Killer Winter

by Kay Bigelow

  “May I help you?” the woman asked.

  “Mrs. Potter?” Leah asked.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re police and have come to talk about the missing person’s report you filed on Grace Potter.”

  She didn’t look surprised, nor did she look hopeful. “Do come in. I’ve just poured myself a cup of tea. Would you like one, dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Peony answered.

  “None for me, thanks,” Leah said.

  Mrs. Potter shuffled out of the room, giving Leah and Peony a chance to look around the room. Like the other parents, Mrs. Potter had photographs of her daughter on the mantel. Grace was a beautiful young lady.

  “Here you are, dear,” Mrs. Potter said, handing Peony a cup and saucer. “I took the liberty of adding two sugars and a bit of milk to your tea.”

  “That’s how I like it, ma’am,” Peony said.

  Leah smiled but stayed quiet. Peony didn’t like that much sugar in her tea. She really was good at putting people at ease and thus getting them to answer her questions.

  “So did my Grace,” the woman said sadly.

  “Mrs. Potter, is Grace your daughter?” Peony asked.

  “Good gracious, no. She’s my youngest granddaughter. Thank you for asking, though. Just the thought of having a daughter that age makes me feel younger,” Mrs. Potter said with another smile.

  “Tell us about Grace,” Peony said.

  “Grace is in her second year at City University. She’s studying one of the sciences that I can never remember. Archaeology or astrology, I think. I get those two mixed up.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Anyway. She was happy and doing well.”

  “Did she ever stay out all night without telling you?”

  She leaned forward and placed her hand on Peony’s leg. “Never. Ever since her mother died, she’s been living with me. Grace had a chance to go to another school somewhere off planet, but stayed here to take care of me. We were compatible. I tried not to ask about boys, and she tried not to fuss over me,” Mrs. Potter said, smiling at her memories.

  A few more questions didn’t give them any new information. Leah wanted to get home and warm.

  “One last question, Mrs. Potter. Did Grace belong to any groups or organizations?”

  “Do you mean other than the ones she belonged to at school?”

  Peony nodded, setting her empty teacup on the table.

  Mrs. Potter sat thinking for a moment. Leah thought she was trying to make up her mind about whether to tell them the truth. I’ve gotten jaded. Now I think even old women are lying to us.

  “Do you mean like the coven?”

  “Exactly,” Peony said, successfully hiding her surprise and excitement.

  “Gracie was following in the footsteps of her maternal ancestors back several generations. They were all witches and all belonged to this coven. The interest in covens and witches skipped my generation. I wanted nothing to do with them. But Grace was fascinated. She joined the coven as soon as she could, at sixteen.”

  “Do you know if there was a meeting of the coven on the night she disappeared?”

  “Of course there was. There was a full moon that night. I didn’t want her to go out because of the weather, but she insisted she couldn’t miss the meeting.”

  “Could you tell me if these other girls were members of Grace’s coven?” Leah asked her first question as she pulled the photographs of the other girls out of her bag.

  “Why yes, they are. These girls grew up together. They’ve been friends since first grade. In fact, Marian is her best friend,” Mrs. Potter said, pointing to Marian’s photograph.

  “Did you know all these girls were reported missing on the same night as your granddaughter?”

  “I knew some of them were maybe missing. I called Marian’s house, but she wasn’t home and her mother didn’t know where she was. A couple of the other parents said their daughters were staying with friends in the city.”

  “Did you tell the police about the other missing girls?” Peony asked.

  “Of course, dear. We even put up posters, but the wind whipped them off the light poles as soon as we put them up. The police told me they couldn’t do anything about any missing person for forty-eight hours. If the girls were still missing after the requisite amount of time passed, they would all be assigned to the same detective. But…”

  “But what, Mrs. Potter?” Peony asked gently.

  “But then that terrible bombing happened. Some of us tried calling so our girls wouldn’t be forgotten, but the line was always busy. One of the parents, I don’t remember who, even called the commissioner’s office and was told they would make sure the case was reassigned. So far, though, we hadn’t heard from anyone until you showed up. Do you think it had anything to do with the coven?”

  “We’re not speculating on anything, Mrs. Potter. It’s too soon in the investigation on these girls’ whereabouts to speculate.” Leah didn’t want to give her any false hope, but she finally knew they had something to follow.

  “One last question, Mrs. Potter. Do you know if any of the other parents weren’t as understanding as you are about their daughters belonging to a coven?” Peony asked.

  “I’m not sure they even knew. For instance, since grade school, Alexandra Martin’s father was never happy about his daughter’s association with the rest of the girls. But whether he even knew about her belonging to the coven is questionable. Alex knew not to tell him everything. Frank, Alex’s father, is an unhappy man who takes his woes out on his family, particularly his wife.”

  As they were leaving the Potter house, Peony handed Mrs. Potter her card. “Please call me if you think of anything else.”

  “I will, dear. And thank you for coming by. I was beginning to wonder if the police even cared my Gracie was missing. I know they’re busy with those terrible bombings, but still…the rest of us need help, too.”

  “We care, Mrs. Potter, a great deal.”

  When they were on the sidewalk in front of the Potter house, Leah said, “Alexandra Martin lives across the street, let’s talk to her parents and then we’ll call it a day.”

  At Alexandra Martin’s house, a man jerked the door open like he was ready for a fight. He was dressed in a dirty T-shirt and dirtier jeans. His feet were bare. He had a paunch hanging obscenely over his belt. His face was the red of a heavy drinker. He’d probably been a weightlifter when he was younger, but now all his muscles had gone to flab. Plus, he smelled of sweat and beer. Leah had come across his type a lot when she’d worked the streets, and she kept a good distance.

  “What?” the man demanded belligerently.

  “Be careful,” Leah murmured under her breath to Peony, who nodded.

  “Who is it, Frank?” a woman’s voice from inside the house asked.

  Frank ignored the question and stared at them with mean little eyes.

  “Mr. Martin, we’re with the police department and we’d like to ask you a few questions about your daughter, Alexandra,” Peony told him.

  “Show me some identification.”

  Leah and Peony pulled out their badges and flashed them at the man.

  “Can we come in?” Peony asked.

  “I guess,” Mr. Martin said as he stood aside.

  A woman was standing at the door leading into another room. Leah could see counters and assumed it was the kitchen. When Leah looked at the woman, she lowered her eyes. I bet Frank beats his wife. I’d love to beat on him before I leave. She hated bullies of any kind.

  The Martins’ living room was a mess. Beer cans were amassed on a small table next to what was obviously Mr. Martin’s chair in front of an old-fashioned first generation vidscreen. Newspapers littered the floor around the chair. On the coffee table were magazines about guns and hunting. The man was the very epitome of a Luddite, and like others of his ilk, resisted change and technology. Looking around, Leah noticed the rest of the house was as neat as Mrs. Gabrielle’s and the others’ ho
mes. It was only Mr. Martin’s space that looked like a pigsty.

  Mr. Martin sat in his chair and leaned back so the leg rest came up. He didn’t invite Leah or Peony to sit. Peony sat anyway. Leah wandered over to the mantel to look at the photographs. There was only one photograph of Alexandra, and while she was looking at the camera, she looked scared to death. The rest of the photographs were of Frank dressed as some sort of militia man with other men similarly dressed.

  “Mrs. Martin, please join us.” Peony motioned toward the couch next to her.

  Mrs. Martin darted a scared glance at her husband. He ignored her. She came into the room, and Leah had the sense she was tiptoeing. She sat as far away from Frank as possible on the edge of the chair, as though to ensure she could make a run for it if necessary. Frank said nothing, but his jaw clenched as he stared at his vidscreen.

  “Mrs. Martin, how old is Alexandra?” Leah asked, knowing it would piss Frank off that her questions were directed at his wife rather than him.

  “She was eighteen,” Frank said.

  “Nineteen,” Mrs. Martin said under her breath.

  Leah gave Mrs. Martin a small nod. “When you reported your daughter missing, you said she was nineteen. Which is it, Mr. Martin?”

  Frank obviously wasn’t used to a woman contradicting him, as his face flushed a deeper shade of red.

  “What does it matter?” He glared at Leah.

  “Well,” Leah said slowly, “you either lied when you reported your daughter missing or you’re lying now. I’d like to know which it is.”

  “So I don’t know how old the little whore is,” Frank said.

  Mrs. Martin reacted to the word “whore” as if she’d been slapped. “Frank, you know that’s not true,” she said softly.

  “Shut up, bitch. No one asked you for your opinion.” Frank glared at her.

  “Mr. Martin—” Peony said, moving slightly in front of Mrs. Martin as though to shield her.

  “Listen, bitch, this is my house and I’ll do as I please.”

  Leah walked over to the end of Frank’s chair. She put her boot on the leg rest and slammed it down. Frank was nearly thrown from his chair. He struggled to his feet and came face-to-face with Leah, who stared him down.

  “Mrs. Martin, would you like to leave this house?” Leah asked in a voice as cold as the temperature outside the house, without taking her eyes from Frank.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Martin whispered.

  “Don’t you dare leave, bitch,” Mr. Martin said, not looking away from Leah.

  “Take Mrs. Martin out of here, Detective,” Leah told Peony.

  Peony quickly hurried Mrs. Martin to the coat closet near the front door and helped her get bundled up against the cold. Mrs. Martin didn’t say a word, but she was shaking so hard it looked painful.

  Frank made a move as if to prevent his wife from leaving but found Leah in his way. When he went to shove Leah aside, he found himself on the floor.

  “Get up,” she growled at him.

  Frank got quickly to his feet. Leah expected him to swing and moved quickly when he did, taking only a glancing blow on her shoulder. She moved a half step back out of range, adrenaline pumping through her. “Assaulting a police officer will get you three to five in the state prison, Frank.” She watched the rage build in his expression. “You won’t last long when I let it be known you were bested by a woman cop.”

  “Bitch, I’ll kill you.”

  “You can try, Frank.” Leah planted her feet and waited.

  He swung at her again. She stepped easily out of his reach. He was breathing hard now. Before he knew what was happening, Leah landed a hard right to his gut and then a left to his face. He fell back into this chair holding his bleeding nose.

  “You broke my node,” he said incredulously.

  “I better be the last woman you hit. If I get even a whiff of your having raised your hand to another woman, I will come back here and finish the job I started. Do you understand?”

  Frank stupidly didn’t say a word.

  “Do. You. Understand?” She wanted to hit him. She wanted to batter him into the floor and take out every ounce of frustration and anger she’d felt over the last several days on his bloated, ugly face.

  When Frank didn’t say anything, Leah took a step toward him.

  “I understand. I understand,” he said quickly, while cowering deeper into his chair.

  “Good.”

  “This was police brutality,” he yelled at her retreating back,

  “So report me,” she said over her shoulder, knowing he didn’t know who she was since neither she nor Peony had introduced themselves. Not to mention, he’d never admit a female cop had put him down.

  Leah walked out the door. She didn’t bother closing it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Leah returned to the van and got into the passenger seat. Peony and Mrs. Martin were in the second row of seats. Cots asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Head out,” she told Cots, who’d kept the van running.

  Leah glanced back at Mrs. Martin. She looked afraid to move, afraid to talk. Her breathing was rapid. Leah hoped she wasn’t having second thoughts about leaving her husband. But when she looked at Leah, the steel in her eyes was clear.

  “Can you teach me to do that?” Mrs. Martin asked in a small voice.

  “You won’t need to know how to do that, Mrs. Martin. Not after today.” Leah gave her a quick smile and hoped like hell she wouldn’t go back to the bastard.

  Leah directed Cots to a house on the other side of the city. While they were on their way, she could hear Peony talking quietly with Mrs. Martin. The kid was a really good interviewer. She had the right combination of hard questions and a sympathetic tone that would elicit responses.

  At the women’s shelter, Peony got out with Mrs. Martin and went with her into the house.

  “You heard?” Leah asked, suddenly exhausted.

  “Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t do more than break his ‘node,’” Cots said.

  “I wanted to. But he’s not worth the hassle. I’m just glad we got her out of there.”

  It took Peony a half hour to get Mrs. Martin checked into the shelter and settled in her room, but there was no conversation to be had in the van, and Leah was too tired to try. By the time Peony returned, it had begun to snow as the promised storm system moved in over the city. As they neared the condo, Cots pulled into the parking lot of the neighborhood grocery store, Mario’s Bodega.

  “I’ll only be a few minutes. I need to restock. The weather reports are saying we could be stuck inside for a few days.”

  Peony was busy making notes on her computer.

  At last, we’ve got a lead. We’ll have to wait until after the storm to interview the other parents, but we can put a few other things in motion in the meantime. When Leah’s phone vibrated in her pocket, it startled her. She pulled it from her pocket and checked to see who was calling. It was Quinn. She hit the reject button; she had nothing to say to her.

  It actually took Cots twenty minutes to return. Leah watched as the snow came down quicker and the large fluffy snowflakes became smaller and denser. This is going to be a nasty storm if it hangs around. She knew they weren’t going to go out in this blizzard unless they absolutely had to.

  “It’s like a zoo in there,” Cots said when he returned. “The shelves are nearly empty. Mario can’t decide whether to be happy or sad. But I was able to get what we needed.” Cots put the bags of groceries in the van beside Peony.

  As he climbed into the driver’s seat, Leah asked, “How many people did you have to hurt to get everything you wanted?”

  “Only one,” Cots told her with a smile. “And only because she tried to take the last dozen eggs from my basket.” Cots paused. “And because she called me a bitch.”

  Cots had them quickly back in their parking slot in the warm garage.

  “Peony and I’ll take the groceries if you’ll deal with the equipment,” Leah said.
She knew he’d put blankets over the equipment as much to hide it as to keep it warm. She understood that irreparable damage would result if the computers were left in the sub-zero weather too long. The heated garage would stay warm enough to protect cars and computers alike, but it didn’t hurt to have an abundance of caution in these matters.

  Once in the condo, Peony and Leah took the grocery bags into the kitchen and set them down. After removing their outerwear and stowing their weapons, they started putting the groceries away.

  “I feel like I’m finally a real detective,” Peony said as she put the eggs into the refrigerator. “Thanks, Boss.”

  “Like I said, Peony, you’re a natural. You have a gift few of us have at such an early stage of our careers. It took me forever to learn subtlety, but it seems to easily come to you. I was impressed. Did you learn anything new from Mrs. Martin that we didn’t already know?” Leah asked.

  “No. She was too shaken to be able to think straight. She told the intake person at the shelter that Frank beat her on a regular basis and terrorized their daughter. He didn’t even bother to help the other parents put up flyers and wouldn’t talk to the ones who came to their door. And, of course, he wouldn’t let his wife out of his sight. While he was at work, she called Mrs. Potter to tell her Alexandra was missing, too. She didn’t know anything about covens.”

  “Good job, Detective.”

  Leah knew she was laying it on a bit thick, but the young detective deserved the praise. Leah also knew there was a good chance both their careers would be over at the end of this investigation. They’d broken several policies and procedures during the course of this morning alone. Add to that the fact they hadn’t reported for duty after the bombing of their precinct, and the commissioner had grounds for dismissal. She would try to take full responsibility for what they were doing but knew Peony would be painted with the same black brush as Leah because she hadn’t left the investigation and returned to work.

  After she and Peony put away the groceries, Peony went into the secure room to enter her notes on the morning’s interviews into the case files on her computer. Leah knew they would show up on the murder board and in the murder book within the half hour.