whiskey witches 01 - whisky witches (28 page)

He drove them to the center of town. A median that had been planted with lush, wild grass and flowers resided at the intersection, a lone light pole claiming dominance.

Tied to the light pole was a woman in a flowing, floral gown.

Brian parked the car at the edge of a growing crowd of townsfolk and pushed his way to the front.

Paige followed in his wake.

Two local police officers worked to keep the crowds away.

Two? Where were the rest? Paige gestured to one of them. “Broaden the perimeter. Give our people more room to work. Ladies and gentlemen, if you would all move back. There’s nothing to see here. Go home.”

They shouted questions at her, but she ignored them. Of course there was something to look at. A dead body.

But the details. The details turned the body into a case. So, what did she have? Same killers? Different killers? If the same killers, why change the MO?

She walked a slow spiral toward the victim, careful to touch nothing.

Brian handed her a set of blue gloves.

She slipped them on, continuing her slow, spiral to the center. No symbols were carved into the body. No blood pooled. The woman had been washed before she’d been propped. No runes etched into the paint on the pole. Maybe this was a new killer.

But what was the likelihood of that happening? Most people talked about killing someone, but when it actually boiled down to it, the little voice inside their head telling them not to do it became a very loud voice. Though, with this many demons in town—

As much as she hated to admit it, when demons were allowed to move freely without consequence, they really could be assholes.

“What’s with all these shells?” Brian stooped and retrieved one from the ground, holding it out to her. “Don’t touch it. Just look at it.”

She retracted her gloved hand. Good idea. “That’s a conch shell.”

“They’re all over here.”

Paige shined the flashlight she’d borrowed from Dexx. Sure enough, the ground was littered with tiny, brown and white conch shells. She found something else sprinkled with them. Rune tiles. Every single tile she could read had one rune on it. Love.

She straightened and reassessed the victim.

The killers had met their original agenda. They’d gotten her to St. Francisville and she’d been possessed by Lucius, bringing him into this reality.

So what did that mean?

And why had they brought her to a different location to be carved on? Why had they taken everyone else to the other site? That was still an assumption, but a good one.

“Isn’t that Malika’s dress?” Brian asked. “I could have sworn I saw her wearing it earlier today.”

Paige flicked her gaze at him, then returned it to the victim. Malika’s dress? Conch shells that were used in love spells, and love runes scattered at the victim’s feet? “What do you know about the victim?”

“Not much. St. Francisville is big. I don’t know everyone.”

“I’ll start collecting evidence, Chief,” one of the uniformed officers said as he approached.

Brian waved him down. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have New Roads handle this.”

A new officer joined them, tall, big and burly. “What do you mean New Roads is going to handle this? Last I checked, this was still St. Francisville.”

“Yes.” Brian stepped out of the shrub. “And when I say we’re doing something a certain way, that’s what we’re doing. I have my reasons.”

“For invitin’ others onto our turf like we don’t know what the hell we’re doing?”

“Excuse me,” a tenor said. “Are we interrupting?”

Paige turned to the newcomers and groaned. FBI.

Brian moved his officer out of the way and greeted the FBI agents. “Chief White. What can I do for you?”

The male lifted a shoulder, showing his badge. “We’re here to assist if you need. That’s all. Looks like you could use it.”

Brian glanced at the female.

She showed her badge as well.

Curious, Paige took the male’s badge and read it. “Jack Scott.”

“Special Agent Jennifer Forde,” the female said.

“It’s not like the FBI to come all the way out to a place like this to help,” Brian said.

Paige sighed. “You haven’t had too many opportunities to work with them, have you? As long as things are okay, this is exactly what they do.”

Special Agent Scott raised his eyebrows. “Detective Whiskey. You’re actually the reason I wanted this case.”

“Really?”

He gave her a thin smile. “Really.”

P
AIGE SCRAMBLED THROUGH
her memories to see if she recalled ever meeting Special Agent Scott before. She came up blank.

“I’ve been following your cases for years,” he said, putting his badge away. His attention was captured by the victim. “You’re quite good at what you do.”

“Then you haven’t read many of my reports.”

He smirked, but shambled toward their victim.

“What do you have here?” Special Agent Forde gestured to Brian. “Chief, do you mind if we approach?”

Brian stepped back, the corners of his lips pulled down.

“That’s just great,” the beefy cop snorted. “First, you replace us with New Roads, and now you invite the FBI?”

“Please forgive him.” Brian winced. “Duke, there’s more here than you realize. Either maintain the barrier, or go home.”

Duke glared, his round face red, but he and his fellow officer went back to the perimeter.

Scott joined Forde at the body. “New Roads?”

Brian folded his arms over his chest, studying the victim.

“Why are you doubting your own team, Chief?” Scott asked.

“One of my own is one of the killers and I don’t know how deep it goes.”

“I didn’t see any arrests had been made,” Forde said, her dark hair glinting in the street light.

“He’s still free.”

“No evidence?” In the light, Agent Scott’s eyes were dark, his features sharp and angular. Tall, slender, young. A pup.

“No. I had some, but . . .”

Paige frowned. She hadn’t recalled anything.

“We had some blood and hair samples from two of the victims. The test report on the blood sample was messed up and the hair samples went missing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Paige asked. That was huge. “And why wasn’t this in the reports?”

“It’s not something one brags about,” Scott answered for him. “And it happens in reality. People make mistakes.”

“Maybe in the small town.”

“Where do you think you are, Detective?”

He wasn’t as much of a pup as she’d originally thought. “Why are you here again?”

“Just following your trail.” He dropped to his knee and pushed the vegetation around with his pen. “Romance, huh?”

Really not a pup.

“Love runes and conch shells.” Scott propped his elbow on his knee, his folded fist supporting his jaw. “You said you already knew one of the killers. Do you know more?”

Paige nodded once. “How’d you know about the runes?”

“I’ve done my homework.”

“Reason?”

“Heart-to-heart can wait.”

“Actually, no. It can’t.” Paige stepped up to Scott and tugged on the shoulder of his jacket until he rose on his own. The man towered over her. “You’re a stranger to me. You know too much about the paranormal. I’ve got demons running around.”

He didn’t flinch.

Hardened. Huh. “I don’t know who I can trust. You come in when we could really use you, which is convenient, and you want me to trust you? Give me something, some reason why I should.”

He jutted his jaw forward for a moment, then nodded. “I have . . .” He lowered his voice and leaned in so no one else could hear. “I have premonitions. Visions.”

“Of?” she asked just as quietly.

“Death.” He blinked, glancing at his partner and back at Paige. “The strongest ones usually surround you. I don’t know why. I saw all these victims die.”

She couldn’t scoff at him. The Whiskeys weren’t the only family with gifts. “Tell me something not in the files.”

“There’s another victim.” He dipped his head, his lips twisting in disdain. “At the caboose.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Details.”

“This one, her name is Stephanie Farsworth. She was crossing the street in front of a witch. I don’t know her name. Her partner—she called him Mike, I think. Or Mark, maybe. He commented on this woman.”

Paige licked her lips, a frown furrowing her brow.

Scott shifted to the side, putting his back to his partner. “Later, Malika broke into the woman’s home, slipped something in her tea, waited until she was dead, put her in one of her own dresses, and brought her out here. Then she sprinkled the conch shells and the runes around, said a chant of some sort, and left.”

That’s how he’d known about them. “And the other victim?”

“Male. Looks are very similar to Mike or Mark or whoever.”

She almost corrected him, but stopped herself. She had to test him, see if he was playing her. He could still be a part of the conspiracy. What could she use? Nothing immediately came to mind.

“Anyway. He could have picked his victim randomly for all I could tell. He choked the man, then propped him against the caboose on the outskirts of town. He left a mirror and a wreath made of wheat.”

Mirror. Divination? Maybe. A wheat wreath? Power and life. What the hell was Jones trying to say with that? She glanced at Agent Forde who watched them out of her peripheral. “Your partner doesn’t know?”

He pulled back with a sigh and shook his head.

“Are you here officially?”

He shrugged. “Technically, you could use our help. We’re here because it’s a case of interest. If you made it official . . .”

She swallowed and walked to Brian, removing her gloves and dumping them on the ground. “According to boy wonder, we have another victim at the caboose.”

Everyone knew the caboose. It guarded the welcome sign heading into town.

“How does he know about it?” he asked, giving the agent in question a good, hard stare.

“Premonition.”

“Do we know for sure?”

She shook her head.

Brian nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked away. “Wear your gloves and touch nothing. Paige. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, Chief. I hear you.” Paige pulled her phone out and tapped on Dexx’s contact.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“New bodies. How’s the crime scene?”

“Demon free.”

“Good. I need you here.”

“Where?”

“Caboose.”

“Done.”

Before she could end the call, the red phone button disappeared. She touched Scott’s arm, and gestured with her other hand to get Forde’s attention. “Can you stay here with the chief? We got word we might have another body outside town. I’d like to take Special Agent Scott with me.”

Forde gave him a long, pensive look then nodded.

On the way out, Paige grabbed Brian’s attention and hooked her thumb at Forde.

Brian rolled his eyes, but nodded.

They’d made it through the small crowd when Paige remembered she didn’t have her car.

“Here’s mine.”

She raised her eyebrows at him as she walked to the passenger side of the dark sedan he approached. “Are you a mind reader, too?”

“We saw you pull up.”

She raised her chin in acknowledgement then climbed in. “Tell me about these visions of yours. When did they start?”

He turned the key. The car barely made a noise to show it was alive. He put the car in gear and turned it around. “Since my dad died.”

She’d heard of gifts like that. “Did he have premonitions?”

“Not that he said, but there’s a lot about him I never knew.”

“Explain.”

He glanced at her, his lips tight.

“You want me to trust you?”

He pursed his lips and crept past the stop sign. “He left when I was three. So, there’s a lot I don’t know about him. Some stranger came to my apartment one day and told me he’d died. That’s when I first saw them, the visions. You, actually, were the first person I saw.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Me? I’m still alive.”

“You were in a warehouse. A man appeared out of thin air in front of you. But behind you, someone slipped in through a door and killed a homeless guy that had been watching you.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I looked you up after that. I discovered the name of the guy who died. I even found the man who killed the homeless man. Everyone was dead within a month, the killer, the homeless man, the person the killer told. Dead people follow you around, Detective.”

Shock stole her words. How could so many people be dying all around her with her not knowing a thing?

Agent Scott pulled the car around and parked in front of the red caboose. It was nestled within a large garden of flowers beside the welcome sign.

Propped up next to it, standing like a drunk resting, was a man.

“Got an extra set of gloves?”

“Yeah. Why’d the chief tell you not to touch anything?” He reached toward the backseat as she got out of the car.

She got out of the car. She still didn’t know if she could trust him.

His door shut quietly and he walked around the front of the car, offering the gloves. “He sounded pretty adamant.”

She took the gloves he offered. “Local procedures.”