09 - Return Of The Witch (13 page)

“Do you recognize any of the names on that page, Ms. Adams?”

“Yes,” I said. “I recognize mine.”

C
arlos laughed. Chandler didn’t.

“
Anyone else’s.”

“Nope
.”

Ursula, who had been looking
around Carlos’ shoulder, said, “But, Sister, methinks if thee look again, thou will—”

“I said NO
, Ursula.” I ripped the paper from Carlos’ hands and gave it back to Chandler. “Sorry, Detective.”

“I see.” He folded the page in haphazard fashion and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Then perhaps you won’t mind telling me why you were in Salem today at the home of one Miss Terri Cotta.”

“Was I?”

“We have a witness
who says you were.”

“
Who, Holy Cross man?”

“
If you mean Terri Cotta’s neighbor, yes.”

“He’s a dick. He nearly took my head off with his Crucifix.”

“He said he also saw you there the night Terri Cotta went missing.”

“Missing? I didn’t know she was missing.” I looked to Ursula
. “Did you know she was missing?”

“Aye, for just this morn we—”

“See. We didn’t know she was missing.”

The two detectives
meshed their brows, though for my money, Papa Smurf’s was most impressive.

“Ms. Adams,” said Chandler,
obviously losing patience with me. “I thought you said you didn’t know Terri Cotta.”

“I don’t.”

“Yet, you were at her house today.”

“We’re
Jehovah. We were at a lot of houses today.”

Chandler looked at Carlos and Dominic. “Detectives, does your friend here understand the seriousness of impeding a police investigation?”

Carlos asked, “Is this a formal interview?”

“No, but it can be if she wishes to go back to Salem with us and do this at the jailhouse.”

“I don’t think so,” said Dominic. “You’re out of jurisdiction, Detective. You have no probable cause, no warrant and no evidence that a crime has even taken place.”

“What about this?”
Chandler snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Rossi, the obedient smurfster, reached into his coat pocket, removed a little baggie filled with a brown powdery substance and handed it to him.

“What
’s that?” I asked.

“
Carpenters chalk, we think, used for snapping straight lines on construction sites. Our lab is verifying that.”

“No,
that’s right,” said Carlos. “That’s what carpenter’s marking chalk is used for.”

“I meant they’re verifying
that it’s chalk.”

Carlos merely smiled.

“Apparently someone’s been using it as a sort of Pagan ceremonial dust.”

Ursula held out her hand.
“Please kind sir, may I?”

Chandler handed her the
baggie. Ursula held it to the light and examined its content. “Ah, `tis true, I fear, yet I see not the worse in this light.” She turned to me. “Sister, hath thee a torch of UV-A?”

“
What, you mean a black lamp?” I shook my head. “No, I’m certain I don’t—”

“Oh!
Lest I forget, my purse!”

She
ran to the couch, grabbed her purse and rummaged through it in an obvious yet cursory manner. Sighing, she tossed it back down and returned the baggie to Detective Rossi.

“Forgive me
,” she said, cupping it into his hand and closing his fist around it tightly. “Seems I have not the proper light to show thee what precious gem ye hold. Yet know thee this.” She backed away and pointed to his hand. “What light of day doth hit this fast shalt spoil riches meant to last.”

“Huh?”

“Sunlight.”

“Really?”

“Aye, sunlight, the wicked thief. Let it not reveal itself upon thy treasure.”

“Bullshit
. Quit talking gibberish.” said Chandler. He wagged his finger at me. “Three other Essex County P.D.s found similar chalk at the homes of the other missing women.”

“So what does that have to do with me?” I asked.
“Does it look like I’m running a chalk factory here?”

“
I’m not sure what it has to do with you, Ms. Adams. Yet, it seems to me that your name keeps coming up in connection with those women, first on various websites and now in police reports of criminal trespassing.”

I presented my wrists to him with loose fists bumped at the thumbs. “Then
arrest me now, Detective. Cuff me and take me in. What else can I tell you? You can see that those women are obviously not here.”

“Ms
. Adams, we didn’t come here to arrest you. We came here looking for answers, and if nothing else, to warn you that you might be in danger yourself.”

I laughed. “Me? In danger?”

Chandler’s demeanor softened considerably. I watched his gaze find a spot on the floor that seemed vague and distant. “Ms. Adams….” He shook his head. “I was sorry to hear about your husband. I truly was. I only met him that one time, but….”

I wanted to stop him right there, to tell him that he didn’t know my Tony well enough at all to talk about him in any sense. Yet something about his eyes
prevented me from interrupting, especially when they rolled back up at me. I saw compassion in them, born of respect and forged in brotherhood.

“He seemed like a decent man and a damn fine cop,” he continued. “Now
then, I suspect that perhaps in his honor or because it’s something you think he’d have done, that you and your sister here felt obligated to investigate what happened to those women. But I’m here to tell you—”

“Okay, stop
right there,” I said, adopting a posture that Tony would have recognized immediately as my bite me pose. “First of all, Detective, my Tony
was
a decent man, and not just a damn fine cop, but the
best
damn cop there ever was. Secondly, I don’t appreciate your patronizing implication that I need to emulate his profession in order to honor his memory.”

“Ms. Adams, I assure you
I meant no disrespect when I said—”

“
Yet you did disrespect me nonetheless,” I interrupted. “So I’d appreciate it, Detective, if you spare me your psycho analytical evaluations and stick to doing your job, which as I see it, awaits you at a donut shop somewhere back in Salem.”

Chandler stiffened his
chin and drew another long deep breath through his nose. “Ms. Adams, let me make myself perfectly clear. You are not welcome in Salem. If I hear or see that you’ve been trespassing in people’s yards again, or if anyone calls to report that you’ve been poking around in their business, I will personally arrest you, toss you in jail and throw away the key.”

“Oh, how cliché, Detective.”

“You mean like your donut joke, Ms. Adams?”

“Touché.”

He glared past my shoulder to Carlos and Dominic. “And I don’t care what friends you have on the police force here. I will not extend the customary professional courtesy.”

I walked to the door and opened it.
“In that case, Detective, we’re done here.”

He flashed a cocky
grin, confident he had put me in my place. Still, I held my own as he and Papa Smurf both physically bumped me on their way out. After shutting the door, my lips gave life to a smile as equally cocky. Carlos recognized it for what it was and immediately called me out on it.

“Lilith? What did you do?”

I held up the small plastic baggie that I lifted from Detective Rossi’s pocket as he brushed past me. “Nothing much, just a little dust lifting of my own.”

Dominic came in closer, squinting. “
Lilith, it’s empty.”

“What?” I looked at
my little prize. Dominic was right. The bag was empty. “I don’t get it. It couldn’t have spilled out. The seal is still locked.”

“`Twas never filled,” said Ursula.

We all looked at her. “Excuse me?”

She held up a similar
baggie filled with a brownish red chalk.

“I don’t believe it!
You pulled the old switcheroo.”

“I don’t get it,” said Dominic.

I pointed at her purse across the room. “Ursula asked me if I had a black light, which she knew I didn’t, but used it as an excuse to get an empty evidence baggie so that she could switch it with the one Detective Chandler handed her.”

Carlos shook his head. “I still don’t get it. What’s so special about
a baggie filled with carpenter’s chalk? You said so yourself it has no purpose in witchcraft.”

“No, but it
obviously has something to do with Terri Cotta’s disappearance. Think about it. All four women disappeared, leaving behind a similar chalk residue of one color or another. It must hold some significance.”

“Do you
want me to have the lab look at it?” asked Dominic. “If nothing else, they can confirm if it’s marking chalk.”

“Yes
.” I collected the three filled baggies from Ursula’s purse, plus the one she lifted from the detective, and handed them to Dominic. “Let me know as soon as you have a confirmation on them.”

“Of course.” He tucked the
baggies into his pocket and kissed his wife on the cheek. “We have to go now,” he told Ursula. “I want you to promise me you won’t leave town again.”

She looked over at me. I
nodded lightly. “Promise,” she said, which seemed to please Dominic immensely.

Chapter 13

After the guys left, I confided in Ursula about what I
thought happened on Emma Bernstein’s front porch back in Ipswich.

“I had a vision,” I told her, “or a flashback. I’m not sure which. Right after Bernstein slammed the door on us, I saw myself back at April Raines’ house
, attacking April with that bowling trophy.”

I crossed the room and took a seat on the sofa. All the while static bits of imagery kept popping in and out of my head, random scraps like snapshots flickering under strobe light, but never long enough to make
any sense of them.

I looked up at Ursula, who had been standing over me, her hand resting softly on my shoulder.
“Ursula, what if it’s me? What if I’ve killed those women?”

“N
o,” she said, shaking her head. “Thou hath not a bone so mean in thy body.”

“But you heard what Emma Bernstein said. She saw me
there last night. And that dog this afternoon, he knew me. You saw the way he acted.”

“He is a dog. He acts as a dog acts.
Thou knoweth not what he thinks.”

I turned my gaze down to the floor. “
Still…I’ve read about this, you know, repressed anger manifesting in silent rage. It’s the only thing that makes sense, the only explanation for the things I know, the things I’ve seen.”

“
Surely thou doth jest,” said Ursula, laughing in pig snorts at the obvious flaw in my remarks. “Before this morn thou knew not the names Terri, Amber, April or Wendy.”

“No, I didn’t but I…. Wait a second.” I stood and reached for Ursula’s hand. “That’s it!” I grabbed her other hand and squeezed them both tightly. “Ursula, that’s it. How could I have not made the connection?
I’ve been so out of my mind with Tony and all, I haven’t been thinking straight.”

“Pray tell, Sister, what connection?”

“The names! Don’t you get it?”

She
cocked her head to one side like a confused pup.

“Look, this morning
Dominic showed us Paige Turner’s website where she mentioned the Pendle Prophecy. It said the assimilation of the guardians had already begun.”

“Aye,
for the dust of life scattered here and yon.”

“
That’s right, so think about it. The prime elements are the prime essentials. What if Terri Cotta is a codename for terracotta, the Earth element?”

“Aye, `tis a logic I see
now that you mention it.”

“Of course, and that gnome you took from Terri’s front yard?
Was it not a bearded old man sitting at a potter’s wheel spinning a clay pot?”

“Aye.”

“That’s Father Earth.”

“
And what of Amber Burns?”

“
Could be ember burns, for the keeper of fire. Her gnome was holding a lantern.”

“Wendy Skye,” said Ursula, “
Be she windy sky?”

“
Air element, of course, and guess who April Raines is.”

“
Water!”

“The codenames, the gnomes, it all fits! Quick, follow me
.”

I led Ursula back to my room and powered up my laptop.
We logged onto Paige Turner’s website and clicked on the link to her members’ page. There we found other links to sites run by the Guardians of Four. And contrary to what I told Carlos, it appeared that some witches do indeed advertise.

“Look at that,” I said, pointing in disgust. “Those women were all accomplished witches, each entrusted with the powers of a prime essential. Why would they advertise that
and put themselves at risk?”

“I know not
, yet I see now by the banners what for the colors stand.”

“
Colors of what?”

“
The dust. Red for fire, blue for water, white––”

“
White for air and brown for earth,” I finished. “You’re right. I can’t believe it. The evidence has been staring us in the face all along. You know, maybe there
is
something to this Pendle Prophecy thing after all.”

“We should call my Dominic.”

“No, let’s not. I’d rather give him a chance to get those chalk samples analyzed down at the lab. I have a feeling it’s not carpenter’s marking chalk like Detective Chandler thinks.”

“What shall we do
then?”

I patt
ed my stomach and soured my face. “I’ll tell you. That little bite of sandwich I ate didn’t quite hit the spot. What do you say we go out for some real food? Fancy a juicy steak burger down at the Perc?”

“Aye, if I am buying.”

“You have money?”

“No.”

“Hmm…how `bout if I buy?”

“If thee insists.”

It was well past sunset when we left the house. The moon hung in the trees, but bright enough to rival the streetlight further down the block.

I let Ursula drive,
even though she doesn’t have a license. Just the fact that Dominic wouldn’t let her get one provided ample motivation for her little act of defiance. Besides that, she thoroughly enjoys driving. She gets a kick out of yelling ‘Giddy-up’ before punching the gas. What scares me is the way she yells ‘Whoa!’ before braking, as though one of these times the car wouldn’t hear her.

I was still piecing together the day’s events in my head when
a pair of headlights behind us lit up the inside of our car. They moved in on us so fast, I thought Ursula had switched on the dome lamp.

“What’s his problem?” I said, turning in my seat
to get a better look. That’s when I realized who it was. “Son-of-a-bitch. Ursula. That’s the Escalade that tried to run me down in my front yard yesterday.”

Ursula, who’d been maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the wheel asked, “You want I should slam on the brake?”

“No, I don’t want you should slam on the brake. I just washed the car six months ago. He might scratch the paint.”

“I should pull over?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. You know what? Just give him the sign to go around.”

Ursula rolled down the window and flipped him a bird.
“Go around!”

“No
, Ursula. Not that sign.” I demonstrated the universal windmill sweep of the arm. “Tell him to pass.”

“Aye,
`tis a better sign.” She did the windmill thing out the window. The driver behind us responded by gunning his engine and ramming our bumper.

“
Okay, that’s it,” I said. “He is so going to get it now. Ursula, get ready to pull over. I’m going to—”

Before I could
finish that thought, the Escalade swerved out from behind us and pulled alongside our rear quarter panel.

“
Damnit! He’s going to pit us,” I said, knowing that Ursula had no idea what that was. I tried to tell her to hit the break, but I couldn’t get the words out quickly enough.

In a jarring instant, the
two cars made contact. Our ass end fishtailed out from under us. Ursula, too new a driver to know anything but what instincts told her to do, cranked the wheel hard to the right. The back half of the car responded to the over-correction, pointing the front half toward the steep drop-off on the side of the road.

“Brace!” I yelled,
just before we tumbled over the side.

The car
rolled several times and then came to rest on its roof. The front bumper and wheels lay partially submerged in muddy water, but for the angle of the incline, no water seeped into the passenger compartment.

Also f
ortunate was that the airbags had all deployed: the two up front, the ones on the sides and possibly even a few in the back I didn’t even know I had.

I looked over at Ursula. She was still clutching the wheel as if bracing for further impact.
“You okay?” I reached out and patted her arm.

She
appeared in shock.

“Ursula?”

“Aye,” she said, finally. “Methinks I am fine as frog hair.”

“Funny you should say that, because I think I feel one crawling up my leg now.”

“We are down side up.”

“Yeah, or upside down, whichever way you care to look at it.”

“`Tis my fault. I know. Forgive me.”

“
No. It’s not your fault. Why would you think that?”

She looked at me, blinking back her disbelief. Blood was rushing to her head, flushing her face
and causing the veins at her temples to bulge. “I did not say whoa.”

I unhooked my seatbelt and dropped
onto the roof. “You didn’t have to. The car was out of your control. That asshole up there did it. Here….” I unclipped her belt and eased her to the ceiling. “Now let’s get out of here and fry that bastard with the biggest damn zip balls this side of the Mystic River.”

I crawled out the side window
and got to my feet as quickly as I could. Ursula managed to get out right behind me. The car was toast. Windows broken. Tires pigeon-toed. Steam from the ruptured radiator escaped in ghostly vapors through the shattered grill, hissing in protest as it snaked a hasty retreat into the trees.

We
looked up at the hilltop. The Escalade was there, its headlights shining out over the drop, illuminating the gully beyond.

A shadowed figure stood in front of
it, silhouetted against the lights, legs spread, hands on hips as if surveying a conquest. I thought I could hit him with a zip from where I stood, but worried that a miss might bring a tree trunk down on top of us. I looked at Ursula. She seemed to know what I was thinking.

“D
o it,” is all she said.

I assumed the stance, held my hand out and sparked a starter zip in the pit of my palm. I
was just beginning to spin it to life when I heard the distant squall of sirens.

Our phantom driver apparently heard
it too. I watched him twist his body and pitch an ear to the sound. He turned and looked down at us, hesitated for a second and then hurried back to his car.

“You better run!” I shouted, shaking my fist.

After he backed out and drove off, I lobbed the un-needed starter zip over my shoulder. It hit the water in a splash of electric blue sparks and static webs of white-hot light. Seconds later, a half-dozen bullfrogs turned belly-up on the water’s surface.

Ursula laughed at that.
“Look there,” she said, pointing at them. “They must be choir frogs.”

“Why
do you say that?”

She
giggled. “They all croaked at once.”

I took her by the hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before the mosquitoes carry us off.”

We were halfway up the hill when a pair of fire trucks rolled by at top speed, sirens wailing, lights flashing. We realized then they had not come to save us. Apparently, they didn’t even know we were there and instead, were responding to someone else’s emergency.

Th
e thought of that made my blood boil, because had Ursula and I been seriously injured in the crash, it’s likely no one would have known about it for days, weeks, maybe longer.

After reaching the top of the hill and checking
ourselves for cuts, nicks and scratches, we used my cell phone to call the boys.

In hindsight, we should have just called a cab, because the grief Dominic
gave us simply wasn’t worth the drama, especially after I told him about the episode I had the day before with that same phantom driver.

“What do you mean
he tried to kill you earlier?”

The little shit got toe-to-toe with me the way Tony sometimes did when he was exceptionally angry. The big difference was that Dominic was too short to get right in my face, so instead of looking down at me, he was looking
at my tits, which just made it seem funny.

“I didn’t know he wanted to kill me,” I told him, palming his
forehead and pushing him out of my comfort zone. “I thought it was some punk kid messing with me.”

“
Even after four other witches turned up missing, it didn’t occur to you that maybe you should have mentioned it to us.”

I shrugged
with indifference. “Sure, now that I have the benefit of hindsight it probably would have been worth mentioning.”

Carlos asked, “What were you two doing out here anyway?”

“We were going to get a bite to eat.”

“You should have called us. I like to eat.”

“I know you do, Carlos, but we didn’t want to take you from your work, which reminds me. Dominic, did you get those chalk samples down to the lab?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what? They haven’t even had it an hour. Besides, it’s not as if they’re all just sitting around waiting for you to give them something to do.”