Sleeping With Fear (14 page)

"So far," Leah said to the sheriff, "nothing unusual's shown up in any of the background checks."

He scowled. "What, not even a parking ticket?"

"I didn't say that." She handed a printout across the desk. "Three of them have bad credit ratings."

Jake eyed her. "Are you being funny?"

"Obviously not." She perched on the arm of one of his visitor's chairs, smiling faintly. "I'm just saying that not a single one of them has a criminal record of any kind. A few court appearances on civil matters-divorce, child custody, a property dispute-but absolutely nothing criminal. As far as we've been able to determine, the group in the Pearson house is clean."

He grunted. "Unless somebody gave us a false name."

"They had I.D.," she pointed out.

"And how hard is that to fake in this day and age? Hell, you can buy a new identity on the Internet."

Patient, she said, "The paper trail looks genuine."

"Yeah, yeah." He frowned down at the report she'd given him. "Keep digging."

"And when we hit bottom?"

"Dig a little deeper."

"Right." She stood up, but paused before turning toward the door to say, "You know, if we don't find anything, and they don't want to talk to us, we won't have a legal leg to stand on in questioning them about the murder. Not one thing we've found so far ties any of them to the scene, and until we find out who the victim was…"

"That's another thing I don't get," Jake said. "We should have an I.D. by now. With the size of this county, we've had time to talk to nearly every soul; we've certainly had time to knock on every door."

"Almost," she said. "Tim thinks by the end of the day our teams will have done that. Every door on the island, at least, and most of those in Castle. The whole county will take a few more days."

"We need more people," he muttered.

She hesitated, then said, "Well, in general we don't need them."

"Don't remind me that I could call in the state police."

"I don't have to remind you." Leah shrugged. "Anyway, they'd have to waste time getting up to speed before they'd be any real help. I'm betting Riley's going to make the difference here."

"I'm not so sure about that." Before she could respond, he added, "She and Ash still in the conference room?"

"No, they left a little while ago."

"To go where?"

"Didn't say."

His frown became a scowl. "Find out, dammit."

Leah didn't question or argue, she merely nodded and left his office to obey the order. She'd been one of Jake Ballard's deputies long enough to recognize the signs of a frayed temper, and though he seldom lost his entirely, when he did it wasn't pretty.

She returned to her own desk, nearly alone in the bullpen with virtually every available deputy out doing the house-to-house. She tried Riley's cell first, not really surprised when she got only the voice mail.

"I don't know why she even bothers to carry a cell," she muttered to herself as she hung up without leaving a message. "It never seems to be working."

A downside of being psychic, Riley had explained. Something about electromagnetic energy; as Leah understood it, it was sort of like Riley carried around with her a permanent static charge. Even her credit cards had to be carried in a special case, and the SCU-designed cell cases were only partially and sporadically protective because the phones had to be able to send and receive signals to be useful.

Difficult, Leah supposed, to design a way in which to shield a device from electromagnetic energy when said device required energy to function.

She was rummaging on her messy desk looking for the business card Ash had given her earlier with his cell number on it when the deputy manning the front desk approached her.

"Hey, Leah-we might have something."

She looked up at Tim Deviney, her brows lifting. "Yeah? With the door-to-door?"

He nodded. "We got a renter not answering his door, and neighbors haven't seen him at least since the weekend. Team's been back twice, and still no answer, no sign of him."

Leah frowned. "A single renter? Was he on our first list?"

"No, the realtor thought he was coming down with his family, and it's one of the big houses, so they had no idea he was alone."

"We have a name?" she asked.

"Yeah. Tate. Wesley Tate."

A
fter a long moment, Ash let out a short sigh. "Okay. Point taken. You have more right to be pissed."

"Thank you."

They stared at each other, and then he finally smiled. "So I'm the one you decided to trust, huh?"

Becoming more aware of the deputy watching them, Riley lowered her voice again. "Well, I was sleeping with you, after all. I don't know if you're aware of this, but I just don't make a habit of sleeping with men I barely know."

"So you said."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Want to tell me why I made an exception for you?"

His smile widened. "You know, I think I'll wait awhile and see if that part of your memory comes back."

"Bastard."

"I said you had more right to be pissed; I didn't say I wasn't still pissed too. You're a hell of an actress, Riley. It might have dawned on me slowly that something was wrong, but I never guessed I was a stranger to you."

She cleared her throat. "Not a total stranger. My memory might have been AWOL, but other parts of me were…Let's just say some things came back to me quicker than others."

"Yeah, we were great in bed right from the start," he said. "I would have been seriously offended if you had forgotten that."

"I'll bet."

"It's a guy thing."

"Uh-huh. Well, while you beat on your chest, I'm going to go see if I can pick up anything from the murder scene."

Turning serious, he said, "Riley, I don't have to know much about psychic abilities to guess this isn't a good idea."

"Probably not, but it's the only one I have right now." She shook her head. "Look, Gordon couldn't tell me much because I hadn't told
him
much. I've never kept notes or an ongoing report during an investigation-something I've just started doing here in case my mind is more screwed-up than I think it is-so it's not like I left a trail of bread crumbs for myself to follow. I don't know what's going on. I don't know what I may or may not have learned in the last few weeks. All I
know
is that somebody attacked me and a man's dead."

"And your boss left you here without backup?"

Riley briefly explained just how occupied the remainder of the team was with their own cases, then added, "Bishop wanted to recall me to Quantico, but I talked him out of it. I have to report to him every day, though, and when I report in today I damn sure want a few answers to offer him. Otherwise, when he hears what happened yesterday-"

"What happened yesterday?"

Shit.

Reluctantly, she admitted, "I lost a few more hours."

"What?"

"You heard me. About twelve hours, this time. From yesterday afternoon until this morning."

"Riley, you seemed perfectly fine last night."

"So I gather. It's fairly obvious that I was…functional. Working at my laptop, starting that damn report. I just don't remember doing it."

"Jesus Christ. You want to explain to me why you aren't in a hospital?"

"They wouldn't know what to do with me. Ash, about the only thing medical science knows about the human brain is that they
don't
know what most of it's used for. And as far as the SCU can determine, that's probably the part psychics
do
use."

He was frowning. "You're telling me medical tests wouldn't show any organic cause for the blackouts?"

"I'm telling you they wouldn't provide any information I don't already have. And that it isn't something a doctor can slap a Band-Aid on and send me home with a prescription for."

"Riley-"

"Look, you're going to have to trust me on this. Whatever damage that Taser did, medical science can't fix. Maybe if I can tap into the clairvoyance, use my brain and senses the way I always have, then I can straighten myself out. Maybe."

"No guarantees."

"No."

"It could make things worse."

"That's as likely as any other outcome," she admitted.

"Is that why you finally decided to tell me the truth? Because you're afraid you could get worse, lose more time? Is that the sort of trouble you're expecting?"

"I'm hoping there won't be any trouble, of course. But if there is, if I do lose more time, I'll need someone to keep me on track." Riley drew a breath and let it out slowly. "I really don't know what could happen if I manage to tap into the clairvoyance. Maybe nothing. Maybe that sense is entirely gone; I certainly haven't been able to tap into it so far."

Ash reached out and pulled her into his arms.

Riley was a little surprised, but she found her arms going around his waist and was aware of a rather shaky sense of relief.

Maybe she wasn't as alone as she'd thought.

"We'll get through this," he told her. "And no matter what you believe, you're a hell of a lot more than just a psychic."

"Preparing me in case it really is gone for good?" she murmured.

"It's only a part of you, Riley. Not all of you."

"If you say so."

He kept an arm around her as they continued through the dog park to the break in the fence. "It's your turn to trust me on this. Besides, I'm a lot more worried about these blackouts."

"You and me both, pal."

The deputy stationed at the fence obviously knew both of them and only nodded and touched his hat with a polite murmur when they passed, but the faint smile he wore said plainly enough that he had observed the embrace with interest and without surprise.

"So I gather everybody knows about us," she said dryly.

"We weren't secretive. Why should we be? We're both unattached and past the age of consent."

"I just…tend to keep my private life private, that's all."

"Another question in your mind?"

"Let's just say it's another sign that something was different. That something changed after I got here. And it's very frustrating to not remember what that was."

His arm tightened around her, but all Ash said was, "I'm betting on you, if that's worth anything. I doubt very much you've ever lost a fight in your life. Not one that mattered, at any rate."

Riley started to tell him he'd lose that bet, but by then they had reached the clearing still roped off with yellow crime-scene tape, and she did her best to push everything else out of her mind.

"What now?" Ash asked.

"Now," Riley replied, "I try to do my job. Wait here, if you don't mind."

He didn't protest, just watched as she ducked under the tape and headed for the boulders at the center of the clearing. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Well, if my head starts to spin around and I spew pea soup all over the place, please drag my ass out of here."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

She looked back over her shoulder to smile at him. "Yeah. Just keep an eye out, okay? If anything looks weird or wrong to you, break the connection."

"What connection?"

"This one." Riley turned her gaze back to the boulders, drawing a deep breath and concentrating on opening every sense she possessed. Then she reached out and placed both hands firmly on the stone that might have helped make up an altar.

She had unconsciously closed her eyes the moment her hands touched the rough stone. Though the bloodstains had faded to rusty marks that might have been mistaken for natural color variations in the rock, she was all too aware of what they really were, and it took all her willpower to deliberately open herself to them.

She hadn't really expected anything to happen, not given the generally absent state of her senses.

Almost immediately, however, Riley knew that something had. As if a switch had been thrown or a lid closed, she found herself abruptly surrounded by utter silence.

No birds. No distant sounds of traffic and people.

All she heard was her own suddenly shallow breathing.

Riley forced herself to open her eyes and recoiled violently from the altar, stumbling back.

The acrid smoke from the fire stung her nostrils, sulfur making the stench worse. Beyond the firelit clearing, the dark woods might have been miles deep, and ancient, impenetrable guardians for the ceremony taking place here.

The robed figures dancing around the fire some feet away were familiar to Riley, but only in that she recognized the movements and gestures, the low chanting in a language most of the modern world had forgotten. She couldn't see any of their faces. None of them seemed to be aware of her presence.

In any case, it wasn't the robed celebrants that held her fascinated gaze but the open coffin placed upon the rock altar.

Riley's first thought was that it must have been a bitch to carry the obviously specially designed coffin all the way out here. And even more of a problem to hide from observers while it was being transported, large as it was. But then she realized that, ornate and gilded though it first appeared, the coffin was actually made of some kind of sturdy cardboard. It fit fairly well on the flat rock they had speculated might be used as an altar.

And it was occupied.

The woman wore a black hood, so it was impossible for Riley to see her face. She was otherwise naked, her arms folded across her breasts in the traditional death pose. But her knees were raised, her legs parted, in a clear if obscene invitation to a lover.

Standing at the foot of the coffin, on one of the smaller boulders, was another robed celebrant, this one wearing a death's-head mask rather than a hood. His arms were raised as he chanted a bit louder than the others, clearly leading them. His robe was open, and he was naked beneath.

He was also very aroused.

Riley took another step back, and then another, thoughts and questions clashing in her mind. This was wrong, and not just in the sense that most people would undoubtedly be horrified by the scene. It was wrong because the
ceremony
was wrong. There were familiar bits, things she recognized, the chanting, the candles and incense; even the coffin had a place in a satanic ceremony-but not like this.

It was supposed to be, above all, a celebration of life, of the strength and power of the human animal. And sexuality was a very large part of that, but…this was wrong.

Before she could make it all come clear in her mind, she raised her gaze for the first time and was stunned to see a naked man hanging over the coffin.

He appeared to be unconscious.

Riley tried to get a good look at his face, but when three of the celebrants moved out of the circle around the fire and went to the altar, she couldn't help but watch what they were doing.

In a weirdly graceful acrobatic movement, two helped the third one to climb to the top of the tallest boulder, so that he stood parallel to the hanging man.

There was a short sword in his hand, a kind of weapon Riley had never seen before, its sharp blade gleaming in the firelight.

The other two celebrants went to the hanging man, and each reached up to grasp one of his ankles. Then they moved slowly back toward the far side of the altar, pulling his feet back and holding them high until his upper body hung over the coffin and the woman waiting inside it.

Riley almost started forward instinctively when she realized what was going to happen, but that involuntary movement was halted when she reminded herself that this had already happened. Or it was a vision. Or even a figment of her Taser-disordered mind and imagination.

Bottom line, what she was seeing wasn't actually taking place before her.

There was nothing she could do except watch in horror.

The chanting became louder, the group around the fire danced more frenziedly-and then someone Riley couldn't see struck a bell sharply three times.

And everything stopped.

Only the snapping, popping fire offered any movement or life for what seemed an eternal moment. And then the man at the foot of the coffin spoke a phrase in Latin, sharply.

Blood is the power? That's what he said?

The man on the topmost boulder leaned forward, grasped the hanging man's head by the hair, and drew it back far enough so that he was able to place the sharp blade against that unprotected throat.

The man at the foot of the coffin spoke, again in Latin, a short phrase Riley tried to brand in her mind.

Blood is the life.

Then, her voice muffled and unidentifiable behind the hood covering her face, the woman in the coffin spoke. Her words were also in Latin, and her tone was eerily seductive.

I offer…this sacrifice…and draw from blood spilled…life spilled…the power of darkness…the power of evil…to do my bidding.

The bell was struck three more times, and on the third strike the hanging man's throat was cut.

Blood gushed out and down, splashing the coffin and the woman in it. She unfolded her arms, holding them out as though welcoming the blood or beckoning a lover. Her hips lifted and undulated. Scarlet coated her breasts and stomach and streamed down the insides of her thighs.

The robed celebrants grouped around the fire began their dancing and chanting again, this time more frantically, their voices rising as the hanging man's lifeblood was drained from his limp body.

The priest at the foot of the coffin chanted as well, his voice growing louder, more frenzied, until finally the woman convulsed and cried out in an orgasmic tone, and he cast off his robe and climbed into the coffin, mounting her writhing body.

Riley's stomach heaved. She wanted to close her eyes or look away, but she was helpless to do either. She could only stand there and watch the obscene copulation taking place, while the chanting of the other celebrants became shouts, and the dying man's blood continued to spatter the two in the coffin, and the smell of incense and blood stung her eyes and her nostrils.

This was wrong. Wrong in so many ways-

"Riley!"

She opened her eyes with a gasp, momentarily dizzy as she stared at the daylit clearing. No coffin. No robed celebrants. No victim hanging above the altar.

She could still smell the blood.

"Riley, what in God's name-"

Realizing only then that Ash's arms were around her, that he had undoubtedly pulled her away from the altar, she fought for the strength to get her feet under her and turn to face him. She was grateful when his hands continued to grip her arms.