Wren Delacroix Series Box Set

by V. J. Chambers

Some co-ed in Richmond answered. He was horrified. “Yes, I see that my phone’s called your number, but I swear I never did.”

  He didn’t know anything about it, and she was terrified by this, because there had always been a mystical component to the way that David Song had been revered. David Song was a step down from the Crimson Ram. He could see your thoughts. He knew your sins.

  It was all falling apart and she was frightened that all the horrible things that she had been frightened of as a little girl were true. Maybe even the Horned Lord was real. Maybe his blackened, grinning face would haunt more than her nightmares.

  When she talked to them at Quantico and said she was leaving, she thought they were relieved. It had saved them the trouble of kicking her out.

  She packed her things and fled.

  She had no intention of coming here. Especially not with those murders happening, those poor little dead girls.

  No intention at all. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to dig into the case. She wasn’t salivating for a look at Detective Reilly’s case files.

  Maybe if she told herself all that firmly enough, she could convince herself it was true.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Isaac Scott was one of the older members of the cult. He’d been there when David Song had become the leader, and he had seen it through the seasons of violence and now he still soldiered on, through everything. He was bent over the hedges in front of Kimora’s house, trimming them with an electronic hedge trimmer. When he saw Wren approaching, he turned it off and waved at her.

  “Blessed morning to you,” he said with a wide grin.

  The proper answer was, “And to you and your household.” Wren didn’t say that. She just gave him a two-fingered salute and started up the walkway to Kimora’s place. Kimora’s cabin was down the road from the cabin where Wren was staying. There were lots of empty houses up here now. After the murders had been exposed, there had been a mass exodus of members. During the height of David Song’s influence, the cult had been in a growth phase. That was what the murders had been about, after all. The town hadn’t wanted the cult to grow, and Vivian had been determined to bust through the opposition, even if it meant she had to mow them down with bullets.

  “Wait,” said Isaac.

  Wren stopped. “Look, Isaac—”

  “You listen to me, young lady. You need to respect the traditions here. The Lord sees all, you know.”

  “I do respect… everything,” said Wren, who wasn’t sure why she’d bothered to stop and talk to him. She felt pressure to continue the conversation now. It would be really, really rude to turn her back on him and just keep walking.

  “You know, you should come to a bonfire one night. You could do with a good vision quest. Your aura, it’s all purple.”

  “Purple’s bad?” she said wryly.

  Isaac wagged his finger at her. “Don’t mock me. I was gifted the ability to see auras when I was on a vision quest myself. The Horned Lord bestowed it on me.”

  More likely, he’d been on so much acid that he’d become permanently fucked in the head. She smiled tightly at him. “Sure you were, Isaac. I’m terribly sorry for my disrespect. I’ll definitely come to the next bonfire.” She aimed to sound as sincere as possible. Unfortunately, she still sounded sarcastic.

  Isaac didn’t seem to notice. “See that you do.” He turned on his electric hedge trimmer and went back to the hedges.

  Wren continued up the walk to Kimora’s house. She and Kimora were about the same age, but their lives had taken different paths. While Wren had gotten out of here as a teenager, Kimora had been stuck. So, now she was twenty-five with three kids, and no help from the deadbeat assholes who’d free-loved her into that state, so Kimora had to take control and do the best she could.

  Wren knocked on her door.

  A small girl of four years old, Kimora’s oldest, ran over and opened the door. “Hi!”

  “Hi,” said Wren. “Can I come in?”

  “I don’t know, can you?”

  Wren sighed. “May I come in?”

  The girl opened the door wider.

  “Miriam, who are you letting into the house?” came Kimora’s voice from within.

  “It’s me,” Wren called back. She picked her way around the toys that littered the floor of the living room to make her way into the kitchen, where Kimora was spooning applesauce into her youngest’s mouth.

  “Hey,” said Kimora. “Look, no tours today. They’re going to have a team come in and clean the Walkers, but I wouldn’t worry, because this is huge. People are booking tours like crazy now that a body was found there.”

  Wren leaned against the side of the doorway. “Look, Kimora, about the tours. I’ve been thinking. I should never have come here. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “You’re quitting on me? Seriously?”

  “I have to. I have to get out of here. I can’t be in this place. I don’t know why I thought—”

  “Look, I can’t give you a raise. If you’re angling for a raise, there’s no way. But if you want a bigger cabin or something—”

  “It’s not about what you’re paying me. Honestly, with giving me someplace to stay as well, it’s more than adequate. It’s about all of this. This whole place, it brings back bad memories. It reminds me of things I’d rather forget.” Except the memories had already been stirred up, and she couldn’t get away from them if she tried. She hated it here, but she felt as if she’d had to come, as if the place was calling to her, singing some siren song that she couldn’t resist. Now, she was here, and all she knew was that she had to get out.

  Kimora wiped the baby’s face and stood up. “Oh, hell, Wren, I guess I get that, but… you gotta give me two weeks’ notice or something. I barely got you trained. I need time to get someone else up to speed.”

  Wren wrinkled up her nose. “I don’t know if I can do that. The body, Kimora, you understand it was a little girl? She couldn’t have been more than twelve.”

  Kimora looked away. “Was it bad?”

  “I was in there, talking away to that tour, telling them all about the murder that had taken place, and that little girl was lying in the hallway the whole time. It makes me feel ill.”

  Kimora studied her toes. “I know it’s crass, trying to make money off this. But the days where we could sell produce at the farmer’s market and make enough to make ends meet are long gone. This is the only way forward.”

  “I’m not criticizing you. I… I admire you.” Wren thought it must be something to have kids, to have people who depended on you. It must force you to step up and do better. There was nothing in Wren’s life forcing her to step up. In fact, she was devolving, unraveling everything good she’d ever done for herself. “Anyway, I just thought you needed to know. I can’t do this anymore.”

  Kimora rubbed her forehead. “Okay, look, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to think about this. Last night, you found a dead body. That’s all fresh in your mind. You’re understandably soured on the job. But give it a day or two. You might change your mind.”

  “I’m not going to—”

  “That’s what we’re going to do.” Kimora was firm.

  Wren sighed. “All right. But nothing’s going to change.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “I guess I’ll, uh, get out of your hair.”

  “You can stay if you want. I can put more frozen waffles in the toaster.”

  “Nah, I’m good.” Wren turned to head back for the door out. She paused. “Uh, Kimora?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You, uh, you think David Song is still alive?”

  “Whoa, okay, that was out of nowhere,” said Kimora, laughing. “What do you think?”

  “Well, he wasn’t ever arrested, so he might have fled,” said Wren. “No one ever saw him again.”

  “Yeah, and no one ever saw Karen and Terrence Freeman again either,” said Kimora. “They’re the ones who turned in your mother, right?”

  “What are you s
aying?”

  “I think she had them all three killed,” said Kimora. “I think she thought if she shut everyone up, no one could testify against her and she’d get away with it.”

  “Yeah,” said Wren, nodding. “Yeah, that’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  * * *

  Wren had put on the jeans she was wearing yesterday. They were still clean, and she really liked them. She did that sometimes, wear the same jeans every day. She didn’t think anyone noticed. If they did, they were too polite to say anything.

  Reilly’s cards were still in the pocket. Both of them.

  She toyed with one of them—the one that wasn’t as crumpled—as she stood in line at the coffee shop across from Billy’s.

  There wasn’t a town so much out near the compound, but there was a gas station, Billy’s, and this little coffee shop called the Daily Bean. It was good coffee. The place was pretty packed in the mornings. Wren wasn’t sure why she was even up this early. She should have slept in.

  After all, her plan to quit the tour business and leave town did not look as though it was materializing. Wren felt guilty for leaving Kimora in the lurch. Kimora was a good person, and she didn’t deserve that. She deserved better. Wren could probably keep doing the damned tours, she guessed. She’d suck it up and deal.

  She wasn’t leaving, anyway.

  She could try to leave, but she’d fail.

  There was no leaving until she stopped the little girls from dying. That was really the truth of it. It was why she’d come back. Maybe she’d manifested the ghost of David Song to bring her back just to do it. She didn’t know what that was all about, and she didn’t want to know. Ever since she’d been back here, the calls from David Song had stopped.

  He wanted her home.

  She was home.

  Finally, it was her turn at the counter. She set the card down and leaned on her elbows, peering at the chalkboard behind the barista. What did she want to drink?

  Wren wasn’t one of those people who liked to drink the same thing every time she went to a coffee shop. She didn’t order the same thing every time she went to a restaurant or bar, either. She liked to try different things, change it up, have new experiences.

  The barista’s name was Angela, according to her name tag. She had a little blue jewel in her nose and she was wearing a lot of mascara. She tapped Detective Reilly’s card. “Oh, Caius Reilly? He lives just around the corner in those townhouses.”

  “Really.” Wren shoved the card back in her pocket.

  “I know, because he’s always complaining about being able to hear his neighbors through the walls,” Angela said. “He comes in here every day and he orders a triple-shot ginger latte. No sweetener. He’s kind of hardcore about it. No one else likes the ginger lattes, because we use fresh ginger, and it’s kind of strong.”

  “Huh,” said Wren. “I want two of those.”

  “Two triple shot ginger lattes?”

  “Yeah,” said Wren.

  “You going to drink both of them yourself?”

  * * *

  Someone was banging on the inside of Reilly’s head.

  No.

  Someone was knocking on his door, and his head was pounding in time to the beat of the knocking. He groaned, opening his eyes and stretching. He nearly elbowed Maliah in the head.

  What? She was still here? He was sure she would have sneaked out in the middle of the night, but maybe that was him that had always been doing that, back when they were having sex in hotel rooms when he was still married.

  Damn, his head hurt.

  He staggered out of bed, yanked on a pair of pants that were lying on the floor, zipped them, and then stumbled down the stairs to his front door. When he’d rented this townhouse, he hadn’t considered what it would be like to go down the steps every morning when he was still half asleep. It was a design flaw, if you asked him. Both bedrooms were upstairs. He would have put one downstairs and gotten rid of the dining room. Honestly, what was the purpose of dining rooms? Put a table in the kitchen and call it done.

  He yanked open the door.

  It was Wren Delacroix. She was holding cardboard coffee cups.

  He dragged a hand over his face. “How do you know where I live?”

  “The barista, she told me.” Wren held up a coffee cup. “She said this was the shirt you liked to drink.” She cringed. “Coffee. The coffee you liked to drink.”

  Reilly looked down at his bare chest. He reached across and pulled a zip-up hooded sweatshirt from the coat rack and shrugged into it. Then he opened the door. “Come in.”

  She thrust the coffee at him.

  He took it and took a long drink. Oh, that was exactly how he liked his coffee. He couldn’t help but smile. Perfect.

  Wren was looking around his living room, which was pretty sparse. Janessa had kept most of the furniture. He had this ratty couch thing that used to be in his basement and nothing else besides a TV. “Um, I just… I shouldn’t have run out last night. What I said before, I didn’t want it to be true, but it is true. I have to work with you. I have to solve this case. It’s going to be easier if you let me see what you already have. If you keep it from me, this guy’s just going to rack up more bodies.”

  Reilly kind of liked this girl. Or maybe he was just swayed by the coffee. “That a threat?”

  She sputtered. “No, it’s not… you have to take me out of the suspect list, okay? I can help you with this. I can solve this. I need to solve this. If I don’t solve it, I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my mind, so if you could just get out of my way here, I’d appreciate it.”

  He laughed. “Look, I’ll tell you what. The task force is kind of pathetic right now. I’m the only detective. I’ve got one other full-time employee who deals with computers and the web and stuff. Otherwise, we have uniforms rotating in and out to do grunt work. And, the truth is, I do have some discretionary funds that I could use to hire expert help.”

  “Wait, you’re going for this? Really? And I’m going to get paid?”

  He laughed again. “The way you’re talking yourself up, you’re going to need to knock my socks off, I gotta tell you.” He took a sip of his coffee.

  “Cai?” came the sound of Maliah’s voice.

  Wren’s eyebrows shot up.

  Reilly drank even more coffee, hiding behind the cup. Well, this was maybe a little embarrassing.

  Maliah appeared on the stairwell, in his robe. When she saw Wren, her eyebrows shot up. The two women looked each other over wordlessly.

  “You know,” said Wren, “maybe coming to your house unannounced wasn’t the best idea I ever had.”

  “It’s, um, it’s fine,” said Reilly. “Maybe if you gave me a minute to… you know…”

  “How about you call me?” said Wren. “Sometime when it’s convenient for you. We can discuss this. I’ll give you my number.”

  “Uh, great,” said Reilly, spying his own phone sitting on top of a bookshelf that contained a bunch of DVDs that he didn’t even have a DVD player for anymore.

  Wren rattled off the number and he put it in his phone.

  She took a deep breath, looked around once more, and then headed for the door. “See you around, Detective.”

  “Thanks for the coffee,” said Reilly.

  Wren gave Maliah an apologetic look. “If I’d known that you were here, I would have—”

  “It’s fine,” said Maliah.

  “Well, see you both around, I guess,” said Wren, and she left.

  Reilly sipped at his coffee.

  Maliah smirked. “Skinny white chick the jealous type?”

  “She wants to work for the task force,” said Reilly.

  “Doing what? Pole work?”

  Reilly arched an eyebrow at her. “Girl, catty much?”

  Maliah rolled her eyes. “She’s wearing painted-on jeans and a leather jacket.”

  “You got no call to be jealous,” said Reilly. “Your husband going to be wondering where you spent t
he night?”

  “No, I told him I was too drunk to drive and crashed at Yolanda’s.”

  Reilly laughed softly. “Right. I see.”

  “I was actually going to stay at Yolanda’s. It was just then I saw you…” She ran her fingers over the railing on the stairs.

  “Maliah, we can’t keep doing this,” said Reilly. “I told my wife—”

  “Your ex-wife found you out,” said Maliah.

  “Well, I’m just saying, I’ve had enough sneaking around.”

  “What? I leave my husband and we can move in here and play house?” She lifted her chin. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  He sipped his coffee. He wasn’t sure he was ready to live with another woman, to start another relationship. But it wasn’t off the table for the future. He liked Maliah. They worked together. She understood the job. It would be better than the way things were with him and Janessa. And he and Maliah had chemistry.

  Maliah chuckled bitterly. “That’s what I thought.” She clambered up the steps. “Don’t worry, I’ll get dressed and leave you to your coffee.”

  Reilly still had a headache.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Reilly fumbled with the key in the lock of the new task force headquarters. “The task force will be moving in here,” he said. “I actually have my trunk full of all my stuff from my office.”

  Wren surveyed the building, a squat rectangular little eyesore. “I thought this was a dance studio now.”

  “Nope,” he said. “It’s kind of fitting to move back in here. The task force that caught Lucas John Jackson and Otis Robinson worked out of this building. Maybe it’ll give us good luck.” He pushed the door open and they stepped inside.

  There was a small desk just inside the doorway and then a narrow hallway. Reilly led the way down the hallway. There were four or five small office rooms off it and then a big room which he’d refer to as the bullpen, where they could set up tables, white boards, bulletin boards, really spread out and dig into all of it.

  “Wait, you’re kidding. I’d get my own office?” said Wren.

  “Sure,” said Reilly. “Like I said, it’s just you, me, Maliah, and a revolving door of uniforms at this point. We get a few sent over from different departments each week, but then we got to send them back.”