The Hexed (Krewe of Hunters) (9 page)

Devin and Rocky headed to his car. As they drove, she was pensively silent. When they reached her house, he came around to open the car door for her, but she was already out. He walked her to the house. When she opened the door, he said, “I’ll check the place out for you, if that’s all right.”

“Um, yes, sure. Thank you.”

He went through the same ritual as he had the other day. Devin decided to wait for him in the parlor. As she stood there, she saw the ghost of Aunt Mina peeking out from the kitchen.

“Everything all right, dear?” Aunt Mina whispered.

“Yes, fine,” Devin said, waving at her aunt to please disappear for the moment.

Rocky joined her in the parlor just as Aunt Mina disappeared.

Still a little unnerved by her aunt’s strange comings and goings, Devin said, “So now you’re convinced that the women were murdered by a Wiccan with an athame?” she asked.

“The weapon could have been an athame, yes,” he said. “That doesn’t mean that a Wiccan used it—anyone can buy one. As you so charmingly pointed out,” he said, smiling to take the sting out of the words.

“And you really believe that?” she asked him.

“Yes, I really believe that’s a distinct possibility,” he said.

“Are you any closer to finding the killer?”

“I wish I could say yes,” he told her.

There was a strange moment of silence as they stood there looking at each other. Devin had the wild thought that she should pretend that it had been a real date. That she should walk to him, smile...and lean up and give him a kiss.

She suppressed the insane desire. And yet it seemed that even from a distance she could smell his scent. Nice, not like a sweet perfume, just something clean and woodsy and a little bit musky.

Then she reminded herself that the ghost of her great-aunt was haunting the house even as she was picturing him undressed.

“Well, thank you,” she murmured.

“My pleasure,” he told her, and headed to the door.

She followed and as she was about to close it behind him, he caught hold of it and smiled, then indicated something behind her.

“Great-Aunt Mina, huh?” he said over Devin’s head before turning his attention back to her. “Next time I’m here, you’ll have to introduce me.”

Before she had a chance to do more than stare at him wide-eyed, he closed the door behind him. She spun around, and of course, there was Aunt Mina.

Devin could have fallen down, she was so stunned.

Aunt Mina was not. “How delightful!” she said. “He sees me. Now, quit standing there like a dime-store dummy, child. Lock that door.”

* * *

As he drove, Rocky smiled.

It was intriguing to discover that Devin also saw ghosts. Of course, he hadn’t given her a chance to respond to the fact that he’d seen Mina. He’d just let that sit with her awhile.

He was glad that Devin was like him. Damned glad. Surprised, yes, but pleased that they could be free to speak about things they’d learned from the dead—a boon in this situation.

Rocky wondered again as he returned to his room if he had done the right thing; he might have gone on his way living a normal life. Well, something that resembled a normal life, anyway. He was a good agent; he was focused and methodical—and passionate in his search for justice for the victims of violent crime.

He’d seen things over the years, things most people didn’t even believe existed. He’d probably never had a chance of avoiding it, having been born and raised in an area of the country where people seemed to carry the past in them like a genetic trait. Sometimes he’d been able to use the...people he saw.

Because he hadn’t been involved. Because he could say, Hey, it’s all in my mind, but it’s working, so just go with it.

Except for Melissa.
Except for her face in his window, her voice in his head.

But tonight...

The things he saw were real. Dead, but real. And at least in his experience, they weren’t out to do harm, as they supposedly had been in the days of the witchcraft trials. Hell, if the accused really had been witches, they could have pulled out their wands, whipped them through the air and shut up the likes of Cotton Mather.

Then he told himself to pull back. The “witches” he had known growing up were no more bizarre to a kid growing up in a Congregational church in New England than a Hindu or a Buddhist. They couldn’t magically will themselves down from a hanging tree. But that didn’t mean the so-called “other world” wasn’t real.

He’d seen Mina Lyle tonight. As clearly as he had seen Devin. And he knew that he’d approached Jackson Crow in hopes of joining the Krewe of Hunters for reasons other than Melissa—though the fact that the memory of her had haunted him for more than a decade was the main factor.

He looked out his window for a long time before he went to bed. And in his heart he willed her,
Come back to me now. Now I can help you.

He turned and headed to bed. He needed sleep.

He prayed that he wouldn’t dream.

But he did.

The three dead women were there. And in the deepest regions of his mind, where REM sleep ruled, and the subconscious mingled with the conscious, they were caught in the breeze beneath the moon.

They wore white shrouds that whipped around their bodies and they had come to him where he kneeled over a grave. He looked at the headstone and realized that it was Melissa’s grave. She reached out to touch him.

“Old friend,” she said softly. “Now we are three.”

When he woke up, he recalled the dream and thought he should be feeling off in some way, as if the dead had given him a hangover of remorse.

But instead, he found himself feeling more determined than ever. He headed straight for the police station and started setting up for the Krewe members who would be arriving later that day. He set up whiteboards where he wrote out time lines and set down the facts regarding each victim. When he stood back and studied his handiwork, he was more convinced than ever that the current killer was not a copycat. There were too many little things that a copycat simply couldn’t know. The way the fingers of each victim had been stretched out, as if she were reaching for something. The way the silver chain that held the medallion had been carefully curled. The way the feet had been pointed out, as if replicating the points of a star.

And he wondered once again why each victim had gone to the woods completely unsuspectingly.

Not a single defensive wound had been found on them.

Either they had been with a friend, someone they trusted, or they had gone there to meet a friend.

He was mulling that point when his cell phone rang. It was Devin.

He was surprised by the way his heart leaped.

“Everything all right?” he asked her.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. But I’d like to see you.”

She hesitated, and he realized that she was whispering even though she was in her own house and the only person who might hear her was...

“I know you saw...what you saw. And Auntie Mina saw a woman in the window. That night, I mean. You asked me how I knew to go into the woods. I heard someone crying. But Auntie Mina
saw
her. And it wasn’t the woman I found. She didn’t tell me before because she didn’t realize they were different people, but now that she’s seen so many images...anyway. It was someone else. And I think she was murdered, too.”

* * *

Devin was on edge. Maybe it was something she should have accepted all her life.

That sometimes she could see the dead.

But she hadn’t accepted it. She’d gone into journalism, for God’s sake. Facts and figures.

But now an FBI agent as cool and stoic as the
GQ
man she’d initially compared him to was sitting in her parlor—along with her dead aunt. And they were all talking as if this were a perfectly normal conversation. Rocky was interviewing Auntie Mina with sober consideration, listening to her words as if she were a living witness.

“The victim’s picture is in the paper, you see—and of course, on the television,” Auntie Mina said. “I do love television,” she told him. “Why, when I was a girl, it didn’t even exist.”

Rocky grinned. “I love TV myself. Especially
The Big Bang Theory
and reruns of
Frasier.
”

Auntie Mina was delighted. “Excellent shows.”

“So you saw pictures of the victim and realized she wasn’t the woman you’d seen in the window. Do you know who she is? Or recognize the woman you
did
see?”

Aunt Mina shook her head sadly. “No. I’d never seen her before. Except that I feel certain that she was a reenactor of some kind. I’m sure you’ve seen some of our local Wiccans. I’ll admit, most of my clothing was black, and if you were to go into my closet now, you’d see that I had several gorgeous cloaks for our circles and Sabbats. But she was dressed differently. Like a Puritan. Perhaps she really
was
a Puritan, a woman from...some other time.”

“Thank you, Mina,” Rocky said. “I’m not sure what it means, but it’s definitely a new avenue to explore.”

“You mean, we have another dead woman somewhere?” Devin asked him.

He looked over at her. There was something gentle in his eyes. “Maybe not. Maybe she died a long time ago and stayed to try to save others.”

“Oh,” Aunt Mina said.

“I have to get back,” he told them. “The members of my team are coming in later.”

“You have a team?”

“I do.”

She nodded. “Good,” she told him. “A whole team to help out will be very good.”

He rose and thanked Aunt Mina. Devin walked with him to the door.

“Lock it,” she said. “That’s what you’re going to say to me, right? I would do it, anyway, you know, without you telling me.”

He nodded and hesitated. “I think I’d like to take a tour with that friend of yours I met last night—Brent Corbin.”

“Okay. I can set it up, if you like.”

“Sure. Want to come with me?”

It was her turn to hesitate.

Sure, let’s see a friend of mine. Let’s pretend we’ve known each other before now, that you’re here because I live here, that you’re here to be with me....

You
could
just ask me to dinner.

Great. Three women were dead, two of them in the past couple of weeks, and she...

She couldn’t stop thinking about Rocky.

Each time she saw him, she was more fascinated by him.

“Of course. Except...” she said.

“Except?” he asked.

“I’m not sure why you’re so focused on my friends.”

“I’m not. You’re friends are just up to speed on what’s going on locally, and I need to catch up.”

“
I’m
up to speed on what’s happening locally. And don’t you have your own friends?”

He laughed. “I do. And maybe I’ll drag you to meet them.”

She moved to close the door and their fingers brushed. She felt as if sparks sizzled through her, warming her flesh, and she knew that a blush rose to her cheeks. She met his eyes, trying not to jerk her fingers away, trying to appear casual.

There was something in his solemn green gaze, and she wondered if he had felt it, too. If he...

He smiled. “I’m serious,” he said softly. “My old gang wants to get together. It would be great if you’d come with me. We might learn something from them.”

“Learn what?”

“Information we may not have—gossip that could lead to something,” he said.

“Are any of them Wiccans? Or historians?”

He shook his head. “Jack is a cop, Vince is a lawyer, Haley is a dance instructor and Renee is a cheerleading coach.”

“Ah. The in crowd. I bet you played football.”

“Guilty,” he said. “Until...”

“Until?”

“Melissa.”

“She still haunts you, doesn’t she?”

“We’re all haunted, aren’t we?” he asked.

He left, and she locked the door.

“What a delightful man,” Aunt Mina said, coming up behind her and making her jump.

“Auntie Mina, he’s an FBI agent trying to solve a series of murders.”

“Yes, and we’re just trying to help, aren’t we?”

6

R
ocky’s phone rang on the way back to the station, alerting him to the fact that his fellow agents were waiting at his hotel. They wanted to meet in private before going to the station.

He discovered that he was being joined by Crow’s wife, Angela, and agents Jenna Duffy, Sam Hall and Jane Everett.

He had a feeling Jackson had sent Angela, his right-hand “man,” to assess the abilities that had gotten him into the Krewe—the unofficial name for the special units, and so called because their first case, a few years back, had been in New Orleans. Rocky wasn’t offended; the Krewe of Hunters was unlike any other division in the FBI.

Once he got to the hotel they all headed for the restaurant to get to know one another.

Jenna and Sam were from the area. Just a few years earlier they’d solved the case of a massacre at Lexington House and exonerated a boy—supposedly haunted by demons—who’d allegedly murdered his family and several other people. Rocky had met Jenna and Sam already. The day of his interview with Jackson he’d met the other agents who made up what were loosely called the Krewe of Hunters and the Texas Krewe, names derived from the fact that Adam Harrison—the overall director of the Krewes—had first put a team together in New Orleans and then expanded their numbers into Texas.

Sam was an attorney as well as an agent. He had the size and bearing to be a good backup man in a pinch and also had the careful, ever-vigilant mind of a well-trained attorney. He still owned a home in Salem, one that had been in his family and was now rented out.

Jenna, a bright pretty redhead with large hazel eyes and tremendous energy, as well as abilities that had proven themselves time and again, had been one of the first Krewe members. It was obvious, though they were careful
not
to be obvious, that she and Sam were a couple.

Jane, a tall and attractive brunette, had been sent specifically because she was a forensic artist; she didn’t have a law enforcement background, but she had been a consultant on many cases in San Antonio before heading to the academy and then joining the unit.

“We’re going to have a ‘Yankee’ Krewe before long, the way our numbers are rising,” Angela told him. She was a beautiful woman. After his interview, she’d been the one to show him around and he had learned that she felt she had found her true calling when she’d first joined the New Orleans Krewe. And of course, she’d added with a rueful smile, she’d also found Jackson Crow.

The five of them sat around the table, and at first Angela and Jane just listened as the others discussed growing up in New England.

“We both knew about Melissa Wilson’s death,” Jenna told Rocky. “You couldn’t live in this county without hearing about it. But I was a teenager and Sam was just off to college. When you’re that young...you hear about terrible things, but you don’t feel like there’s much you can do about them.”

“I hadn’t thought about it again until Jackson Crow brought you in to meet us,” Sam said.

“So who’s the lead detective?” Angela asked him.

“An old friend of mine,” Rocky said. “A guy named Jack Grail.”

“So does that mean he’s being helpful?” Jenna asked.

“Completely. I was in before we got the okay,” Rocky said. He turned to Jane. He’d heard about the Krewe. Hell, he’d
investigated
the Krewe before seeking out Jackson Crow. But it still seemed odd as hell to say certain things out loud.

“Devin Lyle, the young woman who found the Jane Doe, has a...dead aunt who lives with her. It used to be the aunt’s house. The aunt saw someone at the window, and it wasn’t our dead woman. She could be another victim.” He waited. No one laughed; no one questioned him.

“Is the aunt an outgoing spirit?” Jane asked him. “Is she easy to talk to?”

“Yes, very.”

Jane looked at Angela. “How about you and I head over to meet the ghost and her niece after we all go to the station?”

It was agreed. Angela and Jane took their rental; Sam and Jenna went with Rocky. At the station they met up with Jack Grail and were introduced to the other officers working on the case. Jack accompanied them when they gathered in the “feds’ room,” and Rocky went over his charts and explained why he was so certain they were looking at one killer, not a copycat.

“Do you think it could be someone who comes and goes from the area?” Jenna asked. “Because that would make this really, really hard.”

“Yes, it would—except that I believe the killer’s from the area, and that he doesn’t necessarily come and go. Or, necessarily, that he’s a ‘he.’ The victims don’t distrust their attacker or even see him coming. Angela, if I may...”

Using her as his mock victim, he demonstrated the killing technique they’d discerned from the autopsies.

“So a woman
could
be the killer,” Jack mused.

“A tall woman,” Jenna noted. “Or the angle of the blade would be different.”

“You’re right,” Rocky said. “Based on forensics, the killer stood between five-eight and six-one, possibly six-two.” He shrugged. “I’ve played with a dummy at different heights, but I haven’t been able to narrow it down any further. We need to go at this from all angles. With all of us on it, we can dig deeper, looking for connections and similarities between victims, or trying to come up with a psychological profile and pinpointing people who fit.”

“So it’s computer time,” Sam said.

“I’m good at that kind of thing,” Jenna offered. “I can search Essex County residents from thirteen years ago till now, just give me something to look for.”

“Our killer might have come and gone,” Jane said.

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

“Jenna,” Rocky asked, “can you do a search for residents who purchased athames in that time frame?”

“Of course. But if they used cash...”

“I don’t think they would have. Most people I know don’t even use cash to buy a latte anymore. There are always outside possibilities, but let’s go with this. And an athame is too common a purchase here for someone to be worried that they’d be targeted for buying one,” Rocky said. “And truthfully, alone it means nothing. But when things start to add up, it will be another piece of the puzzle—assuming our killer even used an athame. Still, it’s a good guess based on the ritualistic nature of the murders, so it’s a place to start.”

“The population of Essex County is over 760,000,” Jenna said. “Any ideas for narrowing it down?”

“Our killer could live anywhere in the area, but start with the towns most directly associated with the witch trials,” Rocky said. “Salem, Danvers, Andover, Peabody and the rest.”

“You think this could have something to do with those executions?” Sam asked.

Rocky thought about how Mina Lyle had described the woman in the window. A Puritan.

“A hunch,” he said. “Also,” he added, “look for people on your athame list who own a dark SUV. The boy who found Carly Henderson wasn’t sure what kind of car knocked him off the road, but he thinks it was a dark SUV. It might just have been a lousy driver, but it could have been our killer.”

“All right—age ranges?” Jenna asked.

“I’d say anyone who was fifteen and up at the time of Melissa’s murder,” Rocky said.

“That young?” Sam asked, then shook his head ruefully. “Yeah, you’re right—that young. Sad to say.”

Jack left them to speak with his officers, Sam settled in to go back over the missing-persons reports, Jenna started finessing the computer and the other three each took one of the victims’ files and started back over it, looking for any detail that might have been missed before now.

* * *

With Auntie Mina there in the house to keep it from feeling so empty, Devin found that her work seemed to fly, but Aunt Mina had more for her to do once she got a good look at her herb garden.

Aunt Mina shook her head. “You know, a lot of old wives’ tales are just that, but not all. A lot of what our ancestors thought was good for us really was. The garden needs work.”

“I’ve only been back a few months, Auntie Mina,” Devin reminded her. “But I’ll go out and pull some weeds right now.”

“You will do no such thing! You’ve got to remain inside—and be vigilant,” Aunt Mina said.

Devin
had
been careful. Very careful. But the two murdered women had been killed in different parts of town, only one of them near her house. And if they were counting the girl who had died thirteen years ago, she’d been killed in Peabody.

“I don’t believe I’m in any danger, Auntie,” Devin said. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was talking to herself. Seriously, how easy was it to imagine her aunt, who had been such a huge part of her life, might be lingering at the cottage that had been her home?

But Rocky had seen her, too.

It was amazing; Rocky had...something special. A sense about such things. It made her feel closer to him, somehow.

She realized that she’d forgotten to call Brent and make reservations for tonight’s tour. She grabbed her phone and was relieved to find out there was still room for them.

He told her to be there by 7:45 p.m., then said casually, “I looked him up, by the way.”

“What?”

“I ran a search on your friend. He
is
from Peabody, and he was a big shot on the high school football team. Then a girl he knew was murdered and he just quit playing. They say he was headed for the NFL.”

“I guess he didn’t care that much about a pro career.” She had the feeling he had decided that going into law enforcement was more important—especially after losing a friend that way.

“He looks like he still plays. Bet the guy spends half his life in a gym.”

“I don’t know. We’re friends, but—”

“I don’t trust him, Devin,” Brent warned her.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“His friend dies, he goes away. I can trace him through college and then...he disappears. I found some of his classes. You’ve got to hear the titles. Things like ‘Women Who Kill,’ ‘Defining the Psychotic Mind’...the list goes on.”

“He majored in criminology,” Devin said.

“Yeah? Are you sure he didn’t major in being a criminal?”

Devin kept her mouth shut. Rocky hadn’t told the others what he did for a living, and though she didn’t think he was trying to hide it—he wasn’t here undercover or anything—it didn’t seem like it was her place to say anything.

“He’s a good guy, Brent,” she said.

“Don’t be fooled just because you think he’s hot.”

“Brent!”

“Okay, sorry. But friends have to look after friends. And I’m just saying, he leaves after a friend is killed—he comes back and two women are murdered.”

“I don’t believe he was back in the area yet when Carly Henderson was killed.”

“You may not
believe,
” Brent said, “but you don’t
know.
”

He hung up before she could reply. Exasperated, she almost called him back to tell him she wasn’t coming.

But she didn’t.

She was about to get back to work when her phone rang. Rocky. He wanted her to know that two of his fellow agents were on the way. One was a sketch artist who wanted to work with Aunt Mina.

“What?” Devin said.

“She wants to work with your aunt,” he repeated.

She stared at the phone. “My aunt is dead.”

“That’s fine. They won’t mind. They’re both great, and I know you’ll like them. So will your aunt.” She felt his hesitation before he spoke again. “We’re all with a special unit of the FBI, Devin. The Krewe was formed because there are people out there who can see and talk to the dead. By working together, we’re able to do better work. We don’t have to pretend to one another, or come up with some ridiculous explanation for why we know something. And of course, as we’re seeing, it doesn’t solve everything. Some souls do stay as ghosts, and some don’t, but...well, I can’t tell you how great it is that you’re one of us.”

“One of you?”

“That you can see,” he added quietly.

“Yes, I suppose. I mean...it’s not easy.”

“No,” he agreed. “See you soon.”

That was all. He was gone.

And he hadn’t given her much warning. She’d barely hung up when she heard the doorbell chime.

“Who is it, dear?” Aunt Mina called from the back room, where she was watching television.

“Two more FBI agents, Auntie.”

Aunt Mina giggled. “I’ll behave. I promise.”

“No,” Devin said dryly. “They’re coming to see
you.
”

“How lovely,” Aunt Mina said.

Devin wasn’t sure that any of it was lovely at all. She gave her aunt a weak smile and went to the door, looking carefully through the peephole before opening it. The two women on her doorstep were attractive and dressed in what people called business casual. The blonde introduced herself as Angela Hawkins, and the brunette was Jane Everett, the forensic artist.

To Devin’s absolute astonishment, even though she knew from what Rocky had told her that they could see ghosts, they greeted Aunt Mina as if she were as corporeal as they were.

But she prepared coffee and tea, then―when she wasn’t quick enough and Aunt Mina reminded her that they should offer their guests something to eat―went back to the kitchen and found some scones.

Jane was sitting on the sofa with Auntie Mina, working on a sketch as Aunt Mina described the woman she’d seen. Angela smiled at Devin and said softly, “It looks like you’re in shock.”

Devin admitted, “A little.”

“Are you having trouble accepting your gift?”

“I’m not sure I see this as a gift,” Devin said.

“Have you seen spirits before? Before your aunt’s reappearance, I mean?” Angela asked her.

“She did, she just didn’t admit that she did,” Aunt Mina piped in. “Comes from me, of course. And my family line. It skips a generation in our family. But the ability is very strong in Devin.”

“Now, Miss Lyle, I need you to focus,” Jane said.

“Of course, dear, of course,” Aunt Mina said.

Angela grinned at Devin. “So...you accepted your talent late, I take it? Not to worry—many of us did. And it’s not always easy to understand what’s really going on, since there are spirits out there we never see, and others are shy or just haven’t learned yet how to make themselves visible—not to mention audible―to the living. Even the most gifted among us.” She shook her head and smiled. “Those of us in the Krewes have been at this awhile, and we still don’t understand everything. We try, and then we hope for the best.”