Never Burn A Witch: A Rowan Gant Investigation (17 page)

“Miz Winston,” Ben ventured calmly but firmly
as she started to tremble. “In light of this information, I think
it’d be prudent for you to give us a list of your Coven members and
their phone numbers. For their own safety…”

“W
ell sure I could be
wrong... I hope like hell I am if you wanna know the truth.” Ben
was forcing himself to speak in hushed tones.

Earlier, he had sequestered himself outside
the entrance of the room in the narrow hall in order to jumpstart
the Major Case Squad with the latest information. He had then
proceeded to contact the local police department trying to obtain
protection for Karyl and Starr. While he made a seemingly endless
series of calls, one leading to the next, Carl Deckert and I
remained in the sitting room with the grieving young attorney. She
was holding up amazingly well under the circumstances, even
considering her connection with The Craft. I suppose her profession
had taught her how to remain calm and detached. Still, her distress
was visible.

“Look, I’d just rather be wrong on the side
of caution instead of endin’ up with another body.” He continued,
“Can you understand that?”

Both Carl and I could still hear Ben’s voice
and with only a little effort were able to make out everything he
was saying. Starr, on the other hand, was too distraught to notice
much of what was going on around her. Considering the subject
matter of his conversations, doubtless that was for the best.

There was a short pause while, I assume, he
was listening to the person on the other end of the cell phone. I
almost didn’t need my heightened senses to feel his impatience—it
was simply that palpable.

“I don’t get this! Am I just not makin’
myself clear to you or somethin’? Do ya’ want me to say it slower,
is that it?” he spat sarcastically into the phone. “Listen close. A
prominent member of your quiet little community here just might be
the target of a serial killer. What I want is for
you
to get a uniform over
here
and give ‘er some protection!
It’s that simple! Uh-huh... Yeah... Well tell ya’ what then, why
don’tcha put someone on the line who
can
help me.”

While we waited, Starr went upstairs to check
in on Karyl. She returned briefly, having elected not to inform her
of Brianna’s death as yet, and told us that the young woman was
resting peacefully in the bedroom. Earlier, she admitted, the help
of a recently prescribed sedative had been necessary to calm the
overwrought blonde, and now it seemed senseless and cruel to wake
her only to give her another dose of heartbreaking news. I was
inclined to agree.

“Is there someone you’d like us to call for
you?” Carl asked in a soothing voice. “A relative? A friend
maybe?”

“No. No one, Detective.” She shook her head.
“Thank you for offering.”

“Can we get you anything?” I queried and
shrugged. “A glass of water? Coffee? Aspirin?”

“No... Yes... Yes, Mister Gant, you could.”
She pointed across the room. “There is some brandy in that
cupboard.”

At Starr’s request I poured her a stiff
ration of the liquor from the heirloom cabinet bar in the corner.
Judging from the label on the bottle and the cork that sealed it,
the brandy was in reality a rather pricey cognac. She sipped it
eagerly, almost gulping at first. Remembering my recent and similar
actions with a bottle of bourbon, I urged her to slow down. She
nodded, realizing through her distress that I was correct, and set
the crystal snifter aside with at least a small amount of the
expensive spirits left in it.

Momentarily, she rummaged about in the drawer
of an end table then withdrew a small rectangular box and opened
it.

“I have to keep them hidden,” she told us
with a small, sorrowful laugh as she placed a cigarette between her
lips, “Karyl thinks I quit... But I’m sure she knows.”

Carl and I simply nodded mutely and watched
her light it with trembling hands.

“Well frankly I don’t give two shits about
your goddamned contract!” Ben’s voice echoed into the room as he
tersely erupted out in the corridor, “Right now I’ve got two bodies
down at the morgue. One of ‘em was thrown off a balcony and the
other one was... No, YOU wait just a minute!” his voice rose in
pitch again. One thing you never did to Ben Storm was to interrupt
him.

His tone lowered to a simmering “I mean
business” tenor and he continued, “Look, number one—both of these
women were tortured before they were killed. Number two—we have
reason to believe the killer is targeting persons with alternative
religions. And finally, number three—both of them were members of
the same small religious group—the
same
one
that two of your local residents are members of.
Now for me, that sets off some alarms. What about you?”

He paused for a moment, and I heard him let
out an exasperated huff.

“Yeah... Yeah... Well why don’t ya’ do
that... Uh-huh, well trust me, I will... Yeah, I’ll be sure to let
Ms. Winston know just exactly how concerned you folks are for her
welfare... Yeah, same to ya’.”

We heard him close the flap on the portable
phone with an angry snap that was followed immediately by a
disgusted mumble, “...And the fuckin’ horse you rode in on, too,
ya’ lousy sonofabitch.”

I caught Carl’s eye and jerked my head toward
the room’s entrance. He nodded acknowledgement and gave the
anguished young woman next to him a fatherly pat on the
shoulder.

“Will you be okay for a bit, Ms. Winston?” he
asked as she broke her hollow stare and looked up at him. “Rowan
and I need to talk to Detective Storm for just a minute.”

“Yes...yes, Detective, I’ll be fine,” she
answered mechanically.

“We’ll just be right outside the door,” he
added and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before joining me
to crowd into the narrow passageway.

“That didn’t sound good,” I remarked in a
near whisper as I wedged myself through and leaned against a
doorjamb. “What did they say?”

“Awww, they’re all fucked up,” Ben replied,
still seething from the conversation with the uncooperative
Lansbury Police Department. “They don’t wanna send anyone over
unless I can tell ‘em who’s gonna pay for it.”

“Pay for it?” I was confused.

“Lansbury is pretty small,” Carl explained.
“Their police department isn’t really a police department per se.
Truthfully, it’s not much more than a handful of rent-a-cops hired
out through a third-party security firm. All they’re ever worried
about is money.”

“So what are you going to do?” I
appealed.

“Well, they’re still inside the county, so
technically we have jurisdiction…” he mused. “Of course, we’re
stretched pretty thin as it is...”

Ben reached up and smoothed his hair back
then let his large hand rest on the back of his neck. Slowly his
fingers started working on a tense knot at the base, and he
grimaced thoughtfully, “Yeah, Carl, I know. Right now I’ve got
Martin and Kelly back at the command post contactin’ everyone on
the list she gave us.” He cocked his head toward the other room to
indicate Starr.

“From what we can tell so far, it looks like
they all live in areas with real coppers,” he detailed. “That’ll
help a lot, so there shouldn’t be much fuss about gettin’ police
protection for ‘em. Of course, they haven’t reached everyone on the
list yet.”

He continued working the back of his neck
with his large hand and puffed his cheeks out with a fatigued
sigh.

“Jeezus, what a mess!” he finally exclaimed.
“I guess it’s gonna be up ta’ us to keep watch over these two.”

“How are the higher ups going to feel about
you playing bodyguard?” I asked, “Seems to me they get a little
concerned over budgets too.”

“Lemme ask you this,” He stared directly into
my face and raised an eyebrow, “Do you think this asshole might
come after another one of the women in this group?”

“Well, Starr did say that no one else has
received any threats,” I offered.

“That she
knew
of.” He qualified my statement and thrust
his index finger at me. “But that’s not what I asked
ya’.”

I took a moment to weigh the facts before I
replied, “You can’t entirely rule out the possibility that he might
go after someone else. Like I’ve said before, there are a lot of
Pagans in this city, and I still believe that the eradication of
Witches is this guy’s main focus. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be going
about the murders in the manner he has so far.”

I let out my own troubled sigh. Ben was
seeking my advice, and my nagging doubts were keeping me from
giving a singular commitment to this avenue of thought. I knew he
was depending on me, and I didn’t want to let him down.

“I suppose I would have to agree though that
by killing two members of the same Coven, he’s established
something of a pattern. I don’t want to put all the eggs in one
basket, but in answer to your question... yes, I think it is very
likely that he will target another member of this circle.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me, and I’m
bettin’ it’ll be good enough for the chief. He’s the only higher up
I’m worryin’ about right now. Whaddaya think, Carl?”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Deckert nodded as
he spoke. “I got a hinky feeling about the whole deal.”

“Okay. So what now?” I inquired.

“Let’s see...” Ben turned his wrist and
glanced quickly at his watch. “It’s five after five now... Oh shit!
Man, I’m s’posed to have you home in twenty-five minutes.”

“I’ll just have to call Felicity and tell her
to go on without me,” I remarked.

Ben looked hard at his watch again as if by
doing so he could somehow turn the hands back by sheer force of
will. “No way, white man. No freakin’ way. The red squaw would
scalp me for sure. I promised ‘er I’d have ya’ home. Besides,
there’s nothin’ you can really do right now.”

“I can cancel, Ben,” I insisted. “I’m really
not looking forward to it anyway. You know her father doesn’t much
care for me, and I can do without that grief at the moment.”

“Yeah, but it’s family and ya’ do what you
gotta. Besides, she’d kill us both. Anyway, like I said, there’s
nothin’ more for you ta’ do at the moment. Seriously.”

“Are you certain?”

“Positive. Just let me know where you’re
gonna be, and if somethin’ comes up, I’ll get in touch with
ya’.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and take Rowan home,”
Deckert volunteered. “I’ll hang loose till you get back.”

“You sure, Carl?” Ben asked as he gave him a
questioning glance.

“Yeah. No problem,” he returned easily.
“Mona’s outta town visiting her sister, so I was just gonna grab a
burger and work late anyway. Ya’know, maybe I’ll make a few calls.
I got a coupl’a guys that owe me a favor or two. If either of ‘em
is off duty, maybe I can get one of ‘em over here on a
payback.”

“Good idea.” Ben nodded vigorously. “I’ve got
a few markers out there myself. I’ll make some calls too.”

“You guys go on ahead,” Carl ordered and shot
me a grin. “Don’t need your wife gettin’ upset... If she’s anything
like Mona... Well, you know.”

“Thanks, Deck,” Ben told him as he ushered me
toward the doorway, “I shouldn’t be gone more’n forty-five minutes,
tops.”

“No problem. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

There are those times when it pays to have a
cop behind the wheel. Being in a hurry to get somewhere can
definitely qualify as one of them.

Ben dropped me off in front of my house with
slightly over one minute to spare.

* * * * *

Felicity reached up and casually cranked the
Jeep’s rear-view mirror in a direction I’m firmly convinced the
engineers had not really designed it to go. I am also fairly
certain that in order to avoid breaking said mirror, the out of
specification contortion was something that could only be
accomplished by a woman applying makeup while in the driver’s seat.
I suppose I should be thankful we were currently parked.

Leaning into the steering column, she
frantically brushed what she obviously considered to be a stray
hair or two from her forehead and urged them to disappear into the
rest of her auburn mane. Still pitched forward, and using only one
hand, she spun the barrel of a lipstick with practiced fingers then
swiped it across her lips with fluid, almost surgical, precision.
Turning her head from one side to the other and inspecting her
reflected image from the corners of her eyes, she let out a
satisfied purr. Only then did she stuff the tube of gloss back into
her coat pocket and return the mirror to a crooked semblance of its
proper position. Still, even after seeing for herself, she twisted
in her seat to face me and asked, “How do I look?”

“Like a regular Colleen,” I answered. “A real
Irish lassie if ever there was one.”

“You didn’t even look,” she insisted.

I groaned assent and turned to give her more
than just a cursory glance.

Her fiery spiral tresses billowed out softly
to frame her smooth alabaster face. Falling in a silky flow across
her shoulders, her hair disappeared in a cascade down her back that
I knew reached almost to her waist. A pair of thin braids encircled
her crown, neatly held in place by strategically placed, hidden
hairpins, until they joined in the back and coalesced into a
whirling eddy of loose curls.

She was looking back at me with her eyebrows
arched questioningly over sparkling green eyes, and by the dim glow
of the map light, I could see the narrow swath of freckles that
rode faintly across the bridge of her nose. Her full, red lips were
slightly parted, and the corners turned up in a girlish smile. Her
cheeks were flushed pink from the cold.