by K.N. Lee
“I just thought—” Rowan bit back a sigh. “I just thought I’d see something.”
“I know.”
There had to be a clue. She’d missed it in her eagerness, and she had to go back. That was the only answer. She couldn’t go home and face Ben, not with her failure at the scene and not with Seth so close to mind.
And yet she couldn’t go back and ask Brown for another look. She’d had her only chance. So where did that leave her? She had no idea.
“Take me to the school.” Perhaps, with Seth in mind, she’d think of something in one of the books in her office. At this point, she’d take anything that would shake loose even a half-answer to catching this killer.
Sister Joe pursed her lips but also didn’t turn onto the street where Rowan’s apartment stood. Instead, she drove into the staff lot at St. Anne’s, parked in her spot, and turned off the engine. She sat with her hands in her lap, watching Rowan.
“I know.” Rowan could just scream with frustration but that wouldn’t help anything.
“You know what?” Joe asked.
“Whatever you’re going to tell me—” The Sister was going to say something wise that would solidify the mess of emotions whirling through Rowan and crystallize what she needed to do with her job and Ben. “—I’m just not ready to accept it yet.”
Joe opened her door. “I can appreciate that.”
“Thanks.” Rowan got out and headed to the West Building — the opposite of Joe, who walked away toward her on-campus apartment. A few students walked about campus. Heavy gray clouds filled the sky, muting the midmorning light, and making it feel more like six or seven instead.
She opened a small side door, stepped into the West Building, and navigated the narrow maze of St. Anne’s halls, chewing on her bottom lip in thought. She worried at her only clue like a dog with a bone, knowing that she’d only think of the answer as soon as she stopped thinking about the problem.
But she couldn’t help herself. It was better than thinking about Ben. She loved Ben. That she was certain of. But their night of reconciliatory sex hadn’t made her feel any less guilty about her thoughts of Seth or her kiss with other-Shannon.
And damn, she hadn’t initiated that kiss and her thoughts of Seth had only been thoughts.
Maybe she was losing her mind. Thoughts were thoughts. They weren’t actions — no matter what Grandma Ro said. The kiss with Shannon had been circumstantial, and she hadn’t reciprocated — not really.
It was the not really that bothered her. She’d never thought of Agent Shannon in that way, not in any way, for that matter. He was so quiet, a recluse forced to associate with people. How had he managed to get transferred to the occult crimes unit? She didn’t know very much about him — the him of this world — but she knew he wasn’t an investigator like Brown, and he knew nothing about the occult like Rowan.
She passed a student lounge, once a porch for the original house, now enclosed in brick from the additions built around it. The windows — never removed — were narrow and tall and open, giving her a glimpse of the shabby chairs and couches. The endeavor to replace the school’s lounge furniture hadn’t reached the first floor of the main building. Which didn’t surprise her in the least. Student lounges were a low priority in the small school’s tight budget.
Inside, three girls talked in hushed voices, but she could still hear the edge of fear in their tone. It was too early to worry about exams, but there were numerous mundane reasons why a college girl’s life could be dramatic.
Not to mention that a murderer roamed the town.
Another glance as she passed the second window, and she realized one of the girls in the group was Jennifer, the student who’d been friends with one of the victims and who’d visited Rowan’s office two days ago to drop her class. Rowan had promised she’d find her friend’s murderer, and yet she had nothing and now another girl was dead.
She entered the lounge, uncertain if she was searching for clues or forgiveness. The girls stared at her, suddenly quiet.
“You all right?” Jeez, that was a stupid question. Rowan bit the inside of her cheek. It was obvious they weren’t, but she didn’t know what she wanted to say, let alone how to say it.
One girl shook her head and looked at the floor, her long brown hair veiling her face.
“Chloe’s missing,” Jennifer said. She didn’t need to say the obvious, that they were afraid she was dead.
And Rowan didn’t feel the need to tell them their fears were true.
“We have to face it.” The girl who sat on the arm of a couch, hidden behind the others, shifted forward. “We’re being targeted.”
“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Rowan said, trying to get a better look at the girl without looking like she was looking.
The girl leaned forward. She was small — Rowan’s mother would have called her petite — and everything that Rowan wasn’t, complete with tanned complexion and short dark hair.
“Two of our friends are dead, and one is missing,” the girl said.
“Kate—” The long-haired brunette said.
“I’d say that’s more than a coincidence,” the short-haired girl, Kate, said.
Rowan glanced at the other girls, who nodded their agreement. But a light, just on the edge of her vision, caught her attention. She turned to it and found she was looking at Kate again. She resisted the urge to squeeze her eyes shut or shake her head. “All right. Hypothetically, why do you think someone would target you?”
“There’s nothing hypothetical about it,” Kate said.
“Well?” Rowan asked, ignoring Kate’s comment. She focused on Jennifer, hoping their previous conversation made her more willing to answer questions.
From the corner of Rowan’s eye, the pale light still emanated from Kate focused around her heart. It was just like what Rowan had seen with Seth and Azkeel, only weaker.
Yet more proof that the alternate world was real? Or that she really was losing her mind?
“Well…” the brunette with the long hair said, her voice a whisper, “we’re a coven.”
Kate gave the girl a dark look.
“But not a real one,” Jennifer said, a little too fast.
“But maybe being a fake coven is enough. Maybe we brought this on ourselves,” the brunette said.
And maybe that was what the murderer saw, a coven, and he wasn’t making the same distinction the girls were. It was something Brown would want to know. At last, a lead.
But the thought didn’t make Rowan happy. Her instincts said there was more to this… or was it that she just wanted there to be more to it? A confused murderer who mistook some girls playing witches wasn’t exactly occult criminology.
“Well, we’re not like that other group,” Jennifer said.
Rowan jerked her attention to Jennifer. “What group?”
“There’s this guy.” The brunette wrapped her backpack strap around her fingers as she spoke. “He approached us a few months after we formed the coven.”
“He said we were just pretending,” Kate said. “And if we wanted to join a real coven we should join him.”
“And?” Maybe this was the detail her instinct had said was missing.
“We thought he was a little… you know…” Jennifer pursed her lips, as if she didn’t want to say.
“Sleazy,” Kate said, her tone hard.
“Did you see him again after that?”
The brunette shook her head and Kate narrowed her eyes.
“What?” Rowan asked.
“Well, some of the others went, just to check it out,” Jennifer said. “To make sure we were doing things right.”
“Were Pamela, Kristine, and Chloe a part of those others?” Rowan asked, listing the murdered girls.
“I think so.” Jennifer hugged herself.
Kate snorted. “Obviously.”
Nothing was obvious to Rowan, save that Kate was frustrated. Although she supposed if she were in Kate’s position, she’d be frus
trated, too. From an outsider’s perspective, the FBI and the local P.D. hadn’t done much to catch the killer, and little information had been released to the public. Mainly because there wasn’t a lot of information, and what they did have could cause a panic.
“So what’s the FBI going to do about it?” Kate crossed her arms — not a hug like Jennifer’s, but a clear sign of defiance — except the move focused Rowan’s attention on the glow around her heart and all she could think about was Seth and Azkeel.
36
The glow around Kate’s heart increased with her emotion, strengthening as she became more angry about the murders of her friends, and drawing Rowan’s attention until all she could see was the light.
“Dr. Hill?” Jennifer asked.
Rowan dragged herself back to the conversation. “I think the FBI will want to talk to you.”
She rummaged in her satchel and realized she didn’t have her phone with her. Instead — so it didn’t look as if she was searching for something she didn’t have — she pulled out her case file and a pen. She flipped open the folder, intending to write the girls’ names and contact information on the inside flap.
“What’s that?” Jennifer asked.
On top was a photo of the scrap of paper containing the sliver of unidentified text that had been found on the first victim. There was little else in the file, save for Rowan’s musings on possible occult connections — thank goodness she’d left the autopsy pictures at the office.
“Do you recognize it?” She showed the girls the text. She didn’t think it would be as simple as a secret code the girls had made up for themselves, but maybe, just maybe.
All the girls shook their heads.
Oh, well. So much for that. She supposed finding the girls in this half-hidden student lounge had been a break, and she should be grateful just for that. But she was greedy and wanted to catch this killer now. Not wait for him to kill someone else.
She got each girl’s name and telephone number, as well as the names of those girls in the coven who weren’t present, and sent them to wait in the library. The lounge in the maze of halls of the old Main Building would be too difficult for Brown to find. She had tried to play down the fact that the girls were being targeted, but Kate was right. Three from the same group was more than just a coincidence.
Rowan ran to her office to call Brown, wondering where she’d left her cell phone. It was probably at home somewhere.
Brown picked up after the first ring and said he’d be right over. She grabbed her class notes for that evening and fumbled with her keys in her hurry to lock up, dropping them on the floor. They skidded across the marble and stopped against a maintenance trolley. The janitor, Harry, picked them up and handed them to her.
“Thanks.”
“Another girl’s gone missing,” he said, his voice low. He glanced down both ends of the hall and leaned toward her. “The talk is all over campus.”
“Yeah.” She locked her door. Talk all over campus wasn’t surprising. St. Anne’s was a small community and everyone had gone on alert after the first girl went missing. Of course, maybe someone had seen something and started the gossip but was too afraid to approach the FBI. “What is the talk saying?”
Harry shrugged. “Fears, mostly. Although I did hear mention that all the girls belonged to some club.”
“That’s what I heard, too.” Clubs seemed to be bad news for people these days. The missing demons in the other-world had belonged to a club, as well. It was a good thing she wasn’t much of a joiner.
She left Harry and rushed to the library to wait for Brown. He’d said he’d be right over, and she believed that, but those few minutes could be enough for the girls to grow cold feet and leave. And Rowan was certain the job of tracking them down again would fall to her.
Brown arrived at the library twenty minutes after she did. He interviewed each girl while she sat beside him, biting her tongue. Nothing new came out of the conversation, and while she could have told the agent that they needed to check out the man who’d approached the girls and his coven, there were some things she knew he needed to proclaim for himself.
An hour and a half later, he pulled her to the high-backed chairs Sister Joe liked and stood before the windows that overlooked the campus.
“What do you know about this other coven?” he asked.
As if she knew about everything Wiccan or occult that happened in the city. “Only what you know.”
He pursed his lips. “A farmhouse on the outskirts of town on the full moon seems sketchy.”
Well, when he put it that way, it sounded like every popular occult practice known to common man. “It could be legitimate.”
Brown narrowed his eyes.
“But of course not,” she said, letting sarcasm drip through her tone. “Anyone who meets in a secluded spot on the full moon is evil.”
“When is the next full moon?”
She did the math. Finally they’d caught a break. “Tomorrow night.”
“Good. Free your evening.” He headed back to the group of girls, leaving her confused. She didn’t think she’d heard him right. It sounded as if he’d just told her he wanted her there when they visited the coven. If he was willing to go against his boss’s orders that she be kept more or less deskbound, the case had to be bothering him more than she thought. Yeah, well, a third girl had been murdered. That should make anyone who was human upset.
37
Rowan unlocked her apartment door with trepidation. She’d managed to stay at St. Anne’s and avoid going home to face Ben and her guilt all day. But now her night class was over, and she couldn’t put off returning any longer.
And not going home wasn’t really an option. She’d been gone for two days without a word, and Ben didn’t deserve that. Still, she didn’t know how to face him, particularly with the images of Shannon, Azkeel, and Seth dancing through her head. Her certainty that her passion for him would burst back to life had wavered, and she didn’t have it in her to fight her fears about her job as well as her relationship.
As much as she hoped she could slip into her apartment and go to bed without being noticed, she knew it wouldn’t happen. They had an unfinished fight, and Ben could never let an argument just go. It was astounding they hadn’t had it when she’d first returned home from the other-world.
For that reason, as much as she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, she didn’t want to spend the next few days let alone the next ten minutes with him. It really had nothing to do with Ben and everything to do with her, and she wasn’t ready to face that, either.
Maybe he’d be asleep.
Fat chance. It was only ten-thirty at night.
She ground her teeth in resignation and opened the door. Ben sat, as expected, on the futon watching her tiny television.
He glanced at her as she entered, but didn’t get up to greet her, foregoing their customary hug and kiss.
It served her right. He’d been with her long enough to know she was avoiding him. Well, she hadn’t wanted his attention tonight, anyway. She could live with the cold shoulder.
She dropped her keys in the dish by the door, kicked off her shoes, and headed to the kitchen in search of food. She’d had a cup of coffee and a vending machine muffin before her night class, but aside from that, she hadn’t eaten all day. She opened the fridge and stared in, not really focusing on anything. Everything seemed too complicated and required some kind of preparation.
She snorted, disgusted with herself. She knew she was tired when putting leftovers in the microwave seemed like too much work.
“How was your day?” Ben asked from his seat in the living room. It was civil, if a little rote.
It had to be driving him crazy not to say what she knew he really wanted to.
“Fine.” She didn’t look up from the fridge. Should she have the stir-fry cold or cereal instead?
“My day was fine, too.”
Definitely cereal. She shut the fridge and took a box o
f generic frosted cornflakes from the cupboard.
“Ro.”
“Ben.” She popped a handful of flakes into her mouth. Dry meant no dishes. Dishes meant time wasted, at least right now.
He sat forward. At some point, while she’d been examining her fridge, he’d turned the television off.
“What’s with you?” he asked, his tone heartbreakingly soft.
Oh, the possibilities.
She’d seen an alternate reality, and it scared the hell out of her, but she was hoping she was really just crazy instead. She’d had thoughts, sexy thoughts, about another man — a few different ones, actually — some creep was killing college girls from her school, and she didn’t want to discuss where she’d been.
“I’m tired,” she said. See, she could be civil, too.
“I know you’re working hard, but you still need some time for you.”
She froze. She’d been expecting a demand or accusation, not tender worry. Maybe, on an instinctual level, he understood how messed up she was right now. She softened her voice and offered him a slight smile. “Once this maniac is caught.”
“Will that be tomorrow night?”
That seemed too soon, but nothing was impossible. Besides, he was being nice. She could continue to do the same in return.
“With luck. Brown asked me to accompany him on an interview tomorrow night.” She popped another handful of cereal into her mouth. She wasn’t going to say that interview was going to happen in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night.
“And work comes before your personal life.” Ben pursed his lips. He sounded more resigned than accusing, but couldn’t he see how ridiculous it was to put her social life before the lives of girls, or anyone?
She opened her mouth to tell him the case would be over soon, but something about the way he said it made her stop. She was forgetting something.
Like sensitivity.
He’d taken time off work and flown into town to be with her, and she was letting her guilt push him further away.
She blew out a heavy sigh, but it did nothing to ease her worries. “Work’s just been crazy.”