Crone’s Moon argi-5

by M. R. Sellars

  Having been the one in the hot seat to begin with, I opened myself to the darkness, literally calling out to and inviting in the voices I so often wanted to quell in the worst way. Much to my surprise, those who inhabited the other side of the dark curtain were even eschewing contact with me for a change. If they were talking, it wasn’t to me.

  As far as I could tell, all was quiet in both worlds, and I began to ponder the idea that it might actually be over. I wondered if my bane had truly disappeared and that the past few years had been nothing more than a bad dream. And, as much as I hated not being able to help find the killer of those three women, having my own voice be the only one to inhabit my skull was a welcome and restful change.

  At the same time, as much as I had begun to consider the unwanted psychic events as a now distant memory, I knew I could never be so lucky. I had stared directly into the face of evil on a hot summer night a few scant years ago and at that moment, knew that it was my destiny to do so again and again.

  Because of that, I wasn’t terribly surprised when I awoke one gentle autumn afternoon, completely disoriented, lying in a crumpled heap in the backyard; with a metallic taste in my mouth, my tongue feeling like freshly ground hamburger, and my wife’s concerned face staring down into mine.

  CHAPTER 29:

  “You’re okay?” Felicity asked as she pushed a glass of salt water into my hand and picked yet another crumbling leaf from my hair.

  Her words ran past me, stretching into a drawn-out, half-speed playback. I considered the question then nodded for lack of anything else to do.

  “Then I’m calling Ben,” she told me in her full-fledged ‘don’t you dare argue with me’ voice.

  It took a few seconds for the meaning of her words to register. My nerves were so jangled that I seemed to be lagging at least a half step behind everything going on around me. I suddenly noticed that she was no longer in front of me and that somehow my mouth was now full of salt water. I looked to the side and saw that she was across the room. She already had the phone in her hand and was stabbing at the buttons with her dainty thumb. I gave what I thought was a quick swish, twisted my head to spit the mouthful of salt water into the kitchen sink, dribbled a good portion of it down my shirt, and then turned back to her and nodded.

  “Othay,” I said, pushing the half-intelligible word past my swelling tongue. “Buth thhith maith be nutthin. Juss enethy baglath”

  My response was completely moot. She was already asking whoever had answered the line if she could speak to Detective Benjamin Storm. I kept quiet and took another swig of the warm brine then began to swish it around again as I watched my wife impatiently shuffling in place with the phone up to her ear. My brain was having trouble processing the image, and what I got was more along the lines of a fuzzy pair of Felicity’s dancing in the air before me. I blinked hard and shook my head, trying to get a grip on reality.

  “Fek!” she spat after a moment, then pulled the phone away and thumbed the off-hook switch. “Voice mail.”

  I spit again, managing to hit only the sink and not my shirt, then asked, “Ovit or tell?”

  “What?”

  I had made a serious mess of my tongue this time around. Worse than the times before and that didn’t bode well. What I had just tried to tell her was that this might be nothing at all. That it might be nothing more than an energy backlash a few months in the making. An ethereal echo created by all of our attempts to reconnect with Brittany Larson. It wasn’t out of the question. Felicity and I had put every ounce we could spare into the attempts, and then some, so backlash was a very real possibility. Put simply, there were times that casting undirected energies upon ethereal waters was much like gambling. In some cases, however, it could be a not quite practiced, side-armed fling of a boomerang; and, if you turned your back on it you ran the risk of getting cold-cocked.

  But, that wasn’t what was happening now. Even though I had said it aloud, I didn’t believe it at all. And, it was obvious that my wife didn’t either. I knew I was just trying to convince myself that this couldn’t be starting again- so much for trying to be reassuring.

  I was now fighting a headache that had positioned itself at the base of my skull, and I knew right away that it wasn’t going to be responding to aspirin, willow bark tea, or any other remedy I could cook up. But at least I was starting to be able to see straight even if it was taking a lot of concentration.

  I struggled with my aching tongue and tried again. “Ovfith or t-thell?”

  “Office,” she replied, finally grasping my words.

  “Thry hith tell.”

  “That’s what I’m doing, Row,” she returned, waving the phone at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Ah thnno,” I mumbled.

  “Aye, sorry then. Wrong number,” I heard her say, then she spat, “Dammit, I can’t remember his cell number.”

  “Thith, tthedro…” I started. “Tho. Ith fife, thefthn…” After the second try, I realized I was in no condition to extract the number from my scrambled grey matter. Fortunately, I was still possessed of enough lucidity to notice the caller ID box on the wall. I shook my head and pointed to it. “Thayre. Theck thh calther Idee.”

  She was getting better at understanding my new language, and she immediately began scrolling through the numbers until she hit what she was searching for. With a quick flourish, she tapped in the seven digits and tucked the handset back beneath her mane of spiraling auburn curls.

  She began her impatient shuffle once again, and I watched her as I fumbled with the cap on a bottle of aspirin. I knew it wouldn’t help my head, but maybe it would do some good for my tortured tongue.

  “Aye, Benjamin,” she said suddenly. “It’s Felicity. No, this is important. Row just had another seizure… Yes, just like before… Not ten minutes ago… Yes…”

  I watched on as she paused, obviously listening to him. Her face grew hard and her lips curled into a frown. After a moment she spoke again. “When?… No… We haven’t even had the TV on for two days now… Aye… Yes… He seems to be okay at the moment, I think… Rattled… No… No, not yet… Yes… Okay… Should I call her?… Yes… Okay then, we’ll be here.”

  She hung up the phone without even telling him goodbye. When she turned back to me, there was an even thicker layer of concern overlaying her features.

  “Whathh?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.

  “He’s on his way,” she said. “He wants me to call Constance.”

  “Ah kinna gotthh thaa,” I replied. “Whath-elth?”

  She shook her head and looked away for a moment before locking eyes with me once again. “He says the Major Case Squad is already working a scene. They found another body, Row. Just like before. Shallow grave, near the Missouri River, no head.”

  I looked back at her and closed my eyes as I slowly shook my head. A wave of nausea welled up in my stomach, bringing its thin burn up to my mid-chest.

  Even though I had known in my heart that this wasn’t backlash, and even though I had known that this was going to happen again, I had still hoped I was mistaken. Right now, I would have given just about anything to be wrong.

  If all this weren’t enough, I was also directing anger inward at myself. I didn’t know if it was because I had tried too hard or not hard enough. Or, if perhaps it were all because I had begun to take comfort in the fact that the dead had stopped speaking to me, and due to that, had ignored a sign I normally would have picked up. Whatever the reason, I knew it must be my fault that I had only now heard the voice from beyond the veil. Only now, finally choosing to listen, after she was already dead and there was no way to save her.

  I beat back the desire to vomit and opened my eyes. Felicity was still staring at me, her face stricken with the same pained mask I’d seen her wear four months ago.

  “Dammit,” I spat.

  It was the first clear thing I’d said in the past fifteen minutes.

  *****

  “Whoa, back up, Kemosabe,”
Ben told me, waving his hand to indicate that I should calm down. “You’re makin’ assumptions, so lemme just tell ya’ what’s goin’ on.”

  “I already know what’s going on,” I returned.

  Fortunately, the combination of salt water, aspirin, and ice had taken the swelling in my tongue down enough to allow me to communicate normally by the time he had arrived. The lingual organ still had a tendency to get in the way of my teeth from time to time, but at least I was intelligible for the moment.

  My friend had barely made it through the front door when I started in on him, all but babbling about what had transpired. The anger I had internalized had grown beyond my limits and was now venting back into the world as I outwardly berated myself for obviously missing something. Of course, what I was missing right now was the fact that he needed me to be quiet and let him talk.

  “No, you don’t,” he replied. “There’s more goin’ on here than ya’ know.”

  “I know another woman is dead, Ben, and it’s my fault!” I appealed.

  “No, it ain’t. Now do you wanna shut up and listen to me for a sec?” he barked.

  I started to form a comeback, then decided against it. Ben had a look on his face that told me he was starting to lose his patience, and I knew that if he did, it wouldn’t be pretty. So, instead of a trite objection, I simply said, “Fine. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Okay,” he replied. “First off, we’ve got a bit of a misunderstanding here. What was found today was skeletal remains. Not a fresh body.”

  “So this happened some time ago then?” Felicity interjected.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Matter of fact, the medical examiner is estimating somethin’ like two years, but that’s not a definite until they run some tests. However, the skull is missing, and there are saw marks on the vertebrae. So, add it all up, and it’s a good bet we’re dealin’ with the same asshole.”

  I still wasn’t finished being angry with myself, so I spat, “Well, then I should have picked up on it two years ago then.”

  “Give yourself a fuckin’ break, Row,” Ben offered with an impatient shake of his head. “Who knows? You were prob’ly all Twilight Zoned ‘bout somethin’ else when this one happened.”

  “That’s no excuse,” I grumbled.

  “Yeah, well deal with it,” he replied. “I need ya’ focused right now.”

  “What for? I snipped. “She’s already dead.”

  “Listen, drop the attitude before I kick your sorry ass around the block,” Ben said. “I already told ya’ you don’t have the whole story yet, and your not givin’ me a chance to tell it.”

  I wanted to fire off a retort, however, he was dead on the mark; so I kept my mouth shut and sat stewing in my own self-loathing.

  “Gods,” Felicity said. “Don’t tell me there’s more.”

  “Sorry, but there is,” he continued. “And, the way I got it figured the remains they found ain’t why you’re goin’ la-la all of a sudden, Row.”

  “What then?” my wife asked.

  He sighed and then gave his neck a quick rub. “This has been all over the news today, so I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it. At around seven forty-five this morning, one of the security cameras on the parking lot at Northwoods Mall caught somethin’. A young woman was abducted while she was on her way in to work. Went down pretty much the same way we witnessed it happen with Larson, white man. And, from what I saw on the tape, it was probably the same shithead doin’ it.”

  “Oh Gods,” Felicity moaned.

  I knew exactly how she felt. I was just too busy trying to ward off a sudden wave of nausea to be able to speak.

  “Yeah, well,” he continued. “The security guard who monitors the cameras was just comin’ outta the crapper, so he only caught the tail end of it happenin’. He called nine-one-one, but by then it was too late.”

  “Great,” I muttered sarcastically.

  “Yeah,” he returned and then paused for a moment. “The tape wasn’t the best. Got a make and model on the car but no tags. Doesn’t matter though ‘cause it’s prob’ly hot like last time. Nothin’ real clear on the bad guy either. Just average height, dark hair, and stocky build; again, pretty much the same as with Larson.”

  “So, who was the woman?” I asked. “Do you know?”

  I’m not sure what made me ask the question. It may have simply been the desire to hang an identity on the abductee. Perhaps it was a need to make her into something more than a nondescript entity, especially since I was apparently feeling her pain. Still, judging from the tickle in my brain, there seemed to be something more driving me when I spoke the words.

  He gave a nod. “Yeah. One of the other security officers managed to ID her as the manager of the Kathy’s Closet store there in the mall. Her car was…”

  “Wait a minute,” Felicity cut him off, a deeply concerned look washing over her face. “Kimberly was abducted?”

  Ben gave her a slightly confused glance while reaching into his pocket and pulling out his small notebook. He quickly flipped it open and glanced down. “Yeah. Kimberly Forest. You know ‘er?”

  “Aye, Kathy’s Closet is one of my big accounts,” Felicity replied. “I shoot all of their catalogs, and Kimberly has done some of the fill-in modeling. We got to know one another the past couple of years.”

  “Fuck me,” Ben muttered. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I didn’t know she was a friend.”

  “No,” I announced on the heels of his comment.

  “No, what?” he asked.

  “No,” I repeated, looking over at Felicity. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you aren’t going to do this.”

  “Aye, and you’re going to stop me?” she asserted.

  “If I have to.”

  “Try it,” she challenged, her voice taking on a hard edge.

  “Jeezus H. Christ, will you two stop it!” Ben interrupted sharply. “I ain’t got time for this crap. Look, we got a missin’ woman and no real leads except for your freaky-ass hocus-pocus shit.”

  We both looked back at him as he paused. There was a mix of pain and anger in his face, and even though his voice was harsh, it was underscored with a faint pleading tone. He was looking for help, not conflict.

  He cleared his throat then lowered his voice and continued. “Now, if this sick fuck follows the same time frame as he did with Larson, Kimberly Forest is gonna be dead inside of twenty-four hours. That doesn’t leave us much time.”

  “You’re right, sorry,” I apologized.

  “Listen,” he said. “I wasn’t even gonna call you. I know what you two have been through, and I hate the thought of draggin’ ya’ through it again. But… But, since you called me…” He allowed his voice to trail off, staring back at me with an apologetic look.

  “It’s okay,” I told him. “We all knew I’d end up in the middle again. It was only a matter of time.”

  “So, do ya’ think you can help?” he asked. “Or is this just gonna put ya’ through hell for nothin’?”

  “I don’t know. This seizure was just like before, Ben,” I explained. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “Shit. Not what I wanted to hear.”

  “I know, but I’m not going to give up yet.”

  “Row, after what happened a few months ago…” he began.

  “The hell is going to happen anyway, Ben,” I told him. “Look at what just occurred. Why Felicity called you. There’s nothing I can do to stop it, so I might as well try to use it to our advantage.”

  “How you gonna do that if you don’t remember anything?”

  “We’ll just have to try it again,” I offered.

  “Try what? You mean the hypnosis?” Felicity asked. “Like last time.”

  “Maybe,” I replied. “Or maybe something more direct.”

  “Rowan, what are you thinking?” Felicity asked. I could tell she was already preparing her own veto for my yet to be announced course of action.

  “Psychometry” was my single word res
ponse.

  “What the hell’s that?” Ben asked with a harrumph. “Math for Witches?”

  “Psychic impressions from physical contact,” Felicity explained.

  He nodded. “So you mean like when you go all la-la from touching a victim’s body?”

  “Exactly,” I replied. “But it’s also like when I ‘see’ things at crime scenes just by being there.”

  “Okay, so that’s what ya’ call it.” He raised an eyebrow and gave his head a quick, sideways cant. “So you wanna go to the site of the abduction?”

  “For starters.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Let’s cross that bridge if we get to it.”

  CHAPTER 30:

  “So whaddaya need to do, Row?” Ben asked as he nosed his van into a parking space, levered it into park, and then turned in his seat to look back at me.

  Felicity was sitting directly behind him in the back seat, and I was on the passenger side near the door. Agent Mandalay was in the front with him, riding shotgun. She had returned Felicity’s call just as we were getting ready to leave, so we had waited for her arrival before making the trek to the Northwoods Shopping Mall.

  “Where did the abduction actually take place?” I asked.

  “Let me see,” he murmured, then began counting to himself as he lazily gestured out the window with his finger. “…Four… Five… Six… That one. That should be it, right over there.” He pointed through the passenger side of the windshield. “See that light standard? That should be the one she was next to when she was grabbed.”

  I followed the line of his arm to the large concrete footing and towering light post some thirty to forty yards away in the opposite row.

  “You don’t know for sure?” Felicity asked.

  “I’m not actually workin’ this case,” he reminded her, then pointed out the passenger side window. “I know for sure it was on this lot. There’s the Kathy’s Closet store, over there, and that is the row Ackman said she was parked in. Right now I’m just goin’ by what I was told and the tape they showed me when I was asked to ID the shithead.”