Witches vs. Aliens

by Raven Snow

At least Eric was already in the morgue. He was standing against the wall, arms folded over his chest. A security guard stood across from him, silent. They both perked up when they realized they had company. “I was wondering when you were going to show up.” He went to his wife and put an arm around her, bringing her in for a quick side hug.

  “I’ve got things from here,” Ben told the security guard.

  The guard frowned but did as he was told. No doubt he had already been informed that Ben and company were going to be stopping by. “I’ll be in the hall,” he said, perhaps unnecessarily.

  Ben waited until the door had closed before walking to a couple of stretchers. One was tagged Stephen Berry, the other was Jane Doe. “We had someone from WNT identify Stephen officially. There hasn’t been an autopsy yet, just preliminary stuff. We’ll have to refrigerate these two before too long.”

  Rowen didn’t ask for any more details. She nodded to the bodies. “May I?”

  Ben shook his head. He went to a counter and pulled on some stretchy white gloves. With those on, he pulled both sheets down himself. He didn’t go very far, just uncovering their shoulders and faces.

  “That’s the woman from the store, the one that was so rude.” Eric looked up, startled. “Did you find her kids?”

  “Not yet,” said Ben. “We’re still looking.”

  “Are you picking up anything?” Eric asked his wife.

  “You two will have to be quiet for that.” Rowen focused on the bodies. Things finally went silent, making it easier to concentrate. Hello? she thought. Is anyone there? Stephen.

  The response was almost instant, albeit a little quiet. Yes? The response shaky. It was obviously a spirit and it was obviously scared.

  Stephen Berry? Is that you?

  Yes… Where am I?

  That was always a hard question to answer. It wasn’t fun to let someone know that they were dead. People seldom took that well, especially the ones who weren’t quick to move on. What’s the last thing you remember? Rowen decided to try and ease Stephen into all this. She didn’t want to panic him. She wanted answers first. The most important thing right now was figuring out precisely what had happened.

  I was sleeping. Something woke me up.

  What woke you up?

  I dunno. Something.

  Where were you sleeping?

  Out in the woods. In a tent. Stephen paused then. His energy grew nervous. Either something had come back to him or he felt he was revealing too much.

  How long had you been out in that tent?

  I shouldn’t talk about this.

  Why?

  I’ll get fired.

  Telling Stephen the truth felt inevitable. Rowen took a deep breath and tried to organize her thoughts. It was a difficult thing to try and be gentle when talking nonverbally. Emotions got mixed up in there, as well as certain images. Listen, Stephen. I hate to say this. I hope that you’ll be calm when I tell you and stay here so I can get some answers and try to figure things out… You were murdered.

  What? Stephens’s response was one of incomprehension. That wasn’t uncommon. No, I’m not dead. I’m right here. I’m talking to you.

  I’m afraid we’re in the morgue, Stephen. We’re speaking to one another silently. I’m trying to figure out who did this to you.

  Panic on Stephen’s end set in gradually and then all at once. Rowen could sense his energy all over the place. Please, calm down. You’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. I can help you. I just need some answers to a few questions first. That didn’t seem to calm Stephen down any. Rowen sighed and waited.

  “Any luck?” asked Ben. He must have noticed her sudden exasperation.

  “I got in touch with Stephen, but he’s not taking the whole being dead thing very well. It happens.” Rowen tried to focus her attention on Stephen again. Were you a hostage, Stephen? Someone else was murdered with you. Do you know who that might have been?

  The panic toned down a bit when Stephen heard about a second murder. Unfortunately, that panic was only replaced by rage. Ronnie? Was it Ronnie that got murdered? Harmony did this. I knew it! I kept telling people she would do something like this. No one ever listened to me.

  Who’s Ronnie? Rowen asked. It was no use, though; Stephen was gone. So much for getting her answers before helping him move on. Hello? Stephen? Are you still there? Is anyone there? There wasn’t a response. Rowen gave up. “Sorry,” she said, turning to Ben and Eric. “I think he just left to, I dunno, go exact revenge or something.”

  “Exact revenge on who?” asked Ben.

  “Someone named Harmony. He also mentioned someone named Ronnie. He seems to think that was the woman found next to him. I’m not sure he could really see his surroundings, though. He’s in this kind of odd space between moving on and not. “We should probably head back to the campground, see if we can’t find out who Ronnie and Harmony are.”

  “We?” Ben repeated, raising an eyebrow.

  “Or just me and Eric here. Whichever. I’ll call you and let you know if we find anything.”

  “That’s not what I was getting at.” Ben rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just keep in touch. I want to know every move you make beforehand.” He knew that Rowen and her family could be incredibly helpful when it came to cases like this. As much as he loathed it, he was generally amenable to bending the rules a little if he felt confident no harm would come from it.

  “Just… one minute.” Eric moved closer to the bodies. “What was the cause of death?”

  Ben was more willing to answer questions now that they were parting ways. “We haven’t gotten that autopsy yet. There’s no official report. I have to admit, it’s a little hard to gauge from here. There are no defensive wounds on either of them. I’m thinking they were stabbed, maybe. That might be what those incisions are meant to hide. Those incisions weren’t made with any scalpel. They’re sloppy; not that you can tell at first glance.”

  “Why wouldn’t there be signs of a struggle if they were both stabbed? One of them had to be killed first. The other victim would have heard that, right?” asked Eric.

  “Not necessarily.” Ben stepped closer to the bodies. “There’s some trauma to the heads. Maybe the trauma killed them or maybe the stabbing was meant to finish them off. He might have even attacked them while they were asleep.”

  “Stephen said the last thing he remembered was waking up in a tent,” Rowen added. It felt relevant.

  Ben nodded in agreement. “So that’s a possibility. Another possibility is that Ronnie arrived later. Maybe she was expected, maybe not. Either way, the killer probably caught her off guard.”

  “Was there a tent near where the bodies were found?” asked Eric.

  Ben shook his head. “Not yet. I doubt it’s still out there. If our killer has any sense, the bodies were moved.”

  “And the kids?” Rowen prompted. She couldn’t seem to get her mind off of them.

  Ben looked to the floor. The thought of those children was clearly weighing heavily on him as well. “We have our search party. We’re doing all we can. There’s not much left to do but hope they weren’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. The fact that we haven’t found their bodies yet is, arguably, promising.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Willow was still at the campground with Benji. “Did Rose send you back here?” she asked, having made it to Rowen’s side without her noticing.

  “Ben,” Rowen corrected. “You?”

  “Rose. She wants someone out here at all times covering what’s going on.” Willow looked back at Benji. “Which means us around the clock, I guess. I mean, it’s not like we have another camera man.”

  Benji did not look thrilled about that. “I’m not spending the night here.” He wasn’t usually one to complain, but even he had his limits, it seemed.

  “Yeah, neither am I,” Willow admitted, lowering her voice like Rose might overhear her from miles away. I need my beauty sleep— especially if Irene changes her mind and calls me in for that interview
tomorrow.”

  “So, definitely no WNT tonight, huh?”

  Willow shrugged. “I dunno. It looked like they were filming something a little earlier. Maybe it’s, like, a memorial or a news update or something. I wasn’t close enough to really hear.”

  That would make sense. To her right, Rowen could see Eric typing away on his phone. No doubt he was pulling up WNT’s website right about now. “Hey,” Rowen began, recalling a question that felt worth asking. “Have you met anyone named Ronnie? They would be on the WNT team, I think. I’m not sure what position they’d be in.”

  “Ronnie?” Willow repeated, her gaze going distant as she seemed to flip the name around in her mind a few times. She was beginning to shake her head when Benji spoke first.

  “I think I know a Ronnie,” said Benji, looking around at the others. “Veronica, right? She works as Irene’s assistant. When I was waiting around for Willow to be finished, she struck up a conversation with me. She told me to call her Ronnie.”

  Was that the “Ronnie” they were looking for? Rowen couldn’t imagine it wasn’t. What were the odds of more than one “Ronnie” working on the WNT crew being sent to Lainswich? Rowen thanked Benji and headed for the corner of the park full of trailers.

  “Seems like Willow was right,” said Eric. “It seems like some kind of memorial type deal.” He flashed the screen to Rowen. “That Irene woman looks pretty shaken, if you ask me.”

  Rowen watched for a few seconds and then nodded in agreement. Even without sound, it was obvious by the picture of a living, smiling Stephen in the corner that she was talking about better days. Rowen wondered if she was ballsy enough to push the “possibly aliens” angle. Not that it mattered at this point. People had decided on their own versions of events by now. What Rowen did take away was the glaring fact that, for once, Irene looked off her game. Her fingers were gripping her microphone a little too tight. She looked a little tearful. Maybe it was an act, but Rowen didn’t think so.

  ***

  At least there was no security personnel to intercept Rowen and Eric when they arrived at the WNT perimeter. Rowen quickly led the way to the trailer Veronica had a desk in. She did her best to exude confidence, to look like she was supposed to be there should anyone glance her way. She knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?!” called a voice that didn’t sound like it was in the mood for a conversation. It was Veronica’s voice, just stripped of all friendliness.

  “It’s Rowen.” Rowen was afraid to raise her voice too much. That seemed like a good way to get thrown out right about then. “Can we talk?”

  There was silence on the other side of the door. It drew out for what felt like a terribly long time, even though it could only have been a handful of seconds. “Come in,” Veronica finally responded. She didn’t sound eager about talking to them, just exasperated. It was like she had been waiting for something like this to happen.

  Rowen let herself in. She could feel Eric following closely behind her. “Hey.” She motioned over her shoulder. “This is my husband, Eric.”

  Veronica raised an eyebrow as she looked past Rowen. “Hello, Husband Eric,” she said, her voice nonplussed. “If you’re here doing interviews, you should know better. I’m not about to lose my job over all of this. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “We’re here in a different capacity,” Rowen assured her. “We work for the police from time to time. Eric is a PI. I moonlight as one myself. We have to go through a lot of paperwork to hammer out the details, but you can trust me when I say what passes here between you and I won’t be leaked to the public. That said, I can’t really guarantee that the news won’t figure something out on their own. Likewise, the police will probably come here to investigate further. I’d like to get all the answers I can before that happens, before all of this turns into a circus.”

  Eric nodded. “Things in Lainswich have a tendency to turn chaotic at times like these. With all these tourists around, I can’t even imagine what the fallout will be like.”

  Veronica looked down at her desk. There were a bunch of papers strewn across it. She began stacking them up. She was stalling, trying to decide how she wanted to handle this. “Fine,” she said, finally. “What do you want to know?”

  “Did you know Stephen Berry?” asked Rowen.

  Veronica raised her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “I know just about everyone around here. He was a decent guy. I’m sorry he’s dead.”

  “Beyond that,” pressed Eric. He must have sensed it too. “Did you know him as more than just a coworker?”

  Veronica dropped her papers and pressed hard at her temples, like this was all causing her a terrible migraine. There was regret in the air, a whole bunch of regret. “Fine,” snapped Veronica, like they had tortured a confession out of her. “We slept together sometimes.”

  “Have you told the police you were lovers?” asked Rowen.

  “No,” Veronica said, immediately. “Because we weren’t. I didn’t love him. We just had fun together sometimes. If you really want the truth, I thought he was kind of gross. He’s, like, twenty years older than me and has no aim in life. He’s happy to just drift around with WNT. Before that, he was a roadie. I slept with him because he knew where all the good parties were and always had weed on him.”

  “So you’re not sorry he’s dead then after all.” Eric had phrased those words like a statement, but Veronica answered as if it were a question anyway.

  “I am sorry he’s dead.” Veronica’s angry expression fell, her regret fell. She seemed defeated. “It’s weird. I’ve never had sex with anyone who died before.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Rowen, and she meant it. After their conversation just now, she didn’t peg Veronica as the murdering type. She considered what to say next carefully. Veronica probably wouldn’t take it particularly well if Rowen told her what Stephen had said and what questions it raised. “Do you know a woman named Harmony?”

  “Harmony?” Veronica looked up. Her brow was scrunched as she repeated the name, like she was going through some sort of filing system in her head. “I don’t think we have anyone named Harmony on staff here. Why?”

  Rowen ignored her question. She didn’t know how to answer it or if she even should. “She might not have worked for WNT. She might just be someone Stephen knew.”

  “Oh,” said Veronica, like that explained it all. “Maybe I’ve heard of her, maybe not.”

  “Excuse me?” Rowen hoped Veronica wasn’t trying to extort her right now.

  “Stephen had a long line of exes. A long, long line.” Veronica widened her eyes at that, as if to express just how long. “It never really bothered me. I have a thing going with one of the security guys. We’re in an open relationship. I don’t think Stephen has ever been into open relationships. That was my least favorite trait about him, I think. He seemed like the hippie or roadie type, you know? He seemed like a guy who just wanted to have fun, but he took relationships way too seriously. Not that that’s a bad thing, but he didn’t want to settle down, and he always cheated on whatever girl thought she had him all to himself. And then he’d get mad at them, like they were hassling him, like they were the ones who couldn’t tell when things needed to be over.”

  “And you think Harmony might have been one of those women?”

  “She might have been. I really couldn’t tell you for sure. He complained a lot. I usually left when he started or just got high and ignored him… Don’t mention the weed thing to anyone, please.”

  Rowen wasn’t sure that should be Veronica’s biggest concern right about now, but she nodded anyway. “I won’t mention it,” she promised. “If you find out anything else, will you give me a call? You’ve got my number, right?”

  “I’ve got it.” Veronica dug around in a desk drawer like it might be in there. She came out with a pack of cigarettes instead. “We’re packing up and heading out sometime tomorrow. At least, that’s what I hear.”

  That came as a surprise to Rowen. That was
, perhaps, the most crucial bit of information she had heard so far. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  Veronica nodded and lit her cigarette. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that either.”

  Rowen and Eric made their way out of the trailer. Rowen was already digging her phone out of her pocket. She figured she probably needed to give Ben a call sooner rather than later. Someone shouting her name stopped her dialing.

  “Rowen? Rowen Greensmith? Is that you?” Irene was standing on the topmost step of her trailer. She was wrapped in a silk robe. Holding it closed with one hand, she motioned for Rowen with the other.

  Rowen glanced back at Eric. She had a feeling that Irene wasn’t motioning to him as well. “It’s all right,” Eric assured her. “I’ll wait out here. You’ll probably get more out of her if I don’t tag along.”

  Rowen nodded. He was right. She hurried to Irene’s trailer alone. “What’s up?”

  Irene rolled her eyes. “Like you don’t know.” She stepped backward into her own trailer. “Hurry up. Get in.”

  Rowen did as she was told. The trailer was much the same as how Rowen remembered it. The only difference was a bottle on a table near Irene’s chair and the smell of alcohol permeating the small space. “I’m sorry about what happened. I can’t imagine it’s been easy for, well, any of you here.”

  “That’s putting it lightly.” Like Veronica, Irene pulled a cigarette from a drawer. She at least cracked a window before lighting it up. “What are you doing here?”

  Rowen didn’t answer at first. She looked Irene over, taking in the way her hand shook as she brought the cigarette to her lips. It didn’t look like she was wearing anything beneath her robe. Her hair was damp and her skin still had the sheen of a recent shower. She seemed thin and fragile right then, even though her attitude still came off as anything but.

  “Well?” Irene urged, her tone suddenly angry.

  “I work with the police as a private eye sometimes.” Rowen was reasonably certain that Irene already knew that. “I’m here following some leads.”

  “What kind of leads?” Irene demanded. Almost immediately, she shook her head and changed her question. “None of this is going in that little paper of yours is it?”