Ice Maiden

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Ice Maiden Page 20

by Dale Mayer


  “In other words, no way to isolate those fingerprints as being from the killer.”

  “No.” Jake sighed. “As for the second crime scene, seems Liz and her boyfriend kept to themselves. No other DNA found but theirs.”

  “Do you have any good news at all?” Damon asked in a humorous tone.

  “Well, I wanted to ask if you went through any of those files yet.”

  “Which ones?”

  “The ones you signed out of the records division.”

  “Oh, so you heard about that, huh? And the answer is, no, I haven’t yet.”

  “Well, if you find anything, let me know.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Do you know anything about the bookstore owner’s case?”

  “Nope. Before my time. Other than what you shared about the conversation between Jerry and Gabby today, I don’t know anything other than that.”

  “The guy I signed out the files from has been working for the department all the way back to then and beyond. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.”

  “I’m not sure anybody knows,” Jake said gently. “Jerry’s wife’s case is one of those woo-woo files that never could be figured out. And each captain from the past to the present has handed down a gag order, demanding we don’t talk about them.”

  “I know, but the minute anything comes in with a woo-woo element, it makes me want to sit down and to find the logic behind it all.”

  “Well, good luck with that,” he said, “because you and I both know that, too often, we don’t get any answers.”

  “I know, thanks. Let’s just hope there are no more deaths.”

  “Well, just make sure that Gabby’s locked down and safe from being a suspect or a victim.”

  “I’m on it,” he said. He hung up the phone, turning to look back to see her standing in the living room window, staring out into the darkness. He hated that she was as open and readily available for everybody to see like that. He quickly called her. When she answered, he said, “Don’t stand in the window like that. I don’t want to scare you, but somebody could be watching you, so let’s not make it easy for them.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. “I’m in bed.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” he said, in exasperation. “I’m right here outside, looking at you standing in the window.”

  “And I don’t know what you’re seeing,” she said, her voice starting to tremble with fear. “But I’m in bed, and I’ve been right here since you left.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gabby bolted out of bed, and, instead of racing out to the living room, she hid behind the divider and whispered, “What the hell is going on? Who is that in my living room?”

  “I’m letting myself in through the door,” he said. “Don’t freak out.”

  “Damn good thing,” she whispered, “because I’m hiding behind the screen and intend to stay here.”

  When she heard him already walking inside, she peered around the divider to see him standing in the living room, looking at the same spot where he had thought she’d been standing earlier. She wanted to call out to him but didn’t want to disturb him, as he turned to look around the living room. She didn’t see anything. He didn’t either, as he immediately started searching high and low. She finally stepped out of her hiding spot and said, “I didn’t hear anything but you.”

  “No,” he said. “I didn’t hear anything either, but I definitely saw something in the window.”

  “And you’re sure it was me?”

  “No, I’m not sure it was you,” he said. “Somebody was there though, a woman with long hair.”

  She grabbed her hair, measuring its length. It would be classified as long because it came down below her shoulders. “My length?”

  He looked at it and then slowly shook his head. “No, a little bit longer.”

  “You could see that from down there?”

  “Yes.” He frowned. “It was a little odd to see, just because the lighting was different. But I was looking up, and I could see her clearly.”

  “Clearly enough to recognize her?”

  “No, just clear enough to see what I thought was you standing here.”

  “So, did you see our resident ghost?” she asked in a broken laugh.

  He stopped, stared, and said, “I don’t know. But if it wasn’t you and if nobody’s here, who else is there?”

  “Did somebody race out while you were coming in?”

  “The door was in front of me the whole time. Nobody came out.” He sagged down into the living room chair and stared at her. “I’ve never believed in any of this before,” he murmured.

  “Who has?” she said, coming toward him. “None of this is very believable.”

  “And yet,” he said, “how is it we don’t believe it when it’s right in front of us?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think Stefan would say that our lives have been relatively unscathed up until now, and, for the first time, we’re actually having to deal with it.”

  “What I can tell you is, somebody was standing near the window. Definitely a woman in the window.”

  “In that case,” she said, “we’ll assume that it was somebody you saw for a little bit who isn’t here now.”

  “Sure,” he said. “But that doesn’t help in the sense that we don’t know who this person is.”

  “I think the question is, who this person was,” she said gently. “I think what we must do is acknowledge that what we’re seeing is something that’s not of this world. Or not any longer. Something bizarre is going on, and we’re caught up right in the middle of it.”

  “I think we’re caught up in it,” he said, “because of you.”

  He was right. Chances were this all revolved around her. She just didn’t know why. Except for that pack of tarot cards maybe. “That’s quite possible, but that still won’t answer or solve the problem we’re dealing with right now.”

  “Maybe not,” he said, “but we sure as hell need to figure it out … and fast.”

  “Even if I am being haunted by a ghost,” she said, “what is that telling us?”

  “That somebody has latched on to you. For whatever reason, for whatever connection, that person has seen you as a conduit to whatever it is that they’re here for.”

  “Do we know for sure that this person, this entity, has a negative reason for being here?”

  “While I’m sure Stefan would say there are benign ghosts, however, it’s still not in their benefit to stay here.”

  “Maybe,” she said, “and does that mean that we’re supposed to do something to get rid of her?”

  “If she’s the reason that you’re out dancing in the cold, getting hypothermia, then, yes,” he said. “She needs to go back to wherever she came from or move on to whatever comes after this,” he said, with a wave of his hand.

  She nodded slowly and looked around her, and then she held up her arm and said, “I had goose bumps as soon as you left earlier,” she said slowly. “That’s one of the reasons I raced into bed.”

  “And I was standing outside, talking on the phone for a moment,” he said. “When I got off the phone, I looked up and saw her standing here.”

  “Could you see what she wore?”

  “It looked like a long tunic,” he said, “but I couldn’t see any more than that.”

  “So you don’t know how old she was or how old her image was?”

  He stopped and asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m just wondering. If somebody like that is stuck in time, is their clothing stuck in time too, or was she dressed modern?”

  “I couldn’t see that clearly.”

  “And I wonder how old would somebody look who’d been dead, say, ten years? Would they look older, or would they still be their age at the time of their death?”

  “Who knows about the age thing, other than Stefan maybe? As far as clothing, I don’t know that fashion has changed all that much,” he said. “So maybe th
ere wouldn’t be that much difference.”

  “Especially ski gear,” she said, “sweaters and leggings or jeans.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t see that level of detail at all.”

  She nodded slowly. “I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know who you call in on a deal like this, but the only person who comes to mind would be Stefan. Besides, before he left us so abruptly tonight, he said I have two entities fighting for me. Remember? So maybe the ghost tonight is the good spirit? I don’t know. I need to know more.”

  “What would you ask him?”

  “How do we stop this? How do we get her to go on to whatever it is that she needs to go on to?”

  Just then, a wind gusted through the entire apartment. The corner of the blanket on the couch lifted, the curtains billowed, and her hair swung about. She raced to Damon’s side, crying out, “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

  He jumped up from the living room chair, already on his feet, one arm wrapped around her, holding her close. “I’m not sure,” he said, “but I think our ghostly visitor is here again.”

  “Oh, my God,” she said, looking around. “I can’t see her. I can’t see her.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” he said, holding her tight. “Just don’t make any sudden moves, and let’s see what it does.”

  “What it does?” she said. “I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.”

  “Do you see any reasonable explanation for what’s going on?”

  “No,” she said, “I really don’t.” She twisted to look around behind him and then back again to the front. But the hairs on her head had calmed down, and, although she still had goose bumps up and down her arms, she couldn’t see any visible sign that the ghost was still around them. “Do you think she lives here? Maybe it’s your aunt,” she said, looking up at him.

  He looked down at her in surprise. “Well, my aunt died of cancer after a three-year fight,” he said. “So I’m not sure that it was the kind of death that would bring somebody back.”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, “if the way they die matters. Not as much as maybe they are attached to something here. I tried to do some research today, but it’s pretty hard to get away with it at work, since Jerry isn’t very open to any of this … strangeness.”

  “Well, I wonder why,” he said snidely. “Just look at this. We’re all going a little bit crazy, trying to decipher what any of this means, and we have no answers.”

  “So who does?”

  “Stefan,” he said, “but we need something more than just him. I don’t know that he has the time to sit here and help us deal with a ghost who’s hanging around.”

  “But if this ghost is killing people …”

  He stared at her in surprise. “I’m sorry to disillusion you,” he said, “but whoever is killing people is very physical. The killer decapitates his victims with huge blades across the throat, after being garroted,” he said.

  She paled as she thought about that. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, “that’s so horrible.”

  “It is horrible. It also requires a certain amount of strength and speed and, in some ways, even skill, although the coroner doesn’t seem to think any specific skill was needed for the decapitation.”

  “You mean, they didn’t need to know how to do it beforehand? Because I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

  “Maybe not,” he said, “but there were no hesitation marks, let me put it that way. So they started out doing just what they wanted to do, and they managed to cut nice and clean with a powerful sword.”

  “Would a sword take a head off just like that?”

  “Done correctly, yes,” he said, “but it depends on the force of the blow, the angle, and all kinds of different factors.”

  “I guess that’s how they used to kill people in the olden days, isn’t it?”

  “Not that much really,” he said, “though several regimes in China preferred that method.”

  “So strange. Does that mean we have an Asian connection here?”

  “I think it would be a mistake to go that far,” he said. “You must think about people in our global world today and just how different all that is right now. Any number of people could have those different skills. Hell, it could even be somebody who just grabbed a huge sword and swung with all his might. You know? If done just right, he could accomplish that.”

  “I suppose,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s hard to imagine.”

  “Well, a few other details are involved,” he said, “but I haven’t read the whole report myself yet. So I don’t know everything that’s going on with the murders.”

  “And is the coroner always correct?”

  “Nobody is always correct,” he said, “but obviously we do the best we can to get the most accurate information, so we can build a case around it.”

  “Right,” she murmured. “How do we capture someone who might not even be physical?”

  “Well, first off we won’t go on the assumption that a ghost did the killings,” he said. “Remember that.”

  She nodded slowly but wasn’t convinced.

  “I get that it’s easier for you to think that,” he said, “because then nobody you know is responsible, but that doesn’t make it so.”

  “Maybe not,” she said. “I wish I knew why it was connected to me.”

  “That actually would be a huge help,” he said. “Maybe at least then we could understand why this ghost, which is one part of our problem, is even here.”

  “And, if it isn’t here, why is it hanging around this apartment?”

  “But I’m not sure it’s just the apartment,” he said. “I think you’re the connection. You’re the one with the tarot cards. You’re the one thrown down the mountain. You’re the one having these weird dancing episodes.”

  “Fine,” she said, taking a deep breath. “So I’m the connection. Did I touch something? Did I pick up something? Do I own something? I don’t know how somebody can connect like this.”

  “I think just like that,” he said, “either by being related to, connected to, picking up something, buying something, owning something, touching something. Like those tarot cards.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, but obviously that’s an awful lot to consider, and we need to clarify just what and how.”

  “Yes,” she said, “and sooner than later.”

  He smiled. “I didn’t see anything vengeful about this ghost in the window though,” he said, “so keep that in mind.”

  “Not very helpful right now,” she said, “not when two people are dead.”

  “No, no, I hear you.” Just then his phone rang. He loosened his arms around her enough to pull his phone from his pocket. He took a look and, stepping back, said, “It’s my partner.”

  She watched as he answered, her mind still caught up on what she had just seen.

  “What?” He turned and stared at her.

  She wrapped her arms around her chest and waited anxiously for the bad news.

  “No, I’m on my way,” he said. “Be there in ten, maybe fifteen.” He slowly ended the call on his phone, staring at it the whole time, and said, “We have another death.”

  She gasped. “Not one more of my friends? Please tell me it’s not one of them.”

  “No,” he said, “it’s your boss.”

  *

  Damon headed to the bookstore, after dropping that bombshell. He knew that Gabby had even more to sort out now because there went her job, and Damon didn’t even know if she’d get her last paycheck. So that had to be another financial blow. He wondered at what was going on in her life where everything was just continuously coming down on her shoulders. As he arrived at the bookstore, he walked in to see Jake, standing there, looking around. “Where’s the body?”

  “That’s the thing,” he said, “the body is in the back alleyway.”

  “Why is he out there?”

  “It was surmised that he was taking out the garbage.”

  “Is this
the same kind of death?”

  “No, not at all,” he said, looking at his partner. “Sorry. I didn’t make that clear, did I?”

  “No, but I’m happy to hear it anyway,” he said, “because another one of those beheadings would be too much to take in right now.”

  “Right. What a messed-up world we’re dealing with right now,” Jake said.

  “And was it murder?”

  “Well, the neighbor called it in, and we assumed so. The coroner is on his way. But I’m not sure. It’s possible it could be due to accidental or natural causes.”

  “Can I see him?”

  Jake led the way through the back, where several cops stood, waiting.

  Damon walked over to see the bookstore owner lying facedown in the snow. His skin already had an odd color, and blood was under his head but not a lot of it. Damon took a look around and frowned. “I can see the blood from a head wound but not the wound itself. It’s on the other side.”

  “Right, as if he hit his head on his way down.”

  “Could be a heart attack,” he muttered.

  “Well, let’s hope so,” Jake said. “We have enough odd things going on just now.”

  “Gabby said he hadn’t been very healthy lately. He was really worried and upset.”

  “Well, that would all play into this end,” Jake said, crouching beside the body. “The coroner should be here soon, so we’ll know before long.”

  Damon nodded, stepped back.

  Jake continued, “If it isn’t foul play, then we don’t need to go investigate the rest of the place.”

  “Exactly,” Damon said. “So who called it in?”

  Jake pointed to a woman standing off to the side, shifting her feet in the cold.

  “I’ll go talk to her,” Damon said. He walked over with a smile, introduced himself, and said, “Did you call in the body?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Poor Jerry,” she whispered. “I’ve known him for years.”

  “Well, we don’t know anything for sure yet, but it looks possible that he had a heart attack or something of that nature,” he said to her.

  Immediately she nodded. “I warned him about that ticker of his, but he just gave me that sad smile and said that he lost his reason for living a long time ago and didn’t care if he headed on to the next phase.”

 

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