“I didn’t feel safe enough to explore any kind of sexuality until after my father went to prison and I was on my own. I had some hook-ups, and even a couple of flings that lasted longer, but I kept it all a secret. I don’t know what I was afraid of at that point—maybe it was just a lifetime of habit. Then, I decided to become a cop and it seemed important to keep my sexuality a secret there, too.
“I didn’t think about things like having a ‘type’. The guys I dated were all just regular guys. I fucked guys that were more, um…out, I guess. Like the way they looked and dressed and talked, there was no doubt they were gay. I fucked them, but I didn’t see any of them more than once, and I guess I’m not so proud of how I treated them. Because if I was with them, it didn’t matter how straight I looked, I’d be guilty by association. I was really, really stupid, Mari.”
Jake took a breath and let it out. “Then all the shit went down with Alex and everyone finding out about us, and I panicked and left, but it was a good thing. I came here, and I met you, and I acted like a jerk and you put me in my place for it. I decided I didn’t give a shit about hiding who I was anymore. I admired who you were, and it wasn’t just that I didn’t care who knew. I wanted people to see that I was with you. You changed me for the better in a way I never thought possible. I’m in love with you, Mari Gale—with who you are, not how you look. No matter what you choose to wear or how you choose to express yourself, I’ll always be glad to be with you.”
Mari had lowered his eyes when Jake was talking about how he’d fucked men in the past then walked away. He only looked up again when he said the part about admiring him. There was a shimmer in his pale eyes that had not been there before. He uncurled enough to wrap his hands around Jake’s, holding them tight.
“I love you, too. I promise that I will always try to make you proud,” he said in a small, husky voice.
Jake shifted so he could put an arm around him and pull him close, kissing his forehead. “You don’t have to try, Mari. You already do that.”
Chapter Sixteen
Natalie Craig lived in Blackheath, in a two-bed flat above a dry cleaner, shared with two men and another, older woman. Jake had called her ahead to set up the meeting, but at the last minute, he’d gotten a call from DI Cordiline and had asked Mari if he could keep the appointment with Natalie without him. Mari already imagined he knew her well, thanks to his research, but that hadn’t helped when they’d interviewed Emily. He got the tube down to Greenwich, and because he needed to calm his nerves, he walked across the park and down Tranquil Vale to their block on Lee Road.
Like most English street names, Tranquil Vale was mostly optimistic. It formed part of the Blackheath Village high street and was bustling with traffic and shoppers. Even so, it was less frenetic than central London. He was conscious that, in his perfectly tailored Paul Smith suit, he drew the eye of passing shoppers and the attention brought a brief smile to his lips.
To his relief, Natalie was alone when he got to the flat. He wasn’t sure he could handle another interrogation by flatmates.
She looked ashen and drawn, without makeup but still pretty, and she assessed him quickly and deliberately through the gap between the door and jamb before taking the chain off and letting him in. He accepted the offer of coffee and resisted the urge to pass comment when it turned out to be instant. At least she heaped a couple of generous spoonfuls into the mug before adding the water. He waved away the offer of milk and sugar. Then she came to join him, sitting in a weather-beaten leather armchair and keeping the coffee table between his perch on the sofa and her seat.
“So…you don’t look like a copper,” she said, only a slight tremor in her voice.
“No. Well, I’m not, not exactly. My partner and I are working with the police, as consultants. My partner did explain when he called.”
“Yeah,” she acknowledged, though she still sounded skeptical. “You’re, like, psychic sleuths or something. That sounds…cool. Kinda weird, but very cool.”
“It is cool,” he agreed, “and weird. There are things that Jake and I can do that the police can’t. I’m trying to gather information to help us trace potential suspects. I can go places that the police can’t, Natalie. But I could use some help. I need the right directions to look in.”
“I told the lady from the police station everything I could remember while I was at the hospital,” Natalie said, hiding her features in the large coffee mug cupped in her hands.
“I read what you told her,” Mari soothed. “You don’t have to go into the details. It’s okay. If you remember anything else about the man that jumped you, though, you can tell me whatever way you prefer. I’ll give you my mobile number and my email address before I leave. What I’m trying to find out is whether you have anything in common with the other girls that he’s attacked. I’m trying to create a profile for him, based on his movements, on the likely ways that he picks his”—he swallowed the word victims, editing the statement in his head at the last moment—“targets.”
Jake would be proud of him. He was learning tact.
“Can you tell me anything about your movements during the days leading up to the assault, Natalie? Where did you go? Who did you see?”
She thought about that for a while as she drank her coffee.
“I was working at the shop in the days before, except for Wednesday. I had a modeling assignment in the afternoon, so I finished at lunchtime and went over to Camden.”
He was making notes on his tablet and looked up at her curiously. “Did you go out after work, or for lunch at all?”
She shook her head. “I don’t get paid until the end of the month. Money is tight. That’s why I do the Camden assignment. I can take leave and get paid twice.”
“What’s the modeling job all about?” he asked her.
“I model for a life class at a place on the high street,” Natalie said, blushing. “It’s not catwalk stuff, but the instructor is nice and the people that come to her classes seem okay.”
He peered over his tablet at her. “You’re an artist’s model?”
Natalie nodded once. “Yes. It’s quite respectable, actually. Mostly older ladies…and students.”
“Do you have any contact with the artists?” Mari asked her.
Natalie gave another small shake of her head. “No. I don’t talk to anyone, just the instructor, Solana. I mean, Madame Stellara. She pays me, cash in hand. Afterwards, I walk to the tube at Chalk Farm and go home.”
He blinked. “Madame Stellara?”
That has to be a coincidence, right? How many Solana Stellaras can there be in Camden?
“I think she’s foreign,” Natalie said. “She’s quite exotic, though she doesn’t seem to have a foreign accent.”
No, you don’t, do you, Madame Solana? Mari narrowed his eyes and made several less than complimentary notes on his tablet. He couldn’t quite stop his nerves from jangling, though. Like his mother, Natalie seemed quite won over by Solana, but the fact remained that the Elemental Healer had every opportunity to take advantage of that trust. He kept thinking of the way that Solana had begun their session with an innocent offer of tea. Was that natural hospitality or the perfect opportunity to dope a potential victim?
He ground his teeth in silent frustration before realizing that Natalie was looking at him rather oddly. Tapping the edge of his tablet, he diverted his attention back to the interview.
“Have you ever seen anyone from those sessions outside of the classes?”
“No,” Natalie told him. “Like I said, we don’t talk. I just pose and they draw me.”
“Has anyone ever made you feel uncomfortable while you were posing for them?” he asked her, more seriously.
Natalie seemed to think about that for a moment. At last she shook her head. “No. They all seem…ordinary. I don’t think about them. It’s a time when I can think about my own stuff.”
“What about at work? Is there anyone that you work with, or who maybe comes in the shop, th
at you’ve ever felt uncomfortable about?” he persisted, though he could not stop thinking about his mother’s Healer. Again, that sense of disquiet left him restless.
“I work in a clothes shop. There’s always strange people,” Natalie said with a grim smile.
“You’ve never been aware that anyone followed you after leaving work before?” Mari stroked a finger around the edge of his tablet.
“No. I don’t think so,” she told him, sounding less comfortable.
“Okay, don’t worry about it.” He put the tablet away in his messenger bag and rose to his feet. “Thank you for talking to me, Natalie. You have my details. If there is anything you need to tell me or just if you want to talk to someone, you can get in touch. I can see myself out.”
* * * *
The message was weird and Jake was not a fan of weird. Cordiline’s text just asked him to come down to the station and that he’d explain when he got there. It wasn’t like Cordiline to be cryptic. Oh, and it had said to come on his own, something he hadn’t mentioned to Mari because he didn’t want another round of scathing opinions. If they were going to continue to work with the detective, he didn’t need to throw any more fuel on the animosity bonfire. John had better have a good reason for not including Mari, though.
When he got to Kentish Town, they were expecting him because the sergeant on the desk waved him through and he was allowed to make his own way up to the next floor where Cordiline’s corner of the office was fighting for space with about four other desks. The DI had gotten his small space more organized today and he looked up with a tired, tight-lipped smile.
“Thanks for coming so quickly. We’ve had an interesting development and you need to be on board with it because it’s rather close to home. I wanted to tell you in person. Don’t take offense that I didn’t invite your boyfriend. I figured it was up to you if you want to tell him about this, but it wasn’t my call.”
“What’s going on?” Jake frowned. It wasn’t like Cordiline to prevaricate either, and that this was something he might not want Mari to know about made him uncomfortable.
“We’ve had an offer of assistance, on the rape case.” Cordiline paused. “But he’s stipulated that he wants another Elemental to talk to.”
Jake didn’t bother trying to hide his surprise. “He’s an Elemental?”
“Yes. You have history, Chivis.” Cordiline sucked in a long breath and let it go irritably. “The call came from Wormwood Scrubs. Aled Mustatti. He saw you on the TV news coverage. He was adamant that he could help us so long as you were his liaison on this case.”
An ice-cold chill ran down Jake’s back, swiftly followed by an acid burn in his gut at the sound of Aled Mustatti’s name. Jake clenched his jaw. The irony that Mustatti said he could help solve a serial rape case was not lost on him. The man had drugged him and molested him, and he’d had no qualms about injecting him with an experimental drug that had already killed several people. He was currently serving time for his part in stealing the classified information on EQ10, and the wrongful deaths that had resulted, and had nearly killed Jake as well. He was not, however, doing time for what he had done to Jake in the bedroom of the last victim’s, house because Jake had not told anyone what he had done. Cordiline had figured it out after going over the evidence found at the crime scene. He’d pressed Jake to bring charges but when Jake had refused, Cordiline had quietly buried what he’d uncovered and let it go. “He said he wanted another Elemental, or he asked to talk to me specifically?”
“He asked for you, Chivis—by name. Maybe he’s bullshitting and he just wants to pull your chain. Could he have some kind of gift that would help, do you think?” Cordiline steepled his fingers and looked at Jake over the tops of them.
Jake felt a prickle of sweat at the name of his neck. Not a good sign. He needed to get a lid on his anger. The temperature spike when he was hit with strong emotions, especially anger, was a side effect of the EQ10, something else that was Aled Mustatti’s fault.
He focused on the here and now, and what he knew. “He’s an Earth Elemental. Some of them have a gift for finding lost things. From what I understand of the talent, they use the connection between owner and item to trace what they are looking for. It doesn’t work on people, because people are autonomous, so I don’t see how he’d be able to find a suspect that way, much less figure out who you’re looking for.”
Cordiline wiped a hand over his face and sighed. “The only way to find out what he’s offering then is to go talk to him. That’s a neat ploy.” Cordiline paused, working his jaw for a moment before he said, “You don’t have to do this, Jake. We have plenty to follow up without chasing around after fantasists like Aled Mustatti.”
“And if I don’t, we won’t know for sure. That’s not going to sit well with either of us. I’ll talk to him. If he’s just throwing bullshit, I’d probably be the best one to figure it out without wasting a bunch of time.”
“That’s what I’d figured, too.” The DI nodded. “Scrubs will set up the interview. See what you can get out of him.”
Chapter Seventeen
Cordiline offered to go with him to the prison but Jake politely declined his company. The DI had arranged his interview for the half-past-three visiting hour. Jake got to the tube station at East Acton just after three o’clock and navigated via the GPS on his phone to the Visitors’ Center on Du Cane Road. He’d seen the outside—and inside—of enough prisons to be pleasantly surprised by the leafy thoroughfares around Wormwood Scrubs. There was a genteel aspect to even the outer reaches of his adopted home city and he took his time, enjoying the first hints of spring in the afternoon air. Blossoms were already out on some of the trees and thin, misty sunlight filtered through the clouds. Too bad it couldn’t warm the chill of premonition from his bones.
The Visitors’ Center was accessed through a zigzag wheelchair ramp and a large sliding door in the high, yellow-brick wall around the prison perimeter. He entered the building and his ID was checked by two uniformed guards, then he was shown to the lockers, where he stowed his jacket and wallet before he was taken into a long room with a bank of cubicles. A floor-to-ceiling partition of inch-thick glass separated the public area from the inmate side with a speaker grill installed in each visitor’s booth.
Jake was guided to one of these cubes and took a seat. The guard who had come with him remained by the door. A few minutes later, a door opened on the other side of the partition and a tall, dark-skinned figure walked through in uniform prison sweats, escorted by a pair of guards. He was not cuffed, but the guards did not let him out of their sight as he spotted Jake through the screen and came to sit across from him. He looked leaner than he had last summer, his hair trimmed close to his scalp. His spoke into the grill.
“Chivis, thank you for coming,” he said in a rich baritone rumble, as if he’d invited him out for coffee. “I didn’t think you would.”
Jake’s stomach churned and he could feel his upper lip wanting to curl but he controlled the urge and kept his expression blank. He got right to the point. “You’ve managed to convince some people that you can help on a case. This is your one and only chance to prove that wasn’t a lie.”
Mustatti was silent for a moment, watching him through the glass, statue still. “Corrie injected me with the formula,” he said at last, his voice slow and careful, as if waking from a brief sleep. “It left me with a curious side effect, but I didn’t realize it until they brought me here.”
“You’re lying. It only worked on Fire Elementals.”
“We thought so, too.” Mustatti laughed, a dark, humorless sound in that quiet space. “Of course, none of us exhibited side effects quite as dramatic as the Fire Elementals. For that reason, it was presumed that the drug was only effective on your kind. But that is not the case. While I was here, a guest of Our Majesty, something occurred that changed my mind about the failure of the drug to enhance the abilities of other Elementals. And, as I was watching you on the television yesterday, it
occurred to me that what I am able to do as a result could help you.”
“Right. Because you have such a generous heart. Are you going to draw this out much longer?”
“I get precious few visitors, Jake Chivis. I have every respect for you, my friend.” Aled managed to make the words sound sincere. “You are a miracle. The only survivor of our experiments on Fire Elementals. It was a pleasure to work with you.”
A muscle twitched in Jake’s cheek at the double implication. “I’m not your friend and I’m not here for a visit. I’m here to find out if you’re of any use, of which I have every doubt. I know how Earth Elementals work. They can find things, sometimes, if they know what they are looking for. Sometimes they can flip pens and paperclips across a desk with their minds. Neither of these abilities is of much use in finding a rapist.”
Aled stared at him with soulful, dark eyes, the whites tinged faintly yellow. “Locating is indeed a common trait among Earth Elementals, for those that have ability. True telekinesis is less common and, as you pointed out, limited to small items, at least in this generation. If you know those facts, I presume you are aware of the rarest of talents reputedly attached to Earth Elementals? The kind that have been relegated to myth and unsubstantiated rumor? Or did you think that legendary gifts such as true pyrokinesis were only the preserve of you Firebugs?”
Jake gave him a hard stare and resisted the urge to shift his position on the seat or wrinkle his nose. He knew exactly what Aled was hinting at and had to work to keep his expression blank when his upper lip tried to draw back in disgust again. “Are you trying to tell me you can speak to the dead?”
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