Kiss the Witch Goodbye

by Lisa Olsen

  “I’ll show you what I can do with my mouth,” she breathed.

  “You can, but then this will turn into an entirely different kind of story,” he pointed out. “On second thought…”

  “No, you go ahead, I want to hear my bedtime story. I’ll be good, I promise.”

  Nick hesitated, distracted by the soft rush of her breath on his neck before he began. “This is the story of Annielocks and the Three Bears. Once upon a time, there was a pretty little girl named Annielocks who lived out in the woods with her friend Rosehilda.”

  “Oh, brother…”

  “Annielocks loved to sing and frolic in the woods, but her friend Rosehilda always warned her never to venture into the thick of the forest, because it was full of elves.”

  “I think it’d be cool to meet elves.”

  “Not these elves, because they’d steal your shoes and sell them to the cobbler who lived down the lane.”

  “Elves are supposed to make shoes, not steal them.”

  “Not the lazy ones. Shh, this is the best part.” He tapped a finger across her lips. “One day, when she was out gathering flowers, she happened upon a wolf. Not a big, bad, wolf, but a dashingly handsome wolf.”

  “Wait, what happened to the bears?”

  “Do you want to hear this story or not?”

  “That all depends, are you the wolf?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Does the story end with the wolf eating Annielocks?” She lifted her head, fixing him with a pointed look, and Nick waggled his eyebrows.

  “Maybe. But only after they get to know each other better. A lot better,” he growled, going for her neck again. Annaliese giggled, the sound music to his ears, dark dreams banished for now. He didn’t let up until the wolf had huffed and puffed his way past Annielocks’ defenses and they both lay in a sweaty tangle of limbs.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked, falling back against the sheets. “Is it a happy ending?”

  “I’ll say,” she agreed, doing her share of huffing and puffing until her body calmed. “Of course now I’m spoiled, I’ll want a bedtime story every night.”

  Talk about a perfect opening for that talk about the future. “Now that you mention it…” Nick’s phone buzzed, still tucked into his pants and he covered his eyes with a groan. He couldn’t catch a break. “Maybe if we’re quiet it’ll stop ringing.”

  “Don’t be silly, what if it’s something about the case?” Anna said, wriggling to the edge of the bed to scoop up his pants and hand the phone over. “It’s Brady.”

  “At this hour? That can’t be good,” Nick frowned, answering the call. “You’d better not be hitting me up for a loan to pay Park that twenty,” he growled.

  “Actually, she had to give me that twenty back.”

  Uh oh. “What’s going on?”

  “We’ve got another one. Uniforms called in a stiff at the Sleepaway Motel over by Stark. Park and I are on the scene now. Same M.O. and same physical type.”

  “Shit. Alright, I’ll be right down.”

  “Hey, Nick?”

  “Yeah, Brady?”

  “This one’s fresh, she’s still warm.”

  “Alright, go ahead and wake up Captain Quinn then, see if you can get authorization to mobilize some black and whites to sweep the area. Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.”

  “You got it, boss-man.”

  “Someone else died?” Annaliese asked as soon as he got off the phone. He was already up and hunting around for his discarded clothes.

  “Yep, I’m afraid so. Brady says the body’s still warm, so it couldn’t have been that long ago. Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to go.” A lot of women couldn’t handle it when he had to leave to go do cop stuff at all hours of the night, and she definitely didn’t look happy. But Anna surprised him by leaning over the side of the bed to find her jeans and pull them on.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, and she looked up as she zipped them up.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No you’re not. It’s a crime scene, not a date.”

  “That’s never stopped you before,” Anna snorted, and Nick had to concede, she had a point. He’d never been shy about involving her on cases in the past – but only when strictly necessary. She seemed to think this qualified. “Nick, if there’s something otherworldly going on, I might be able to recognize something you won’t. Don’t you see? If this just happened, that means it could’ve been while I was dreaming. I might’ve seen the murder happen in my vision. I have to go with you and see for myself.”

  Nick hesitated, protocol warring with the logical argument she presented about very illogical circumstances. “Fine, but I’m going to need my shirt back.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  By the time they got there, the place was crawling with CSU people, practically tripping over each other in the confined space. Nick and Annaliese hung back, trying to stay out of the way while Park and Brady brought him up to speed on what they knew so far.

  Lucky’s Motel was the Taj Majal compared to the Sleepaway. Dinky rooms with just a toilet and a sink in the closet, not even a shower. Blood had seeped outside the door, leading to the 911 call, and the uniforms had done a good job keeping people away from the mess.

  Park recited the victim’s stats from memory. “Her name was Angela Parker, twenty-two years old, an Environmental Studies student at Marylhurst College in West Linn.”

  “Environmental Studies major? How’d you find that out?” Nick asked.

  She jerked her head toward the open door. “Her book bag is over there in the corner, the biology text is for an advanced degree course in Environmental Studies. My cousin goes there,” she shrugged.

  “Anyway, she doesn’t fit the typical profile of rock groupie at all,” Brady chimed in. “No wild make-up, her clothes were more functional than funky, and the only things she wore made of leather were her boots.”

  “That’s odd,” Nick frowned. “What about a tattoo?”

  “That’s where we made the leap that this is no suicide,” Park said. “The tattoo is on her abdomen, same as the others.”

  Nick traded a look with Annaliese. “Then she must be a fan.”

  “Not necessarily,” Anna hissed, squeezing his arm. “In my dream she didn’t have the tattoo until the killer put it there.”

  “What’s this about a dream?” Brady perked up, but Nick waved him off.

  “Nothing. Who paid for the room?”

  Brady’s smile was a mile wide. “She did, with – get this – a hundred dollar bill.”

  It definitely fit the pattern. “Did we ever get anywhere with tracing the last bill?”

  “Beats me, Fox was in charge of that. She hasn’t said so one way or the other, so I’m assuming no.”

  “What else do we know about her? Does she live around here?”

  “No, sir,” Park replied. “The address on her driver’s license puts her in Beaverton, out past Murray Hill.”

  Craning his head to get a look inside, Nick couldn’t see much, the girl’s head turned away from the door, mostly covered by her hair. “Huh, I wonder what she was doing in this neighborhood?” he wondered aloud. “What about searching the surrounding area? Did Quinn give the go ahead?”

  “Yes, he gave us six black and whites to canvas the area,” Brady nodded. “They’re shining a light into all the dark corners, but chances are our killer is long gone. We’ll keep at it though. Come morning, we’ll start knocking on doors and see if anyone saw anything.”

  Two CSU techs came out, tugging off their masks to gulp fresh breaths of the night air. One of them pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a headache, the other pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as if they stung.

  “Is it bad?” Nick asked, approaching the room with dread.

  “No, it’s fucking Candyland in there,” the one with the headache bit back. “What kind of a question is that?”

  “One that comes from the Sergeant in charge,” Nick
bristled, not appreciating the guy’s attitude.

  The tech looked startled and sidestepped away, heading to the van with his gear. “It’s a real bloodbath,” he muttered.

  There was one tech left in the room, working by the small window, with Dr. Libby Fielding standing on the other side of the bed, and Nick decided to go take a closer look. Anna moved to follow him, but Park laid a hand on her arm.

  “You’re not going to want to go in there, Annaliese, it’s not pretty.”

  Nick took one step into the room and was inclined to agree. “Maybe she’s right. Why don’t you wait outside and we’ll get you to look at some of the pictures?”

  “I want to take a quick look, I promise I won’t interfere or touch anything,” Annaliese pleaded. “Besides, I’ve seen so much death by now, I think I’m getting kind of used to it.”

  “That’s the sort of thing I’d rather you not get used to,” he frowned.

  “Nick, it’s the whole reason I came down here. It’ll be fine.”

  “Alright, just a quick peek.”

  Park hung back, Brady sticking to her side like glue. “We’ll wait out here, sir. There’s not much room in there.”

  Nick nodded, but he understood the real reason for their reluctance to enter. The air was oppressive inside the crappy little room, stagnant, the metallic scent of blood mixing unfavorably with that burning hair stink from the last crime scene, and he wished he had one of those paper masks the CSU guys had. Immediately, he began to sweat under his suit coat, but didn’t want to take it off and expose himself to more of the room.

  The girl lay hanging half off the bed, the cut arm dangling almost to the floor. The bedspread was liberally spattered with blood, but the majority of it had drained to the cheap carpet below, the uneven floor spreading the stain. That was the only reason why she’d been found so quickly, the blood had seeped out under the gap in the doorframe to the concrete outside.

  They had to watch their step to avoid the numbered markers on the floor delineating the trail of the blood and the scuttle of roaches eager to join in the feast. Libby and the tech ignored the squalor, faces intent on their duties. Annaliese clung to him, up on the balls of her feet, as though she didn’t want to step in the filth more than she had to. Briefly, he thought about marching her right back out of there, but decided the best way to handle it would be to ask her to do what she came for.

  “Is this what you saw?” he asked gently.

  “Yes, this is exactly it,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper in the eerie stillness of the room. “Everything from the hair over her face, to the pattern on the bedspread to the…” she swallowed uncomfortably, “…smell.” Her eyes closed, breathing in rapid, shallow breaths. “Can you feel it?”

  “Feel what?”

  “The oppressive energy in the room.”

  It certainly was horrible in there, but despite the nasty stink, it wasn’t the worst murder he’d even walked up on. But her experiences were much more limited, of course she’d find it oppressive. “It is a crime scene,” he pointed out.

  “No, it’s more than that. It’s like a cloud of evil clinging to everything,” she insisted, turning her wide green eyes up to him. “I’m telling you, something powerful was summoned here. Something pretty evil to leave behind this kind of residue. I feel sick breathing it in. Ugh, can we prop the door open maybe?”

  “Soon, the guys are almost done.”

  “Do you mind if I wait outside then?”

  Nick choked back the urge to say something in the vein of I told you so, offering her a tight smile. “Sure, of course. I’ll be out as soon as I’m done in here.” The brief burst of fresh air was almost instantly defeated by the room, and Nick wished he was going with her before turning his attention back to the body. “How long has she been dead?”

  “Not long at all,” Libby replied without looking up. “This is kind of a new low even for you, isn’t it, Gibson? Bringing your girlfriend to an active crime scene like this.”

  Nick started to reply with a stinging retort but caught himself in time. Maybe Anna was right. Maybe there was an evil residue clinging to the murder scene? Was that why everyone was in such a shitty mood, not only at this crime scene, but the last one as well?

  “I’ll wait for you outside and we can talk more,” he said in as mild a tone as he could manage.

  “Don’t do me any favors.”

  Nick hesitated at the door, allowing for a greater influx of clean air, careful to avoid the blood on the way out. “Libby, don’t stay in here too long, okay? It’s not good for you.”

  She flipped him the middle finger without looking up, continuing on with her job.

  Taking a last look into the room, his gaze settled on a pair of numbered markers on the floor. “Hello, is this what I think it is?” he asked, squatting down on his haunches. The two others in the room ignored him as he examined the marks on the threadbare carpet more closely.

  There was a distinct set of two footprints, most likely feminine due to the size and general shape of the shoe. Even though it was a sure bet the entire room had already been amply photographed, Nick took a couple of shots on his phone before stepping outside.

  Annaliese stood with Park, her hands wrapped around a paper cup of coffee. “Feeling better?” he asked, glad to see her nod and weak smile. “Hey guys, did you take a look at those footprints by the door?”

  “What footprints?” Brady asked, loping over from where he’d been talking to one of the uniformed cops. “Shit, how did I miss that?”

  Park frowned over the image, unconvinced. “Are you sure these are footprints, sir? They don’t look right to me.”

  “No, it does,” Annaliese agreed, leaning close to pinch the image wider on his phone. “See, this is the ball of the foot and this dot here is the heel. You almost miss it as spatter unless you’re really looking for it.”

  “It’s a woman’s footprint?” Park’s face registered shock. Nick realized he hadn’t said a thing about the possibility of the killer being a woman based on the visions, no wonder why they’d missed it.

  “I’ll go get the exact measurements from the CSU guys,” Brady volunteered, even as Park scrolled furiously through the screens on her phone. By the time he came back with the numbers, she was ready for him. Seconds later they had the answer they needed.

  “Based on the stride we can estimate a rough height of between five foot seven or eight,” she reported.

  “This clears Jax then, right?” Annaliese said with barely controlled excitement. “He’s over six feet, easy.”

  “Not necessarily,” Nick felt obligated to point out. “The footprints might not belong to the killer.”

  “Oh, come on, Nick. I saw a woman and now you’ve got female footprints at the scene. How much more confirmation do you need?”

  Park and Brady were being awfully loud in their silence, and Nick could tell by looking at them that they were dying to know more about these visions Annaliese kept talking about. But before he could begin that awkward conversation, Anna said something else that got him to thinking.

  “Jax is probably at home asleep with no alibi again, thanks to my spending the night at Rose’s. If I’d been there, we could’ve put this to rest once and for all.”

  “Shit, I almost forgot. I’d better give Natalie a call, let her know there’s a new body.” If she reported that Jax had been buttoned up inside sleeping the sleep of the innocent all night, then Nick was willing to admit there was no possibility that he was their guy. Only Natalie didn’t answer her phone. Nick left a brief message, asking for an immediate callback, and was about to send her a text message when Libby came out of the motel room.

  She looked just as exhausted as the CSU techs, sagging against the side of the building as she took in a few quick gulps of air. Instead of flooding her with questions, Nick took Anna’s full cup of coffee and pressed it into the M.E.’s hands.

  “Hey, why don’t you come and sit for a few minutes, take t
he edge off,” he said gently, half expecting her to bite his head off. Instead, she went with him, clutching the cup of coffee like a lifeline. After he could see some of the effects of the room begin to fade, he offered her a tentative smile. “How’re you feeling, champ?”

  “Like I’ve lost a few rounds too many,” she admitted with a grimace. “Maybe I’m getting too old for this job. These middle of the night calls are taking more out of me than they used to.”

  “Naw, don’t say that. If you’re getting old then I must be ancient.”

  “Well, you are,” she admitted, taking another sip of coffee, more of the tension fading. “Hey, listen, that crack before about Annaliese…”

  “Don’t worry about it, it’s water under the bridge. The pressure gets to us all sometimes.”

  “Still, I didn’t have to be such a bitch,” she said, draining the rest of the cup and crunching it in her tiny fist. “Alright, back to work. It’s going to be a long day for all of us,” she sighed, leading him back to where Park and Brady kept Annaliese company. “So, here’s what I’ve got. Based on body temperature and lividity, I’d say she died between one to one and a half hours before I got here, which was… about half an hour ago. Rigor hasn’t set in yet, she’s definitely a fresh one.”

  “That lines up with when I had that dream,” Annaliese said, drawing all eyes to her. “I saw the murder happen, but I can’t be much help as to what she looks like, only that it was a woman, and she didn’t have any tattoos or scars on her arms.”

  Nick bit the inside of his cheek, waiting for the taunts or snickering jokes, but they never came. Instead, his team absorbed the information and moved on.

  Fielding went on with her report. “This time we have a contusion on the back of the head, not enough to kill her, but hard enough to knock her out.”

  “That’s new,” Nick frowned. That made two things out of the ordinary in this latest killing. Did that mean the killer was losing control or just shifting their M.O.? Or was this death somehow different from the others? “Either she didn’t have sufficient GHB in her system to make her pliable enough, or the killer got too impatient for it to do its thing. Any idea what was used to conk her on the head?”