The District

by Carol Ericson

  “But was tied up and—the little girl is gone.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  A fury, hot and potent, burned in Eric’s chest and he slammed his fist against the wall as Christina sank to the floor.

  The chief continued, and Eric had to close his eyes to focus on his words. “Mrs. Sandoval didn’t see her attacker. He came at her from behind and knocked her over the head. When she came to, she was tied up and her granddaughter was gone. My officers are canvasing the area and we have our crime scene techs on the way for fingerprinting.”

  Eric exchanged more information with Chief Picard, giving him Darius Cole as a possible suspect. The chief assured him they’d have the SFPD check out Cole’s apartment in the city. When he hung up, he joined Christina on the floor.

  She sobbed against his chest. “He’s not going to be waiting for the police at his apartment. He has our little girl. He’s going to take her blood, just like the others. She’s third-generation legacy of one of the most powerful brujos in the coven.”

  And a second-generation victim of kidnapping. He’d failed Noah Beckett, and now he’d failed Kendall. He didn’t deserve to be a father.

  Christina clung to him. “We have to find Cole. We have to save Kendall. You were right. It’s all about power and he wants to take hers.”

  His heart thundered in his chest. He’d just found his daughter, and he wasn’t about to let some brujo-wannabe steal her away from him.

  Adrenaline surged through his body and he rose to his feet, bringing Christina with him. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a little shake, as much for his benefit as for hers. “Think. What does he want with Kendall?”

  She sniffled, but her jaw formed a hard line. “He wants her blood. He wants the power that a third-generation legacy will give him.”

  He released her and drew his hand across his mouth. “The other legacy victims—Olivia, Juarez, Liz and Nora—they weren’t enough for him. He was determined to get the blood of the most powerful brujo in that coven—your father.”

  “Right. He thought he’d start with Vivi, and then found out about me. Maybe he figured the half-diluted blood of Octavio Sandoval was good enough, but when he discovered that I was an only child and that I had an only child, he wanted to improve his chances.”

  “How else could he improve his chances? He’ll want to make sure this time.”

  “By following the old rituals.” She dashed a tear from her cheek. “He obviously knows more about this stuff than I do.”

  With his fingertips buzzing, he grabbed Christina again. “And where’s the best place to perform those ancient rituals and when?”

  Her eyes widened. “The old union hall in The Haight—at the witching hour.”

  * * *

  THE HAIGHT-ASHBURY DISTRICT—the event that marked his life forever began here and it would end here.

  Christina parked the car down the block from the union hall. They took side streets so they could approach the old building from the back. A few homeless people stirred in their makeshift beds in doorways and on city benches, but nobody disturbed them.

  A lone car huddled against the chain-link fence that wound its way behind the union hall property. Had that been where Darius parked his car the night he attacked Christina?

  She must’ve had the same thought as she jerked her thumb at the vehicle.

  Eric slipped wire cutters from his jacket and quickly pinched a succession of links on the fence to create a hole. He held up his hand to Christina as he crawled through first.

  She joined him on the other side, and he pulled her against the wall of the building where Uma had sent her looking for the restroom.

  They flattened themselves against the building and edged around the corner. The high windows of the union hall were dark, but Eric’s nostrils flared at the smell of smoke.

  Grabbing his belt loop, Christina pressed her lips to his ear. “I smell fire.”

  He nodded and scoped out the building.

  He hadn’t called in the cops. He couldn’t afford to take orders from anyone this time, couldn’t afford to lose his daughter like he’d lost Noah. He’d do this his way.

  Drawing his weapon, he hunched forward and darted from tree to planter across the quad, Christina hot on his heels.

  They confronted the double doors into the hall, firmly closed. Eric pressed his hand against the cool metal of the door, but it didn’t budge.

  He stepped back and surveyed the building. A tree nestled against the building, its branches lookout posts into the high windows that ringed the hall.

  He nudged Christina and pointed up at the tree.

  She got it. She knew what they had to do. No waiting around. No surrounding the building waiting for law enforcement. No talking to the kidnapper as he held Noah...Kendall.

  Eric boosted Christina into the tree first. She held on to a branch and walked up the trunk, sure-footed in her running shoes.

  Holstering his gun, he followed her into the reaches of the tree until she stopped right above him. She cupped her hand around her mouth and hissed down at him, “Fire.”

  He pulled himself up beside her and peered through the murky window. A light flickered on the floor of the hall, and then he saw a dark shape emerge from the front of the room—a man carrying a child.

  Drawing his weapon, he nodded to Christina. “I’m going in. We can’t wait.”

  He wouldn’t wait.

  He bent his leg at the knee and then thrust his foot forward, his heavy motorcycle boot crashing through the window. He dropped through the jagged glass, grabbing the cord from the blinds and swinging into the building like a clumsy Tarzan.

  The man inside the hall yelled and stumbled back, but not far enough.

  By the time Eric staggered to his feet, shaking broken glass from his hair, Darius Cole had regained his footing and had a limp Kendall tucked beneath one arm—a knife to her throat.

  Christina screamed as she hit the wall, dropping the cord and falling to her knees. “Leave my daughter alone.”

  Cole growled, his dark mouth a slash across his pale face. “How did you find me here?”

  Jumping up, Christina sneered. “It wasn’t through witchcraft. Where else would you go to perform your whacked-out ritual?”

  “Whacked-out ritual?” Cole spit into the fire. “You would say that—you who have everything and chose to throw it all away.”

  At least the man’s forward progress toward the fire with Kendall had halted.

  Eric waved his gun. “Why those victims?”

  “You’re here.” Cole eyed the weapon. “You must know about legacy. Those others were second-generation legacy, and that’s what saved you in the end, Christina.”

  “You attacked me here?” She’d dropped her gun in the fall through the window and glanced at it on the floor.

  “My friend, Denise, helped me lure you outside.”

  “You mean Uma?”

  “You didn’t expect her to tell you her real name, did you?”

  Eric took a step toward the fire. “And the car? Was that you, too?”

  “That was just a warning, a way to frighten you away from the case. What good would your blood have done me spilling out in the street?”

  “W-when did you figure out my daughter was third generation legacy?”

  “When I broke into that stupid old woman’s store and stole her research on the coven families. Vivi wasn’t even related to Octavio Sandoval.”

  Eric shuffled closer until the heat from the flame warmed his face. “What do you hope to accomplish from killing a child and drinking her blood?”

  Christina let out a whimper.

  “You have no idea, do you, Agent Brody? You have no clue about the power Los Brujos de Invierno have. It might s
urprise you to learn about this city’s rich and powerful having that blood running through their veins.” He lifted Kendall with one arm, the knife poised above her. “This blood.”

  “If you touch her with that knife, I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

  “You can’t.” The knife gleamed in the firelight. “I already have the blood. It’s coursing through me. You can’t harm me. Now drop the weapon or I slit her throat right now.” He pressed the silver blade to Kendall’s neck.

  Christina shouted, “Eric!”

  Did she want him to drop it or not? Didn’t matter.

  Cole was insane, and he thought he was invincible—a dangerous combination. There would be no reasoning with him. No talking.

  Eric’s muscles coiled. He held out his gun and dropped it. As soon as Cole moved the knife to his side, Eric jumped across the fire. He tackled Cole, who raised his knife once again.

  Eric ripped Kendall from the madman’s grasp just as the blade came down, grazing Eric’s arm.

  Christina swooped in and yanked Kendall away from the two bodies grappling on the floor, their hands warring for the knife.

  “Christina, my weapon!”

  With a final burst of energy, Cole threw him off and then rolled into the fire. It caught his hair first, fueled by the oil he used to slick it back.

  He wailed and then began chanting gibberish.

  Next the flames leaped up to the cloth hanging from the table. Whatever Cole had in those containers exploded. And his chanting continued.

  “Get her out! Get Kendall out!” Eric stumbled to his feet, his gaze darting around the room for something to use on the fire.

  Another small explosion rocked the room, and Christina called from the double doors, “Get out, Eric. The whole room’s going up in flames.”

  He choked and ran for the fresh air. Before following Christina outside, he glanced over his shoulder at Darius Cole writhing in the fire, his mouth still moving.

  He slammed the door.

  They ran across the quad and Eric pulled out his cell phone to call 911.

  They clambered through the hole in the fence and ran back toward the street. Christina had Kendall clasped to her chest.

  When they stopped at the corner, Eric held out his arms for Kendall. “Is she okay? Did that maniac hurt her?”

  “I—I think she’s just drugged, and she’s coming out of it.” She transferred Kendal from her arms to his. “You did it, Eric. You saved our daughter—your daughter.”

  He looked down into Kendall’s sweet, innocent face and knew he’d never leave her, never let any harm come to her. He was a father, and he’d saved himself, too.

  Epilogue

  Kendall pointed to the yellow daffodils his brother’s girlfriend, Elise, had arranged in a vase on the table. “What’s that?”

  Christina tugged one of Kendall’s curls. “They’re flowers, silly.”

  Then Kendall touched her finger to Eric’s nose. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, now I know you’re just being goofy.”

  Elise, sitting cross-legged on the floor, picked up a picture book. “Do you want to look at the book, Kendall?”

  Kendall slid from his lap and trotted over to Elise.

  His brother Sean smiled at the picture of Elise pulling Kendall into her lap and opening the book. “Elise can keep her occupied for hours. She’s great with kids.”

  Christina tapped Sean on the head as she walked behind him. “Are you trying to tell us something?”

  Sean swatted at her hand. “Some of us actually plan to get married before having kids.”

  “Oh?” Christina widened her eyes. “Now are you trying to tell us something?”

  “One thing at a time.” Sean stretched his long legs in front of him. “We’re just enjoying our time away here in San Diego.”

  Eric asked, “How many more weeks are you out?”

  “Haven’t decided yet, why?”

  “I was going to have you put in a word for Officer Griego to make detective, but I heard she was involved in a shoot-out just when we were wrapping up there.”

  “I heard that, but she’s going to be okay. I’ll talk to her about it when she’s back on duty and I’m back from my leave.” Sean crossed his arms behind his head. “So, you really think the Phone Book Killer was somehow involved in all this witchcraft stuff?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but my kidnappers definitely were.”

  “Or at least one of them.” Sean wagged his finger at him. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Like you did when Dr. Patrick wound up dead?”

  Sean’s finger moved to his lips as he glanced at Elise reading the story to Kendall. “She’s the one who found him.”

  “Well, if you’re interested in finding out more,” he said, kicking a box at his feet, “I have Christina’s notes on Dad’s case.”

  Sean eyed the box stuffed with papers. “You hauled that all the way down to San Diego?”

  “I can haul it back to Christina’s place in San Miguel, if you want.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be joining her there as soon as I finish up my next assignment, which is going to take me back to D.C. for a few months.”

  “You’d be better off giving those notes to Ryan.”

  “Why’s that? He was never much interested in the old man’s case—too young to remember much of it.” Christina sat next to him on the couch and he grabbed her hand and pulled it into his lap.

  “I guess Ryan didn’t tell you.”

  “Uh-oh. Tell me what?”

  “Some true crime writer contacted him about doing a book on Dad, and I think he agreed.”

  Christina squeezed his hand. “It must be that one we saw on TV, the one Ray told us about. Are you okay with that?”

  Eric blew out a breath. “Maybe it’s time.”

  “Maybe it’s time I get to know my niece a little.” Sean pushed up from his chair and joined Elise and Kendall on the floor.

  “We can give this stuff to Ryan.” She shoved the box with the toe of her shoe. “You’re sure you’re okay with a book?”

  He cupped the side of her face with one hand. “I’m okay with a lot of things.”

  “I’ll never keep anything from you again, Eric. I was so foolish.”

  He kissed her mouth and drew his tongue across her lips. “Very foolish, and you’re going to have to pay in oh, so many ways.”

  Her dark eyes lit up. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you...anything your heart desires.”

  Her low, purring voice sent a shaft of lust straight to his core. “When is Kendall’s nap time again?”

  She chuckled and nuzzled his ear. “Looks like Kendall has bewitched her Uncle Sean.”

  He slipped his hands beneath her shirt, spanning her bare back. “Her mother bewitched me long ago—and she didn’t even need her special powers to do it.”

  * * * * *

  Look for more books in Carol Ericson’s

  BRODY LAW miniseries later in 2014.

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  Chapter One

  Hope Algier preferred sunshine and fresh air to a stuffy office. Except today.

  She spent most of her life outdoors. Her father had tried for years to entice his baby girl into the boardroom of the family business with promises of expensive cars and impressive bonus packages. She turned them all down without a second thought, but right now a leather chair behind a big desk sounded good.

  Trees towered over her and surrounded her on every side. This section of land adjacent to West Virginia’s Cranberry Wilderness was called the Cranberry Backcountry for a reason. It consisted of more than eleven thousand acres of hills and woods and little else.

  Animals skittered around her. Leaves rustled as the summer wind blew warm air under her ponytail and across the back of her neck. Thick branches blocked most of the sunlight, giving her an eerie sense of isolation.

  No people, no houses and no easy way out.

  Turned out, this patch of forest messed with her satellite phone. She needed open sky for a signal, and she could only see peeks of blue through the canopy of summer green leaves above her. Right about now she’d give anything for a second of heat on her face.

  She slipped behind a large trunk and leaned against it. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears as she slipped the sat phone out of the pocket of her cargo shorts. It measured a bit longer than a cell phone and fit in her palm. The map she’d memorized earlier and carried in her back pocket pointed to a clearing up ahead. She hoped she was close enough to catch a signal.

  Please let it work this time.

  She pushed buttons. When that didn’t do anything, she smacked the side, hoping to jolt it into action. She even thought about smashing it against the cushion of dirt and leaves under her hiking boots.

  She was about to repeat the hitting cycle when something crunched off to her right...again. The same subtle crackling she’d been hearing on and off since she’d dove deep into the trees. A squirrel, probably. She repeated the comment in her head over and over, hoping to reassure her brain and stop the sudden subtle shake moving through her hands. She refused to think bear or, worse, predator of the two-legged kind.