“Are you coming over?” she asked him.
“Soon.”
“Good. We’ll pull something together for dinner,” she said.
“Sounds good.”
Rocky hung up and realized he was near Brent’s Which Witch Is Which, and decided he needed to drop in.
Brent was there—glum and alone.
He looked at Rocky with weary eyes. “No tour tonight—I guess news of my visit to the police station got out.”
“I’m sorry,” Rocky told him. “You did have the cell phone.”
“I was set up.”
“By who?”
“I wish to hell I knew,” Brent said.
“We’ll catch him and this will end,” Rocky said. “And then, who knows, your adventure might become a selling point.”
“This from the man who ruined my life.”
“Your life isn’t ruined—the dead women are the ones whose lives have been ruined.”
Brent swallowed and glanced at Rocky with a guilty expression. “Yeah, sorry, you’re right.”
“Did you go by Devin’s with Beth a few nights ago?”
Brent frowned. “Yeah, but she wasn’t there.”
“Thanks,” Rocky told him.
“Why are you asking?”
“Brent, I know you think I tried to ruin your life, but there was nothing personal about it. It’s just that the more we know, the easier it is to zero in on what we don’t know and narrow down the clues to the ones that might actually lead us somewhere.”
“So what do I have to do to get off your suspect list?” Brent asked. “You want me to wear an anklet that tells you where I am all the time?”
“Not a bad idea,” Rocky said. “But not really legal, either.”
“Hey, I’ll report in any time you want. I’m not going through that again.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“No, no, you don’t,” Brent said. “But I believe you’re trying,” he added grudgingly.
Rocky’s phone rang, and he excused himself to answer.
It was Sam Hall. “Get over here now. We have an ID on our Jane Doe.”
CHAPTER 17
“Hermione?” Rocky said. He knew he sounded bewildered, but really? Hermione?
“Hermione Robicheaux,” Devin said. “Her family moved south in the 1800s. But once Jenna found the missing-persons report with her picture, it was easy to trace her family history and end up right here in Salem.”
“We contacted the Nashville police. They sent her dental records to the morgue in Boston, and the M.E. confirmed it. She’s our Jane Doe,” Angela told him.
“Hermione?” Rocky said again.
“Her parents apparently liked the name, even before Harry Potter,” Sam said. “She was thirty—one of our older victims. And the reason we couldn’t ID her sooner is she had vacation time coming and planned her trip here on her own to look into her family history. When she didn’t show up at work a few days ago, her boss thought she had just up and quit—apparently they didn’t get along too well―but her coworkers got worried. Her parents died when she was young, and she grew up in foster homes. But they contacted the distant cousin she’d listed as next of kin, and that’s who filed the report.”
“Makes her death even sadder,” Devin said. “She was just looking for family—for people to love.”
“Maybe she’s finally found family,” Auntie Mina said.
Devin looked over at her and smiled, then turned back to Rocky. “No one here reported her missing?”
“She might not have had time to check into a hotel. Besides, the people who work around here can see hundreds of people in a day. It’s not surprising no one recognized her picture.”
“So the victims weren’t random,” Sam said. “Whoever the killer is, he has a way to find victims who fit his profile.”
“And he knew how to hack the surveillance system at the hotel,” Jane pointed out.
“I’m impressed,” Rocky said, looking around Devin’s dining room table at the group that had gathered: Sam, Jenna, Jane, Angela, Devin—and Auntie Mina. “I’m impressed you were able to trace all those people that far back. Do me a favor and run through it again. Maybe something will jump out at me.”
“Okay, this is what we know,” Jane explained. “Devin is a descendant of Margaret Myles Nottingham. Brent Corbin and your friend Vince Steward can trace their lineage back to Elizabeth Blackmire—the first person to accuse Margaret Nottingham of witchcraft. Beth Fullway and Gayle Alden can both trace their lineage back to the same family. Gayle’s ancestor was Mary Beckett—born Mary Nottingham. Beth’s ancestor, Rebecca Masters, was born a Beckett. The two women were sisters-in-law.”
Rocky sighed in frustration. “If we follow one train of thought, the murderer would be Brent or Vince, because they’re carrying on a tradition of hatred or some kind of rite. But Vince has an alibi—a good one. And we pretty much ripped Brent’s life apart and didn’t find a thing to suggest he had anything to do with any of the murders.”
“We have to figure out why Margaret Nottingham was murdered and who did it,” Devin said. “I really think that will help us figure out the motive, and once we have the motive we can find the killer.”
“True, but there could still be other motives,” Rocky said. “Contemporary motives.”
Angela shook her head. “Everything we’ve learned points to the past. The victims all had some association with Salem. They had family members here at the time of the trials. We haven’t seen any other commonality between them, and the choice of victims isn’t random, not given the witchcraft angle in the way he leaves the bodies.”
“What about Beth’s fingerprints being on Devin’s back door?” Sam asked.
Devin couldn’t help but tense. “She’s my friend. Of course her prints are at my house. Besides, she had just turned fourteen when Melissa Wilson was murdered.”
“It is incredibly unlikely,” Sam said, “that a fourteen-year-old girl committed a murder that left no clues and was so cleanly executed. Even ignoring the fact that she probably wasn’t tall enough, children do murder, but rarely in such a calculated manner, and rarely without leaving any evidence behind.”
“I don’t think Beth was even allowed out past nine o’clock at night back then. Her parents were pretty strict,” Devin said.
“Puritanical?” Jenna asked with a smile.
“Just the parents of a teenage girl,” Devin said.
“I agree. Nothing is impossible, but it’s definitely unlikely. And given her friendship with Devin, I don’t think we can read anything into her prints being at the house.” Rocky paused thoughtfully. “Jack’s people have pursued leads on some other names that have popped up in various places. So far, everyone has alibis that pan out and are clear. Of course, we’re focusing on alibis for the one murder, now, really, and may have to expand, but I just can’t believe my gut is wrong on this.”
“So now we’re looking at Theo, aren’t we?” Jane asked. “He says that he’s not from here, but his family was—and at one time so was he.”
“We don’t know how old he was when he went to the Midwest—we may be able to check tax records and establish that—but we know he came back here as an adult,” Devin said.
Rocky nodded. “And the fact that he was gone for years actually addresses one of our biggest questions―why the killer stopped for so many years between Melissa and Carly. We definitely need to learn more about him. I’m certain we’re on the right track. The personal connection helps explain burning a pentagram into Devin’s lawn.”
“A warning?” Sam wondered.
“Or maybe—as Margaret’s descendant—I’m supposed to be the grand finale,” Devin asked.
“I don’t think the killer wants you dead. I believe the fir
e was meant to scare you off,” Jane said quickly.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Rocky said. He looked at Jane and wondered if she had spoken just to allay Devin’s fears. “We can’t let down our guard, though.”
“So,” Devin said matter-of-factly, “you said you’re going to concentrate on Theo, but what about Jack?”
“No one has worked harder on this case,” Rocky said.
“She has a point,” Sam said. “When you’re working the case, you know everything that goes on with it, all the little details that are kept from the press.”
“We all work on the premise that the more people we eliminate, the closer we get to the truth,” Jane said. “And we really haven’t looked at Jack.”
“You’re right,” Rocky said. “It’s just...”
“None of us want to think our friends could be involved in something like this,” Jenna said.
“Right. None of us,” Devin said.
“Okay, so we’ll look into Jack. And now that we have a name, we show Hermione Robicheaux’s picture all over town and try to find out where she was and what she was doing on the day she was killed.”
“Her picture has already been out there, and no one has come forward,” Jane said.
“But we haven’t been out there with it, forcing people to take a close look,” Rocky said. “We’ll try to follow her footsteps. And we’ll go back and retrace Carly Henderson’s last day. We’ll pound the pavement until we find something. Or...”
“Or?” Devin asked.
No one said anything at first.
Then Angela let out a soft sigh. “Or we wait until the killer strikes again—and we move as quickly as possible. He’ll make a mistake.”
“How do you know that?” Devin asked.
“All killers do—eventually,” Sam said.
Auntie Mina suddenly spoke up. “You will find out what’s going on,” she snapped firmly, “and no one else will die.”
With those ferocious words, she was gone.
Angela finally spoke. “Dinner. We have to eat, whether anyone feels like it or not. Everyone needs to keep their strength up right now.”
“I’ll set the table,” Sam said.
“Sorry, guys, but it’s just chicken,” Devin said. “It’s a good recipe, though—chicken and dumplings.”
Jane laughed. “Why are you apologizing?”
Devin shrugged. “I guess because chicken’s always boring banquet food.”
Rocky smiled at her. “Chicken and dumplings sounds great.”
* * *
They ate, cleaned up, gave Poe some attention and headed back to the hotel. Rocky was quiet, on edge. And yet, when they reached the room he turned immediately to Devin and drew her into his arms.
Neither one of them spoke. They simply held each other, made love, drifted into a doze wrapped up together, then woke and made love again, and finally lay silently in the darkness of their room.
She knew, though, that when he touched her, he was fully with her. That he felt the same arousal she did when their naked flesh touched, felt her lips, moved with her as if they were one.
But she knew, too, as they lay there together listening to the hum of the air conditioner and the slowing thunder of their hearts, that he was brooding on the case. She didn’t speak, only lay with him and let him think. She thought he probably felt the same kind of numbness she did. It was impossible to believe that a friend could have committed murder.
They slept curled together. When they woke in the morning, she was spooned against him, comfortable in the feel of his arms around her.
“We’re moving back to the house,” he said, smiling as she turned to look at him in surprise.
“Um, okay,” she said.
“Margaret Nottingham came to see you there,” he said.
“And led me to a dead woman in the woods. I’m really praying she doesn’t do anything like that again.”
“I just think we need to be there,” Rocky said. “Margaret’s ghost may come or...I don’t know. Just call it a hunch and leave it at that.”
“Is everyone coming?” Devin asked. “It would be fine, of course. We’ll fit them in somehow.”
“Just the two of us,” he said.
She grew momentarily serious at the thought, then reminded him, “It won’t really be just the two of us, though.”
He smiled. “Mina? Well, I suppose I can control my libido in the effort to save lives and provide us with a future.”
Devin looked away quickly.
A future. It was a nice concept. But he was an FBI agent whose job took him all over the country. She wrote children’s books and lived here in Salem.
“I’ll be good, I promise,” he said.
She looked up and smiled at him. “Oh, I’m not worried about you. It’s my own desires I’m worried about. Never mind. The thought of Auntie Mina appearing is something I usually love—but not in my bedroom.” She gave an exaggerated shudder.
“We’ll both behave,” he said.
“Are we bait?” she asked.
“I would never let you be bait,” he said. “You’ll never be there alone.”
She rose up on an elbow and smiled at him. “I’m not afraid. Well, I am afraid, but not of going back to my house. Whoever this is, he’s not relying on strength. He gets people out to the woods and then slips up behind them. He takes them by surprise. I don’t think there’s any way we can be taken by surprise.”
“Not by surprise, no, but I’ve seen desperate killers do things no one would ever expect. But you’ll never be alone,” he swore.
He started to get out of bed, then looked down at her and rejoined her.
He touched her face gently, smiled slowly. Then he bent and kissed her, and when she rose to meet him she felt the hardness of his arousal.
“I guess you’re happy,” she murmured.
“Waking up with you makes me happy,” he said.
She smiled. “I like that.”
“I’m glad.”
They made love again. Devin wondered what it would be like to have a day—just one day―to rise when they chose, make love, wander the streets, listen to music....
Not today, though.
He rose regretfully at last and headed for the shower. She made a point of not following him. When he was done, she showered and dressed, then joined him at the table, where he was drinking coffee and speaking on the phone.
“I’m heading to the station,” he said when he finished his call. “I’m going to do whatever I can to clear Jack, but I promise you, I won’t let myself think that it’s impossible for him to be involved, even if he is a dedicated police officer. Sad to say, he wouldn’t be the first. Sam and Jenna are heading to Danvers—old Salem Village—to show Hermione’s picture around.”
He got up, stood behind Devin and put his hands on her shoulders. “What we need now is more knowledge about your ancestor—Margaret Nottingham. Why does she come to see you? To warn you? To help you? Because she’s worried about you? Is she connected to the murders themselves in some way, or only to you?”
A knock at the door stopped him from theorizing any further. He looked through the peephole before opening it to the rest of his teammates, who were standing in the hallway.
“Ready to roll, if Devin is set,” Angela said.
“Jenna and I are taking the team rental to the lab to find out if anything pertinent was discovered about the pentagram,” Sam said.
“Angela, Jane, and Devin are going to do more research and get Hermione’s picture out on the street, ask people if they saw her,” Rocky told him. “I’m going to meet up with Jack at the station.”
“And we’ll all spread the word around town that you and Devin are going to stay at the cottage tonight,” Angela assured h
im.
“Good plan. Everyone keep in touch,” Rocky said.
“We will,” Angela promised.
* * *
Rocky met Jack at the station, and they started going through case files again, hoping something would miraculously jump out at them, something they’d somehow managed to overlook a dozen times before.
Jack leaned back in his chair. “Okay, we know that Vince has an alibi. We couldn’t find a thing on Brent Corbin. We believe the killer was tall, which means we’re not looking at Renee—though I suppose she could have been an accomplice, which...I’m not seeing it.” He paused, staring at Rocky. “You would make a good suspect—except you were in California when Carly Henderson was murdered. So let’s be up front here. It has to have occurred to you that it might have been me.”
Rocky looked at him with a steady gaze. “Yes.”
“I’ve got an alibi,” Jack said. “Though I admit that Haley and I are collectors, and we own several athames we’ve picked up over the years. I’ve never owned a pentagram necklace, but I’ll bet Haley has at some time.”
“Just to cover all bases, let’s trace your movements,” Rocky said.
“I’m either on the job or I’m at home, with Haley.” Jack laughed without any real humor. “Next thing I know, you’ll tell me she’s a suspect, too. She’s tall enough. Hell, maybe she and I are in it together. Or maybe all of us take turns.”
“When we were kids, any one of us could have lured Melissa into the woods. Haley was in great shape, tall and athletic. We were all big kids—you, me and Vince. The three of us didn’t get together until she’d already been dead for several hours.”
“And you found her,” Jack reminded him.
Rocky nodded. “Don’t worry. I’d suspect me, too.”
Jack thought for a moment, then said, “It’s possible the current killer’s a copycat—someone who saw Melissa’s body. But that brings us back to you, me and Vince. And none of us fit. I mean, the cops, the M.E., they saw her, too, but...”
“You’re forgetting someone,” Rocky said. “The murderer.”
“Or murderers,” Jack said. “Except,” he added with a note of disgust in his voice, “it’s hard enough for one person not to leave a scrap of trace evidence. Two?”
Heather Graham Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 4 Page 55
