She laughed. “Keep my distance?”
He nodded with a slight grin on his lips. “Yeah. You’re too tempting. So I’m heading to my desk now.”
“Too tempting?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I think it’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever received.”
They bantered, but she knew he was serious. When he stood and went to his desk, she leaped up and headed for the bathroom. After she showered, she saw that he’d left the T-shirt in question on the bed. It made her smile, because it had a cartoon image of Chewbacca. He did love Star Wars.
She dressed quickly, and they left his office right away.
It wasn’t easy, returning to the cemetery. But believing she could make a difference made it better. What was frightening was just how well she remembered every step that another woman had taken. She remembered her feelings. The excitement at first, growing into confusion—then the realization and pure terror.
Jon let her lead the way.
For a moment, Kylie closed her eyes. She remembered where she had been and where they had walked, behind the tiny church.
Annie had first begun to feel uneasy when she had seen his face. And then he’d pulled her along with such force, away from the street and far into the forgotten privacy of the old cemetery.
Kylie opened her eyes and looked at Jon. “Blood flew—how did he get rid of the blood on his clothing?”
“They installed water spigots here about thirty years ago, when people gained real interest into their pasts and ancestry and all that,” Jon said thoughtfully. “That would allow him to wash his hands, at least. For his clothing, I don’t know.”
“This isn’t nineteenth-century London,” Kylie said.
“Pardon?”
“Jack the Ripper—he had to walk through the streets covered with blood. But dozens upon dozens of people worked in slaughterhouses. Of course, that makes me think that it wasn’t any of the upper echelon who committed the murders, though I suppose a killer could get away in a carriage if the driver was an accomplice, but...”
She stopped speaking. It wasn’t going to help, bringing up unsolved murders from well over a hundred years ago.
And yet something in his face had changed.
“What?” Kylie murmured.
“An accomplice,” Jon said. “I had thought maybe he was working with partners. That’s why we’ve been looking into regulars at the Cauldron. An accomplice might hope to gain from his success, someone with a very sick mind as well. But one way to get rid of everything would be to have someone waiting for him. Someone who knew what he was going to do and was ready to get him and his blood-spattered clothing far from the scene.”
“I know that what we see isn’t always what’s really there,” Kylie said, “but I just don’t see Carl Fisher or Matt Hudson being a vicious killer. Or even an accomplice.”
“I don’t see it, either. That doesn’t mean we can discount it.”
He walked past her, moving quickly, covering a great deal of ground in a short time. Then he turned back, as if kicking himself, and walked to the outer wall of the church.
He hunkered down near a far corner of the wall, and Kylie hurried over to him. She saw he had found a water spigot. He was keeping his distance, not touching it. The ground around it was damp and trampled down.
“You see any blood?” she whispered.
“I don’t see any. Which again, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I’m going to call Ben and have him get his people back out here. I’m willing to bet that forensic experts will find blood. Annie’s blood, washed off by her killer. But you never know. They just may find something else.”
He rose and then frowned, walking just a step away to squat down again.
“Didn’t crime scene investigators go over this place?” Kylie asked.
He nodded. “They might not have investigated this far. They might not have tested by the spigot since the main scene was elsewhere. They would have been in the church and around the church. I could be wrong. But...”
He reached down.
He’d found something.
It was a tiny object, smashed and covered in dirt. He didn’t try to clean it; he put his other hand into a pocket of his jacket, producing an evidence bag.
“They cleared this area. Other people have been here since the murder. Still...”
“What is it? All I see is a lump of dirt.”
He shook his head, looking up at her. “It’s covered in dirt, yes. And it may mean nothing. But it could give us something.”
“Jon, what is it?”
“A matchbox,” he said. “From our favorite watering hole—the Cauldron.”
Fourteen
On their way back from the cemetery, Jon first drove to Devin’s cottage. Jackson had called to say he was coming to relieve Rocky and Devin at the hospital, but Jon was fond of Poe and figured the cottage was on the way to the hospital, so he and Kylie could stop and make sure his food and water bowls were filled. Kylie could also change out of his T-shirt and into her own clothing, if she wished.
He could see her frowning at the cabin as they drove along the dirt-and-gravel driveway. The whole place, nestled into the forest with its solitude and charm, was picture-perfect. So long as you were comfortable with a bit of isolation.
“I don’t see this security system,” she said.
He laughed. “If you saw it, the system wouldn’t be that great.”
“Ah. So, how do you plan to get in?”
He smiled at her. “Key.”
“You all have keys to one another’s houses?”
He shook his head. “No. In a real emergency, we’d know how to get in. But I have Devin’s key right now because we’re all working this crime.”
He paused at the end of the driveway; there were fresh tire tracks along it.
“Stay here,” he told Kylie.
“What is it?”
“Tracks,” he said simply.
“If you’re out of the car, I’m out of the car—and close,” she told him.
He didn’t really think any danger might befall her when she was just feet away, but he smiled. “Watch out for the tracks,” he said.
“I’ll stay over on the grass at the side. No problem.”
The tracks didn’t go all way to the house. In fact, they led just a few feet up the drive, as if someone didn’t want to be seen from the house. He thought the tracks were from a car, rather than a truck or SUV. Whoever it was might have gotten out of the car and walked to the house. Perhaps they’d realized there was an alarm system.
It was possible a friend had heard that Devin was in town and just drove up to see if she was in. But why leave a car so far away from the front door?
“It could have been someone just turning around, right?” Kylie asked.
“Yes. But I’m going to give Ben a call anyway and get someone out here to take a cast of these tracks—just in case.”
He walked up to the house and Kylie followed carefully in his footsteps. He used Devin’s key, and once they were in the house, he tapped in the security code he’d been given, setting the alarm once again.
A loud screech sounded. “Blessed be, blessed be, and Holy Mary, too!”
It was the raven, of course, but at Jon’s side, Kylie jumped a mile high.
“Poe, hey, yes, give it a rest,” Jon called out. “We all know you’re here!”
Even as he spoke, Devin’s Auntie Mina slipped out of the kitchen, eager to greet him. “Jon! Thank goodness—this was beginning to feel like a ghost town.”
He smiled. “Technically, Mina, when you’re alone, it might be something like a ghost town—or ghost house at the very least.”
Behind him, Kylie let out a breath.
The ghost drew closer, her face beaming. “Another
! Miss Connelly! I was told you’d be coming. What a pleasure.” She glanced at Jon, then back at Kylie. “You do see me quite clearly, don’t you, dear?”
Kylie nodded.
Jon set an arm around her shoulders. “She’s a little new to all this, Mina.”
“Dear, dear, I didn’t frighten you, did I?” Mina asked.
Kylie solemnly shook her head. “I’ve already been frightened. I just... Well, it’s still new, seeing...”
Jon lowered his head, smiling. Kylie was trying not to use the word dead. She was surely certain that it would be painful or offensive.
“Oh yes, I’m dead,” Mina said. “Which sometimes has its benefits. I always listen to what’s going on. Jon, I don’t know what went on last night. Someone was here. I tried to see who it was and what was going on, but I wasn’t in the right place at the right time. And I believe they were here for no good reason, prowling around the house. To my deepest dismay, I realized too late they were even here. I don’t know who it was...”
A worried expression worked its way into her face. “The alarm system is brilliant, but it’s quite sad, you know—it wasn’t needed in all the time I was living here. Ah, not that evil didn’t exist, just not in the way it did when my sweet Devin came. I’m babbling! But you need to know, someone was prowling around the house last night.”
“I believe you’re right,” Jon told her.
“Poe was having a fit,” Mina said.
“He’s a great watchbird,” Jon commented.
Mina nodded and looked at Kylie. “You’re doing okay?”
“I am,” Kylie said. She was staring at Mina, still probably not quite believing they were having a full conversation with a dead woman.
“I wanted to check on the bird,” Jon explained, “and let Kylie get a few of her things.”
“Did you want to watch Westerly on the set?” Mina asked.
“What?” Kylie asked, frowning. She shook her head with an almost imperceptible movement. She’d probably just forgotten for a moment that Michael Westerly was in Boston for a campaign speech, which would be televised on local news channels. She looked at Jon. “I really don’t want to watch.”
“You don’t have to,” he told her. “I’ll watch. Why don’t you see if you want to change, gather a few things just in case we stay in town? You don’t need to watch.”
Kylie nodded and went into the bedroom.
Jon turned on the TV. The announcers were going through the usual discussions that preceded such a speech, talking about Westerly’s possibilities and so on. A few of them compared him to some of the truly ethical, dignified men who had entered the political arena before.
No, politicians weren’t always on the up-and-up. But Jon liked to think very few people who rose to political power were cold-blooded killers.
Westerly came to the podium, smiling as he raised his hands to his adoring fans. His speech was much the same as any other political monologue. He talked about how he would fight, always fight, for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. There was truly nothing of interest in the material. The most interesting thing about the entire performance had to do with the people surrounding him.
And the closest to him was...his wife. Sandra was smiling. Applauding her husband’s words to encourage the audience to do the same.
Yet, when the speech was over and both Sandra and Westerly turned to the crowd, something seemed off to Jon.
“Body language,” Aunt Mina said.
He turned to look at her. He’d almost forgotten she was watching with him.
She nodded gravely. “Look at the way she took his hand. There’s no warmth in the hold.” She sniffed. “Reminds me of a few other things I’ve seen through the years. You forgive all kinds of things in a man—or a woman—if it fits your personal agenda. Doesn’t mean that touching them doesn’t rather make you want to gag.”
Jon turned back to the screen. Mina was right—Sandra Westerly’s smile was there. The movements were all just right. But something else was very, very wrong.
If the two of them didn’t hate each other, they sure as hell weren’t deeply in love. Could Westerly’s wife be his accomplice?
* * *
Kylie didn’t realize how distracted she was until they were several miles down the road, and Jon finally asked, “Kylie, what’s wrong?”
She smiled and looked at him. “What’s wrong? What’s right at this moment?” She winced at how she sounded. “Oh, Jon, I’m sorry. I mean, you’re all right—far more than all right. But my world, or what I knew as my world, has changed completely. We just said goodbye to a ghost. As if it was normal. We have conversations with the dead, as if they were flesh and blood standing before us and not...dead.”
“It’s a lot to get used to,” he agreed softly.
“What scares me is that I am getting used to it. Will they start popping up all over?” she asked.
He hesitated before answering and then said, “Yes, and no. Some wish to be seen, some don’t. And only some stay. It’s sad sometimes. I have friends, co-agents, who never get to see the people they’ve lost, those with whom they’d love just a chance to whisper goodbye. But we believe they’re happy when they’ve gone on. Spirits often stay because of something traumatic—but then again, there are others who stay because they want to guard a place or a family or even one special person.”
“Obadiah,” she said thoughtfully.
“He is a tiger against injustice,” Jon said, casting a quick smile her way.
“And Mina watches over Devin,” she said.
He nodded. “Obadiah was my first. He told me where to find a kidnapping victim. I was able to lead the police to her.” He was quiet a minute and reached out with one hand to squeeze hers. “And whatever it is that has happened with you, we may well catch a killer.”
“I hope so,” she said passionately. “I truly hope so. I think...yes, I think I am getting used to this. At least I get to learn with you. I mean, when the whole thing began, my friends had to be afraid I was going to need serious therapy. Maybe I do need serious therapy!”
He shook his head and squeezed her hand again. “I think you’re okay.” He laughed suddenly, looking her way. “No, I think you’re way better than okay. You’re amazing.”
“Thanks,” she said. “So what now?”
“I already called Ben. He’s going to send someone to take an impression of those tire tracks. It may mean nothing, but we’ll have them if something does come up where we can make a comparison on a suspicious car. We’ll head to the hospital. Jackson should be there by now.”
“Jackson Crow—your director.”
“Field director,” he said. “We have a great founding father, you might say. Adam Harrison, a philanthropist. But he also has a strange knack for finding people who have what it takes to be in the Krewe—like me, Rocky, and now many more. His work and philanthropy allow him to be friends with many people in law enforcement and the government, which led him to create the Krewe. Jackson was his first choice to lead the fieldwork.”
Jon paused as he changed lanes for their exit. “Jackson is a very interesting man. His wife was also one of the first Krewe members and she’s pretty much our guru now. She chooses the right cases to take, assigns the right agents. Along with a growing roster of agents, we also have a whole floor of various techs now, too. We’re a mini office on our own.”
“In Washington.”
“Technically, Virginia.”
“I see. I think. There’s a major unit of agents...who speak with the dead.”
“Right. Agents, first. Everyone goes through the Bureau.”
“But Devin is still writing children’s books.”
“Yes. She comes on as a consultant when geography or some other factor influences the situation.”
“As in, she knows Salem very well. And happens to own a cotta
ge in the woods. A haunted cottage in the woods.”
“That’s about it.”
They arrived back at the hospital. When they reached Jimmy’s room, Marla and the boys weren’t there. They were fine, Rocky assured them, meeting Jon and Kylie at the door. They were down in the cafeteria, taking some quiet time.
Jackson Crow had arrived. He was a tall man with black hair and light eyes, a striking combination of both Native American and Anglo features. He greeted Kylie almost as if he knew her, and then she realized that he probably did—he would have been briefed on everything that had happened.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he told her sincerely, his handshake firm. “And you’re doing all right?”
He was good; she knew he looked slightly over her head at Jon, but somehow, he also kept his focus on her.
She was surprised she meant it when she said, “I am doing very well.”
“She’s more than well,” Jimmy said from his hospital bed. “She’s amazing! She found Marla when my poor girl was scared right to pieces.”
Jackson grinned, turning to speak to the man. “Mr. Marino, you seem to be doing darned well yourself.”
“They need to let me out of here,” Jimmy said.
“The doctors want one more night,” Jackson told them. “And Detective Miller has been very helpful. We have two men heading in from the Boston office to watch over the family for the next few days along with the cops, so everything is moving along.”
“Ah, excellent,” Jon said. “We can discuss the case together.”
Jackson nodded. “When the men from Boston arrive, we’ll head out.”
“Back to Devin’s,” Jon said, glancing over at Devin. “Poe is fine, by the way.”
Kylie noted that he didn’t mention the tire tracks. Maybe he’d called Rocky or Jackson while watching Westerly’s speech.
She hadn’t wanted to see the politician, speaking or not speaking. It would simply make her furious. She had seen him kill Annie. She had felt him kill Annie.
Seeing Darkness Page 21