Tonight, his heart was heavy for Diana. Despite his cop instincts that had told him Joanna was probably dead, he’d held out hope that she’d simply gone away to start over. He knew Diana had hoped for the same thing until the moment Joanna’s body was lifted from her makeshift grave.
If he closed his eyes he could still see Joanna, with her short black hair, bright blue eyes, and petite body. Nervous energy had always poured from her in an infectious way. Diana had set Paul up with Joanna not long after they became partners. It was a good thought because he and Joanna got along great, just, as it turned out, not in the romantic sense. They tried a couple of dates, figured out pretty quickly they didn’t have any sparks between them, and became really good friends. He loved her even if he was never able to fall in love with her, and he knew she felt the same way toward him.
But he, like Diana, knew something was troubling Joanna before she disappeared, even as she tried not to show it outwardly. Whatever her torments were, she never shared them with him or Diana. When she dropped out of sight, he tried to tell himself she just needed time to exorcise those secret demons. In the back of his mind he’d worried about her, but at the same time, he kept his thoughts silent, because by then he’d become involved with Brenda. He’d sensed that Brenda would not have taken kindly to his concerns about the welfare of another woman, particularly when that woman was pretty and friendly. If he hadn’t been so caught up in the lust of the moment, he’d have seen what a big red flag Brenda’s jealousy really was.
Now he felt nauseous, a bone-deep sickness that threatened to buckle his knees. He shouldn’t have let it go. A good cop would have followed his gut and pushed. A good friend would have too. Both he and Diana had dropped the ball on this one. The only one who didn’t was Will. Why was it so hard for him to take guidance from Will? To follow his lead? Like his refusal to give up on Joanna. Whenever he had spare time, he kept looking for her.
Well, he’d found her now, hadn’t he? Just like that gut feeling had been screaming at him for months. Dead. Beautiful, soulful Joanna, dead, and he hated himself for getting so caught up in his own drama that he’d failed his friend. He hated that once again Will had been right and he’d failed to listen.
With both hands on the arms of the recliner, he pushed up to his feet. While he wasn’t much of a drinker, this moment demanded a scotch to take the edge off his guilt. If he couldn’t deal with the guilt, he might as well mask it.
As he closed in on the door to the kitchen, he heard a noise from inside. He slowed and reached around for his gun. The safety off, he inched toward the open doorway, holding the gun with both hands out in front of him. As he caught sight of movement, he tightened his grip and moved his finger to the trigger.
He rounded the corner and stopped just short of pulling the trigger. Slowly he brought the gun down and held it in one hand at his side. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Chapter Seven
Circe understood what Diana was feeling tonight. She hadn’t lost close friends, but the dead populated her whole life. She not only saw them, but she also felt the anguish that seemed to follow them to the great beyond. The tragic words the dead spoke to her were too often full of regrets, and it didn’t matter whether their deaths were natural or homicidal. Those regrets came through loud and clear to Circe, and she longed to be able to ease their troubled souls.
With the exception of a rare few, the dead who came to her were strangers. That fact made no difference at all in the way she felt about them. Each one weighed heavy on her spirit, and that’s why it had become so important for her to find a way to use her unwanted gift. Whatever or whoever had decided that she was the one to see through the veil separating the living from the dead must have had a reason, or why would they gift her with the power?
At least that’s the conclusion she’d reached when she was old enough to start reasoning through the thing that set her apart from family and friends. The only way this thing made any sense at all was if she used it for some higher purpose. Once she embraced that rationalization, she found a peace in her gift that until then had wholly eluded her.
Except for Vickie, she never talked about it with anyone because no rational explanation for what she could do existed. Beyond explanations, she still harbored no desire to spend time at the local mental-health facility in Medical Lake, and if she told people what she could do, that’s exactly where she’d end up. So on many levels, she understood how Diana was feeling.
Looking into Diana’s eyes, the color of bellflowers, she felt a tug of something special. All her life she’d kept her distance from all but a very select few, but not because she wanted to. She’d learned this method of self-preservation when she was very, very young. Her safety and freedom hinged on her silence. Even now, she didn’t have an urge to share her deep, dark secrets with Diana or anyone else. They had more of an unspoken kinship she hadn’t felt with anyone else. It was nice.
“You aren’t responsible for your friend’s death,” she said quietly.
“I should have done more.”
Circe laughed wryly. “You know, the word should needs to be tossed out of the English language. It’s quite destructive and leads to very damaging emotions.”
“Sounds like you speak from personal experience.”
If Diana only knew. When she was ten she should have told someone about the boy she saw in the woods and maybe his family would have found peace much sooner. When she was fourteen she should have told someone about the woman buried in the neighbor’s flowerbed and perhaps a serial killer would have been stopped sooner. Should have. Should have. Should have. God, how she hated that word.
Yet if she’d done any of those things, where would she be now? Medical Lake? Yes, that would be an affirmative, and so she’d learned to deal with the guilt that came with every one of the shoulds.
Circe blew out a long breath. “Let’s just say a situation or two might have gone a different way had I opted for a different course of action. I finally realized that if I got stuck on what I should have done, I would have drowned in my own regrets a long time ago. I can’t change the past and am not sure I would even if I could. Instead, I try to look forward. I found a way to make a difference and that’s what I focus on now.”
“With Zelda?”
She smiled and glanced over at her companion, where she lay curled up asleep on her big plush dog bed. Snoring softly, she was oblivious to the conversation that turned her way. “Yes, with Zelda. She’s changed my life in so many ways.”
“From what I hear, what you two have done has changed a lot of lives and given many families, if not peace, then at least closure.”
She shifted her gaze from Zelda back to Diana. “Peace and closure are both important. It’s not just a one-way street, either, because I’ve gained a great deal as well.” No words could ever explain what her partnership with Zelda meant to her. Zelda filled a part of her heart she hadn’t even realized was empty until the small puppy came home with her. What they were able to do together was even more incredible and gave her the kind of peace she’d never believed possible. She couldn’t even try to imagine a life without Zelda.
Diana’s blue eyes studied her, and as Circe gazed into them her heart did a little flip. Softly, Diana asked, “I’ve heard K9 officers say the same thing. They talk of the closeness they share with their K9 partners.”
Circe nodded and smiled. “It’s a bit like that, yes.” Once more she let her eyes slide to Zelda, who had shifted on her bed and now lay on her back with her legs up in the air. It always struck her as funny to see the big dog upside down yet still snoring. “It’s more than being close, so much more…”
Diana’s head tilted as she studied her. “How so?”
How could she explain without spilling her secret? Every moment she spent with Diana a little piece of her protective shell was chipped away, but not enough to crack her book of secrets. She wasn’t quite ready to do that…yet. The best thing she could do right now w
as to stay as close to the truth as possible without telling all of it. The strategy had been working for her for years and no reason it wouldn’t work tonight.
“Ever since I was a child, it bothered me when I’d hear about someone who was lost or missing. I would think about them out there lost, cold, and alone. Even if I thought they were dead, I hated the idea of them being alone. It scared me and I felt horrible because I couldn’t help. Then through a friend I learned about K9 human-remains detection and suddenly my whole world changed. I could help make a difference, and I could do it with a beautiful, intelligent dog at my side. Working together as a team is a journey hard to describe. Every time we bring someone home and reunite the lost with their loved ones, I’m grateful. You have to understand that it’s not just for the families. It’s for me too.” She put her palm against her heart. “It brings me peace.”
Because, she added silently to herself, when I bring them home, the dead leave me alone.
*
“Brenda, what in the fuck are you doing here?” Paul asked for the second time.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Gorgeous in a cornflower-blue dress, her hair flowing down her back in golden ripples, Brenda was standing in his kitchen putting together a plate of cheese, crackers, and fresh fruit. Reusable grocery sacks were on the counter, and a big bowl filled with ice held numerous brown bottles.
She smiled and inclined her head toward the platter. “I know you’ve had a terrible day, and I thought something to eat and a nice craft beer would be exactly what you need. Finding that poor woman was all over the news, and I was just certain I needed to be here for you. A man who’s been through what you have today should be able to come home to good food and a cool drink. You can always count on me. I hope you know that.”
His hands were clenched into fists as he held them tight to his sides. “How did you get in my house?” Blood warmed his palms as his fingernails bit into flesh.
Brenda didn’t have a key. He’d taken it out of her purse himself. She shouldn’t have been able to get in here when he wasn’t around, and even if he was here, no fucking way would he let her inside. A fortress was the last place he wanted to live, yet all of a sudden barred windows and doors held a particularly enticing appeal.
Her expression was serene and unbothered in spite of the distinct irritation in his voice. He didn’t know how much clearer he could be. “I still have a key,” she explained patiently.
“I took it from you.”
Her laugh was light and happy. She was arranging and rearranging the food on the platter as if each piece had to be perfect. “You took one.” She shrugged. “I have another.” Without looking at him, she went to the refrigerator and pulled a mug from the freezer. At the counter, she grabbed a bottle from the bowl of ice, popped the cap, and poured the amber beer into the mug.
God damn it! Every time he turned around she was pulling some kind of shit behind his back. The ripple effect of some mistakes was beyond imagination. Some detective he was. A good one would have anticipated the psycho bitch would figure out another way to stay in his life. She was like a bad rash that wouldn’t go away.
After he wiped the blood from his palm on his pant leg, he held out his hand and forced himself to stay calm. “Give it to me, Brenda. Now.”
She pouted and motioned to the frosty mug of beer and the beautifully arranged platter that she finally stopped fussing with. “Oh, come on, Paul. You and I both know this thing we have runs deep. A little quarrel now and again isn’t going to keep us apart. Great couples always argue and they always make up.” She smiled as if he’d just invited her to move back in.
Good God, how was he going to get it through her thick blond head that they were over? When he slapped a restraining order on her, maybe? That would be priceless, and even though he didn’t voice the threat, they both knew it would never happen. If it did, he’d never hear the end of it because the entire force would find out a crazy, albeit beautiful, stalker had suckered him. This kind of thing did not happen to guys like him. No legal channels to help him out on this one; he was on his own.
“Brenda.” He said her name slowly and managed to keep his voice calm. “We did not have a little quarrel. I told you I don’t want to see you anymore, and I meant it. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want you in my house, and I don’t want you dropping by. That’s about as clear as I can make it. Now, I want the key and any other key if you have it, and then I want you to leave.”
Darkness flooded her face, and everything that was beautiful about her flowed away with it. How had he never seen the darkness in her when they were living together? He hated to think he was so superficial that he took good-in-bed as a character reference. Denial wasn’t a defense he could use because the woman standing in front of him was proof that he could, indeed, be that shallow. “It’s that woman, isn’t it?” Ice crystals seemed to hang on every word.
What in the world was she talking about now? She was the only woman causing him grief. “What woman?” This whole situation made him bone weary. It had to end.
“The one I saw you with on the news clip. I could see how you leaned into her, and the little bitch was just a step away from hanging on you. Both of you should be embarrassed.” Her voice dripped with what he could only describe as venom. Great, a jealous stalker. He’d believed things were as bad as they could possibly be. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Woman?” He repeated the word, still trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about. Then it hit him. Lisa had been the woman standing next to him when they were at Seven Mile. The ever-present media, which could make it to a crime scene faster than law enforcement, must have filmed them together. “Brenda, you don’t know what you’re talking about. The only two non-law-enforcement people at the scene were the K9 handler and her roommate.”
“Whatever,” she said as she dug into her purse. Her hand whipped back out with a key between her fingers, and she threw it at him. It bounced off his chest and dropped with a clang to the floor. “A whore is a whore.”
“You need to leave.” He found it hard to say the words calmly and quietly. Any patience he might have clung to evaporated. He wanted to walk over, grab her by the collar, and toss her out the door. The thing was, he’d be the one assaulting her at that point, and he didn’t need this situation to get any worse than it already was. The best thing he could do was stay calm and focused. Get her out of the house and then, well then, he’d change the locks.
Instead of leaving, she flung the platter across the room, fruit, cheese, and crackers flying in every direction. “You never appreciated me,” she screamed. The platter hit the wall and shattered, broken pieces of pottery dropping like tiny bombs to the tile floor.
“Leave, please.” He kept his expression neutral. He wasn’t planning to engage in the tantrum she was working up to. Been there, done that.
After a scream, she shoved the bowl of ice and beer to the floor, where it too shattered in an explosion of glass and ice. Without looking at him again, she stomped to the door. The click of her high heels was like the shot of a nail gun, and it raised the hair on the back of his neck. At the door, she wrenched it open and whirled. “You’re going to be sorry,” she hissed. Then she was gone.
*
Jesus, she was in a bad mood, and he didn’t have time for her moods. Bipolar was the term he liked to use for her dramatic up-and-down emotions. All in all her condition was wearing, and not just on him, but on Eve as well. If the three of them weren’t so close he’d tell her to go to hell.
He was forever following her and cleaning up her messes. She screwed something up and he fixed it. With Eve’s help, they always found the solution to whatever problem she came up with. Or, to be more accurate, created. She was a walking disaster on three-inch designer heels. After all this time he should be used to it, and in many ways, he was. It was just that drama-free for a little while might be nice. A guy could dream anyway.
Still, he had to admit, in some ways her dra
ma was fun. His own life was fairly routine, and if not for the constant attention to her crises, it would be boring. And, if he was being brutally honest, she was the one who’d found the De Nigromancia. Of course, he took credit for the find and didn’t feel the least bit guilty about doing so. After all he’d done for her over the years, he was absolutely vindicated in embracing this one small lie.
The best part about the text was that he could use it to help her, and that’s what he planned to do now. By the time he climbed the stairs to his attic office and his precious book, he was smiling and feeling wonderfully motivated. For an hour he pored over the pages until he found just the right spell. But he didn’t have one of the ingredients. His shelves downstairs were decently stocked, but given the unique nature of his work, he occasionally found himself facing holes. This was one of those times.
He walked back downstairs and checked his gear. It was important to make sure everything he’d need was in the kit and ready to go. The house was quiet as he worked and he appreciated the solitude. Peace and quiet always helped him get ready for a hunt. He loved feeling the items in his kit. The sensations made his fingers tingle, and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
Sometimes the requirement for one of the spells was unique. In those instances, he carefully selected the subject for their special qualities. It often took him days, if not weeks, to discover just the right one. Not so tonight. While the ingredient was missing from his stock, any number of potential donors would work just fine. All he needed to do was cruise the night streets and check the livestock. The right one would reveal herself to him, and voila. He would have what was necessary to complete the spell.
Different parts of the city gave him different stock to choose from. Some required more finesse, while others were so easy it was laughable. Tonight, easy was on the agenda. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the challenge of the more difficult areas. No, he just wanted to get this done, and simple made it quick and efficient.
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