The Hex Files - Wicked All The Way

by Gina LaManna

“I will.” I leaned up, kissed him on the cheek. “You stay safe, too. And when you can tell me something, please do. I hate not knowing what you’re working on, or if you’re in danger.”

  “You and me both,” Matthew said with a small smile. “Good night.”

  His hand trailed off my cheek, traced over my neck, and fell gracefully away as I turned toward the staircase and bolted down it. I couldn’t bear to look back as I checked out my books, despite the fact I could feel Matthew’s eyes on me until I stepped out the door.

  The crisp breeze was a welcome wake up call, a slap to the face as it bit against my cheeks and stung my throat. It pushed away thoughts of Matthew and me, thoughts of Grey and Mason White and Primrose, and drew me with a single-minded focus toward my family.

  And toward Rob, a key witness who I suspected was holding information back about my high-profile homicide case.

  Chapter 19

  “Where’s the fire?” I asked, pushing the door open to my family’s house. “I don’t have long, Ma. Why’d you Comm?”

  The warmth of Christmas still bloomed from the living room and out into the front yard with twinkling lights and a blinking star across the top of the Christmas tree. The house smelled like cookies. A newly decorated gingerbread concoction the size of a large doll house sat proudly on display along one end of the dining room. But something wasn’t quite right.

  I knew exactly what wasn’t right the second my mother stormed out of the kitchen, wiping her hands angrily on her apron. There was no Christmas cheer in my mother’s eyes. Not one measly ounce.

  “What’d you tell Rob?” she demanded. “You must have said something, so don’t you even bother denying it.”

  “I say a lot of things to a lot of people,” I said. “You’re going to have to be more specific. What’d Rob tell you?”

  “It’s not a matter of what he said,” my mother said. “It’s what he’s doing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Packing. Storming around the house. Not talking to anyone.”

  “I can’t help it he’s got a bug up his butt.”

  Rose DeMarco stepped close. She might have been a few inches shorter than me, but it didn’t make her any less intimidating. “He just came home for the holidays, and you kept digging, digging, digging. You just couldn’t believe he came home to spend time with family, could you?”

  “I’m not an optimist, nor an idiot,” I said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...”

  “What has Rob done to you?”

  “Nothing! Exactly nothing in the last ten years. No calls, texts, letters, nothing,” I said. “Hence my skepticism for why he’s back. How’s he been making a living? He’s not in any work employment database.”

  “You’ve been checking on your family?” My mother’s voice rose. “Isn’t that an abuse of power?”

  “Don’t pull that card, Ma. You’ve asked me to check on plenty of people for you, and you had no problem then,” I said. “What’s the big deal? I looked into Rob a few years ago because I wanted to find my brother. Is that really so hard to believe?”

  My mother huffed, crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, he’s back now. We’re family, Danielle DeMarco. You only get one family in this lifetime, and we’re lucky enough to have a good one. Why are you trying to blow it?”

  “I’m not trying to blow anything!” I threw my hands up. “I don’t understand why any of this is my fault. Yes, I talked to Rob today, asked him a few questions. I was just doing my job.”

  “You questioned him as part of your job?” My mother looked shocked. “As if he were a common criminal? No wonder he’s upset.”

  “You don’t have the full story,” I said. “If Rob didn’t do anything wrong, it shouldn’t have been difficult to answer my questions straight away.”

  “Maybe he didn’t answer them on principle!” My mother looked truly mortified. “If you came in here accusing me of a crime I didn’t commit—I wouldn’t answer your questions either. Come on, Dani. He’s your flesh and blood. Time apart isn’t going to change that. At least, it shouldn’t.”

  “No, it shouldn’t,” I said. “But my duty is also to my job. To protecting the people. And when I have evidence in a murder investigation that points to my own damn brother, I think I have a right to ask questions. Sorry, Ma. Maybe I didn’t go about it in the best way, but I’m not apologizing for doing my job. Dad and Nash would have done the same thing.”

  My mother’s lips fell into a thin line. Her eyes still showed signs of livid anger, her cheeks splotched with pink. She’d apparently run out of words to say, or she was too upset to choke them out. She turned briskly and smacked the kitchen door open, hurtling through it—probably before I could see the angry tears that were obviously pooling in her eyes.

  I hated seeing my mother like this, hurting over the state of our family. My heart tore in half. I hated having to question my brother in a murder investigation—but if Rob hadn’t tangled himself up in something dark, then I wouldn’t have the situation on my hands. I’d practically lived with Jack for the last ten years and not once had we clashed due to my job. The same went for most of my family and friends.

  “Merry Christmas,” Rob said from behind me. He offered a dark smile when I turned around. “Nice one.”

  I scowled at him. “I’m not sure how you think this is funny. Did you see what this is doing to mom?”

  “And you think it’s my fault?”

  “Why did my witness pick you out of a massive crowd?”

  “Because I talked to Mason White,” Rob said calmly. “What does that have to do with your murder investigation?”

  “You were probably one of the last people to see White alive. Possibly the last person to talk to him before he was killed.”

  “Coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences. I also don’t believe you randomly came back for the holiday spirit.”

  “Do you think I killed him?” Rob’s voice was harsh. “I’m asking for your opinion as Danielle DeMarco. Not Detective DeMarco, not as a cop. As my sister.”

  I flexed my fingers. “I don’t have to answer that.”

  “Because you know the answer or because you don’t?”

  “Which is worse?”

  Rob raised his shoulders, a shadow darkening his face. “You tell me. Or answer the question, and I’ll let you know myself.”

  “I sure hope you had nothing to do with it, but I’m not in the business of letting my personal ties shape what I think of a case. I use facts, science, technology, magic. I follow what the path tells me.”

  “Even if the path doesn’t make sense?”

  “Come on, Rob,” I said. “Can you please just talk to me? Put us both at ease, let mom enjoy the holidays. This is killing her.”

  “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “I’m not going to indulge you by answering your questions,” Rob said, looking more and more confident as he shifted his weight against the doorframe. “I shouldn’t have to. I’m your brother, and that should be good enough.”

  “You might be my brother, but I haven’t seen you in a decade! I don’t even know what you do for a living. Secrets, secrets, secrets—it’s been this way your whole life.”

  “Not all of us were cut out to be cops!”

  “Is that what this is about?” I asked. “You’re jealous of us?”

  “I’m not jealous of anything,” Rob said, but his face twisted in a grimace. “I’m just saying, we don’t all have that drive, Dani. We’re not all black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. I’m sorry you can’t fit me neatly into one of your boxes. So, either learn to accept me as is, as your brother, or don’t.”

  Rob spun in the opposite direction and moved with his typical smoothness and grace toward the edge of the living room where he took the stairs two at a time until he disappeared out of view.

  I turned back to face the living room and stood staring at the Christmas tree until one particula
r ornament came into view. It was a new ornament, one I’d not seen before. It looked exotic, not from here, and I suspected I knew exactly who had given it to my mother.

  I shuffled toward the fireplace and dug through the stack of Christmas cards on the hearth. I found what I was looking for quickly because my mother had put it right near the front as expected. Picking up the thick cardstock, I read the pre-printed Christmas message on it, along with the very thing I needed most.

  Clearly printed in Rob’s handwriting was a message from him, explaining to my mother he’d picked up the ornament for her on his travels and wishing her a Merry Christmas. He’d even included the name DeMarco in his writing—which could easily be tested against the Dani DeMarco scrawled on the slip of paper from Mason’s notebook. Without a doubt, we’d know if Rob had written my name down or not.

  “If you wanted a handwriting sample,” I heard from behind me, “you could’ve just asked.”

  Shame flooded my face as I turned to find Rob at the top of the steps. “It’s not what you think.”

  “It’s exactly what I think,” Rob said. “I was going to come back, apologize. Maybe I overreacted. But I’m not sure that’s true. Come on, Dani—you didn’t have to steal mom’s Christmas card.”

  “Did you write my name in Mason White’s notebook?”

  “Goodnight, Dani,” he said. “Merry Christmas to you.”

  I stood by the hearth in the living room for a long while after Rob left. I toyed with the idea of leaving the card behind. I considered everything: my mother’s pleas, Rob’s argument that if I just believed him, he’d tell me the truth. I considered my commitment to the badge, the hopeful way Primrose watched me work as if I hung the moon and stars, and the way Matthew had suggested I follow the book on this case.

  In good consciousness, I couldn’t let my brother slip away. If he was innocent of all wrongdoing, he’d be proven innocent. I had faith in my abilities to get the job done. I might not have faith in myself for anything else—it sure felt like my relationships, my family, and the rest of my personal life was crumbling, but I had confidence that if nothing else, I’d nail Mason White’s killer.

  I had a feeling that my family was uber aware of my presence in the house by the sheer fact that not a soul ventured across my path in the half hour plus that I stood warming by the fire, fingering the card in my pocket.

  Sometime later, my poor father wandered unsuspectingly into the living room, oblivious of my predicament. He came to a dead stop and glanced around. “Dani?”

  I gave him a smile. It was a watery one.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming over to sit next to me. “You looking for your mother? I think she went up for a bath.”

  “How did you know the right choice?” I asked my father. “When you were a cop. Did you ever have someone you loved intersect with work? Maybe they were involved in a case, maybe not. How do you not let this career destroy all of your relationships?”

  My father put his arm around my shoulder, understanding sinking into his posture as he sat next to me. And that’s all he did. Sat, and sat, and sat, for quite some time.

  “You’re a good cop, Dani,” my father said. “You’ll do the right thing.”

  “It sucks right now.”

  “I didn’t say it was easy,” he said. “But being a hero never is. And you’re a hero for so many people, Dani.”

  “They’re all dead.” I looked sullenly down. “None of the living seem to like me much.”

  “The dead can’t speak,” my father said. “Except through you. Whatever’s eating you, Dani—I can’t help you. Only you can help yourself, and you’ll know the right answer when it hits you. In the meantime, just focus on following your heart, your instincts, and the facts. The combination will never steer you wrong.”

  I hugged my father and silently we stood. I let myself out of the house, feeling the weight of the Christmas card in my pocket as I shuffled through the snow toward the pizzeria, which would be waiting for me, dark and lonely, the lights tucked in for the night and the buzz of people gone for the day.

  “I always hated being alone around the holidays,” Grey said out of nowhere. “Can I walk you home?”

  I hadn’t heard him approach. Either a testament to his quiet prowess or to my distracted state of mind. I looked over, grateful for the company. “I’m not pleasant to be around.”

  “I don’t need to talk,” Grey said. “I like the silence. Especially at night. Especially in the snow.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, and together we walked until we reached the pizzeria.

  At the door, Grey stepped close to me. I looked up, feeling his breath against my cheek as he smiled down.

  My voice came out a whisper. “Why are you doing all of this for me?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.” Grey’s face pulled brighter with a rugged smile as he gently brushed a piece of hair back from my face, watching me for a long moment before stepping a safe distance away. “Good night, Dani. Merry Christmas.”

  Chapter 20

  After letting myself into the second-floor apartment I called home, I went straight into the shower and took a steaming hot rinse. I let the water cascade over my shoulders, down my back, as my mind replayed everything from the day I’d just had. The attack, my visit with Matthew, my run-in with Rob. And that was just the evening.

  With a sigh, I shut off the water and forced myself to think back to the attack. If I had to guess, the curse in the library was related to the Mason White case. I couldn’t rule out The Hex Files as a reason behind it, but it didn’t feel right.

  Why wait all these weeks to go after me in a public place, only to fail? Surely, the time in between events meant that whoever was behind The Hex Files was preparing for the attack to end all attacks. A little curse in a library didn’t fit the mold. If I had to guess, I’d stumbled on something a little too close to the truth in terms of Mason’s death, and someone wanted it kept quiet.

  But what had I uncovered? It could have been anything—my source identifying Rob in the street, or my visit to the dean, or the trip into the library archives. I shuddered to think it had anything to do with my brother, but I couldn’t rule it out. I bent over, retrieved the Christmas card with his handwriting from my pocket.

  Slipping into a set of flannel pajamas my mother had given me for Christmas last year, I carried the card out and set it on the kitchen table. I stood and stared at it for a long minute.

  “Something interesting there, darling?” Marla asked. “It looks like a piece of paper to me.”

  “It’s this case,” I said. “Something’s bothering me.”

  “Something’s always bothering you,” Fred said. “Something’s bothering me, too. I’m empty. I thought you were going to make time for me now that you have a part time job?”

  “Does it look like she’s working part time hours?” Tammy, my toaster, squeaked. “Come, have some bread and jam. It’ll relax you.”

  “Thanks, but I had dinner out,” I said. My stomach growled at the thought of food, and I moved closer to Fred and used his shiny exterior reflection as a mirror to examine my bruise. “Or what I could choke down of it.”

  “That’s not the sort of necklace I advise wearing on dates,” Marla said. “In fact, a bruise like that will probably intimidate most men. Where’d you pick up that shiner?”

  “A curse,” I said. “Hazard of the job. Anyway, I’m not looking for men. I have Matthew.”

  “You do?” Marla asked, her voice rising higher. “I haven’t seen him around in a while. I thought maybe the two of you were taking a break.”

  “Why would we be taking a break?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said dryly. “Perhaps because he moved to a whole new realm and the two of you never see each other anymore?”

  “It’s temporary.” I frowned and, looking for a distraction, snatched up the books I’d checked out of the library. “Mind your own business, will you? I’m going downstair
s. I can’t concentrate up here.”

  I shuffled through the narrow second level hallway and down the stairs. Passing through the kitchen and into the dining area, I made my way toward the booth in the back corner.

  It was the comfiest booth of all and tucked so far out of the way it was rarely used. I slid onto the red cushions and kicked my feet up under me as I spread the books on the table before deciding that I was, in fact, hungry all over again.

  Popping over to the kitchen, I warmed up the leftover supreme pizza in the fridge and added a diet Coke to the mix before returning back to the booth and setting up shop again.

  My brain was a little hazy when I thought about the time just before and just after the attack. I struggled to remember the article I’d been reading when the curse had hit me. It’d been something about a disappearance, something that’d captured my attention...

  I sat back in the booth, took a bite of hot pizza and closed my eyes, enjoying the mixture of olives and sausage and a healthy dose of red sauce before I swallowed—carefully. When I opened my eyes, I let my gaze go soft as I focused on the holiday decorations flanking the restaurant.

  Willa and Jack had gone all out this year. Mistletoe dangled from every available space on the ceiling. Holly lined every railing. One big Christmas tree and two smaller ones had been fully decorated and left alight overnight, wiggled into tight corners. Empty pizza boxes had been wrapped like presents and stacked beneath them.

  Margot Pulley!

  The name hit me like a jackhammer. Somewhere in my brain’s haziness, the name popped out at me from my earlier phone call with Evelyn. Margot Pulley had triggered the search for the article I’d been reading before everything had gone black.

  I ripped another bite of pizza off and chewed while I flipped through the book to find the page I’d been reading when the Strangler Spell struck me.

  MARGOT PULLEY DISAPPEARS IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT

  With the warm feeling of satisfaction curling in my stomach, I leaned forward and re-read the article from Wicked’s local newspaper, this time in more thoroughness. It was long and in depth and focused on nothing in particular except for the fact that Margot Pulley’s house had burned down in the Sixth Borough in the late eighteen hundreds.