Ghost Witching

by Ally Shields

  “Yes.” Annie lifted her chin. “And I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.”

  “Where is it?”

  Annie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking about meeting him yourself, but I know these guys, and he won’t talk to you, not even if you arrest him. You’ll just ruin my chances of learning anything.”

  They continued to argue until Annie stomped her foot. “I have to go. He’s expecting me. Now.”

  “Then we both go,” Maggie said. “How do we identify this guy?”

  “We don’t. He has a way to recognize me. He wouldn’t like anyone coming with me, and besides, you look like a cop. You’d scare him away.”

  “You aren’t going alone. It’s both of us or none. And the guys can provide backup. So what’s the signal?” Maggie folded her arms and eyed her friend until Annie gave in.

  “I told him I’d be wearing red shorts.”

  While Annie changed clothes, Maggie made an effort to tone down her cop look by exchanging her shirt for a low-cut, flirty blouse out of Annie’s closet. They were out the door within three minutes with Josh driving and Harry riding shotgun. They parked two blocks from the outdoor rendezvous near the French Market, and Josh and Harry played tourists, strolling down the sidewalk as Maggie and Annie approached the designated spot from the opposite side of the street.

  Maggie relaxed the moment she spotted the guy edging toward them. If this was their contact, he looked like a genuine nerd, skinny white legs that hadn’t seen the sun in months, reddish-brown hair too long and shaggy for current fashion, and thick glasses. And he was way too obvious.

  “NightHawk460?” Annie asked, when he stopped in front of her.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Writer4hiR.”

  He looked at Maggie, who avoided direct eye contact. She’d been told she had cop eyes, not the image she wanted to project right now. She needn’t have bothered; his eyes went exactly where she’d intended—to the deep V in her blouse.

  “Who’s she? I thought you’d be alone,” he said.

  “Oh, Maggie’s a friend,” Annie said airily. “We’re going shopping. Do you have a name for me?”

  “Not so fast. How’d you get my handle?”

  The two of them went through a list of mutual contacts and underbelly websites until he seemed convinced Annie was who she claimed to be.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  Annie’s eyes widened. “Um, you never said anything about payment. How much do you want?”

  He gave a dismissive snort. “Just kidding. I despise this guy. Probably should pay you for the opportunity to take him down. The creep goes by Stray Cat, but his real name is Steve Dorsey.” He cited a local address. “You two shouldn’t go over there alone. He’s great with computers, but he’s older, rough…and kind of a scary guy.”

  “Thanks for the warning. I’ll take my boyfriend,” Annie said. “He’s a big dude.”

  “Yeah, well, tell your boyfriend he shouldn’t be letting you meet guys like me alone.” NightHawk460 turned on his heels and walked away.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Maggie called the station to start the process for a warrant and a backup team. “We should be at the precinct in twenty minutes.”

  They’d just dropped off Harry and Annie when the dispatch operator called back. “DA caught a judge, and your warrant’s signed. Two-man unit en route. They’ll meet you in ten.”

  Josh did a U-turn.

  Dorsey’s apartment was on the ground floor of a stucco twelve-plex, one of three two-story rectangular buildings huddled in the shadows of an I-10 entrance ramp. Apartments like these were advertized as “easy access,” which translated to high traffic noise, cheap rent.

  Poised outside the suspect’s door twenty minutes later, they notified the manager by phone that they were in place as they’d prearranged. He flipped the power breakers to Dorsey’s apartment, Josh slipped the key in the lock, and they rushed the room. The middle-aged hacker bounded from his computer chair when Maggie shouted, “Police!” and caught him in the glare of her Maglite. He reached one hand toward a desk drawer.

  “Freeze,” she ordered. “I wouldn’t try it.”

  His eyes darted around the darkened room searching for an escape route, but the four guns trained on him had the desired effect, and he raised his hands.

  “NOPD,” Josh repeated. He put himself between the suspect and the desk drawer. “Steve Dorsey, you’re under arrest. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  Dorsey released a sharp expletive. “Man, you got no cause to break in here. Don’t you need a warrant?” He followed instructions when Josh waved the required document in his face.

  As soon as the suspect had been frisked and cuffed, Maggie confiscated a .22 pistol from the desk drawer and notified the manager that the situation—and the hacker’s computers—were secured. When he restored power, the patrol cops cleared the attached bedroom and bathroom, while she called the lab to send someone over to confiscate Dorsey’s electronic equipment. With any luck, his computers would have an interesting history to tell.

  So far Dorsey hadn’t said anything beyond his initial protest. His demeanor was sullen, his appearance rather scruffy. The dark hair, fading to gray at the temples, had been buzzed to under an inch, the stubble on his face about the same length. His gray T-shirt had a red stain, probably pizza sauce judging by the empty box on the floor. A half-empty beer bottle sat next to the main computer. Dorsey’s eyes were wary, furtive, but he was savvy enough not to rush into protestations of innocence that might be more damning than helpful to his cause.

  He stirred uneasily. “What’s this about?”

  “So many clients you don’t know which job got you into trouble…Stray Cat?” Maggie saw the flicker of recognition. “You have quite a reputation as a hacker. Too bad we have someone better.”

  He gave a nervous laugh. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Only if you find the theft of half a million dollars funny,” Josh said. “Or the felony charges that go with it.”

  Dorsey scowled. “If I had that kind of money, do you think I’d live in this dump?”

  “It’s not our fault you took too small a cut,” Maggie retorted. “Don’t bother to play dumb. You were caught with your hands in the Witching Hour accounts. It took our computer people a little time, but they got you.”

  He spat out a curse. “It wasn’t no they.” More expletives. “It was Writer4hiR. That’s how you found me. I knew she was trouble.” He raked his teeth over his bottom lip. “Can I make a deal?”

  * * *

  Upon reaching District 13, they put Dorsey in Interrogation while Maggie called Annie and Harry to let them know the hacker was in custody. Josh grabbed two large mugs of coffee. This interview might take a while.

  After Dorsey sat alone for more than an hour while they conferred with the district attorney, he lost some of his bravado. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He watched nervously as they settled into chairs across from him and laid a file on the table. “What happens if I can’t help you?” he asked.

  “Change your mind?” Maggie was surprised. “I thought you wanted a deal. We even talked to the DA for you, and she might be interested.” In fact, Cybercrimes was drooling. She took his rap sheet from the file. “Doesn’t look like you’ve been in much trouble—at least not caught. I bet you have no idea what jail life is like. A lot of tough guys in there, tougher than a computer geek like you.”

  “You’ll be easy pickings,” Josh added.

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t cooperate,” Dorsey said. “But what if I can’t tell you what you want to know?”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Maggie leaned forward. “Tell us about your part in the transfers. If you give us enough, we can still put in a good word for you.”

  The suspect frowned. “I need more than that.”

  “Do you know how many years you’re facing?” Josh asked. “Without the DA’s help, you won’t even recog
nize the latest computers by the time you get out. We’re talking conspiracy charges including murder, attempted murder, terrorism—”

  “Huh? Wait.” Dorsey jerked upright. “You can’t lay any of that on me. I only do computer stuff. OK, I may have made a few money transfers, but I know nothing about murder or that other stuff.”

  Maggie sighed. Finally they were making progress.

  But it wasn’t as much as they’d hoped. Dorsey admitted to the transfers and agreed to show the accounting firm how he’d done it. That part was important to Maggie because it would keep Annie’s name out of it. However, he didn’t know much about his employer. He’d originally been contacted through an anonymous hacker board. Instructions since then had been given by a muffled voice using pre-paid burner phones—he knew because he’d run a trace in the beginning out of curiosity—and cash payments had been left in a rented PO box. Half the amount of the transfer would be there the morning after a successful transfer. Good money. More than he usually got for similar jobs.

  “Can you set up another deal?” Josh asked.

  “I’ve got no number, no address. He contacts me whenever he wants something.” Dorsey dropped his eyes. “But I doubt if that’ll happen again. When the last transfer didn’t come through, he called. He knows I was tagged.”

  “And you told him who did it.” Maggie waited for the confirmation that had to be coming.

  “Yeah, he knows.”

  Maggie bit back a sharp response. Dorsey must have known his employer would retaliate against Annie. They were lucky it was a curse rather than an assassin’s bullet or another poisonous snake.

  Josh broke the heavy silence. “You keep saying he. You’re convinced it was a man?”

  Dorsey’s face wrinkled. “Not for sure. Deep voice, but it was disguised, muffled by something. Might have been faked by a woman, I suppose. But the tone was so harsh…”

  So he hadn’t considered a woman…until now, Maggie finished silently. And his uncertainty kept everyone on the suspect list.

  They went over it all again, including details that only Dorsey and the employer would know, details that could be vital to a future prosecution, and he gave them the location of the PO Box. They’d make a stab at identifying the owner, but chances were good it had been a cash transaction. When they finally walked Dorsey through the booking process on felony theft charges, they renewed their promise to speak with the DA regarding his cooperation.

  “You’ll have to testify,” Maggie said, reminding him this was by no means over. “And regardless of what happens with your charges, you need a new line of work. You’re done as a hacker for hire.”

  The prisoner shrugged. “I’m adaptable.”

  Maggie thought his complacency was premature.

  “Uh-huh. Well, try to stay on the DA’s good side. If you think of anything else, it might be worth protective custody, even on the inside. This particular employer has left a string of bodies, and you’re just another loose end.”

  Dorsey tossed an uneasy look at her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  * * *

  Annie curled her legs under her on Harry’s couch and hugged her arms. When Annie’s lips pressed into a stubborn pout, Maggie barely hid her frustration, but defiance was an improvement from the frightened tears. Harry and Josh had retreated to beers in the kitchen ten minutes ago.

  “There’s got to be another way.” Maggie kept her voice low, trying to reason with her. “You can’t hide in Harry’s apartment for days or months. What if we never find the spellcaster?”

  “You think I like acting this way? But what else can I do?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Maggie fetched her phone from her jeans’ pocket. “It’s late to be calling her, but I’ll see what Dalia suggests.”

  Maggie and Josh had stopped by Harry’s after booking Steve Dorsey. His inability to put a name to Annie’s nemesis wasn’t something Maggie wanted to convey over the phone. She knew Annie would be disappointed, but she hadn’t anticipated how extreme her reaction would be. It hadn’t helped that while Maggie and Josh were interviewing the hacker Annie had dropped and broken a bottle of wine. A minor thing, probably indicative of how nervous she was, but to Annie’s current state of mind it loomed large as additional proof that the curse was real.

  Maggie apologized the moment Dalia answered. “Sorry it’s so late, but I had to talk with you. Were you asleep?”

  “Oh, no. I’ve been waiting. I’d intended to call you in the morning—returning your earlier call and reporting what I’d learned today—”

  “What did you learn?” Maggie interrupted, momentarily diverted.

  “Not as much as I’d hoped. I reached out to friends for information on the Satanic coven. No one knows who they are, but the negative ripples have spread throughout our community. Someone in this evil group has real power.”

  Oh, hell. Not exactly what Maggie wanted to hear. “Well, they’ve been at it again.”

  “Yes, I sensed that and put the tea kettle on when I realized you needed me tonight.”

  “Not me. It’s Annie.” Maggie explained what had happened, describing the contents of the burlap bag, and Annie’s accidents since the package’s delivery. “A similar item was delivered to the woman I rescued from the Satanic coven.”

  “I’m not sure they’re true Satanists—seem like a hodge-podge to me—but that’s beside the point. Bring the cursed bones to me. They must be cleansed and destroyed.”

  “But I can’t. They’re evidence. And in custody at the police lab.” Maggie lowered her voice. “Are you saying this curse is real?”

  “Its greatest power lies in Annie’s belief. She will attribute every big or small trouble to it until the curse is removed.”

  “Can’t you do something without the bones? Something symbolic?”

  “Not that will satisfy her grandmother. I can give you a mixture of herbs that will work for two or three days, but the bones must be cleansed for a permanent cure.”

  Dammit. “OK. I’ll take the herbs for now. I’m sorry to ask, but can you do it yet tonight? Annie’s…not herself.”

  “I’ll have two sachets done before you get here.”

  Since Annie refused to ride in the car for fear she’d cause a wreck on the way, Harry stayed with her while Maggie and Josh picked up the herbal sachets. Dalia reminded them of the need for a permanent solution. “The ceremony is simple, but we must have the bones.”

  Maggie gave a reluctant nod. How were they going to pull that off?

  Annie met them at the apartment door, eager to put her hands on the tiny, purple satin bags. “What’s inside? My granny will ask.”

  “Basil, cayenne, vetivert, wormwood, and hyssop.” Maggie recited the ingredients without hesitation and added Dalia’s instructions. “Keep one of these next to your skin for twenty-four hours. At the end of that time, most of the curse should be leached away. To finish the process, put the second sachet in the bathtub, run it full of water, and submerge yourself, including your hair. When you’re done, rinse yourself and the tub with sage water. Someone else—in this case Harry—has to remove the used sachets from the apartment and bury or dispose of them far away from you.”

  Annie stuck one of the pouches inside her bra. “How long until it works?”

  “Starting now. The curse will grow weaker until it’s completely gone, no later than tomorrow night after you bathe.”

  “But this is only temporary, right? Isn’t that what Dalia said? What do I do after that?”

  “Let me work on it. This’ll keep you safe for a few days. Hopefully you can get some sleep now.” Maggie hugged her friend and turned to leave, lifting a brow at Josh the moment they reached the outside hall. “Jenson’s never going to let us destroy evidence.”

  “Perhaps we don’t have to,” Josh said. “If it only requires a cleansing…”

  Maggie cocked her head. “Dalia did imply that might be enough. What are you thinking?”

  “A short-term loan
might be an easier concept to sell.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Meeting with the captain first thing in the morning wasn’t a good omen for any cop. Two days in a row was unthinkable. Detectives did their best to stay out of the brass’s office, but Maggie didn’t have much choice, and Josh volunteered to lend his support. First thing on Tuesday, she laid out her request on Annie’s behalf. Captain Jenson’s immediate response was no.

  He leaned across his desk and stared them in the eye. “You can’t be serious. If we catch this guy, we’ll have a terrorism conviction guaranteed as long as we can produce that gris-gris bag.”

  “It’s not gris-gris—”

  “I don’t care what you call it, we need the evidence intact.”

  “It will be,” Josh said. “We’ve confirmed that the cleansing ceremony doesn’t require the bones’ destruction or change how they look.”

  Jenson’s face retained its scowl. “So what’s the point of all this? Do you believe this alleged curse has some mysterious power?”

  “Annie Moore does, and it’s making her miserable.” Maggie had already explained Annie was afraid to leave the apartment and why. “Her insistence on this ritual will be strong evidence in court that she was in fact victimized, terrorized, as required by statute.”

  The captain steepled his fingers. “This has to be the strangest request I’ve had from any officer.”

  “Not from an officer, from a victim,” Maggie corrected. “Isn’t that part of what we’re about, providing victims with resolution?”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this. You’ll guarantee—both of you—its pristine condition and maintain the chain of custody?”

  Maggie nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “It’ll be back safe and sound in three hours or less,” Josh promised.

  “When would you do this?”

  “Probably Thursday night,” Maggie said. “Curses are best lifted under a waning moon, the later in the phase the better, so we’ll wait as—”