Inquisitor (Witch & Wolf Book 1) (18 page)

In ten minutes, I was in my Mustang, burning rubber across town.

I found Dawn in the cafe by the sheer virtue of her tall stack of papers and real estate folder prominently displayed on her table for two. Before she could rise, I slipped in the seat, plunked down my coffee, and thrust out my hand. “Call me Vicky.”

“Good morning, Vicky,” Dawn replied, shaking my hand firmly. She was a pretty woman, her blond hair tied back in a neat bun. It didn’t make her look much older, but it did give her an aura of professionalism. “Here’s the offer. Since you’re paying upfront, we can avoid a lot of the regular hassle.”

I took the documents, reading over the clauses, clucking my tongue as I worked my way through the tangle of legalese. I flipped through the pages, then grabbed the folder with the details on the house. It was a single family home nestled next to a copse. “How secluded is the property?”

“Extremely, considering the low price tag for the area. The trees offer almost complete shielding from your neighbors. The back of the house leads right into one of the larger parks.”

“Why is the price so low?”

“Luck, mainly. It seems the wife of the couple lost her job recently, and they can’t afford to pay the mortgage on both properties. The bank has agreed on a short sale to cut their losses,” Dawn replied.

I whistled. “Estimated real value of the property?”

“They paid one and a half million for the home.” The real estate agent looked smug for a moment. “They lived in it for three years before buying their second property.”

Maybe I could give the two children a small taste of the wild things in the world, albeit a bit tamer compared to a proper forest. “Pen.”

Dawn handed over a BIC. I chuckled at the cheap but reliable tool, warming up to the young woman. I signed my name in the appropriate places. “I’ll send authorization of the bank transfer this afternoon. Let me give you the name and number of someone who has access my accounts, and they will make certain the payment is issued on time.”

“Excellent. Normally I’d stay to chat, but if I want to get this processed today…” she trailed off, glancing at me uncertainly.

I rose from my seat, hand once again held out. We shook. “When your schedule allows, we’ll make time for a proper drink of coffee without business getting in the way.”

“I look forward to that. Thank you for the challenge, too. It’s not often we get an opportunity like this.”

It was easy to like the young woman’s easy-going smile and enthusiasm. I matched her grin. “Close this sale, and I suspect I will be able to recommend you to a few others in the market for a house. When should I be cleared to move in?”

“I’ll have your keys for you this afternoon, unless something happens. Let’s meet at the house. We’ll finalize everything there.”

“Good. I’ll see you then, Ms. Uthrick.”

“Please, call me Dawn.”

“Of course, Dawn. Drive safely.”

I waited until she left the cafe before sinking back into my seat. I flipped open the file on the property, staring at the elegant brick house. It was an over-sized rancher, its front lawn manicured to perfection, flowers growing along the drive, guarded by trees probably as old as I was.

Staring at the picture hurt. It was the sort of place I would’ve liked to call home. It wouldn’t last.

It never did.

~*~

The house hadn
’t changed much since the photo was taken. The grass was a little longer, but someone had tended the flowers recently. I was the first to arrive, parking my Mustang in front of the garage. I didn’t expect Dawn to arrive for another twenty minutes, but I didn’t mind having the extra time to walk the perimeter. From the front door, I couldn’t see the neighbor’s house. The driveway curved around the trees to the main street, offering quiet and privacy.

As promised, the backyard ended where a forested park began. It wasn’t enough space for a wolf, but I could hear animals rustling through the underbrush in the brief moments when the birdsong quieted.

Perfection in a city the size of Atlanta was a dream within a dream, but the house came close. It would give a pair of children plenty of space to run around and play. I couldn’t ask for much more.

Except, perhaps, a reasonable guide on raising a pair of children who had lost not one, but both parents, in the span of a month. I suspected my next phone call would be to a therapist for the three of us. Add in the fact I’d been accused of murder, and an Inquisition witch was somehow involved in the whole mess, a quiet house away from prying eyes suited me fine.

And if the Inquisition had somehow learned about me, all I could do was hope that my efforts at disappearing would fool them long enough to vanish a second time. I had no idea how I was going to pull that off, not with Samantha and two children to worry about.

I just couldn’t do things the easy way, could I? Samantha had been all-too-right about that.

Dawn arrived five minutes early. She stepped out of her SUV, a model and make too similar to the one I’d torched in Detroit. She stepped out, swinging a set of keys around her finger. Her eyes settled on my Mustang and widened. “Is that a 1964?”

I grinned. With so many of the new cars with old-styled bodies, those who didn’t know better never looked twice at it. It was a hardtop, and I doubted it had a single original part in it. “Sure is.”

“She’s a beauty.”

“Thanks. She’s definitely one of my conceits. Found her as an old broken junker in a yard and fixed her up.”

“You did the work?”

“Most of it. They don’t make parts for this baby anymore. I had those made, but I installed them myself. She’s got so many custom pieces under the hood that I’m doomed if she breaks down on me.” I laughed and turned in a slow circle to take in all of the property before turning to my Mustang once more. “But if you want some fun one day, I’ll take you down for the track for a spin.”

“I’d like that.” Dawn tossed the keys to me. “When I left your notary, two of them pounced on the file and ran off before I could say two words. The lease is sound and approved, so you’re all set to move in. The bank confirmed the funds in your account. This sale will go through without a hitch. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s great. Even more secluded than I thought,” I replied. “You did a fantastic job.”

Dawn glowed. “Thank you, Vicky. I took the liberty of having the utilities turned on. Your notary, to my surprise, had a list of things they thought you’d want in the house, as well as your preferred companies. Installers for cable and satellite will be in by noon tomorrow, so you’ll have internet and TV. Water and electricity were already on.”

“Great. Want to give me the tour?”

The young agent beamed at me and gave me the walk-through. The inside was even better than the outside. A stone fireplace formed the focal point of the living room. The kitchen was large enough for a family of ten, with granite counters and ceramic tiles doomed to break many dishes over the years. There was already a dishwasher, fridge, and stove installed. The basement was spacious, separated into three different rooms.

To my surprise, the house featured a library. It hadn’t been on the listing, but there was nothing else the room could’ve been meant for. Built-in shelves lined every surface of the wall, broken only by a fireplace and a window. The view of the backyard captured the unsullied forest.

“You’ve done wonders, Dawn. I need to make some stops before the stores close,” I said, escorting the real estate agent out of the house after the usual posturing and fare-thee-wells. I waited until her SUV pulled out of sight before getting into my Mustang.

Not even a werewolf could put together IKEA furniture without divine intervention, so I headed for the largest furniture store I could think of. If I was going to take care of two kids, they weren’t going to be sleeping on the floor.

Afterward, I’d find a quiet cafe somewhere with my laptop and continue my fruitless search for a murderer.

~*~

At eight sharp the next morning, two transports pulled into the driveway. I waited for them on the front step, staring at the dew evaporating in the sun. Maybe the men from the furniture store had been tipped off to the fact I was without coffee because they installed my new espresso machine first. I’d moved enough times to have had the foresight to buy a bunch of paper cups. Bribing the workers with fresh coffee earned me some tentative smiles. They worked without comment, and I directed them with pointing punctuated by yawns.

The movers dodged those installing the television, sound system, and gaming consoles with the grace of dancers.

When they were finished, the house almost looked like someone lived in it. Almost. The rest I’d take care of after the kids arrived. A little after two, the carnival of workers paraded away, leaving me alone in a house far too large for just one person. I set myself up at the kitchen table with my laptop to go over the same lack of evidence.

The only conclusion I came to—more than once—was that Oleran had been an outlet for Mark’s mother to get rid of me for interfering with her plans to betroth Mark. However, I couldn’t force myself to ignore the similarities tying the two deaths. One death of a Marrodin employee was easy to write off as bad luck and circumstance. But two was a different story altogether, especially in such close proximity.

My phone rang as I was scrolling over my spreadsheet of information relating to both of the killings. “Hanover,” I answered.

“It’s Anderson. Are you sitting down?”

“What? Yes. Why? What’s going on?”

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?”

I drew my breath in a hiss. If Anderson was asking me that, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Whatever he was going to say wasn’t good, and I suspected it would be a major source of frustration. “Bad first,” I decided.

“One of the cashiers, a nineteen-year-old girl working at one of our financial firms in New York City, was found crucified this morning.”

“
Crucified?
” I felt my mouth drop open. “Cross and nails crucified?”

“She was hung first, then nailed to a tree in Central Park not far from the Plaza.” Anderson cleared his throat. “It gets worse.” I stiffened at the waver in the young CEO’s voice.

I hesitated before asking, “What’s the really bad news? What’s going on?”

“You need to come to Emory University Hospital. It’s Samantha.”

It was a miracle I didn’t get busted for speeding on my way to Emory University Hospital. I almost caused more car accidents than I could count on both hands. It took me less than ten minutes to make the fifteen minute drive. I didn’t get along very well with anydeity often, but as I parked in the lot I muttered a prayer of thanks that I hadn’t gotten myself or someone else killed in a fiery wreck.

I headed for the ER entrance. If Anderson was telling me to get to Emory, it was because whatever had happened involved the ER.

All I could think about was the one truth of the universe: Everything eventually died, even witches. They weren’t immortal. They were human, and humans died. Nothing could change that.

But why was Samantha at the hospital? Why now?

I didn’t have any answers. I stared at the doors for well over a minute before I mustered the courage to step inside. The autumn chill bit at my back as I moved inside. Spotting the Marrodin group was easy. They stood in a cluster off to one side, their business suits sticking out among the sensible jean-wearing folk who took their comfort seriously.

All of them looked like they’d been clubbed over the head and dragged through hell. I counted heads. Ten. That meant all of the board members on the active roster were accounted for and present.

I closed my eyes for a moment, drew a deep breath, and joined them. “How is she?”

They jerked to face me, red eyes focusing on me. One by one, their eyes widened in recognition as they saw me instead of just hearing my voice. My question was answered by the uncomfortable silence of those trying to decide who would be sacrificed to deliver the bad news.

Or, as Anderson had so aptly put, the
really
bad news.

I took in their unhappy, traumatized expressions, the rumpled state of their clothes, and the presence of several boxes of tissues hanging in limp fingers. Dread tightened my throat. My fear roused, but then died along with my hope.

I took in each face in turn. Amelia I recognized in a single glance. So many years of serving on the bench and leading Smith & Sons hadn’t done her any favors. Wrinkles furrowed deep grooves around her eyes. Age left her bent over a cane. Our eyes met.

“She didn’t make it, did she?” I couldn’t force my voice above a whisper.

The old woman’s head dipped down, her gaze settling on the floor. “She didn’t,” Amelia confirmed.

All of them were good people, and good people were shaken by death, especially when it happened next door to their office. And I guess that’s why they had all come—because they were the type of people who cared for someone right away, even if they hadn’t known them long.