by Celia Ashley
He tapped the eraser once on the table, causing the lead to rattle in the pencil casing. “I am not. Not yet.”
“Good. I’m leaving.” She stood, hooking purse straps over her shoulder. Her shadow flickered up the wall behind her. Dan glanced at the overhead fluorescents in an instinctive search for the cause and found the illumination unwavering.
“I’m sure you’ll call me when you have some real news to impart, Detective Stauffer. Some accurate news.”
He stood as well, wanting to snatch her into his arms and stop her. Instead, he held the pad close to his chest and watched her go. After the door had closed behind her, he tossed pad and pencil onto the table. The pencil rolled to the edge and caught before toppling over. He looked down at the yellow page on which he’d been scratching his notes. Scrawled across the bottom in a shaky hand so unlike his normal script as to be nearly unrecognizable were the words listen to her.
Chapter 11
Maris marched across the graveled lot toward the path leading to the naturalist’s residence, arguing in her head against both fear at the escalation of events and her anger at Dan. She knew the statistics. Most murders were not arbitrary occurrence. Most killings took place between people who knew each other one way or another, and the police always looked to the husband, wife, family member first. A homicide involving poison was personal. Random poisoners didn’t exist. Since there were no other family members to look at, she was the natural choice. Maris doubted the investigation would ever get as far as a neighbor or a customer because the police viewed her as the most likely suspect, and all efforts would be expended toward proving that. Dan was just doing his job, despite all the misgivings she sensed in him. He was quite good at his work, and the mistakes he’d made did not sit well with him. Like sleeping with her. A big one, that. He’d strive even harder to get at the truth, even if it wasn’t the correct truth.
At the door to a one-story addition on the naturalist’s home, built to accommodate a small shop, Maris turned the knob and went in. Overhead a small bell jangled, announcing her arrival. A woman in her mid-fifties perched on a stepladder at the far side of the room paused with an armful of books and looked back at her.
Maris stopped dead, a warm thrill running through her at recognition of a kindred spirit. It had been years since she’d experienced such knowledge. “Hi.”
The woman stepped down off the ladder and dumped the books onto a nearby counter. She hurried across the floor and took one of Maris’s hands in both of hers, squeezing lightly. “Welcome,” she said, then caught herself on whatever she’d been about to say next before adding, “to Alcina Cove Nature Preserve.”
Still, the woman didn’t release her hand. Maris smiled. “Thank you.”
The woman searched her eyes. “I’m Felicia. Felicia Woodward. You’re not new to the area, but it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Almost twenty years since I left with my family.”
Felicia dropped her hand and strode back toward the counter with a wave of her fingers, indicating Maris should follow. “Welcome home, then.”
“That was what you were going to say first, isn’t it? Welcome home.”
Felicia’s laughter rang clearer than the brass bell hanging above the door. “It was.”
Maris trailed after her. Felicia stepped behind the counter and pulled out two mugs and a pair of tea bags. A small teapot on a hotplate already sent steam into the air.
“Too early for alcohol and no need for it either, so tea will do,” Felicia said as she poured the water. Maris watched in fascination the brisk efficiency of the woman’s movements.
“I’m Maris Granger. Alva Mabry’s grand-niece.”
With a finger pressed to the lid of the upended pot, Felicia gave her a long look. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”
Maris didn’t need to ask her how she knew. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Felicia set a sugar bowl on the counter, laying a spoon beside the ceramic container with its depiction of the stone circle. “But at her age, I guess it was expected…or wasn’t it?”
Maris pulled one of the mugs close, swinging the dangling tag of the tea bag with her pointer finger. “Apparently she was murdered.”
Felicia turned away to place the pot on the burner. “How? Do you know?”
“The medical examiner says poison. Not sure what kind yet. I’ve heard poison is a very personal method of execution. Dan Stauffer is narrowing down his list of suspects at this time, I expect.”
Felicia spun back around, grasping the other mug in both hands, and brought it close to her face, chest expanding as she breathed in the aroma. “So you’ve met our Detective Stauffer, have you?”
“Oh, yeah.” Maris sipped the herbal beverage, letting the hot liquid rest in her mouth a moment before swallowing.
“He’s always acted the ladies’ man, but I think that persona hides a deeper need. I think he wants someone special, someone different, and someone he can trust.”
Maris made no comment, drinking another mouthful.
“I bet he likes you.”
A blush heated Maris’s cheeks. She kept her eyes downcast, pretending concentration on the tea. “Why would you think that? Am I his type?”
“You’re exactly not his type, which makes you what he needs.”
Maris cleared her throat, holding her mug in one hand and running the fingers of the other over a series of photographs contained beneath the glass countertop. “I’ve only been here two days. We don’t know each other.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Besides, liking me would definitely conflict with his job. He fancies me the prime suspect.”
Felicia was silent. Maris returned her attention to the woman.
“And are you?” Felicia asked.
“The prime suspect? It would seem so. But did I do anything to hurt my aunt? With the exception of certain things I said to her many years ago, no.”
Felicia set her mug down. “He doesn’t believe you?”
“He doesn’t want to believe me. He’s afraid to believe me. He’s fearful and ashamed of what he feels.”
“For you.”
“For me.”
“Huh.” With a smug expression, Felicia resumed her tea, both elbows on the counter. She stretched out an arm to point at a photo by Maris’s hand. “You can see how overgrown and damaged the circle was in this one. I’m surprised anyone recognized it for what it was.”
Maris bent to peer closer. “Do you think nature did that, or people?”
“What do you think?”
Maris pressed her fingertip to the glass, causing a halo from her skin’s warmth. “Unless there was a massive tremor, those stones wouldn’t have gone down. I think they were pulled down out of fear.”
“Fear of what?”
Raising her gaze to Felicia’s, Maris studied her expression. “Have you seen him, it, whatever guards that place?”
“I have. I’m assuming you have, too. When?”
“Yesterday evening. What is it?”
Felicia shook her head. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I think it’s an elemental, other times a Native American spirit. I don’t know, though. But I’ve learned not to be afraid.”
“It knew me. It said I knew it, too.”
“I think it knows all of us, all who have the gift we do, back through the ages and into the future. I’ve heard some odd tales about the circle but, as I said, I’ve learned not to fear it.”
Maris shuddered. “It has to make people afraid. People not as understanding as you.”
“Is that why you think the circle was torn down?”
Maris straightened. “It would make sense, yet I don’t think everyone can actually see it. Dan did, though. Or he sensed it at any rate. I’m sure others have as well.”
Felicia’s brows shot up. “Really? Dan? That’s interesting in many ways.”
“You would know the history of this area, though. D
id women…like us…meet there?”
Mouth lifting at the corner, Felicia nodded. “Still do on occasion.”
Come home, Maris. This is where you belong. “When I stood in the center of the circle, I sensed that gathering going back through hundreds of years. But I sensed a break or an event, too, which caused a change.”
Felicia touched Maris’s wrist. “How long ago, do you think?”
“Not this century, certainly, nor the one just past. I don’t know really.”
Poking Maris’s mug at her, Felicia stood tall and then stretched. “Drink up. I’m assuming that’s why you came here today? To ask about that?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll come back and visit me again before you leave?”
“I don’t want to leave, Felicia. I want to stay here in Alcina Cove where I was born.”
“By the sea.”
“Yes.”
Felicia reached over the counter and pulled Maris close for a quick, tight hug. “If Dan arrests you, you might have no choice. But if he doesn’t, well, you will have a choice. I would think long and hard about leaving, because you belong here.”
Hearing that sentiment from a stranger made Maris miss all the more the camaraderie she had once shared with Alva and women of her aunt’s acquaintance. Maris hadn’t had much experience outside the family with others like herself, but once she and her parents moved away, she’d had none.
“I’ll come back in a couple of days. I’ve been remanded to the area until I’m cleared, so…”
“Dan wants you to stick close.”
“He doesn’t want to have to track me down with an arrest warrant, I guess.”
Felicia laughed. “Everything will work out fine. You’ll see.” But even as the woman spoke the words, a dark change occurred in her eyes, only to vanish a moment later. She glanced at Maris, her expression a little less certain.
“It’s all right,” Maris said. “I know. I’ve seen the aura around him. I don’t know what to tell him, or even if I should. He’s asked. He’s seen the same look in my eyes I’ve just seen in yours.” Maris backed away, heading for the door. “Thanks for the tea. And thanks for being who you are.”
Outside, Maris headed for her car, but faltered halfway across the lot, her attention drawn to the path leading to the Circle of Alcina. The temptation to explore it again was strong, especially now that she knew Felicia Woodward lived cheek by jowl with the entity of the stones and held no fear. Curiosity got the better of her, and Maris strolled in that direction. She paused for further reading of the sign’s information. After a few minutes, she continued along the path she and Dan had taken by flashlight the night before.
In the sunlight, the stones were more impressive than they had been in the dark. Alone, Maris strode in and out of the circle, weaving a pattern as she traversed the circumference. Birds trilled in the undergrowth, a sign that all was well since they would have fallen silent if frightened. Overhead, a raven winged its way to a stand of wind-bitten pines. Maris returned to the center of the circle and stood with her eyes closed, opening herself again to contact.
Silence. Well, fine. Nothing happened on command. Maybe she would go into town and walk the main street for a while, get some lunch, make a climb around the jetty beyond the sailor’s cross, and wait for Dan to contact her with his next move.
She really wished the move would be toward her and not away, but she’d known from the very beginning where this story was headed.
Chapter 12
Dan closed the door to his office with all the control he could muster. The latch barely made a sound. He sat in the swivel chair and leaned back, propping his feet up on the desk. With conscious spacing in between, he counted backward from ten beneath his breath.
A knock sounded on the door at the same time it opened, not giving him a chance to answer. Jamie stuck his head in. “You okay?”
“Yep.”
“You seem remarkably calm, considering.”
Dan waved a hand in front of his face. “Don’t let this demeanor fool you.”
“Taken off the case. That sucks.”
“Yeah, I don’t need a recap. I know how much that sucks.”
“But nobody’s talking about bringing her in yet, so that’s cool.”
Dan grunted. It was only a matter of time.
“What made you let her in the house?”
“I took her when there was no clue this was anything other than a natural death.” The same words he’d used five minutes ago with the Chief, to no avail. “She went in later by herself and, unless she really is the killer, she had no idea there was anything amiss then either.”
“But you—”
“Had sex with her. I know. Fuck off.” Dan had no clue how that had gotten out, but the most likely scenario was being spotted walking across to the motel, and then whoever had it in for him had stuck around long enough to see when he exited—carrying one of his boots in his hand for good measure.
“You dog you, how was it?”
Dan leaned back farther, hooking his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes. “I’m already in deep crap. I really wouldn’t want to compound matters by kicking your ass.”
The door closed.
He’d had to turn over his case notes, which were few. The fingerprints matched the locations she told him her prints would be found. To him, that indicated innocence. Either that, or someone so conniving she’d deliberately placed them for the sole purpose of appearing innocent when she confessed to her presence in the house…And this was exactly what had prompted his removal from the case. He’d lost his detached perspective. His head was spinning in circles.
He’d always thought himself a good cop. Good enough to be detective, and he’d proved as much. But this?
“Shit.”
Opening his eyes, his gaze fell on his cell phone lying in the middle of the blotter. In for a penny in for a pound, the saying went. He snatched up the instrument and dialed. At least she’d changed her voice mail message.
“Maris, it’s Dan. I’m heading home. When you have a second, give me a call, will you?”
Hanging up, he dropped his feet to the floor and stood. After shoving his arms into his jacket, he gathered a few things and opened the door. Several officers and Sally scattered like birds away from the front desk. Without a word, Dan left the building.
By the time he reached his townhouse, Maris had not returned his call. He parked the car, collected his mail, and went inside, locking the door behind him. After dropping the junk mail into the bin he kept beside the foyer table, he took the bills upstairs to his room in order to change his clothes. He knew he should eat, but he had no more desire for sustenance than he did for another reaming out. A can of soup in a while would work, then early to bed and, finally, a good night’s sleep. He’d been requested to take the next couple of days off. At least he hadn’t been put under official suspension. He would have gone to his rep over that one. There would have been no sound cause for that kind of discipline. Well, except having relations with a woman after he discovered she belonged smack dab in the middle of the investigation.
“Damn it, Maris.”
Not her fault, though. Not really. It was something they’d done together, and he the only one with something to lose. He went into it anyway, with eyes wide open.
Upstairs, he stripped out of his clothes in preparation for a shower, pausing with his shirt in hand to peer through the slats in the blinds. The blue shadows of evening played across lawns and houses and streets, marking time until nightfall. He glanced down suddenly to make sure the blinds remained secured. All he needed was a charge of indecency. When he looked again toward the street, he spied a figure standing on the opposite curb. Tall and willowy, the partial silhouette held a familiar, narrow, feminine shape. As did his sighting of the streetlight post through her.
Cursing, he shimmied back into his pants and pulled the shirt over his head as he raced ba
ck down the steps. He threw open the door. Except for a little girl skipping beside her mother, the sidewalk was empty. Dan went back inside and up the stairs again, wanting more than ever to talk to Maris about his experience. Even if she didn’t understand, she wouldn’t look at him as if he’d lost his mind.
He stopped dead in the middle of the room. Lying in a central position on his neatly made bed, the Priestess card reflected the last shreds of daylight. His first mistake. Well, he wasn’t running back to the station with that card now, but it looked to have been his idea this morning if it had fallen from his pocket onto the bed. If? Of course he meant when. The damned thing couldn’t move from his desk under its own volition, and no one had been in the house. After his unsettling dream—when was that? Yesterday morning?—he’d remembered to turn on the alarm.
Grabbing the card by the corner, he tossed it into his desk and slammed the drawer shut. Shower, soup, bed. That was the night’s itinerary. Heading into the bathroom, he was stopped by his ringing phone.
“Dan, hi. It’s Maris.”
He sat on the edge of his bed with a sudden raging hard-on from the sound of her voice. Damn it, she wasn’t that hot. Maybe what had him vacillating between running away and sprinting straight toward her was the fact she didn’t need to be crazy hot for him to want her. She only needed to be Maris. “Thanks for calling me back.”
“Why would I not? You asked me to. Today at the station you were doing your job. I get that.”
“Not my job anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I got pulled from the case. Made a couple of rookie-type mistakes and then, worst of all, I ended up in your bed.” Waiting for her response, he listened to the sound of the ticking clock on the chest of drawers.
“Who—how did they find out?”
“My theory? Someone saw me go in and stuck around long enough to see me come out. It only takes a hint of that type of impropriety to cause a problem.”
“I’m sorry.”
He threw himself back onto the bed, one arm flung above his head, the phone pressed to his ear, and his dick standing at attention away from his belly. He touched himself and then immediately let go, glancing at his strewn clothes awaiting the hamper. “Care for a real dinner?”
