Another man came in, this one in seventeenth century dress. He took the seat next to Devin, but she didn’t seem to notice him. Neither did the officers; no one came forward to ask if they could help him.
“Is it so hard to believe that we see the dead when you had a vision where you felt yourself killed as another woman?” Devin asked softly.
“Yes, actually,” Kylie said weakly.
“Jon would have told you, explained the special unit,” Devin said, “but you’ve been having difficulty dealing with what happened, and in our experience, we’ve learned... Well, it hasn’t been that long for me. With these guys, Rocky and Jon, it’s been a little longer.”
Kylie didn’t know what disturbed her so much about the older man in the seventeenth-century costume. She was usually polite and kind and not at all mean to people. But he was clearly listening to their private conversation.
“Sir, do you mind?” she said, leaning past Devin.
Devin turned, frowning slightly as she looked at the man.
“Obadiah Jones,” he told Devin. “Old friend of Jon’s.”
Devin nodded an acknowledgment to him and turned to Kylie, a curious expression on her face. “You see that gentleman?” she asked.
“How could I not? He’s dressed up for a show!”
“I should go,” the man said. “I didn’t know that...”
“She doesn’t know,” Devin finished for him.
Kylie froze, staring at the man. And then at the officers, all walking around, ignoring him completely. A fellow dressed up in Puritan attire. Extremely authentic-looking Puritan attire.
For a moment, she did nothing. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and opened them.
Obadiah Jones got to his feet and said something to Rocky, who didn’t look at him but nodded the barest of acknowledgments. Something no one else would notice.
Kylie wanted to scream—and bolt all over again. There had to be a conspiracy going on in Salem. Everyone—from the locals to law enforcement to the tourists—was involved in a conspiracy to make her think she had entirely lost her grip on reality. Should she run? Seriously, what could they do? Tackle her and arrest her, too?
“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered to Devin.
“I was also terrified at first. Except that... I heard a woman screaming. She needed help, even though she was dead. Kylie, it’s so frightening—it defies the mind and the heart and the senses. But it can be a good thing. The Krewe have solved more of their cases than any other unit in the Bureau. More than any other unit anywhere in the country, I daresay. Because we see the dead. Sometimes the victims. Sometimes others who have stuck around for one reason or another, to help.”
“You’re telling me that the gentleman in the bizarre dress is dead? And that when he was alive, it was 1692?”
“Yes,” Devin said simply.
Scream, bolt—fall to the floor in a dead faint. These all seemed like good options to Kylie.
“And you live with a ghost,” she said dryly.
“When we’re here,” Devin said. “My Auntie Mina. She’s...” She paused, looking at Kylie with a wince. “She’s lovely, I swear.”
At that moment, Jon came out to the front of the station. Kylie stared at him, torn. She’d grown close to him quickly; she’d felt an incredible attraction. And now...everything was too confusing.
“They’re holding him,” Jon said.
Kylie stood. “I really don’t understand. He might have been about to cut weeds, like he said. We were looking for a tombstone he’d told me about, of a girl whose mother had been arrested but survived the witch trials. I believe he was telling me the truth.”
Jon looked from her to Devin and Rocky. “Matt Hudson travels for his different theater and pirate gigs. The dates of his different shows happen to align with the dates that the women were killed in other states.” He looked at Kylie. “Maybe he’s innocent, but because of what we’ve discovered about his schedule and the fact that he was standing over you with a knife, he’ll be held overnight while his movements during those times are thoroughly checked out and verified.”
* * *
Despite the conversation Kylie had evidently overheard between Devin and Rocky, she seemed more disposed to being with them than she was with him.
Which was fine by Jon. He needed to get over the feeling of desperation and rage he’d had when he saw Matt with the knife. Whatever the man had intended, he’d been holding it in a stabbing position right over her back.
He couldn’t tell if Matt was genuine. He was just glad that they had gotten out of the cemetery with only a few tourists seeing the activity—and no media showing up.
But he was still worried about the woman who would sit in the park with Jimmy Marino. Mrs. Martinelli just might have talked to Jimmy about whatever it was he wanted to say to the police. Ben had sent officers out to find her; hopefully, she’d be found quickly.
Kylie stood tall and rigid in the station’s waiting area. Jon thought she was going to tell them that she was going home—she trusted no one in Salem anymore. But when Devin said that they should head out so that Kylie could see where she’d be staying, Kylie didn’t protest.
“We’ll meet back at the Cauldron for dinner,” Jon told Rocky.
“Really. You think they’ll still let you in there?” Kylie asked him.
He didn’t reply to that. “Excuse me. I have to call back to headquarters—Angela is doing research on Matt Hudson. We know he was close to the murder sites in the other states, but he may have alibis for the times of the murders. I hope so. I liked Matt.”
He turned away. Behind him, he heard Devin speaking softly and Kylie agreeing that she’d like to see the cottage.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he returned to Ben’s small office.
Ben looked up as Jon walked in. “We’ve had people out to her house, but she wasn’t there. The woman’s name is Marla Martinelli, by the way, sixty-six years young, they say, feisty and fun. One of my men talked to Jimmy’s sons at the hospital—he has two, Anthony and Frank—and they are both fond of Mrs. Martinelli. Apparently, Jimmy deeply loved his deceased wife and gave up everything to care for her when she was ill, and he mourned her loss horribly. Now, his sons want him to move on, and apparently, Marla Martinelli makes him happy.”
“Nice to hear,” Jon said. “But she’s out there somewhere and could be in danger.”
“We’re on it,” Ben assured him. “I thought you might want to go to the hospital with me and check on Jimmy. He’s nearly stable, they tell me, though he’s still unconscious. The sons are there, so you can talk to them yourself.”
“Sounds good. Thank you.”
When they reached the hospital, Frank greeted them. The younger of Jimmy’s sons, he was a man of about twenty-five with dark hair and eyes. He expressed sincere appreciation when Ben introduced Jon as one of the men who had gotten his father out of the car.
“I am in your debt, sir,” Frank said. “I believe you saved his life. Anthony and I are both in your debt. Anthony’s in with my dad. Right now, they want just one of us in there—they’re still monitoring Dad big-time. Which is good. They haven’t given us guarantees, but the doctors are encouraged this morning.”
“I wasn’t alone,” Jon assured him. “Great paramedics were on hand.”
“Of course, but thank you,” Frank said. He looked a little perplexed. “It’s nice of you to come by. But I don’t believe that you knew my father before this. So I guess your visit is for more than checking on his condition. You could have done that over the phone.”
Jon glanced at Ben.
“He knows his dad called the station,” Ben said.
“We’re trying to find out why he wanted to come in,” Jon told Frank. “He was evidently worried about something that he felt was important to report. Also, we know he was seeing Mr
s. Marla Martinelli, and I’m afraid she hasn’t been located yet.”
“Marla was driving down to Revere yesterday to spend the night with her daughter,” Frank said. “My dad mentioned it—said he was a bit lonely with her gone. I’m not sure when she’s due back. I think she left just a few hours before the accident. We should have called her by now, but I don’t have her number.”
“Should have asked you and your brother about that right away,” Ben said ruefully. He excused himself, heading over to a corner of the waiting room to put his officers on the hunt for either Marla’s cell phone or her daughter’s home.
“Do you know what your father was worried about?” Jon asked Frank.
Frank hesitated. “I’m not really sure,” he said at last. “He called us after the murder was committed. I think it was disturbing to anyone in Salem, anyone who came from Salem. Not that any murder isn’t horrible, but Annie Hampton was a good person. I never had her in school—she came in after I left—but I had friends a few years younger than me who adored her.”
“I understand that she was well regarded,” Jon said.
“Yeah. So Dad didn’t say exactly what he was worried about. Just that he thought he might know something important. But he felt it would be wrong to cast aspersions on someone—especially someone in the public light—if he wasn’t completely sure about it. He thought that talking to the police might ease his mind, and he’d either feel more strongly about something he’d seen, or he could dismiss it. He said he’d talk to me again after he spoke with the police.”
“He said ‘someone in the public light’?”
“Yes, those were his exact words.” Frank was quiet for a minute, then he said passionately, “I’m hoping really badly that he’ll be able to tell you himself in a few days. They have his heart stabilized, if that’s the right terminology—I’m in finance, not medicine. He took a really good whack to the head despite the airbags.”
“I understand. And we don’t want to do anything to endanger him, please believe that,” Jon said.
“Of course not. But anything at all that we can do, we’re happy to do it.”
“Let me give you my cell number,” Jon told him. “And if he comes to and says anything, please call me right away. Or if your brother has any information, we’d appreciate it.”
Frank studied him. He swallowed hard. “You don’t think that what my father knew caused someone to... I mean, how can you force a heart attack? And what would that prove? I mean, a heart attack isn’t necessarily fatal. Thank God. But do you think...”
“We’re concerned, that’s all,” Jon said.
“Is that why there’s been an officer in the hall since my dad came in?” Frank asked.
“There’s never harm in taking precautions.” Jon glanced across the room. Ben was talking with one of Jimmy’s doctors. Jon thanked Frank once again, and hurried over to Ben.
“Dr. Allen, Jon Dickson with the FBI,” Ben introduced them quietly.
Dr. Allen had a professional air about him—his trim white hair contrasted with his dark skin, and he stood tall and straight, and seemed suitably grave as he nodded at Jon.
“I was just telling Detective Miller what I could about our findings,” Dr. Allen said. “Nothing like poison or heroin, but then the body is all about levels. Arsenic can kill, for example, but we also have arsenic occurring naturally in our bodies.”
“And?” Jon asked.
“Naproxen and sodium,” the doctor said. “There were high levels in Mr. Marino’s system.”
“Enough to bring on a heart attack?” Jon asked.
The doctor inclined his head to the side and answered carefully. “In my mind, yes, but all manner of over-the-counter drugs can be factors. Mr. Marino might have been taking something, thinking he had a cold. And sodium... Well, we all spend time warning people about the dangers of a high-salt diet.”
“I see,” Jon said.
“I don’t know what he ate,” Dr. Allen continued. “Whatever it was, it was absolutely filled with salt. Now I’m not sure how someone else can make a man eat too much salt, but...” His voice trailed. “I wish I could be more helpful. I understand that Mr. Marino meant to report something to you. It’s still a stretch, in my mind, to believe that someone managed to get salt and naproxen into his system to this degree, but I’m not a detective.”
“And I’m not a doctor,” Ben said easily. “Thank you, sir, for the information.”
“Thank you,” Jon said as well.
“You’re still keeping a guard on him?” Dr. Allen asked.
“Oh, you bet,” Jon said. “You bet.”
* * *
Devin’s cottage was charming, and fascinating. A little like something out of a fantasy novel.
The first thing Kylie noticed on entering actually noticed her first—she heard a loud squawk and saw a handmade wooden cage. Inside was a large black raven.
“Hey, Poe!” Devin called to the bird as they entered.
The raven squawked again, a happy greeting. The bird fit right in to the overall feel of the cottage, decorated as it was with rich paintings and dangling crystals. A large stone mantel contrasted with a cozy gathering of furniture around the fireplace. A desk held a handsomely carved head of a woman with a kerchief over a thick head of curling hair—Madame Tussaud, Kylie thought. A large bookshelf displayed elves and gargoyles as bookends and charming little dragons dangled from the light cords.
“I inherited the place from my great-aunt Mina,” Devin explained. “Adorable and wonderful and respectful of everyone. She was a Wiccan. She loved the unusual—and Poe, of course. He’s the raven.”
“He’s...an unusual pet,” Kylie said. “Beautiful bird, though!”
Poe seemed to understand. He flapped his wings and let out a caw as if in approval.
“Yeah, he always gives our neighbors in Northern Virginia a jolt, too,” Rocky muttered.
“The cottage is from the early 1700s,” Devin added.
“Just six rooms,” Rocky told her. “The living room with that little dining area, the kitchen behind, and we’ve revamped a bit, two bedrooms to the left of the entry, one to the right.”
“We’re in Mina’s old room,” Devin said quickly. “Rocky and I take that room when we’re here.”
“Because she comes back, right? Mina is dead, but she comes back?” Kylie asked. She couldn’t believe she even voiced the question. She couldn’t believe that she had seen a man in Puritan dress sitting beside Devin at the police station. She had heard him speak.
But then again, she knew without doubt that she had been in another woman’s mind—and felt her murder.
Devin and Rocky looked at one another. Rocky shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. “Here it is, plain and simple. We’re with a special unit. You know that. We have the highest solve rate out there because we get unusual help. For some people—as apparently with you—the ability comes later in life.”
“It did for me,” Devin said helpfully.
“I heard a dead friend calling me for help when I was still in high school,” Rocky said. “I came back here a few years ago when a similar murder had occurred. That’s when Devin and I met. Case was sad as hell, but it was solved, with help from some spirits in the woods around Devin’s cottage. So that’s the gist of it—and the truth of it. We can talk to the dead.”
“Some of the dead. Sometimes they’ve gone on. Sometimes they stay behind. When they’ve stayed behind, it’s for different reasons,” Devin said.
“Usually to help,” Rocky said.
“I don’t see the dead,” Kylie protested weakly.
“You saw Obadiah,” Rocky said with certainty.
“Obadiah?”
“The Puritan gentleman. Matt wanted to show you a grave? Well, we can show you Obadiah’s. He’s buried at the Howard Street Cemetery but hangs a
round the Old Burying Point a lot—more tourists, I believe. He likes when there’s life going on around him. And you saw, in some manner, a woman as she died. Whatever this is—a gift, a curse, a genetic anomaly—you have it. And in this case, you need to accept it and use it. Four women are dead, that we know about. There might have been others before. And if so, the killer is speeding up his time line.”
Kylie stared back at him. She wondered again how she’d gotten into this mess. Better to focus on something small and within her control. “So...where am I staying?” she asked.
Rocky nodded toward the rooms to the left.
“The house has an alarm system,” Devin added.
“And Poe is the best alarm I’ve ever seen,” Rocky said. “Jon will come out at night and take the sofa there in front of the hearth. He’ll be watching the door and the front of the house. You’ll be in good hands, I swear it.”
She should thank them. They were doing this to keep her safe. But she couldn’t seem to get over the chill she was feeling—as if she had stepped into one of Devin Lyle’s fantasies for children and couldn’t quite get out.
“Thank you,” she managed. “Um, where would Auntie Mina be now? Is she here? I don’t see her.”
“She’s not always here.” Devin tried a smile. “She’s still very social.”
“Out carousing with the other ghosts?” Kylie said, sighing inwardly at the bitter and sarcastic sound of her own words.
“I’ll bring your bag into your room,” Rocky said. “Make yourself at home. We’ll go meet up for dinner in about an hour.”
He carried her overnight bag into the bedroom, then went to the desk near the wonderful hearth at the front of the cabin. A computer sat just in front of the bust of Madam Tussaud.
He had explained that they see the dead. She was sure that in his mind, he had done his best and had now dismissed her. She could accept his words or not.
“Can I get you anything?” Devin asked her anxiously.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Tea, coffee, soft drinks... Anything you want, please, just help yourself,” Devin said, gesturing to the little kitchen.
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