The Nymph's Curse: The Collection (42 page)

“I was working on it.” There was a steely edge to his voice, but he stopped — this was his boss. He couldn’t go running into the dogfight baring his teeth. He needed to back out. He hadn’t caused this mess, he was only trying to mop it up. “I’m sorry, Sarge. But we did find evidence. You know how it is — ”

The man’s color lightened to overly ripe tomato as he shut Dane up with a wave of his hand. “Look. I was just talking with the editor of the
Daily Interlake
. They’re running a story about the last two victims and just caught wind of this … bullshit.” He gestured to the boat. “I told you that you needed to get a handle on your investigation. I didn’t tell you to go to the bar and hang out with our suspect.”

“She’s not a suspect. And I wasn’t there with her. I mean I was, but not like that. We were there following a lead.”

“What?” The sergeant leaned in and took a sniff. “You stink like the goddamned bar.”

“Look, Sarge. I’m telling you we weren’t there just socializing. We have reason to believe that a man named Shawn Gunner is possibly behind the murders. We have a video of him accosting Aura’s sister, Natalie.”

The sergeant stuffed his phone into the pocket of his thick winter coat. “Have you told Officer Grant about the development?”

“Why would I tell him? This is my investigation.”

“Not anymore.” He slammed the car door shut. “I think you’ve lost your objectivity. I don’t think you’re using your best
judgment
right now.”

He bristled. “That’s not true. I’m doing the best I can fucking do. I only just got the goddamned report from the crime lab. What the hell am I supposed to do with a purple cell phone, a knife, and two dead girls?”

“I understand you’re frustrated.” Some of the air seemed to leave the sergeant. “I’m not saying you’re a bad cop. I’m just saying this may not be the best case for you to be assigned to. Between your brother, your ex-wife, and now this new woman … Well, I think you need to find a little distance. I’m reassigning the case to Grant.”

“No!” He clenched his fists, but held back the urge to attack. “You can’t do that to me.”

“I can and I will. You need a break.”

“No. Just give me a couple more days. I will get this.” He couldn’t let Aura down any more than he already had. The only chance he had of making up to her was by finding the killer. He needed this. “Please,” he pleaded.

“Why in the hell should I keep you on this case? You’ve accomplished nothing and let another girl fall victim.”

The sergeant was right, but he couldn’t just walk away. “I’m telling you I
can do this.
Two more days. Please.”

Officer Grant sauntered up behind him and threw his arm over Dane’s shoulder like they were old football buddies. Dane shrugged the cocky little shit’s arm off and silently hated himself for resorting to begging.

“Grant, I want to put you on hold on a little longer. Dane’s going to be heading this case for a few more days.”

“That’s bullshit,” Grant said in a rumble.

“Just listen to the words that are coming out of my mouth.” Sarge pointed at his lips. “
Dane is leading the investigation
.”

Grant spun around and stomped off muttering profanities into the dusk.

“Thanks, Sarge.” Dane felt small, like an overly disciplined child. He’d fucked up, but he wouldn’t again.

“Don’t give me any reason to regret this. If you do, you will be cleaning out the back of every patrol car from here to Gallatin County.”

“I got it.”

“You better.”

Dane rushed toward Aura, the lake, and the boat that bobbed like the hand she’d found only a few days before. He could only hope that she hadn’t seen her sister’s body. That was one image she would never forget. He should know.

Aura had her arms wrapped around her as she sought comfort from the only person she could trust — herself. Her cheeks were pink and her warm breath made swirling white clouds in the cold evening air.

“You okay?” As soon as the words trickled from his lips he felt like an idiot. Of course she wasn’t okay. She was standing at the edge of a crime scene that focused on retrieving and examining her sister’s body. “I’m sorry … ”

She looked down at the snowy ground. “Let’s just not talk, okay?” Her voice was hoarse and ravaged by pain, and the sound ripped his heart from his chest.

He wanted to reach out and take her into his arms and make everything okay, but no matter what he did he couldn’t make things right. This was one thing he couldn’t fix or make any easier. She needed to mourn. To be angry. To hate him. But he would never hate her, only himself.

The overweight, wiry-haired coroner stood by the back door of the van with Officer Grant who was writing something down on his clipboard. Dane stepped over the yellow tape that protected the scene and made his way to the van. “Hey, Bill. Grant.”

The man looked up from his paperwork and smiled like this was just another dead body, another day on the job. “Hey, Dane.”

Dane held back the urge to cram the pudgy little man’s smile down his throat. He stuffed his fists in the pocket of his jacket just as an extra measure. “Grant, what do you have on the vic?”

“Of course you come to
me
for answers, but do I head the investigation?
No … ”
Grant snarled under his breath.

“Grant, just answer my goddamned questions. What do you know about the woman?”

“Well, the fisherman was out and saw her bobbing in the lake. Picked her up. Said he found a credit card with the name Natalie … ” He glanced down at the paper. “Montgarten. No other form of ID.”

“They find anything else on her? Jewelry? Cash?”

He flipped through the paper. “Nope. Just the card.”

Who would just carry a credit card and no photo ID? Something about it struck him as odd. “Did you run an ID check on her?”

Grant looked up from his papers. “What do you think I am, some kind of idiot?”

Dane sniggered. The cocky little shit didn’t want the real answer. “Did you find anything?”

“Well, it was pretty hard to ID the vic to the picture that came up. She kinda looks like the woman in the picture, but I’m not real sure.”

“What? Why?” Dane grabbed the fabric of his coat pockets.

“Well … ” Grant began.

Bill, the coroner, interrupted. “You wanna take a look?” The way he seemed to shift and jiggle reminded Dane of a neurotic, excitable little poodle.

He’d seen Natalie’s picture, and he had to be of more use than the baby-faced Grant. “Let’s see her.” He pointed to the back of the van.

“Hope you haven’t just eaten.” The pudgy poodle chuckled as he pulled open the back door of the van and clambered up inside. “She has a good gunshot wound to the chest and one to the abdomen.”

Dane cringed. What the hell was the man talking about? There was no such thing as a “good” gunshot wound. There was bad and really bad. No in-between. Every second he spent with this morbid little dog made him want to go and take a shower.

Bill wiggled excitedly as he slowly unzipped the bag one tooth at a time, like he took some kind of sick pleasure in the macabre scene within the body bag. The putrid scent of death was barely masked by the earthy, fishy aroma of the lake. Dane pulled his hand from his pocket and pushed his sleeve under his nose. No matter how many deaths he was around that was one scent he had a hard time getting over.

“You alright there, buddy?” Bill asked him with a stupid are-you-serious smile.

“Peachy. Hurry up.”

Bill chuckled and flipped the bag open. The woman on the table was just as he had expected — brunette, early thirties, and clear evidence of several gunshot wounds. Was this the woman who’d owned the camisole that Aura had found in the truck?

Dane stared at the victim’s face. Her eyes were closed, almost as if she were sleeping except that her face was a ghostly white. A little bit of red lipstick was still left on her bloodless lips, making them look even more sickening. She looked different from her picture. They would need to get fingerprints and, when Aura was ready, have her identify the woman.

He tried to swallow away the lump that rose in his throat.

Dane pulled the bag open a little bit further exposing her white sweater. Right where her heart would have sat was a gaping hole. Whoever had shot her had done so with a large caliber rifle or handgun. Maybe the crime lab would be able to identify the round and he could finally get some solid evidence.

When he pushed back the ragged edges of the cloth from the wound he noticed something strange — the edge of the skin was pink, not raw or as ragged as the cloth above it. Some of the woman’s skin puckered and had a slight shininess to it, indicative of healing. He gasped as he dropped the cloth from his fingers.

“Aura!” He turned around and jumped out of the van leaving Bill to clean up the body. He’d love every goddamn second of it.

He rushed at her as she stood waiting behind the yellow tape. A little more aggressively than he’d intended, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the patrol car. “You and I need to talk … Now.”

There was a resistance to her body and she pulled slightly as if she feared leaving the scene — or was it the fear of telling him the truth? Well, she couldn’t hide it anymore. There was something going on, something strange, and he had a feeling she held the answers.

She looked like a trapped animal the way her eyes darted around, like she was looking for some type of escape. He opened the door to the car and motioned for her to sit down.

“You’re going to sit here and talk to me. You aren’t telling the whole truth and I know it. My job is on the line. Your sister is dead. If you want me to find out who did this, you need to tell me the truth. No more games.”

Without argument, she sank down into the seat and put her hands over her face. Her shoulders trembled with silent sobs and he instantly hated himself for being so rough. “I’m sorry, Aura.”

He shut her door and walked around to his side of the car, hating himself every step of the way. Everything was going downhill — he was breaking hearts, responsible for dead women, and close to losing his job, his credibility, and the only chance he’d had at a real relationship. It was all too much.

He got in and closed the door and then turned to Aura.

There was a heavy silence between them. The trembling of her shoulders lessened and she wiped away the tears from her cheeks and dabbed gently at her pink nose. “Was it really Natalie?”

“I think so … ”

“Did she have a horse tattoo on her neck?” she asked, almost as if she begged for him to be lying.

He thought back to the red lipstick on her pale lips, her closed eyes, and her gaping chest wound. Though he tried, he couldn’t recall seeing any tattoo. “Where was it?”

Aura brushed her fingers across the base of her neck. “About here. It’s just a small black tattoo. She’s had it for years.”

There had been no tattoo, but he could have just missed it. He hadn’t spent too much time inspecting the icy body.

He reached over and picked up her hand. “May I?” He started to push up the edge of her jacket.

Aura drew back slightly, but then nodded. Where there had first been the bloody teeth marks from the wolf’s attack there was now nothing. No pink lines, no puckered scar and no evidence that she had never been attacked. He grabbed her other sleeve and pushed it back — there was nothing. Was he losing his mind?

He dropped her arm and stared at her. He had to have been going crazy. There was no possible way that she could have completely healed from the attack already. And there was no possible way that the victim could have even begun to heal from a chest wound over the heart. She would have been instantly killed.

The air in the car had turned cold and their breaths had started to fog the window, turning the world around them into a fading cloud of impossibilities.

Aura stared at him and after a minute finally moved to speak. “I … ” She stopped as if she needed to regain her composure. “You’re not going mad.”

“That’s funny. That’s not how I’m feeling.”

“There’s a reasonable explanation for my arm.”

“Really? Some miracle cream?” He scoffed.

She reached over, but he just stared at the palm of her hand.

“I have a special ability.” She dropped her hand to the middle console, just close enough that he could feel her radiating warmth. Her body moved toward him, and he could smell the cold lake air on her skin. “So does … did … Natalie.”

“Let me guess … You’re a witch,” he half joked.

She raised her eyebrows then gazed out the foggy windshield. “Well — ”

He gasped. “You
have
to be kidding me.”

“We aren’t witches — though we have friends who are.” She glanced back at him and there was a strange look of fear in her eyes.

“You have friends who are witches?” He nodded. He could handle a couple of Wiccans. He’d seen stranger things on his time on the force.

“A couple. They tend to come and go.”

“Come and go? What do you mean?”

She let out a long sigh, like she was about to reveal that she was really a serial killer. “Natalie and I have been alive for over five hundred years.”

Laughter bubbled up from his center. “You … ” he said between laughs. “You are
hilarious
. I’ve heard some crazy shit in my day, but immortal life!?”

Aura picked at her fingernails. “I’m serious, Dane.”

He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes. “No, really … What’s going on?”

“I’m a nymph. So is Natalie. We can seduce men. We can shape-shift. And we can be killed, but we’re
almost
immortal.”

“You’re full of shit.” He leaned back from her until he rested against the car door. “That’s … that’s impossible.”

“I can assure you it isn’t.”

He took a second to collect his scattered thoughts. “Okay. If you can seduce men, did you seduce me?”

Aura chewed at her bottom lip. “Remember that day on the ranch? When you pushed me to the ground?”

In a second he was back there, lying on top of her. Kissing those damp lips. He could still remember the way her blonde hair fell upon the frost-laced grass. He could almost taste her honey-sweet lips. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “What about it?”