I felt certain it wasn’t Emily Foster calling upon me again. I could tell that simply by the way the pain was touching me. Unfortunately, I had no idea who it was demanding my attention even though something told me I should. Given the circumstances and the sickening churn in the pit of my stomach, unchecked speculation made me fear it might be Judith Albright.
Right or wrong I decided to keep this fresh round of torment to myself. I didn’t feel much like fielding any questions just yet nor was I in the mood to fend off concerns. I already knew there would be enough of that to deal with once we arrived.
I could feel the van swaying to the right and starting to slow, so I opened my eyes. I saw immediately that Ben was veering from the highway and onto the shoulder to avoid a line of brightly burning road flares that had been set out to block the entrance to the rest area. Hooking around them, he aimed the Chevy along the ramp and began to slow even more. Ahead of us, framed in the swath of the vehicle’s headlamps, was a highway patrol cruiser, light bar flickering and parked diagonally across the access road. We rolled to a stop several feet away as the officer inside the car slowly climbed out and held up his hand. After a moment he cautiously made his way toward us with the butt of a large flashlight resting on his shoulder while he aimed the beam at us. His other hand was hanging conspicuously close to his sidearm.
Ben pulled out his badge case then rolled down his window and waited as the trooper approached on a wide arc.
“I’m sorry, but this rest area is temporarily closed,” the officer stated, still standing several feet back and to the side with his hand now resting on the butt of his pistol.
“Detective Storm,” my friend announced, offering his badge and ID. “Major Case Squad.”
Angling the light on my friend’s hand, the trooper relaxed, but only slightly, before stepping forward and taking it from him.
Even though it was well away from Saint Louis proper, the rest area was located in Warren County. Since the Major Case Squad was handling this investigation and both the Warren County Sheriff’s office and Missouri State Highway Patrol were participating agencies with the MCS, Ben was still operating within his jurisdiction.
The uniformed man inspected the ID then handed it back to him with a nod. “Thanks. They’ve been expecting you,” he said then beamed his flashlight along the road. “Veer right to the car park area and head straight back. It’s on the other side of the lot behind the facilities building. Can’t miss it. You’ll sign in up there.”
“Thanks,” Ben told him.
We waited as the trooper returned to his vehicle then backed it up a few feet to allow us room to pass.
“Whatever ya’ do, stick close to me. Both of ya’,” my friend told us as he rolled up his window and started nudging the van forward. “I don’t feel like gettin’ into a yellin’ match right now.”
“Why would that happen?” Felicity asked from the rear seat. “Didn’t he just say we were expected?”
“Yeah… And we are,” he replied. “But since the hubcap chasers found the car, they’re gonna wanna take the lead on this. We just gotta let ‘em think they’re in charge while we do what we’re here to do. So that means hang close, let me talk, and you two just do the Twilight Zone thing.”
“In other words, we’re dealing with inter agency politics,” I offered, my voice flat and emotionless as I was still intent on keeping my inner turmoil under wraps.
“Yeah, the big, nasty P word… that’s about the size of it. And as usual everybody’s gonna want the credit on their resume.”
I wasn’t surprised by his commentary. Jurisdiction alone didn’t mean cooperation was going to come easy, and I had first hand experience with that. I’d actually witnessed the backbiting he’d just described on more than one occasion.
“What about you?” I asked out of idle curiosity. “Don’t you want to bolster yours a bit?”
“Yeah, right, and risk a fuckin’ promotion? Hell no. I already sit behind a desk long enough as it is,” he replied. “I move up too much farther I’ll be stuck in a goddamn office with no windows, spendin’ all day lookin’ at crime stats on a friggin’ computer screen and gettin’ a chronic case of numb ass.”
I forced myself to chuckle lightly. “You’ve said yourself that we’re both getting too old for this stuff. I thought maybe you’d be ready for a desk job.”
“No,” he huffed, shaking his head. “Old’s one thing, but I ain’t dead yet.”
We cruised through the empty expanse of parking spaces then rounded the backside of the rest area, heading for the far end of the lot as we had been directed. The moment we reached the beginning of the bend and just before the turn toward the left, a chaotic dance of luminance blossomed across the windshield. The cluster of flashing emergency lights had not been visible from the highway as we approached, but from this vantage point they lit up the night.
Several squad cars, both from the state patrol and the sheriff’s office were stationed on either side of the vehicle in question. Crime scene tape ran between trees, lampposts, and bumpers in order to cordon off the area. A second flashlight-wielding officer waved us toward a parking space beneath one of the light standards and began walking in our direction while Ben pulled the van in and shut off the engine.
I unlatched my seatbelt then climbed out of the passenger side and jerked open the sliding door for Felicity. The cold night air was a crisp shock against the bare skin of my face after sitting in the warm interior of the vehicle for the past hour. In that moment I was very glad we had stopped by my wife’s Jeep to retrieve my jacket before heading out.
Dusk had fallen hard, and even though we had recently been through an abnormally warm stretch, a cold front was encroaching, and the temperatures dipped quickly as soon as the sun went into hiding below the horizon. Since the day had been clear and no cloud cover had yet to roll through, there was no insulation to keep in what little heat the ground had accumulated over the past few days. Therefore, the outside temperature was making my memories of the earlier chill in the morgue seem almost warm by comparison.
My wife levered the van door shut then turned to me with a concerned look on her face. “Rowan… You’ve seemed a bit out of it for the past few minutes. Are you feeling okay then?”
I sighed as I reached up to rub my temples. My short reprieve was over, and lying to her wasn’t going to do any good, so I gave in. “The headache is back… But, it isn’t Emily… I’m not sure who it is… It feels familiar…too familiar…but foreign as well… Does that make sense?”
“You don’t think it’s…” She allowed her voice to trail off.
I could tell by her words that she was thinking the same thing I had been. I shook my head and muttered, “I’m trying not to.”
Ben was already talking to the state trooper by the time we hooked around the back end of the van and joined him. They both looked over at us, and my friend gave a nod in my direction.
“I was beginnin’ ta’ think we were gonna hafta send a search party lookin’ for ya’,” he quipped.
“Just getting situated,” I replied.
“Here,” he said as he held a clipboard out to me. Then he directed his words to the trooper. “They’ll need ta’ sign in too. They’re special consultants for Major Case.”
“No problem,” the man replied with a nod.
I stepped forward and took the proffered crime scene log, signed my name, and then under the heading for title entered exactly what Ben had just called us, “special consultant.” When I was finished entering the “time in” I handed it to Felicity so she could do the same. When she gave the clipboard back to the officer, he glanced at the signatures then looked us both up and down.
“The crime scene guys are already here,” he stated. “What kind of consultants are you two?”
Without missing a beat I replied, “Reluctant.”
Once again he gave the clipboard a one-eyed stare for a second then mumbled something not quite intelligible.
&n
bsp; “Wait a minute,” he finally said. “Gant… Yeah, I knew I’d heard that name before. You’re the psychic.”
I wasn’t surprised at what he said. Between media coverage and word of mouth, I didn’t meet too many cops in the state who hadn’t at least heard of me—in one sense or another. Unfortunately, the rumors weren’t always true or particularly flattering either.
“Yeah, something like that,” I half agreed rather than launch into an involved explanation.
In truth, his assessment was probably closer to the mark than I really wanted to admit. Witch or not, my facility was at least as much psychic as it was magick, probably even more so. The big difference was that I didn’t make a career of bilking grieving families out of money to tell them vague and ambiguous stories about their departed loved ones with whom I was supposedly conversing. Instead, I worked for free to offer the police vague and ambiguous clues in order to stop the voices inside my head. Unfortunately, my payoff never lasted long.
“I thought so,” he replied then snorted out a small laugh. “Yeah, my sister is all about the psychic stuff. She watches the shows on TV and everything.”
“As long as she’s entertained,” I said with a slight nod and no enthusiasm whatsoever in my voice. “But, do her a big favor and tell her not to spend money on telephone and TV psychics.”
“Yeah, I’ve told her that. The way I see it they’re just a bunch of crooks, right?”
I shrugged. “Probably not all, but most of them, yeah, that would be my guess. All I can say for sure is that no amount of money is worth having dead people bounce around inside your head on purpose, so that should tell you something right there.”
“What about you?” he asked, giving me a stoic nod. “What makes you different from them?”
“I only do this because I haven’t got a choice,” I replied.
My headache had been ramping up ever since we’d arrived, but for the most part I was once again becoming acquainted with the pain and, more importantly, treating it as nothing more than the usual chronic nuisance. Or so I thought.
I had scarcely finished speaking when a violent stab of agony drilled its way through my brain with enough force to make me grimace and stumble forward before catching myself. I reached up with both hands and cradled my head between them as if it was going to explode.
“Something wrong?” the officer asked.
“Shining…example…of what…I…just said,” I groaned the sentence in a halting rhythm.
Nausea was beginning to churn in the pit of my stomach, and my ears were ringing as the parking lot seemed to undulate beneath my feet. I stumbled in place once again, nearly pitching face first onto the asphalt.
Felicity instantly took hold of my shoulder in an attempt to steady me. Ben was only a half step behind her as he came forward and grabbed me beneath the arms then propped me back against the van and held me up.
“You gonna be okay, Kemosabe?” my friend asked.
“Do I look like it?” I answered between clenched teeth.
Felicity spoke up, directing herself to the state trooper with an air of calm authority. “Officer, the next town isn’t far from here, aye?”
“Yes ma’am, Wright City. Do we need to get him to the hospital?”
“No,” she replied, urgency seeping into her voice. “But we need salt, and a lot of it.”
CHAPTER 26:
“Been almost fifteen minutes,” Ben stated in a matter of fact tone. “He should be getting back here any time now.”
We were all sitting in the van once again, but the vehicle was stationary, parked where Ben had originally nosed it in upon our arrival. We were waiting for everybody’s favorite seasoning to be delivered to us, which was something I hadn’t been expecting. All I knew was that Felicity had made the urgent comment, and then Ben had picked it up and run with it. How he managed to convince a Warren County Sheriff’s deputy to make a lights and siren run for as much salt as two twenty-dollar bills could buy, I had no idea. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know either.
I had my eyes closed, but I could hear movement up front. Judging from the sound, I assumed my friend was twisting around in his seat to check on me since I was sitting in the back. Both Felicity and he had been doing that quite a bit.
My blind assumption was proven out when he spoke again, and his voice came at me from a more direct angle. “How you doin’, Row? Hangin’ in there?”
“It isn’t as bad as you two are making it out to be,” I mumbled. “It’s just one of the headaches. You should be used to them by now. I am.”
Of course, the believability of my comment was rendered null and void by the obvious strain in my voice. The truth is, I wasn’t even managing to convince myself.
“Yeah, right,” he countered. “And it was just another one of those headaches earlier too, and then ya’ started bleedin’ all over the place. What if that happens again?”
“It won’t.”
“Oh yeah, and how do ya’ know that?”
“Because this isn’t Emily Foster trying to communicate with me.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes. I can tell by the way it feels.”
“Bullshit. Pain is pain, Row.”
“Trust me, it isn’t.”
“Uh-huh, well big deal. So maybe it’s not Foster. What if it’s the Jane Doe?” He pressed. “Do I need ta’ remind you she died the same way? She might just decide ta’ make ya’ bleed too, and she might not be as nice about it.”
Before I could object again, Felicity spoke up. “I have to agree with him, Row. You don’t really know who it is trying to talk to you, and you told me yourself that it feels odd. It’s not worth the chance. You can’t afford to lose any more blood. Your body can’t take it.”
“I still say you two are being paranoid,” I groaned. My voice still wasn’t convincing, especially to me.
Ben turned his attention toward my wife. “So, Firehair, lemme ask ya’ somethin’. The salt didn’t work at the morgue, so what makes ya’ think it’ll work here?”
“Actually, it did work at the morgue,” she replied. “Just not the way I intended.”
“Coulda fooled me. You wanna explain that one?”
“Simple. It made Emily Foster leave. It just didn’t keep her from wreaking a little havoc first.”
“You call the white man bleedin’ all over the floor a little havoc?”
“Okay, a lot of havoc. It’s just an expression, Ben.”
“Uh-huh… So what you’re sayin’ is that it was s’posed ta’ keep all that from happenin’ in the first place?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, okay…” he grunted. “So ‘splain that one. Why didn’t it work right?”
“There were extenuating circumstances. It’s complicated. Better you just trust me and not worry about it.”
A lull fell between them for a few heartbeats.
“Wait…” he finally said, distress welling in his voice. “Was it my fault? It wasn’t ‘cause there was pepper in there with the salt too, was it? Dammit, I knew I shoulda picked those out!”
“No,” she replied, her own voice a mix of forced reassurance and mild irritation. “That wasn’t it. The pepper didn’t matter.”
“You sure?”
“Aye, Ben, I’m sure. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Good. So, why didn’t it work right then?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Uh-huh… Complicated as in you think I won’t understand, or complicated as in you’re hidin’ somethin’?”
“It’s WitchCraft, Ben, it isn’t your forte. Isn’t that what you always tell us?”
“Yeah, but it’s my for-tay,” he stressed, “to know bullshit when I smell it. I’m thinkin’ maybe it didn’t work right ‘cause you didn’t say a poem.”
“I really think you need to stop dwelling on that,” she told him coolly.
“Of course you do. Because I’m right, ain’t I?”
&n
bsp; “Keep it up and I will hurt you,” she told him, a frost in her voice that chilled the words in such a way as to add harsh punctuation to the threat.
“Do you think you two could play nice?” I asked. “Your bickering really isn’t helping my head at all.”
“I am playing nice,” my wife returned. “For the moment.” She paused then added, “That could change very quickly though.”
“Looks like he might be back,” Ben announced. “I’ll go check.” The absent tone in his voice told me he had already taken a left turn away from the previous conversation and was now re-focused on the original issue at hand, namely the salt.
I heard his door latch clunk, and the dome light popped on, making the previously dark world behind my tightly closed eyes illuminate with a dull, reddish glow. A second or two later, the same noise sounded on the other side of the vehicle. The out of synch stereo of both doors opening told me that Felicity was climbing out as well.
A blast of cold air blew through the interior of the van, swirling into the back and brushing its unseen fingers across my face. It actually lent some momentary relief to the throb in my skull, but momentary was the key word. I knew there wasn’t enough cold out there to act as an analgesic for what was going on inside my head—not without literally freezing me to death that is.
“Rowan, stay here,” Felicity instructed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yes ma’am,” I muttered in return.
Seconds later the out-of-phase stereo of the doors thudding closed dropped my world back into cold darkness, with the small exception of the nearly imperceptible flicker of the emergency lights through the back windows. I let out a slow breath and continued rubbing my temples even though the massage wasn’t proving to give me any relief from the pain. What I really wanted was a handful of aspirin. At least I knew those would take the edge off before this became any worse.
Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 22
