She carefully looped her bag around the back of a chair and sat down. “Starting early today?”
Harley nodded, her brown, curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. “Team meeting.”
“I tagged along.” Fiona, Roxy’s assistant, grinned, her cat-like green eyes twinkling.
“Anywhere with beer.”
Fiona tipped up her glass. “You know me too well.”
Scar filled Raven’s glass to the brim. “How’d it go with the porn star?”
She sipped, then said, “Claire.”
“Yeah, Claire. The chick you watched get railed in the woods.”
“I didn’t watch it, okay?”
“Suuuuuure.”
“I can tell you one thing for sure, that woman has no part in Eric’s insider trading. Eric Stevens is a booty call, that’s it.” She laughed. “She even offered me his number.”
Harley grinned. “You call already?”
Raven rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“You need to get laid, Rave. Just sayin’.”
Fiona nodded. “No kidding, when was your last date?”
Raven opened her mouth to answer but found herself struggling to remember.
The girls laughed, and Raven rolled her eyes, again.
“Anyway, she’s a dead end regarding the Stevens case. But…”
“But what?”
She frowned. “Well… it was odd. When I walked in, she was extremely nervous and edgy. Kept looking out the window. Super sketched out.”
Scar raised her eyebrows.
She continued, “And I casually mentioned the trail and she freaked.”
“I’m sure that reaction was about Abby. The whole town knows about it now.” Fiona shivered. “I mean, what a horrific way to go. Strangled and… can you imagine? Her fingers were cut off, one by one.”
Raven scrunched her face in disgust. “Believe me, it kept me up all night, imagining it.”
“I’m sure it’s kept every woman in Devil’s Den up all night.”
Scar leaned forward. “Does Claire know Abby, maybe?”
“I’ve already asked Ace to look into that. But,” she shifted in her seat. “There’s something else. It’s probably nothing, and I’m probably totally overthinking it. But as I was leaving, I glanced at her computer screen… she was researching hatchets.”
“No shit?” Harley and Fiona said, in perfect unison.
“No shit.”
“Hatchets, as in, a tool that could have been used to cut off Abby’s fingers?”
“Yep.”
Harley tapped her glass, in deep thought. “Super sketched out and researching hatchets… seems pretty damn suspicious to me.”
Scar began picking her nails, a habit she had when she was thinking through a case. “You need to call Zander.”
Raven nodded. She’d already thought about that, but had decided to hold off until the end of the day. Why? She wasn’t entirely sure. A little part of her was worried that their flirt-fest the night before would make things awkward between them. And she didn’t want to deal with that disappointment until the day was over.
“Have you guys heard anything new about it? About the case? Gossip? Anything?”
Scar shook her head. “No, I heard that Zander didn’t find anything else when he went back this morning. But the gossip is crazy. Everyone has their opinions and theories. Krestel did it, or some deranged ex-boyfriend did it, etcetera. Everyone’s spooked.”
“I’m sure.” She stared down at her beer, mindlessly running her finger around the rim, in deep thought.
Fiona glanced at Raven, watched her for a moment. “You’re leaving something out.”
Scar and Fiona turned to her, eyebrows raised.
She looked up. Uh, well…”
“Well?”
“Well I kind of stopped by Abby’s apartment this morning. Just to look around.”
“Stopped by, as in, broke in and snooped around?”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah.” She glanced at Scar, the most senior member of the Black Rose team at the table, who had reprimanded her for much less.
The corner of Scar’s lip curled up. “What happens, or is said, at the Black Crow Tavern, stays at the Black Crow Tavern.”
Raven smiled. “Thanks.” She exhaled loudly, relieved to be able to talk about what she saw. “You’re not going to believe this. Abby had been studying witchcraft before she was murdered.”
“What? No way.”
“Way. And… on a small piece of paper, hidden in a book, she’d scribbled Great Shadow Book of Secrets, with the letter K underneath.”
Scar’s mouth dropped open.
Harley set down her drink, her eyes the size of golf balls. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
Scar leaned forward, urgency pitching in her voice. “Was it there? Was the book there? Did you see it?”
Raven shook her head. “No, no, just the note. I left it, for Zander to find.”
“Oh, my God. That book…” Her eyes darkened. “Is pure evil.”
“I know. I’ve heard. Do you think it really exists?”
No one responded. They looked around at each other, not wanting to admit that it was a very real possibility.
The table sat silent for a moment, and Raven’s gut twisted. She drained her drink and pushed away from the table.
“Where’re you going?”
She grabbed her bag. “I’ve got to check on something before the sun goes down.”
Twenty minutes later, Raven parked under the same pine trees that she’d parked under not twenty-four hours earlier—thirty minutes before she found Abby Collier’s body.
She glanced at the woods, and the creepy feeling of deja vu had her shifting in her seat. It was almost the exact time she’d gotten there yesterday, and the weather was eerily similar too—thick, ominous clouds, which only added to the overall creepiness that had fallen over the town in the last twenty-four hours. She glanced around and noted two cars, a beat-up hatchback, and an extended cab Chevy. She reached back, plucked her bag from the backseat, and took one more glance around and got out.
She hesitated, then shook her head and began walking across the soggy ground. This was her job—solving mysteries is what she did 24/7. Solving mysteries is what made her tick, for better or worse. She couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling, screaming at her that they were missing something in that damn cave.
So here she was, taking it upon herself to check it out.
Abby Collier deserved justice. Abby Collier deserved another set of eyes on that cave, and by God, she was going to give it to her.
A warm breeze swept across her skin as she stepped onto the darkening trail. She glanced at her watch—almost seven, about an hour before nightfall. Nervously, she felt for her Glock in the front pocket of her bag to confirm it was still there—yep, it was. It hadn’t grown legs and sauntered away.
Dammit, she was edgy.
She pulled her pocket knife from her pocket, flipped it open, and gripped it as Zander had taught her. And then said a little prayer that her grip wouldn’t matter because she’d, hopefully, never be put in a self-defense scenario.
She smiled at the young mom pushing a double stroller, packed with two young boys munching on graham crackers. A split-second of envy zipped through her as she imagined herself, going out for an evening jog with her two boys, before going home and making dinner for her handsome husband… her handsome doctor husband. No, surgeon husband. Yes—former Navy SEAL, turned plastic surgeon, husband. Yeah, that’s it.
Her life was so different from the young joggers’. Her days were spent investigating dozens of different cases, more often than not including a dead body, and her evenings were spent catching up on laundry or clicking through the television while eating a frozen dinner.
As much as she hated to admit it, she was lonely. Not all the time, but as the years of her life clicked by, there were more nights than not that she wished she’d had a man to fall as
leep beside.
To hold her, love her.
Keep her safe.
Her thoughts shifted to Zander. What were his evenings like? Did he have a girlfriend? She knew he’d never married, but she’d be shocked if he didn’t have a woman, or a booty call, at least. The women of Devil’s Den swooned over Zander, and she couldn’t blame them. Yep, he probably spent his evenings having multiple ménage-a-trois’ with the most beautiful women in the tristate area—not uptight, perfectionist, private investigators with a penchant for cheap beer and label makers.
She felt the heat begin to rise to her cheeks as she thought of his arms around her the night before. During their flirt-fest, she’d sworn he felt their chemistry, too. She saw it in his eyes—right before he clammed up and bolted out the front door.
She sighed.
Her gaze shifted to another jogger, a woman, in the distance. For a second, she considered stopping the lone jogger and telling her to get home, be vigilant, and stay off the trail. Exactly as Claire Banks had said to her.
She frowned, shook her head. Claire knew something. She was one-hundred percent sure of it. She just didn’t know what that something was, or how it tied in.
The woman zipped past her just as Raven veered off the trail into the woods. Her stomach tickled with nerves as she stepped through the thick brush. It was creepy. Dark shadows stretched across the forest floor, dancing in the breeze, like ghosts, watching her.
Baiting her.
She took a deep breath.
Calm down, Raven.
All of a sudden—snick.
She stopped, and looked over her shoulder.
No one.
A gust of wind blew past her, spinning dead leaves across her body.
Was she being followed?
She glanced from tree to tree, where the shadows continued to sway eerily from side to side. Goosebumps spread over her arms. She felt… something.
A presence.
Her pulse picked up.
She listened but heard only the whistle of the wind through the trees.
She was just a few yards from Hatchet Hollow. No turning back now.
She gripped the pocket knife in her hand and pushed on, her heart beginning to race in her chest.
She took a wary look over her shoulder, and couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed—that she wasn’t the only person in the woods.
She pressed into a brisk walk, almost a jog, until the rocks came into view. Yellow police tape roped off the area just in front of the cave.
Do not cross.
She stepped onto the large rock and took another glance over her shoulder, watching for any movement whatsoever.
Get in, get out, Rave.
She stepped off the rock and pulled a flashlight from her bag. She paused at the dark cave entrance, clicked on the light, and took one last glance over her shoulder before stepping inside.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up.
Abby Collier’s body was gone, but death hung like a wet blanket in the air. A heavy, moldy blanket.
Focus.
The faint sound of dripping water drummed in her ears as she carefully walked across the cave, slowly sweeping the light from side to side.
What were they missing? What was she looking for?
She shined the light along the sides of the cave, the slick, wet walls reflecting in the beam. She panned to the smooth rock in the corner where Abby’s body lay twenty-four hours ago. She frowned, kneeled down.
Three red puddles stained the rock from where the blood had trickled from Abby’s mouth and her fingers had been sawed from her hands. She pulled a latex glove from her bag, slipped it on, and traced her finger across the smooth cave floor. She imagined what it must have felt like, being pinned against the cold rock, strangled. She sifted through a pile of flint stone.
She sat back on her heels and shined the light around.
Something sparkled in the beam.
She frowned and squinted at the tiny reflection in the corner. What the hell was that?
She pushed off the floor and walked to the object, just inches from where Abby’s body was found. She crouched down.
A tiny sliver of teal fabric with reflective coating was pinned under a rock.
She cocked her head. It looked like fabric from exercise clothes. But Abby’s clothes were black—black jogging pants, black T-shirt and black sports bra—no teal. She grabbed an evidence bag, tweezers, and carefully plucked the fabric from the crevasse.
Just as she zipped it up, she felt a breeze of movement behind her. Ice-cold fear shot through her. She surged to her feet and turned around, so sure that she was about to be face-to-face with the killer.
But there was no one.
Her hand trembled as she shined the light around the cave. Her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest.
Time to get the hell out of here, now.
She grabbed her bag and jogged across the cave, her skin practically crawling with fright. With each step her fear intensified, her instinct telling her that she was in grave danger. She leapt out of the cave, and didn’t stop—it was as if two large hands were grabbing for her from behind, so close, just inches away.
Her heart raced as she jumped onto the rock, and then down onto the forest floor. The woods had darkened during her short time in the cave. She took off, with just the dim glow of twilight illuminating her way.
Her gaze snapped toward every dark shadow that seemed to be playing tricks on her.
Holy shit, she was scared.
Suddenly, she heard voices—whispers—around her.
Panic bubbled up, and she pushed into a sprint, not caring that she could very easily turn an ankle in the rough terrain.
Her toe caught a root, and she lurched forward, tumbling to the ground, her bag flying a few feet in front of her. Pain zinged her knee, but she jumped up and glanced behind her.
She paused.
Was that…?
She squinted, and swore she saw a dark silhouette slowly fade into Hatchet Hollow.
CHAPTER 11
RAVEN WIPED THE sweat from her brow and pushed through the shiny doors of the massive, sprawling building that was home to Graves Laboratory, a top of the line, full-service forensics lab. Her steps were unsteadied, her hands still trembling from the incident she’d just had in the woods. After she’d arrived safely to her car, she sat in the driver’s seat for a solid minute, practicing her yoga breathing, trying to calm down. She was drenched in sweat and scared out of her mind, and although all she wanted to do was go home and hide under the covers, she had something more important to do—and it couldn’t wait.
The expansive lobby was empty, with only the dim glow of the after-hours lights. She looked around as she walked across the shiny, marble floors. No matter how many times she’d been to Graves, she was always awestruck at the beauty of the building. She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows, into the darkness, and her stomach sank with the same feeling she had in the woods. A feeling that someone was watching her. Waiting for her.
Dammit, she wanted to get home. And she would, right after this.
The large clock on the wall ticked to seven as she walked up to the reception desk, which was unmanned, and pressed the after-hours button.
Graves was a lot like Black Rose—full of over-committed workaholics who worked twenty-four hours a day, even though they technically didn’t have to. Black Rose used Graves exclusively for their cases and were on a first-name basis with most of the staff.
A minute ticked by.
Finally, a sultry, female voice came through the speaker.
“How may I help you?”
“Hi, it’s Raven from Black Rose Investigations. Any chance Max is around?”
“Just a moment, please.”
She leaned against the counter, and pulled out her cell phone as she waited—one new message. She clicked it open.
FYI, so far, I can’t find any connection between Abby Co
llier and Claire Banks. Will keep looking and let you know if I find anything. -Ace
No connection. She frowned. Maybe she was just overthinking things. Maybe Claire was just having a bad day. Maybe she didn’t know a damn thing. Maybe Raven’s gut was wrong.
Suddenly, the door buzzed.
“Go on up, Miss Cane.”
“Thank you.”
The elevator zipped her to the top floor, and the doors slid open. The floor was dark and quiet. She walked down the hall to the last office and peeked inside as she quietly knocked.
“Miss Cane, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Max Blackwood, a former forensic medical examiner, now the director of Graves, stood from his chair. He wore an expensive navy-blue suit, and she smiled at the opened beer on his desk.
An eternal bachelor with a penchant for high-dollar coffee, Max was known for two things—being a literal genius, and his bad luck with women, which surprised Raven considering the guy looked like he’d just stepped out of GQ magazine.
“Sorry it’s so late.”
He smiled and walked around to the front of his desk. “No worries, I’m working late, as always.”
She nodded at the bottle. “Beer always helps.”
“It sure does. Keeps the juices flowing. Would you like one?”
“No, thanks, this is a quick visit.”
“What can I help you with?”
She reached into her bag and held up the evidence bag.
“This piece of fabric… looks like material from exercise clothes to me.”
He frowned, took the bag, and held it up for a closer look. “I’m assuming you want me to scan it for DNA?”
“Exactly.”
“May I ask where it’s from?”
“I found it in Hatchet Hollow, where Abby Collier’s body was just found. It’s probably nothing at all, but it caught my eye, so here I am.”
He shook his head. “So sad. The whole town is spooked.” He looked closer. “Looks like it’s been there awhile, and I’ll bet the moisture from the cave has done a number on any DNA, assuming there’s any on it, of course.” He looked at her, and the corner of his lip curled up. “But I sure do love a challenge.”
Relief washed over her. “Thanks, Max. Can you look at it soon, like, tonight or tomorrow?”
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