I just felt like walking this morning. It’s great exercise.” Jack reached out and patted him on the stomach. “You should try it sometime.”
The sergeant coughed. “I’ll have you know that I wear the same size pants now as I did twenty years ago.”
“Yeah, but you wear them a few inches lower now than you did back then.”
“Are you really going in there?” asked the sergeant. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“That bad?”
Steve nodded. “The lobby is filled with upset citizens and reporters, and the rooms are crowded with feds and FDLE agents. They’re taking over everything.”
Jack sighed. “I was afraid of that. When you ask the FBI and the Florida Department of Law Enforcement for assistance, you might as well hand them the case and step back. I knew the shit was going to hit the fan when we found that third body.”
“Hit it, bounced off, and spattered all over the ceiling and walls. St. Augustine is still a small town, so this is big time. In New York City it would probably be just another day at the office.”
“I suppose it’s too late to request a transfer to the Big Apple?”
“Transfer? What, and leave all this?”
Detective Colvin sighed again. “Well, I guess I had better go in and face the music.”
“Chief Harris has been looking for you.”
“No surprise there. He was also looking for me yesterday.”
“And you still showed up this morning? Man, you’ve got balls.”
“I may not have them much longer,” he replied. “Has Detective Moats come in yet?”
“He’s been here and gone. Signed out and left with one of the federal agents, said he had a couple of leads to run down.”
“Knowing Bill, he and the fed are probably sitting over at The Bagel Hut.”
“Maybe that’s where you should be.”
“Can’t. I have too much work to do today. I also need to use the office computers.” He gave a final look around, then nodded to Sergeant Avery. “I guess I had better go in. Talk to you later.”
To his surprise the hallway was empty as he entered the station, and he didn’t see his first federal agent until he reached his office. He actually saw two of them; they were standing just inside the doorway engaged in a quiet conversation. Jack nodded to the two agents, but they only stared at him.
Jerks.
There was another federal agent sitting at Bill’s desk, using the phone. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing that his partner would have a fit if he knew someone else was sitting at his desk. Detective Moats did not tolerate anyone using his desk, not even the boys from Washington. It was a good thing for the agent that Bill had already been there and left, otherwise he would have gotten an earful. He might have gotten more than that, because the last guy who made the mistake of using Bill’s desk without permission had been physically removed by the scruff of his neck.
The detective had just sat down at his desk when the phone rang. He was reluctant to answer it, suspecting the call might be from a reporter, or another upset citizen. Bracing himself for what could be a tirade from a scared resident, Jack put aside the stack of folders he had brought to work with him and picked up the phone. “St. Augustine Police Department. Detective Jack Colvin speaking. How may I help you?”
The line was silent for a moment, and Jack thought the person on the other end had hung up. He was about to hang up himself, when a woman’s voice came on the line. She was speaking slowly, carefully choosing her words.”
“Detective Colvin? Yes, my name is Louise Fowler. I’m calling on behalf of myself and my sister, Jane.”
“Yes, Ms. Fowler. What can I do for you this morning?”
“Well, I’m not really sure if you’re the person I should be talking to, but they patched me through to your number. My sister and I are calling because we’re concerned about a friend of ours. We haven’t seen her for several days, and we think something bad might have happened to her.” The woman cleared her voice. “I mean, we know something has happened to her.”
He picked up a pen, and slid a pad of paper in front of him. “What is your friend’s name?”
“Her name is Sanchez. Maria Sanchez. She lives here in Cassadaga, as do my sister and myself.”
“Cassadaga? Then shouldn’t you have called the Cassadaga Police Department?”
“I thought about that, but the last time we saw Maria was in St. Augustine. That’s why I decided to call you.”
“I see,” he said, nodding to himself. “Go on. When and where was the last time you saw your friend?”
“Friday night, at the Tolomato Cemetery.”
Jack stopped writing, the skin at his temples pulling tight. “The Tolomato Cemetery?”
“Yes, sir. I know this is going to sound funny, but please don’t hang up on me. This isn’t a joke.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hang up on you.”
“Thank you. My sister and I went with Maria to the Tolomato Cemetery in search of spirit guides. We’re spiritualists. Jane and I are still students; Maria is our mentor. She said we would get our spirit guides that night, but something bad happened instead. Something really bad.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I’m listening. What happened?”
“I’m not sure, but I think we opened a doorway to the other side and something came through.”
“The other side?”
“The spirit world. We each wanted a spirit to help guide us in this world, but something bad came through instead. Something dark.”
Jack glanced around the room. He wanted someone else to hear what was being said over the phone, but there was no one else in the room he trusted. All of his fellow detectives were in other parts of the building.
“Do you know what came through the opening from the other side?” he asked, choosing his words carefully. The detective didn’t want to sound as if he was mocking the woman, fearful she might hang up on him. Ordinarily, he would have been the one hanging up, but he had seen too many strange things in the past couple of days to do that now. What he was being told over the phone sounded an awful lot like the story of Ssabra Onih.
“I’m not sure what it was,” she replied. “It was dark, and it came out of the ground like black fog. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but it changed shapes. One second it was just fog, but the next it looked like a giant spider, or maybe an octopus. And then it changed again, looking like a man.”
“A man?”
“Yes, sir. One moment it was just fog, the next it was a giant spider, and then it was a man. And then it changed back again.”
“How many times did this thing change appearance?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I can’t be sure. It kept changing shapes, from one thing to the next, and it was never very solid. All I know is that it was evil, and we summoned it.”
“What happened after you saw this fog thing in the cemetery?”
“We ran,” Louise answered. “We were all pretty scared, and Maria told us to run. She’s our teacher, and she knows all about the spirit world. She was scared too. And when she said to run, I ran.”
There was a moment of silence on the phone, then Louise came back on the line. Her voice was unsteady, and it was obvious she was crying. “That was the last time either of us saw Maria. We made it back to where the car was parked, but Maria never showed up. I had an extra set of keys, so we got in and drove off. Maybe we shouldn’t have driven away, maybe we should have gone back to look for her, but we were both terrified.”
“And you haven’t heard from Maria Sanchez since then?”
“No, sir. Not a word.” Louise sniffed. “No one’s seen her. She has a little shop here in Cassadaga, but it’s been closed.”
“If your friend has been missing for several days, and if what you say happened at the Tolomato Cemetery is true, then why didn’t you or your sister call someone before now?”
Louise was crying again, no attempt to hide the waver in her voice. “We were both afraid. We did something terrible that night. Something bad got Maria, and we were afraid it was coming after us. We haven’t been outside of the house in three days.”
Jack wrote a few notes on the pad of paper, trying to figure out what really happened to the missing woman. “Can you give me a description of your friend? What does she look like, and what was she wearing the night she disappeared?”
He started to jot down the description of Maria Sanchez, but stopped when he heard what the woman was wearing. Louise Fowler said her friend and mentor had been wearing a black dress the night of her disappearance. She had also been wearing silver jewelry, including an ornate ring with an oval blue stone. The description of the clothing and ring matched the items he had found at the Tolomato Cemetery.
“Was there anything else?” he asked. “Did Maria have a purse, or a bag? Maybe she brought along a few items when the three of you went to the cemetery.”
Louise thought for a moment. “No. I don’t think so...wait a minute. Yes, Maria did have a bag. A leather shoulder bag. That’s what she used to carry her crystals and candles.”
The noise around him seemed to fade out to nothingness as he listened to the description of the bag and its contents. He had found a leather bag just inside the front gates of the Tolomato Cemetery, containing several quartz crystals, candles, and a sage smudge stick. A black dress, an ornate silver ring, and a leather bag. The items being described over the phone matched those he had found at the cemetery. Which meant that Maria Sanchez was no longer just missing; she was dead.
And if what Louise Fowler said was true, then Ms. Sanchez had been killed by something not of this world. A door had somehow been opened to a world beyond the living, and something evil had come through. Something evil and deadly.
Detective Colvin did not tell Louise her friend might be dead. Nor did he mention the grisly remains that had been found in the Tolomato Cemetery. Instead, he listened to all she had to say, taking careful notes on the pad of paper. When she was done speaking, he wrote down Louise Fowler’s phone number and address, promising that someone would be getting back in touch with her real soon.
Hanging up the phone, the detective stared at the notes he had taken. He now had a name to go with the remains found at the first crime scene. He also had a story that just happened to match what Ssabra Onih had previously told him.
Witches, spells, spirit guides. The case was becoming more and more strange by the minute. One thing for sure, he was definitely going to pay a little visit on Miss Onih. Jack had tried to call her the day before, but she hadn’t been home. He was now determined to have a face-to-face meeting with the young woman, even if he had to sit in front of her apartment all day.
Chapter 22
Ssabra awoke with the first rays of sunlight filtering into the small bedroom. She stirred slowly, fragments of a strange dream sinking back into her subconscious: something about tragedy and ecstasy, love and suicide. Opening her eyes, she stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling of textured tin painted white. It took a few moments to realize where she was, and then the memories of the previous night came flooding back to her.
“Lily.” She sat up and looked around, almost expecting there to be someone else in the room with her, but she was alone.
“God, what a night.” She lay back down on the bed, allowing her head to sink into the feather pillow. Her sleep had been so sound, she had completely forgotten about the events of the previous evening. She had expected to wake up in her own bed, and was surprised to find that she was not in her apartment.
As she lay there, her mind becoming more fully awake, she began to remember the things that had transpired a few hours earlier. She had finally gotten to see Tolomato, his appearance convincing her that the voice she heard was not her imagination.
Seeing the spirit of the Indian chief had only been the first surprise of the night. She had also seen Lily, the resident ghost of room 3A at the St. Francis Inn. Not only did she see Lily, but she had actually spoken with her. The former slave had told them about the journal of Father Sebastian Diaz, which might provide information on how to destroy the Shiru.
The journal was important, and Ssabra had to go to the church to see if she could locate it. She knew the task would be dif
ficult, if not downright impossible, because such a book would not be available to the general public. It would be kept in a private library, safe from harm or theft.
Ssabra stretched and sat back up. She needed to locate the journal of Father Diaz, but she didn’t need to find it at that very moment. The Cathedral-Basilica didn’t open to the public until later in the day, so she was going to make the best of her stay at the St. Francis Inn.
Climbing out of bed, she walked across the room and entered the bathroom. The antique bathtub looked inviting, but she hadn’t brought along a clean change of clothing or a toothbrush. It would be stupid to take a bath and then slip her dirty undergarments back on again. Not that they were really dirty, but they were definitely less than fresh.
Looking into the mirror, she remembered that Tolomato had ordered her to scrub off all of her makeup.
“I look like hell.”
Luckily, she had brought along a few basic makeup items in her purse: lipstick, powder, and mascara. She never went anywhere without them, because she never knew when such things might be needed in an emergency. Afternoon thunderstorms and high humidity were common in Florida, and she often had to reapply her makeup between tour groups. Ssabra also had a roll of breath mints in her purse, which would take the place of toothpaste.
Washing her face in the sink, she retrieved the makeup items from her purse to reapply her war paint. She also ran a brush through her hair, sorting out the tangles. With makeup and hair taken care of, she turned her attention to getting dressed. The only clothing she had was the historic dress she had been wearing for the ghost tour. Anywhere else she would have felt funny about wearing such a dress out in public, especially in the daytime, but not in St. Augustine. There were always people walking around in costumes in the old city, so her appearance would be nothing to stare at.
Putting on the dress, she turned to look at herself in the oval mirror that hung above the washbasin in the bedroom. Satisfied everything was in place, she slipped on her shoes. She also took out two five dollar bills from her purse and left them on the dresser as a tip for housekeeping.
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