Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1) (17 page)

She looked up at him.

“You didn’t write the note,” he admitted.

“I know.” There was an implied
duh
in there she was too sick to express some other way.

“You know more than you’re saying about all this. If I find you’re somehow involved in these two men’s deaths—”

She’d had enough. Tears blurred her vision and she looked away. “That’s rich,” she scoffed. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder for weeks, waiting for them to show up at my door.” Her chin shook and she put a hand against it to still the movement. “You’re just like your buddy Brian Underwood. A bully with a badge looking for quick, easy answers instead of the truth. It’s easier to harass me instead of getting out there and finding the real person responsible.”

Chase’s gaze narrowed again. “How do you know Underwood?”

“I went to high school with him. If you want to interrogate someone, start with him. But you better watch your back after you’ve done it.”

He studied her, his gaze sharpening. He rifled through her bag and shoved her prescription pill bottle into her hand. “We’ll hit Mickey D’s for a Sprite to settle your stomach.” He started the car, backed out and swung it around to pull out onto the street. “Try not to barf in my vehicle.”

It took all her self-control not to punch him.

*     *     *

Caleb shoved the
key into the ignition and pulled out onto the street. Miranda had agreed to stay at his house. Without an argument. He was still processing that.

“I can swing by your house and pick up some clothes for you and Juliet.” He smiled when her cheeks flushed. “What is it?”

“The idea of you going through my underwear drawer is a little embarrassing.”

Caleb laughed. “I’ve seen you in less.”

“When I was five.”

“What about the bikini you wore to the city pool when you were sixteen?”

Her brows rose. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

She had no idea. “I might have been the lifeguard, and I had to keep watch over everyone, but that didn’t mean the image wasn’t burned into my brain by teenage hormones. I can still remember how you looked.”

Miranda smiled. “As I remember, you were rail thin, brown as a biscuit, and had a six-pack. And your hair was always sun-streaked, and shaggier than it is now.”

“No one to read me the riot act and tell me to get a haircut.” And no one to cook regular meals or buy food. His mother had spent her disability check on booze, not bread and milk. If his grandmother hadn’t fed him, he’d have starved. A twinge of grief scraped at his emotions.

“You were all the girls could talk about.”

“Even you?” he asked, enjoying this playful Miranda. She was more like she’d been in high school before her stepfather disappeared.

She smiled. “I wouldn’t want to give you a big head.”

“Please try.” He wasn’t thinking with the head on his shoulders right now.

She laughed. Her smile lingered, then fell away. “Things were complicated, even back then.”

“Yeah, they were. But we made it through.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you for changing the locks, and installing the car alarm.”

He didn’t want her gratitude. He wanted her. But if he said the words, she’d back off again. “I want you to be safe, Mandy.”

“I know. And I love you for it. But Juliet and I will have to find our own way through this. Those spells were directed at us, Caleb. We have to figure out why, and who created them.”

His heart still double-timed at the love you comment. “Maybe Robinson will come through with something.”

“I hope so, but I don’t think he will.”

He glanced at her. “Why?”

“Because Detective Robinson is too cemented in what he believes is the
real
world. He won’t be open to the possibility that there’s more to it until it bites him on the ass.”

Caleb grinned. Was this his Mandy talking like a badass? Well, a badass for her.

She touched his arm. “Can we stop somewhere along the way?”

He checked his watch. It wouldn’t be dark until almost nine o’clock. “Where do you need to go?”

“To Aubrey McClellan’s house.”

He did a double take. “I didn’t know you still hung with her.”

“We haven’t since high school. That was my fault, not hers. She’s a regular at the library.”

“Is she really what they say she is? I mean the real deal?”

Miranda remained silent for a moment then nodded. “Yes, she’s the real deal. We used to be good friends, and we’ve remained cordial. I thought we could use a little guidance, and I’m hoping she’ll be open to giving us some.”

If it could protect her and Juliet from the creepy fuckers, he was open to anything. Flexible was his middle name. “Does she still live on Potter Street?” he asked.

“Yes.”

A dry laugh broke from him.

Miranda’s brows rose. “What is it?”

Caleb flipped on the blinker, turned onto King Avenue, and headed west. “Where else would a witch live but on Potter Street?”

C
hase pulled into
the lot reserved for officer parking at the back of the police station and turned off the car. He studied Juliet’s coloring. She’d turned sideways to rest her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Her dark brown lashes fanned against her pale cheeks, thick and long, the tips a lighter color. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and she was still hands-down one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Her prickly personality had been curbed by the pain and nausea. “Is the pain easing off now?”

“Yes.” She sounded drowsy.

Though he knew he shouldn’t touch her, he smoothed back a wayward strand of hair hanging close to her eye with a fingertip. “You’re supposed to take the meds every four hours. How long has it been since you took them?”

“They gave me something at the hospital at seven this morning. I was doing okay until now.”

Her eyes opened a slit, and the tawny, brownish-amber of her irises peeked out at him, giving him a glimpse of what she looked like first thing in the morning. A fierce arrow of desired rushed straight to his groin and he hardened in a rush. Shit! He needed to get a handle on this attraction.

“That’s seven hours, Juliet. The pain stresses your system and keeps you from healing, so it’s better to take the meds as prescribed until you’re healed enough to do without them.”

“I don’t like being controlled, and taking meds is being under the control of something.”

“Did you develop this attitude after your arrest in high school?”

She remained silent for a moment. “I was never arrested in high school. Who said I was?”

“It was just an impression I got.”

“From the other cops here?”

He kept his features carefully blank.

“I’m not surprised.” She turned her face away to look toward the station house. “I was a sophomore in high school. Miranda and I were invited to a party at Bobby Bush’s house.”

“Councilman Bush?”

“Yeah, his father was the councilman then. Bobby was a senior, and I had a crush on him. So, Miranda and I snuck out and went to the party. Neither one of us drank. Though there was plenty of beer there, we each got a bottled Coke from the cooler and held on to it for most of the night. And then Bobby came over to talk to me, and asked me to dance while Miranda danced with one of his friends.

“We came back to our drinks, and I drank a little of mine. A few minutes later I began to feel dizzy and nauseous. Bobby suggested I lie down upstairs.”

“He’d roofied you?”

“Yeah. The only thing that kept him from carrying out the plan was Miranda. She saw him carrying me upstairs and broke away from the boy she was dancing with. Her dance partner told her we were just going to have a little fun.”

“She got scared and snuck into the kitchen and dialed 911, then came upstairs. Bobby had taken my blouse off and was working on getting my jeans down when she came into the room. The cops showed up, and I was transported to the hospital. The lab work came back that I had Rohypnol in my system. They couldn’t prove Bobby had given it to me, but I know it was an ambush. Because he hadn’t gotten any further with the assault, and he was a minor, the police dropped everything.”

She swallowed hard, and he could see it still hurt badly. “Councilman Bush went into politician protection mode, and I ended up with the reputation of being a druggie while his son danced away scot free.” Her gaze grew distant. “I wonder how many other girls he drugged and succeeded in assaulting. After what happened to me, they’d have been too afraid to come forward.”

She looked back at his face. “I’m not saying I haven’t smoked a little weed or drunk a beer or two or three, but I’ve never popped pills, and I didn’t deserve a rep at age fifteen for having a crush on a football player. It hounded me all the way through high school. The teachers treated me like I was some kind of troublemaker and were constantly on me. And the cops are still pulling me over for nothing. No one in Superstition lets anything go. Ever.”

He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. Dammit. “I have to go inside and sign the notes into evidence. I can’t leave you in the car, it’s against regulations.”

She released the seat belt and grabbed her purse. “I’ll call a cab.”

He laid a hand on her arm. “I don’t want you to do that. I’d prefer to take you to Faulkner’s house myself.” It wasn’t because he was beginning to feel protective of her. It wasn’t. She was important to the case. His only witness to Tanner Newton’s killing and to Samuel Newton’s attack. She knew more than she’d said so far. And she was talking to him. Really talking to him. Eventually she’d get around to what had really happened on that street corner. He ran his fingers around the steering wheel, then gripped it. “I can’t do anything about what happened to you back then, Juliet. The statute of limitations has run out.”

“But if he’s still doing it… You could check into that.”

God there was such hope in her face. “Do you really believe he’d take that risk now?”

She shrugged again. “I work at a bar. I hear things.”

God, he was slipping. A witness was trying to report a crime and he’d had his head somewhere else because of a physical attraction. “Will you write a statement about what happened last night for me?”

“I can do that.”

“Did you write a statement for the police back then?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I’ll pull it and read it.”

“You won’t find it.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Councilman Bush had a lot of pull back then. If there was even a hint of suspicion cast on Bobby, he wouldn’t be councilman today. The whole thing was tossed in the trash.”

That she was probably right pissed him off. “We’ll see.”

He got out of the car and walked around to open her door. Juliet took some time to tie the scarf around her neck to cover the bruises.

Two patrol officers were leaving as they climbed the short flight of stairs to the door. One grabbed the handle and held it for them, and Juliet murmured a thank you. When he glanced over his shoulder he caught them both staring after her.

They took the elevator up to the third floor. He parked her in an interview room with a pen and paper to write her statement while he filled out paperwork to sign the notes into evidence. He made a copy of each one, sealed them each inside an evidence bag, initialed the tape, and handed it over to the officer manning the evidence room. He asked to see the evidence recovered from Gerald Abbott’s cell. The officer buzzed him in and handed him a pair of rubber gloves. He brought him the box and placed it on a table reserved for that purpose.

Abbott’s jail jumpsuit, shoes and underwear had remained with the coroner, as had the sheets and blankets from his bunk and the empty water bottle. Chase laid out the four pieces of evidence collected directly from the cell. A plastic baggy the sandwich came in recovered from the trash can, the crumpled potato chip bag ripped open to lay flat, the torn paper bag and a rectangular piece of paper. He picked up the plastic bag holding the piece of paper and recognized the writing and the reddish brown ink immediately. It had been lodged in the bottom of the bag the food came in.

What the fuck was going on around here?

He’d request a copy of the security video from the main desk downstairs and see who delivered the bag. It was supposed to be Scot’s wife. He’d bet his next paycheck it wasn’t.

Chase returned the evidence box and filled out a request for all four of the notes to be analyzed. He took the stairs to the third floor to check on Juliet. If she was right about the ink being blood, they’d have a DNA sample from the killer. Or at least whomever they’d hired to write the damn spells. And that could possibly lead them to the killer and the associate.

He entered the detective squad room with its cluttered desks and ringing phones to see Brian Underwood standing outside the interview room.

“What’s going on, Underwood?”

“You brought Juliet in for questioning again?”

“She’s writing up a statement for me. Was there something you wanted to ask her?”

“No. I was just keeping an eye on her.”

Chase leaned against the wall opposite the room. “She’s not going to steal the table and chairs in there.”