Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation

by M. R. Sellars

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” Deckert muttered as he stared at the date.

  “I’m willing to bet they had an account at Capitol Bank,” I volunteered.

  “I’ll call the husband,” he stated, taking the checkbook from my outstretched hand.

  The call was short and bittersweet. While I was glad that I didn’t have to be the one charged with calling the dead woman’s husband, at the same time, I felt for him.

  “You were right,” Deckert affirmed as he dropped the handset back into its cradle. “They closed their account at Capitol earlier this month.”

  “I hate to rain on your parade, guys, but this account isn’t new.” Ben had been reviewing Darla Radcliffe’s checkbook once again and now waved it at us as we turned our attention to him. “Look at the date code next to ‘er name. She opened this account over four years ago.”

  I wasn’t going to give up. Three of the victims had used the same bank, and it had to be the connection. This was the clue that was going to identify the killer; I was sure of it. The fact that the fourth victim had conducted her business with a different bank couldn’t be allowed to dispel my theory.

  My mind raced, briefly touching upon each of the catalogued facts it held and lingering momentarily on the ones that triggered a thought. Two of the victims were single, one separated, and one married. Ariel Tanner was single, and she was killed in her apartment. Karen Barnes was married, and she was killed in the park. Ellen Gray was separated, living alone. She was killed in her home. Darla Radcliffe was single, and she was killed in her apartment.

  “He didn’t want to chance a confrontation,” I muttered thoughtfully to myself.

  “What’s that?” Deckert looked up at the sound of my voice.

  “Just thinking out loud,” I told him. “One of the victims was married, one separated, and the other two were single, right?”

  “Yeah,” Ben chimed. “So?”

  “So Karen Barnes was killed outside of her home where she would most likely be away from her husband,” I continued. I wasn’t even sure what I was driving at myself, but voicing it seemed to be helping my thoughts take on a recognizable shape. “The other three were killed in their homes.”

  “Go on,” Deckert seemed intrigued.

  “Well, if I’m right, and the killer does work at a bank, then he would have access to information about the victims, and he would know their marital status.”

  “So you figure he used that info to avoid being interrupted by someone who could kick his ass,” Deckert submitted.

  “Yeah, I guess something like that.”

  “While that makes sense,” Ben agreed, “it still doesn’t wash, ‘cause we just established that Darla Radcliffe didn’t use the same bank as the other three.”

  A fact, at the same time both obvious and insignificant passed quickly through my mind. Mentally, I stopped and flipped backwards through the imaginary file. “Darla Radcliffe had a roommate, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah,” Ben answered, absently snapping open his notebook and paging through it. “Butler. Wendy Butler. They both worked for the same airline. She wasn’t home though. She was fillin’ in on a flight for...” His words trailed off as the pieces started falling into place.

  “…Her roommate,” I completed the sentence. “Wendy Butler has an account at Capitol Bank. She was supposed to be victim number four.” I tossed the last comment out on the table and waited silently for a reaction.

  “She’s stayin’ with her parents,” Ben stated, as Deckert dialed the phone, glancing over at the proffered notebook for the number.

  No other words had been spoken since my remark, and in the stillness of the room, I could hear the faint buzz from the handset as the phone rang at the other end. After a few brief seconds that pretended to encompass lifetimes, I detected a click followed by a distant voice.

  “Miz Butler, this is Detective Carl Deckert with the Major Case Squad...” He spoke into the mouthpiece while Ben and I listened patiently, “...I’m fine, thank you...Listen, I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you a question...”

  Just as he had done earlier in the call to Karen Barnes’ husband, Detective Deckert came quickly to the point. A repeated apology and a “goodbye” later, he settled the handset back on its base. His gaze had remained on me from the moment he had asked the woman where she did her banking. It still hadn’t wavered.

  “Bingo,” he affirmed. “Wendy Butler has had an account with Capitol Bank for about two years.”

  “See if you can find out who we need ta’ contact for employee records,” Ben told him hurriedly. “I’ll see about a warrant just in case we need it.”

  Deckert nodded and reached for the phone once again. His hand stopped midway in the air, and we all turned with a start as the door to the small conference room swung open and another detective poked his head in.

  “Storm, Deckert,” he spoke urgently, “we just got a call from the Sherman police chief. They’ve got a seven-year-old girl that never made it home from school.”

  CHAPTER 20

  How the hell did this happen?!” Ben was saying. “Did they have their heads up their asses or somethin’?!”

  We were no longer cloistered away in the small conference room, and his angry voice pierced through the veil of noisy activity going on around us. It was a certainty that the other members of the Major Case Squad heard him, but they continued about their assigned duties with no perceptible hesitation.

  Deckert, somewhat calmer than Ben, pressed the other detective, “Did anyone actually see the kid get snatched?”

  “No,” he answered. “At least no one that they’ve talked to. They’re searching the area right now, but it doesn’t look very promising...They found her book bag, but that’s about it.”

  “Dammit, they shoulda been expecting somethin’ like this! We told them...” Ben continued his semi-contained explosion, “What did they give us on the kid? What’s ‘er name?”

  “You’re not gonna believe it when I tell you,” the other officer returned. “It’s kind of a strange coincidence.”

  “Ariel,” I announced flatly from behind them. “The little girl’s name is Ariel.”

  “Yeah, weird isn’t it? He looked past Ben and Deckert at me. “How’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess.”

  “Anyway,” he continued, “she’s seven years old, just started the second grade. Shoulder-length brown hair, blue eyes, and she was last seen wearing a blue dress. Denim, the mother said.”

  “Just a second.” Ben looked quickly at his watch. “You said she never made it home from school. When was she reported missin’?”

  “According to the call, she got out of school at around three-forty and should have been home by four. The mother went looking and couldn’t find her, so she called it in at a quarter after.”

  “Jeezus!” This time the explosion was a little less controlled. “It’s after six and they just called! What the fuck were they waitin’ for? An engraved invitation?”

  The other officer took a noticeable step back from the seething mountain that was Detective Benjamin Storm. Of the things that could set him off, anything he perceived as incompetence was the most likely to do it. Combining it with the fact that a child’s life was now most likely perched perilously close to the edge of nothingness only served to feed his growing temper.

  “We still have time,” I stated calmly.

  “What?!” he turned on me quickly, responding only to the sound of my voice. His demeanor softened slightly when he realized whom he was facing.

  “I said, we still have time. Not much, but it’s better than nothing. He’ll keep her alive until the time arrives for the ritual. He might keep her drugged, but I don’t think he’ll harm her at this point.”

  “Why’s that?” Deckert queried.

  “He has to keep her pristine,” I explained. “No rape, no torture. He’s not going to hurt her... Not yet anyway.”

  “He picked ‘er out, didn’t he?” B
en demanded. “This wasn’t just some random grab, was it?”

  “I’m sure he did. The fact that her name is Ariel is probably just a coincidence. I doubt that it had anything to do with his selection.” The little girl in my visions flashed before my eyes. “I should have recognized it sooner though.”

  “Recognize what?”

  “The little girl in my visions.” I spelled out my thoughts for them, “She appeared as a young, childlike version of Ariel Tanner. I was being told that THIS Ariel had already been chosen, but I didn’t understand. I just assumed he would grab any child he could.”

  “So, if he had her picked out in advance, then the bank must still be the connection,” Deckert volunteered. “She must have a trustee account or something.”

  I nodded in assent. “I’d be willing to bet on it. That’s how he was able to see her and pick her out... For all the good that does us now.”

  “We might not have stopped ‘im from grabbin’ this kid,” Ben declared indignantly, “but we’re on the right track now... We’re close, and I’ll be damned if he’s gonna get a chance to hurt ‘er. You got anything else from these dreams of yours we should know about?”

  “No, not off the top of my head,” I answered, “but I have them written down in my Book of Shadows at home. I guess I should probably go over them again and see if there’s something I missed.”

  “Why don’t you take Rowan home and do that, Ben.” Deckert patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll get on that employee list and warrant.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get Benson and Jonesey here to give me a hand.” He motioned to the detective that had informed us about the kidnapping. “You check out anything else Rowan might have, and with a little luck, we’ll be going over that list by the time you get back.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Ben grudgingly agreed then added,” I don’t care if he had ‘er picked out already or not, I still think they had their heads up their asses.”

  * * * * *

  I hadn’t expected Cally’s van to be in the driveway when Ben and I arrived at my house. As unexpected as that was, I was even more surprised to find R.J. seated in my living room with her and Felicity. Having had some rest and a shower, he looked much better than the last time we met. The image of him in the interview room was one I hoped I would soon forget.

  R.J. stood as we came through the door. He shuffled nervously, looking from us to Cally and back. It was obvious that he hadn’t expected Ben, and his presence brought a fleeting look of anxiety to his face. The expression quickly melted away and was replaced by a thin, sheepish smile.

  “I hope we’re not bothering you,” he began uneasily. “Felicity said you were helping Detective Storm.”

  “No bother at all.” I extended my hand. “You’re looking much better than you did a couple of days ago.”

  His smile widened slightly at my comment. He took my hand and shook it firmly. “I just wanted to say thanks to you and Felicity for sticking up for me. You don’t really know me that well and all...well, you know...I just really appreciate it.”

  “I was happy to,” I replied. “I just didn’t believe you were guilty. Problem was, I didn’t have any proof, and unfortunately, the police had a lot of evidence to the contrary.”

  “You mean me and Ellen,” he submitted.

  “That, among other things.”

  “I guess you already know that you were right. We were seeing each other. She and her husband had been having trouble for a while, and, well, I guess I was just there to listen when she needed it.”

  “That’s pretty much what I thought,” I nodded. “But the thing that really bothered me was finding your fingerprint on the candle.”

  “I brought some candles over to Ellen’s place,” he returned. “We were burning one when we got together that afternoon.”

  “Forensics determined that there were two separate white candles in that pile of wax,” Ben added impatiently. “One right on top of the other. We missed it at first. I just found out this afternoon and haven’t had a chance to tell ya’ about it.”

  I nodded thoughtfully at his comment and then turned back to R.J.

  “Anyway,” R.J. continued, “Ellen and I had this huge fight about...”

  “Listen,” Ben interrupted coolly, “no offense kid, but can you two talk about this a little later? We’re runnin’ against the clock here, and I really need Rowan to stay focused right now.”

  R.J.’s expression hardened at his comment, and I could see a sarcastic reply forming on his lips. Fortunately, Felicity sensed something was amiss and broke in before he could expel the venomous comment.

  “What happened?” her voice began strongly then trailed off in an almost fearful tone, “He didn’t...”

  “Yeah,” Ben spat. “Seven years old. She disappeared on her way home from school.”

  “What are you talking about?” Cally spoke up. “Are you saying he’s killed a child?”

  “Not yet.” I motioned for R.J. to have a seat and then positioned myself on the arm of the nearby loveseat. “But he abducted one, and it’s only a matter of time before he does kill her.”

  “I don’t get it.” R.J.’s earlier irritated scowl had been replaced by a look of confusion and concern. “What does he need a kid for?”

  “The sacrifice.”

  “I thought he’d already been performing sacrifices,” Cally expressed.

  I looked over at Ben questioningly. Throughout this investigation, Felicity and I had been privy to information that no other civilian had. I wanted to be sure I didn’t betray the confidence that had been placed in us by saying too much.

  “Go ahead,” he told me with a shrug, fully understanding the look I had given him.

  “From what we’ve been able to ascertain, he’s just been practicing,” I explained after receiving my friend’s blessing. “He’s never actually performed the ritual.”

  “What makes you think that?” Cally pressed.

  “The increased precision displayed at each murder. He’s getting progressively better at what he’s doing. Also, the additions he makes each time, like incense and arranging the body.” I recited the major points. “In addition to all that, neither Felicity nor I have been able to feel any residual energies left behind at the scenes. If he had actually performed a ritual, then something like that should be overwhelming to someone sensitive to it.”

  They both nodded in agreement.

  “The fourth victim was the real kicker,” I continued. “The perfect dress rehearsal, but with two exceptions.”

  “What’re those?” R.J. questioned.

  “There wasn’t a full moon.” I paused. “And the victim most likely wasn’t a virgin.”

  “So that’s why he took a kid,” he mused aloud and then glanced over at Ben. “And the full moon is Friday, so that’s why you’re running out of time.”

  Ben nodded. “Give the man a cigar.”

  “Do you have any leads? Any clues at all?” Cally interjected.

  “A few. Not many though.” I stood and moved across the room as I spoke. Earlier in the day, I had placed my “Dream Diary” on the bookshelf, and I now retrieved it. “That’s why we’re here right now, to have a look at this.”

  “What is that?” R.J. asked.

  “My Book of Shadows. I’ve been having nightmares ever since I got involved with this case, and I’ve been recording them here. Apparently, they contain clues about the killer, or it seems that way so far. They predicted the death of the fourth victim and the abduction of the little girl… Unfortunately, I just didn’t interpret the meanings soon enough to prevent either of those things from happening.”

  “Maybe there’s something we can do to help,” Cally volunteered, focusing her attention on me. “We used to discuss dreams with Ariel all the time.”

  “Yeah,” R.J. agreed with her. “Ariel was real good at figuring out the weird stuff.”

  “That would explain some of the things in here then.” I waved
the notebook. “She’s been appearing in my nightmares, and the clues have definitely been obscure.”

  The atmosphere around Cally and R.J. had grown tight with bristling energy. I could almost feel an electrical surge flowing from the two of them as they relaxed and attuned themselves with their surroundings. Even with the weight of the current situation, I was hard pressed not to feel a sense of pride in how well Ariel had taught them about The Craft. It was obvious to me that they truly wanted to help.

  “You mean you think Ariel might be directing your visions?” Cally posed.

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “Whoa, that’s pretty intense, man,” R.J. exclaimed.

  I glanced over at Ben who was quietly observing the scene before him with professional detachment. Even though he had recently come to accept my visions as true precursors to future events, what we Witches were now viewing as a normal conversation certainly had to appear outlandish to him. His exposure to our way of life over the past week appeared to have opened his eyes however, as he seemed to be taking it all in stride.

  “What kinds of things has she been throwing at you?” Cally prodded.

  “A good example would be the Seven of Pentacles showing up all over the place.”

  “The suit of coins,” she recited mechanically. “The money card.”

  “You read?” Felicity inquired.

  “Yeah. I learned from Ariel,” she acknowledged. “She was really into tarot.”

  “Unfortunately, we aren’t,” I outlined. “So I had to do a little research on the meanings. Even so, it still didn’t make any sense until today.”

  “I almost forgot to ask,” Felicity expressed. “Was your idea about that right?”

  “He was on the nose,” Ben spoke up. “All of the victims had accounts at the same bank except the Radcliffe woman. So Svengali here says, ‘What about her roommate?’ And bingo! There it is. Her roommate’s bank account matched up with the other three.”