“So how did things go around here after Ben and I left?” I questioned, looking about. “From the looks of things, I missed a circle...Any good discussions or revelations?”
Extinguished candles still sat in holders on the table: yellow, red, blue, green, and a white one in the center. Two small dishes, one containing salt, the other water, were positioned together with the white candle, and the last crumbs of a honey cake adorned a plate. A pewter goblet and Felicity’s athamè completed the centerpiece. I could still feel the leftover energy that had been created by the casting of the circle and raising a cone. I was sorry I had missed it, especially since I could feel a trace of darkness in the energy. Something tainted was lingering in the background, and I feared it was coming from a particular individual in this room. If I had been present in the circle, I might have been able to pinpoint its source.
“We talked quite a bit about crossing over,” Felicity chimed with a smile.
“Yeah,” R.J. added. “It was pretty intense.”
“Ariel never said anything about the crossing,” Cally interjected. “We had all read about it, but...well, you know.”
“Yes, I do,” I answered. “I’m afraid I was probably a little lax in her teachings when it came to that. I had to deal with another particularly difficult crossing a few years back, so I have a tendency to avoid the subject sometimes.”
“Who?” Cally asked.
“My mother,” I answered.
“Your mother was a Witch?” Randy questioned.
“Yes, she was,” I told them then fell quiet.
“So we held a simple death rite for Ariel tonight.” Felicity broke the silence. “It went fairly well, except...”
“Ariel won’t leave…” Shari interrupted.
“…She won’t cross the bridge,” Jennifer finished.
“That isn’t unusual,” I told them as I pondered what the twins had just said. “In the case of a violent death, one’s spirit sometimes hangs around on this plane searching for closure.”
“You mean Ariel’s stuck here?” Randy exclaimed, emphatic concern in his eyes.
“Maybe for a while but probably not permanently,” I comforted him. “We can try another rite once the killer is caught. Maybe that will allow her to move on.”
I looked at my watch. It read midnight. I suddenly realized I was running on four hours sleep out of the past forty.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” I stated with a shallow yawn. “But I’m beat, and I need to hit the sack.”
The pendulum clock on the wall began to bong out its count of the hour as the hands finally came to rest on twelve. Cally looked at her own watch, and her eyes widened slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t realize it was this late.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” I assured her. “It’s been a long day for all of us.”
“Do you think,” Randy queried as they all began gathering themselves to leave, “that maybe we could have circle with you and Felicity again sometime? You know, like a Full Moon meeting or something?”
“Certainly,” I grinned.
“Of course.” Felicity smiled. “We’d love to.”
The group gathered their things, and then Cally, Nancy and the twins hugged both Felicity and myself. Randy hugged my wife and shook my hand. R.J. still seemed to remain somewhat aloof. He shook hands with both of us, and when I clasped my hand about his, I mentally probed for the streak of darkness I had felt earlier. He had been taught well, and his defenses came up, immediately blocking my psychic exploration. I was more experienced and could have easily broken through the ethereal wall separating us, but it was both inappropriate, and at this point in time, uncalled for. He looked back at me coolly, knowing full well what I had tried to do, and said nothing.
Once they were gone, Felicity sent the dogs out to take care of whatever they needed to do and then let them back in. I had just finished letting Emily out the front door to go on her nightly “mouse patrol” when the rambunctious canines scrambled past me and into our bedroom. My wife trailed along behind them, switching off lights as she went. We finished locking up the house and shutting off the remaining lights together then dragged ourselves off to bed as well.
The crisp, fresh sheets on our waterbed felt wonderful, and I expelled a tired sigh as I stretched out. A tranquil hum issued from the slowly spinning ceiling fan above as it moved the cool air about the room. I heard the light switch in the bathroom, and Felicity emerged, having twisted her hair atop her head and donned an oversized t-shirt bearing the faded quip, “Photographers do it in a darkroom.” After moving the bedroom light from dim to off, she gently slid into the bed next to me and rested her head on my shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it now?”
Her voice drifted to me in the darkness. I shifted and slid my arm around, pulling her closer.
“It’s the same guy,” I told her. “No doubt in my mind. I don’t think he was just practicing this time though, but I can’t be sure. It looked like he performed a full ritual...” I paused. “Complete with removing the victim’s heart.”
I could feel her shudder against me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about giving her the details, but I knew that if I didn’t, she would get them from Ben as soon as I turned my back.
“Why in the park?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Based on what I’ve seen so far, I’m thinking he might want to be caught, but this was more than a little brazen if you ask me.”
“From what I saw on the news,” she lent, “those restrooms were the ones in the back of the park. They’re pretty isolated.”
“I know, but still, people walk their dogs back there. That’s how the body was found. A kid walking his dog.” I told her, “Dog went nuts when they passed by the restrooms. The door was propped open, and he broke loose and ran in.”
“Poor kid,” Felicity sighed. “I doubt if he was ready for that.”
“Yeah, he was still talking to a police shrink when Ben and I left.”
“Do you think the killer knew the victim?”
“We didn’t find anything to indicate that,” I answered. “So I’d be inclined to say no, but I’m sure they’ll be checking into it.”
“Did they find anything at the scene that might help?”
“Not much,” I answered. “He hailed the towers and performed an Expiation spell again, presumably after the other ritual. He bound her wrists and ankles and gagged her with duct tape. They might get something off that. When I projected...”
I felt her tense against me, and I knew what she was thinking.
“...Don’t worry, I didn’t channel, I just projected. It wasn’t the same as with Ariel...”
She relaxed, and I gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“When I projected, I saw him pull his glove off before he reached in for her heart.” I couldn’t believe how calmly I was relaying this story. I hoped that I wasn’t becoming jaded to the atrocities I had witnessed lately. “I don’t know if they’ll get anything, but they’re going to look for latent prints on the body.”
“Maybe that will turn something up,” she said.
“Maybe. Even if it does, unless he’s on file from some previous offense or something, it won’t be much help in finding him.”
The waterbed rippled slightly, and we felt movement in the dark followed by a muted rumble growing closer by the second. Within moments, Salinger climbed onto my chest and curled up, purring interminably as Felicity scratched his ears.
“That reminds me,” I said shifting slightly, recalling Salinger’s earlier opinion of R.J. “How did the circle go for you? I noticed a little streak of dark in the residual energy when I sat down at the table.”
“It was there during the circle too,” she told me. “It really didn’t seem to come from anyone though. It was more like it was just hanging around from something else. It wasn’t terribly overwhelming or anything, so I just had everyone ground all the
ir negative thoughts and energies. I figured it was probably their thoughts of seeking revenge and such.”
“You could be right,” I mused. “I suppose some of it could have been left hanging around. How did the cats act?”
“Nowhere to be found,” she answered. “They were probably in here asleep on the bed.”
“You know Ben really suspects R.J.,” I told her. “Especially after the time of death for Karen Barnes was placed somewhere between five-thirty and eight P.M.”
“Karen Barnes. They identified her pretty quickly.”
“Her purse was at the scene.”
“I know R.J. was late and all,” she stated. “But I think Ben is on the wrong track. I would have felt something from him if he had done it. He wouldn’t have been able to mask that while in the circle.”
“Well,” I intoned, “I tried to feel him out when he shook my hand, and he put up defenses immediately.”
“You would have done the same if someone tried to check you out,” she told me. “That doesn’t make him guilty of anything.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
We laid wordlessly in the dark listening to the sound of the humming fan blend with the contented, throaty rumble of the lump of fur curled up on my chest.
“Is Ben going to call tomorrow?” Felicity finally asked.
“Yeah,” I answered. “In the morning. He wants me to meet with the Major Case Squad. I might end up needing those slides.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to get up early and process them, so I can get them mounted,” she stated and then gave me a light kiss. “Go to sleep dear. You have to be exhausted.”
“I am.” I patted her lightly on the rear as she rolled over. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I stared off into the darkness, the meter of the swirling fan blades setting up an audible, hypnotic rhythm. I was so tired I felt I could sleep forever, but at the same time, I was still coming down from the adrenalin pumping through my veins. I listened to the soft rhythm and started a mental exercise to relax. Clearing my mind, I allowed the stress of the past two days to pour out of me like water from a faucet. I closed my eyes and let the last thoughts in my head drift away.
Before long, my body was completely infused with a comfortable drifting sensation. Indigo darkness enveloped me broken only by a bright blue light in the distance. I reached for the light, and I was gone.
CHAPTER 8
Felicity allowed me to sleep in the next morning, and it was going on eight A.M. when I finally dragged myself from the bed and into the shower. I felt rested for the first time in what seemed like forever. Apparently, I had been too exhausted to have any nightmares, and about that, I wasn’t going to complain.
My wife was seated at the dining room table when I was finally dressed and prepared to meet the day. A portable light box inhabited the surface of the table, and she was huddled over it with a loupe held to her eye. A stack of freshly mounted color slides occupied the space to her right, and she was inspecting them one by one as she arranged them on the illuminated panel before her.
“How did you sleep?” she asked without looking up.
“Better than I expected.” I kissed the top of her head. “How’d the slides come out?”
“Technically, okay, though I can’t say as that I really care for the subject matter,” she returned. “But I wouldn’t quit my day job if I were you.”
“Always the critic,” I told her. “You eat yet?
“No. These haven’t exactly done wonders for my appetite.” She dealt another handful of the transparencies onto the light box. “Besides, I was waiting for you.”
“Well, isn’t that sweet.”
“Not really. It’s your turn to cook.”
“I should have known.”
I was in the kitchen quickly sautéing onions when the phone rang. I picked up the receiver and tucked it between my ear and shoulder while I whisked eggs to a medium froth in a mixing bowl. “Hello?”
“Good mornin’” came a familiar, but rough voice. “I didn’t wake you guys, did I?”
“No, we’re awake, Ben,” I told him. “I’m just now making breakfast.”
“What are we havin’?” he asked.
“What do you mean we?” I laughed. “Are you on your way or something?”
“Actually,” he replied, “I’m in the driveway.”
“In that case, you’re having a Denver omelet and hash browns.”
I hung up the phone and retrieved the carton of eggs from the refrigerator then began cracking more of them into the bowl.
“Honey?” I called out. “Could you unlock the front door? Ben’s in the driveway.”
I was folding large chunks of chopped ham, peppers, onions, and shredded cheese into a fluffy omelet when a haggard, unkempt Ben Storm ambled into my kitchen and helped himself to a cup of coffee.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to do without doughnuts this morning?” I asked, sliding the finished omelet from the pan and preparing to make another.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he replied, seating himself at our breakfast nook. “Like I haven’t heard the cop-slash-doughnut jokes before. You get any sleep last night?”
“Uh-huh,” I grunted, pouring frothy eggs into the pan. “How about yourself?”
“Got a couple hours.” He sipped his coffee. “Didn’t get home till four this mornin’.”
“How’s Allison taking all this?” Felicity asked. She had been standing in the doorway and now took a seat opposite him.
“She’s not happy about it,” he answered. “But she’s been through it before. It goes with the job.”
“What about the little guy?” I asked, sliding plates containing omelets and hash browns before them.
“Not as good. He doesn’t understand why I’m never home.” Ben shoveled in a mouthful of food and sat chewing thoughtfully. “I think I’m gonna take a vacation when this is all over.”
“Might be good for you,” Felicity told him. “AND your family.”
I finished filling my plate and joined them at the small bar. After moving some magazines, there was just enough room for the three of us.
“So,” Ben asked between bites, “have ya’ seen this mornin’s paper?”
“I brought it in,” Felicity answered, “but I haven’t even unrolled it yet.”
“You might wanna put it in a scrapbook... or the garbage, depends on how ya’ look at it.” He gestured at me with his fork. “You’re all over the front page.”
“Me?” I stopped a forkful of food halfway to my mouth and put it down. “What am I doing on the front page?”
“Remember the asshole with the camera that jumped out in front of us last night?” Ben was up and refilling his coffee cup. “Anyone need a warmup?”
Felicity held out her cup, and he topped it off.
“Anyway,” he continued, returning to his plate, “he caught ya’ like a deer in headlights.”
By now, I had gone into the living room and returned with the rolled up newspaper. Taking my seat back at the nook, I slid off the string and unfurled it. My wife leaned over next to me in order to view the curiosity. Offset to the upper left of the front page was a large color photo of Ben, and Detective Deckert, and myself as we were walking toward the crime scene last evening. As Ben had said, the look of surprise on my face gave me the appearance of a stunned animal. Forty-eight point type below the masthead spelled out the headline, “Police Witch Hunt.” The lead of the story read, “Saturday evening, Saint Louis Major Case Squad detectives brought Rowan Gant, a self-proclaimed witch, to Thayer Park, the scene of yet another grisly cult-like murder.” The rest of the story went on to recount details of both Ariel’s and Karen Barnes’ murders and speculate about my involvement in the investigation.
“How the hell did they come up with this?” I exclaimed. “How’d they know I wasn’t just some cop?”
“Sidebar, page five,” Ben answered, placing his dishes in the sink. “
Hey, you got any of those cake things left over from last night?”
Felicity directed him to the honey cakes as I rapidly flipped through the pages of the newspaper and found the accompanying article to which he had referred. Another photo of me, this time black and white, was staring back. This particular photo had been taken when I had addressed a group at a local Wiccan gathering two years ago. The article was a slightly reworked copy of the original interview I had given that reporter.
“Somebody at the paper had a good memory,” Felicity intoned, peering over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” Ben added, “I’ve already caught ten kinds of hell from the chief because of it.”
“I’m sorry, Ben,” I told him, folding the paper and tossing it disgustedly on the nearby counter. “I guess you won’t be needing me at the meeting today then.”
“Shit yes, I need you at the meetin’,” he answered and sucked down a honey cake in one bite. “I said I caught ten kinds of hell. I didn’t say he won.”
“I should have known,” I said as I gathered the rest of the dishes and started washing them.
Felicity rolled her eyes at Ben as he devoured the remaining cakes, then she grabbed a towel and began drying the freshly washed plates.
* * * * *
The dining room table had seemed to become our command center over the past few days, and once again, we gathered around it to look over the slides and discuss the upcoming meeting with the rest of the Major Case Squad.
“Did the coroner come up with anything last night?” I asked Ben as he looked at slides with a small illuminated viewer.
“Partial thumbprint,” he answered, “but it was pretty smudged, so we only got three points. AFIS didn’t show any hits.”
“AFIS?” Felicity asked.
“Automated Fingerprint Identification System. Ya’ see,” he retrieved a ballpoint pen from his breast pocket and made marks on his thumb, then showed it to us, “a fingerprint is made up of what they call points. These points come together to make the unique pattern of the print. You or I can have some of the same points on our prints, but when you add them all up, voilà, unique as a snowflake. AFIS is an on-line database that allows us to break down the points that we obtain from a print and convert them into a number. You feed the number in, and the computer checks the database for matches or hits against anyone who has ever been arrested and printed by an AFIS participatin’ department. The quote quote magic number of points to make a positive ID is eight. With three, we have the possibility of at least narrowin’ down the field.”
Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 11
