Necromantia

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  At this time of night, Second Avenue was a sure bet, and he wasn’t disappointed. During the daytime this was a bland stretch of the city populated by old churches, several shelters, and small but thriving businesses. As the sun set each day over the mountains to the west, the tide changed and the business people disappeared to be replaced by those who often slept the day away. These were the people he came looking for.

  He started at Division and drove in the middle lane all the way down to Maple Street. Satisfied by the product selection, he circled around and retraced his drive, pulling to the curb just a couple blocks shy of Maple. Nights like this made his entire body buzz, and when the cute little hooker with the pink-tinted hair opened the passenger-side door and climbed into the car, everything inside him came alive. He could hardly wait to get back to the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Circe leaned against the open front door while Diana stood on the porch. This was as far as they’d made it after finishing their tea. Diana didn’t seem to be able to get her feet to move any closer to her car. For ten minutes they stayed here still talking while she rubbed the small whistle on her keychain between her fingers.

  “I really should get going.” As much as she liked spending time with Circe, it was a long drive back into town. At least that’s what the rational part of her mind was saying. The other part, well, that part could easily stand here all night.

  “I know.” Circe’s smile lit up her face. “I feel a little guilty that you drove all the way out here again today. You could have just called to tell me about Joanna.”

  Diana shrugged. The thought had occurred to her too, and just as quickly as it did, she dismissed it. Circe had done her a huge favor by trusting Diana’s instincts and sending her dog out to search for her friend’s body. She’d done what no one else had been able to so far, and that meant a lot to her. The least she could do was come out here and tell her in person. Besides, if she was honest, the drive was worth it so she could spend a little more time with Circe. “No big deal.”

  “Oh, it was indeed a big deal. Just know that I appreciate it.” Circe put a hand on her arm. Her fingers were warm against her skin, and Diana wished it would stay there.

  The contact did little to help her step away. In fact, it made her want to step closer, a lot closer. Even from here she could smell the scent of vanilla—soap, perhaps, or shampoo. Whatever the source, it was sweet and lovely. She wanted to pull her close and breathe it in more deeply.

  Instead she did what she needed to and stepped closer to the stairs leading to the driveway and away from Circe, whose hand dropped away as she moved. All the warmth went with it. “It’s no big deal considering what you did for me.”

  This time Circe shrugged and gave her a shy smile. “Zelda and I are happy to help any way we can. I’m sorry your friend was murdered, but I’m glad we could help bring her home.”

  Her thoughts turned to Joanna, and her heart grew heavy, pushing away the sweetness of being near Circe. “You have no idea how much I appreciate your help and the fact that you took a chance on my gut feeling. Joanna’s family will be forever grateful to you and Zelda for finding her.”

  A cloud crossed Circe’s beautiful face. “It’s why we train and why we go out in the field.”

  “Thank you anyway. You have no idea what this means to her family and to her friends.” She stepped down to the driveway.

  Diana was just opening the driver’s door when Circe’s voice stopped her. “I’m glad you came.”

  For some reason those simple words touched her heart, and tears almost blinded her as she pulled out of Circe’s driveway. She wiped them away and concentrated on the road. She never considered herself to be an emotional woman, though at the moment it would be hard to deny. Finding Joanna and spending time with Circe had made her emotions bounce all over the place. She was glad for at least a little while that she was by herself. It would give her time to pull it together.

  The highway curved along the river, and at this time of night traffic was light. It was a peaceful drive and the water was glassy smooth, reflecting lights from the homes scattered along the shoreline. She could easily understand what brought people out to live this far from town. Even as she braked for a couple of deer racing across the highway in front of her, she still decided this was a drive she could get used to. Or maybe she could get used to it because of who was at the end of the drive.

  As she pulled into her own driveway, her lights swept across the garage doors. Or they should have anyway. Instead, her garage was wide open. She stopped the car and stared as her car lights cut through the darkness. Everything was in chaos. Plastic bins that had been on shelves when she left this morning were open with their contents thrown across the garage floor. Someone had slashed open a bag of fertilizer and poured it over everything. Not one thing in the garage was where it had been when she backed out of the garage earlier.

  “What the hell?” Putting the car in park, she turned off the ignition and opened her door. Slowly she stood and the same time unclipped the gun in the holster at her waist, though she didn’t pull it out, for now. Stepping over broken jars, shattered Christmas decorations, and yard tools, she scanned everything as she moved through the chaos. With each step something cracked and crushed beneath the soles of her shoes. At the door leading into the house, she took hold of doorknob. When it didn’t turn, a weight seemed to fall from her shoulders. It was still locked and, from the looks of it, hadn’t been tampered with. Thank the gods for one small favor.

  At the wall switch located next to the door into the house, she clicked on the overhead light. Words failed her and all she could do was stare. Who would do something like this? More important, why? Who the hell did she piss off so bad they would come in here like a tornado? Stupid question really. Given her profession, a better question might be who didn’t she piss off? Blowing out a long breath, she clipped her gun back in the holster and pulled out her cell.

  “I need you,” she said when Paul picked up. “How fast can you get over to my house?”

  The alarm in his voice was clear. Here she thought she had it all together, but considering his reaction, she guessed not. “What’s happened?”

  “Just get here. You have to see it.”

  “On my way.”

  She started to say thanks before she realized she was talking to dead air.

  *

  Paul stood in the middle of Diana’s trashed garage and did a three-sixty. “What in the fuck…”

  “I know, right?” During the time it had taken him to get here she took a good long breath, got her bearings, and kicked into professional mode. She had taken pictures from every angle of every broken box, destroyed yard tool, and slashed bag. The chaos was everywhere, and she was determined to get clear evidence of it all.

  “Who did you piss off?”

  She was shaking her head. “Damned if I know. Since I called you I’ve been thinking over anyone and everyone who might have done this, and I’ve come up blank. I’ve put away plenty of people, yet nobody pops out at me. No threats or anything like that. This is so random.”

  In all the time they’d been partners, this was the first time he could recall her being rattled. She was putting on a good front and probably thought she was pulling it off, but she wasn’t. He could see through her like a pane of glass.

  That she called him first was no surprise. If the shoe were on the other foot, he’d have called her before anyone else. Now, however, it was time to take this to the officials. This wasn’t some practical joke or kid-like vandalism. It seemed like targeted violence. “We need to call this in.”

  She sank to the step leading into the house. “Yeah, we do. I just wanted you here before I made the call.” Running her hands through her hair, she studied the mess. “I still don’t get it, Paul. Nothing I’m working on would generate this kind of reaction, and my personal life is at an all-time boring low. I can’t think of a soul angry enough at me to violate my personal space like this.
”

  He spent every day with this woman and was fully aware of her current lack of a social life. His own was pretty messed up, but unlike Diana, at least he had one. In fact, he could actually do with a little less personal life. Or a lot less actually. Brenda needed to get the hell out of his life. But he wasn’t going down that path right now. This was about Diana, not his stalker problem, and yup, he was at the point of acknowledging the very ugly truth: he had a stalker. She didn’t share his problem, at least as far as he knew. When he thought about it, though, maybe she had her own secrets. He was managing pretty well to keep his Brenda problem close to the vest. Who was to say Diana didn’t have something similar going on in her life?

  He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’ll phone the station.” Walking outside, he stood in the driveway and called it in. When he ended the call he figured they had about half an hour before the crew arrived. As soon as they got there, he and Diana would be out of the loop. They were too close, and no way would the chief let them work it. The investigator in him didn’t like that scenario even though he understood the reason for it. So, if they were to find anything, they needed to do it during the next thirty minutes.

  At his car, he grabbed a high-powered flashlight out of the glove box. Back in the garage, he shined it on the floor as he walked back and forth in a straight line. Broken Christmas decorations, hiking gear, snow shoes, yard tools, and trash. As the beam of his light swept the floor he hoped for something, yet nothing unique or special jumped out at him. It was a good, old-fashioned mess of huge proportions. Someone had spent plenty of time throwing everything around as if in a blinding rage, like a spoiled child pitching a tantrum.

  He clicked off the flashlight and tapped it against his leg. “Nothing, damn it.”

  Diana stared out across the mess, a frown on her face. “Maybe it was just random vandalism.”

  She almost sounded hopeful and he didn’t blame her. The situation sucked big-time. Still, if it was random rather than personal, it hurt a little less. He could understand her wanting to gravitate toward that conclusion even if he couldn’t buy in. The way he saw it, this was far from random. No, he was reading personal in this mess.

  Not wanting to make her more upset than she already was, he said, “Could be. Do me a favor and shut the door. Whoever did this needed to have the door shut while they were trashing the place, or one of the neighbors would have seen it and called it in. So, let’s take a look at it from the vandal’s point of view.”

  It was one of the first things Will had taught him: get inside the head of the perp. He might get annoyed with Will when he felt like he was being micro-managed, which was most of the time when they were together. It didn’t mean he didn’t respect Will or appreciate what he’d taught him over the years. The guy was a great detective, and he was generous with sharing hard-earned knowledge.

  “Good thought.” Diana reached up and pushed the button that controlled the electric door. It whirled and slowly closed.

  Once the door was down, Paul clicked on the flashlight again and shined it on the inside of the door. For a moment after it closed all the way, they were both silent as his flashlight played across the panels of the door.

  “Oh, shit,” he murmured as he read the single word written in red spray paint: BITCH.

  *

  He was whistling as he sprayed down the walls and floor of the workroom. Red water flowed to the drain, where it swirled and glistened under the glare of the overhead light. A faintly metallic scent wafted through the air. The night had gone well and he was now ready to make it all happen. After everything was neatened up, that is. A tidy workroom is a happy workroom. He laughed and kept spraying. The water spiraling down the drain set in the middle of the floor faded from red to pink, but only when it ran clear did he shut off the water.

  It was too late tonight to do much beyond gathering supplies and disposing of the leftovers. A shame. At the shelves lined with jars, he gazed longingly at the tidy rows. Each treasure was a little different, each one special in its own way. Tonight’s jars were next to each other almost glowing in their freshness. His fingers itched to give it a go and see how powerful the magic turned out to be. So far the book had not failed him. Each spell he’d used brought him more wealth and power, and this one promised even more. Ah well, tomorrow would be soon enough to make it happen.

  He wound up his hose, used the squeegee to push the last of the water down the drain, and then headed upstairs. At the top of the stairs, he snapped the padlock closed on the latch to the basement door. It wasn’t like anyone really came here, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Then he turned and looked at the kitchen counter. Fury shot through him. Why did she have to be such a damn slob? On the counter sat a wineglass and an open bottle of Merlot. He knew it was Merlot even though the label was facing the other direction because the ruby wine was spilled all over the counter.

  All she had to do was take five minutes and clean up her mess. Someday, he was going to reach the point where he couldn’t take it anymore. She would have to go and he would make her. That was a day he looked forward to.

  For now, he gritted his teeth and tried not to breathe in the stink of the alcohol as he picked up the bottle. The remainder of the wine he dumped down the drain and put the empty bottle into the recycle bin. He put the wineglass into the dishwasher next to the other three he’d picked up from various drop points throughout the house, wondering if she even knew they had a dishwasher. After wiping down the counter, he looked around at the kitchen that was once more clean and shining. Nodding his approval, he clicked off the overhead light and walked out.

  Now he could concentrate on the rest of the night’s duties. If he’d tried to leave the mess for her to clean up it would have bothered him to the point of distraction. From long practice he knew the best thing—the only thing—he could do was to tidy up. He crawled behind the wheel and backed out of the garage. Tonight he drove toward Sunset Hill, not thinking about the body wrapped in the camouflage-printed tarp in the back.

  One of the really nice things about living in this part of the country was the abundance of nature. It was an urban city sprawling for miles in all directions. The sprawl didn’t damper the natural landscape, and no matter what direction he drove, he found mountains, forests, rivers, and lakes. In short, plenty of places to take out the trash.

  The spot in Peaceful Valley he’d used for his three latest subjects was daring. He’d known it when he chose it. The area around the Sandifur Bridge was heavily used, and the chance of discovery was relatively high. It was the one thing that made it so fun to use. He liked the edge of danger to it.

  The women were discovered far quicker than he liked, and that was tragic. Not game-stopping, just tragic. He would have preferred for others to leave the bodies right where he put them. That way he’d have been able to stroll through the area anytime he wanted, remember every little detail, and no one would have been the wiser. Now, it was all spoiled. People did not have the right to undo what he so carefully orchestrated. Then again, he’d made the decision to roll the dice when he’d put them there, and he’d lost. All part of the gamble.

  Tonight he drove past Peaceful Valley, where yellow crime-scene tape was still stretched between trees. He had to work hard to ignore the urge to stop and rip down all the yellow tape. He managed to take the high road and kept driving. If he were to drive out to Seven Mile, he was certain to find the same picture there and would feel the same way. The news reports were hinting at a serial killer, and that actually made him laugh. That was the last thing he considered himself. In fact, he wasn’t a killer at all, at least not in the true sense of the word. He was more of an alchemist. Yes, indeed, an alchemist. He liked the sound of that.

  Halfway up the Sunset Hill, he had an intriguing thought. After pulling into the parking lot of a restaurant near the airport park-and-ride, he turned around and headed back the way he’d just come. Why he hadn’t thought of it before was beyond him. It
was perfect.

  Chapter Nine

  Circe always turned on the news in the morning. It was more background noise than anything she seriously watched. Even so, one story had her racing to the set: a quick blip about the vandalism of a cop’s house. No name was mentioned though no name was necessary. The chill that raced through her body as she gazed at the television told her everything she needed to know. It wasn’t just any cop’s house; it was Diana’s.

  “Lisa,” she said into the intercom system installed between the main floors of the house and the downstairs apartment.

  “What’s up?”

  “Come up for a sec.”

  “On my way.”

  A minute later, Lisa was in the kitchen and, before Circe could say a word, was making herself a latte from Circe’s espresso machine. “So, what’s up?” she asked again, her attention focused on the stainless carafe filled with milk she was holding under the steamer arm of the machine.

  “Did you catch the morning news at all?”

  When Lisa shook her head without looking up from her espresso project, Circe continued. “Vandals hit Diana’s house last night.”

  Lisa stopped steaming the carafe of milk and turned around. “Say what?”

  “It was on the news. She came home to find her garage trashed. That’s about all the news reported.”

  Setting the carafe down, Lisa said, “You should probably call her.”

  “You think?” She wanted to, badly. Was it the proper thing to do? After all, they really didn’t know each other well. That didn’t change how she felt. From the moment she met Diana she’d felt a draw to her like no one else she’d ever encountered. Calling her felt like the right thing to do, especially after Diana had made the effort to come all the way out here to give her the positive ID on Joanna. One good deed deserved another in return.