Trifles and Folly 2

by Gail Z. Martin

  “Didn’t know her own strength?” I asked, glad he hadn’t been seriously injured.

  “They often don’t,” he replied, meaning ghosts. “You know, the team and I went looking for the ghosts of the Smiley Killer’s victims a couple of years ago, and didn’t find anything. We thought maybe they’d moved on. After all, not everyone who dies violently sticks around as a haunting.”

  “Which is a good thing or Charleston would be shoulder to shoulder with spooks, as if we aren’t already,” I muttered.

  “Isn’t that the truth,” he said. “But then when the new killer’s first victim was found, we started hearing about hauntings—strong manifestations—showing up where nothing had registered before. I’d forgotten about the last time, but the spots looked familiar, and that’s when I realized what was going on—plus the ‘artwork’ the ghosts drew.”

  “Other than making a ruckus and throwing trash can lids, did the ghosts try to send a message?” I sipped my coffee and wolfed down a cookie, needing a sugar and caffeine boost.

  “You saw the smiley one ghost drew on the glass. Then the ghost of Kelly Atkins wrote ‘him’ in the condensation on a window near where her body was found,” Kell said. “And after Lisa Wentworth’s ghost threw pebbles at us, we found two eyes and a smile drawn in the dirt.”

  “Yikes,” Maggie said, scooting her chair a little closer.

  “I thought that meant that the killer had come back—alive. And then a friend who works at the morgue told me the new vics were found inside locked rooms.” He grimaced. “Of course, the cops wouldn’t have let me get anywhere near the crime scenes, but even from out on the sidewalk, the meter pegged,” he added.

  I knew what he meant. His EMF reader picked up the energy frequencies ghosts gave off, and strong readings meant a spook with mojo.

  “How did you figure that meant Teag and I were involved?”

  Kell gave me an “oh, please” look and rolled his eyes. “Whenever this kind of shit hits the fan, there’s usually a connection.”

  Just then, I heard Sorren and Anthony come in the front door. With the wardings on the house, strangers can’t get through the sidewalk door to the porch without me with them. The list of who can enter on their own is very short. As Anthony headed for Teag, Sorren pulled me aside.

  “I’m going to go get those other items,” he said, giving me a meaningful look. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can. I’ll take care of the skillet and residue while I’m out.”

  I knew he meant to “liberate” the piece of trophy jewelry from the police department, as well as anything that had been found with the other bodies. “You might also want to get the remains of the rug he was trapped in from the museum. It’s in the safe. Watch your step,” I cautioned.

  Sorren tilted his head and gave me a rakish smile. “Remember who you’re talking to, and what I used to be,” he replied and slipped out the doorway. Maybe the opportunity was catnip for a former jewel thief. He actually looked excited.

  “Teag.” Anthony pulled Teag into his arms and held him close. Teag winced, and Anthony let go, immediately worried. “You’re hurt.”

  “Just bruised. Could have been a lot worse,” he said, although I could see from the look on Anthony’s face that didn’t do much to dispel his concerns.

  Anthony stretched up to kiss him on the cheek and took his hand to pull him into the kitchen. Kell slid back to make room at the table and slipped an arm around my shoulders when I came to sit next to him.

  “Fill me in,” Anthony said. “Start from the beginning.”

  Kell and Anthony listened as Teag and I took turns explaining what was going on. I omitted anything legally incriminating for Anthony’s sake, or that gave away too much about the Alliance or Sorren since Kell still wasn’t in on that secret.

  Anthony ran a hand down over his face. “Shit. So you’ve already destroyed evidence—for a good cause, but try explaining that to a judge. And you’ve actually identified the Smiley Killer, which even the FBI didn’t manage to do. Plus you know what made him disappear. I don’t know if weaving someone into a rug counts as kidnapping, but it’s got to be illegal. And you know the identity of the ‘new’ killer, but the cops would never believe you. Oh, and then there’s the part where you’re actually in more danger than the cops already think you are, but you’ve declined protective custody!” His voice rose throughout his recap, and he looked overwhelmed and a little panicked.

  “Yes, to all that,” Teag said, reaching to grasp both of Anthony’s hands in his own. “But Anthony, think about it. We can actually stop him—this time for good. Weaving him into a rug bound him, but didn’t destroy him. We can finish him, send him on to hell, and he won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  “He knows who you are. The fucking Smiley Killer knows who you are,” Anthony replied, his voice unsteady with worry. “How do you fight a serial killer ghost?”

  Teag’s smile was brave and gentle. “It’s what we do,” he said quietly. “We’ll fix this. I promise.”

  “If I thought there was anything the cops could do—that they’d even believe—I’d insist you turn yourself in,” Anthony chided. “But this is out of their ballpark. Hell, it’s certainly beyond anything I learned in law school.”

  “Trust us, we’re the professionals,” Teag said with a wan smile. Anthony’s grip tightened on his hands.

  “I do. You know that. But I also want you safe. All of you,” Anthony said, looking me first, and then to Kell and Maggie. If he registered that Sorren was gone, he didn’t question it or perhaps decided it was better not to know.

  “Cassidy, when this all settles down, I think you and I need to have a talk… but for now, we’ll just leave it. There’s something else you need to know,” Kell said, giving my shoulder a squeeze and then leaning forward. He clasped one of my hands in his as he rested his elbows on his knees. “That school we went to the night we checked those hauntings—the abandoned one? I think it’s got something to do with this.”

  I felt a knot in my stomach. There was too much that was happening and that had just been discussed for Kell to brush off why Teag and I were so involved. But like he said, that was a problem for later. I consoled myself with the thought if it went bad, Soren could glamor him. Sadly, that just made me feel worse.

  Kell let go of my hand and pulled a piece of paper from his messenger bag, spreading it out on the kitchen table. It showed a map of part of the downtown, with five red dots, and one larger dot in the middle.

  “These,” he said, pointing to the small dots, “are where the Smiley Killer’s original victims were found. “Now look at this.” He pulled out a pen and connected the dots into a circle, drawing lines into the larger dot at the center like the hub and spokes of a wheel. “I don’t know what it means, but it’s too much of a coincidence to overlook,” he said. “Butler Middle School is the dot in the center. Something about that old school got juiced up, just like the ghosts of the victims. There’s got to be a connection.”

  Teag grabbed his backpack and pulled out his laptop, setting it up quickly on the table. He started typing, and I noticed that Anthony stayed where he was, rubbing Teag’s shoulders and making no effort to see the screen. Plausible deniability, I guessed.

  When Teag looked up, his face held a haunted expression. “In the mid-Eighties, two kids who attended that middle school went missing and were later found dead. Murdered. Police wondered if the deaths had anything to do with the dead cats and dogs they found every few months behind the school’s dumpsters.”

  I felt sick. “Steven Delarue was twenty-five when he disappeared, in 1997. He’d have been in middle school in the mid-eighties.”

  “Want to bet Steven lived near there when he was in school and started his career a little earlier than the cops gave him credit for?” Teag asked. We both knew serial killers often abused other children or animals early in life, before working up to the main event. Family sometimes covered up for them, hoping for a cure, or the crimes were never
linked to the actual perpetrator.

  “You need to send that son of a bitch straight to hell,” Maggie said, blunt even for her, but none of us disagreed.

  “You think his victims are haunting the school?” Anthony asked.

  Teag and I exchanged a glance. “I think it’s a pretty good bet that’s where Steven stashed the missing trophy items he stole from his known victims—and probably things he took from the others as well,” I said.

  “What good does it do us knowing this?” Anthony asked.

  Teag met his gaze. “We have to destroy what’s anchoring the spirit here, what he remained so connected to that he could return from being bound in the rug. It’s got to be missing trophy items. Destroy the trophies, and we break his link.”

  “That’s illegal—and all kinds of crazy,” Anthony protested.

  Teag shrugged. “The cops can’t use evidence against a ghost. It’s not like he can stand trial. But we can stop the murders. On the whole, not a bad trade for some costume jewelry, don’t you think?”

  “We need to get back in there and find the trophies,” Kell replied.

  “Not we,” I corrected.

  Kell stood his ground. “You need my help, Cassidy. Teag’s got to stay inside the wardings, here with Anthony and Maggie. I’m not letting you go on your own. I may not be in your league but I ‘know’ ghosts and don’t freak easily.”

  Teag moved to argue, but Anthony put a firm hand on his shoulder and stared him down, the look on his face resolute. “The ghost has already tried to kill you. Even the police know you’re in danger. You can’t go marching into its lair,” Anthony said. “Your magic can’t directly help, and if it links you to the weaver who trapped him, it’ll go even worse. If this thing is as smart as you all seem to believe, it’ll use you against each other, and that puts Cassidy and Sorren—”

  “And me,” Kell said defiantly.

  “—and Kell in danger,” Anthony said. He met Teag’s eyes and lifted a hand to touch his cheek. “Please, babe. Let them handle this one. Maybe you can be the surveillance guy giving them intel over a headset, like in the movies. Sit this out. For me. Please.”

  I could see the struggle in Teag’s face, and I knew he didn’t want to leave the fighting to the rest of us. “He’s right,” I said. “And you know it.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll get on my knees and beg if it makes a difference,” Anthony said.

  I couldn’t help but smile at Teag’s reaction and knew at least one problem was solved.

  “I just bought motion cameras like the snowboarders wear for my SPOOK team,” Kell interrupted. “We adjusted them for low light. I’ve got my laptop with me—the video feed is already set up, and so is the audio for the earpieces we wear. Cassidy and I will go in wired, and that way, you guys can see and hear everything and guide us.”

  I raised an eyebrow, asking a silent question. Teag chuffed out a long sigh and nodded. “Okay. I get it. But I don’t have to like it.”

  Anthony leaned over and kissed him. Then he turned to look at Kell and me. “Come back safely. That’s not negotiable.”

  “What he said,” Maggie added, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing me with a glare.

  “We’ll be careful. And we’ll be back before you know it,” I said, although from the look Teag gave me, I felt sure he also knew I was lying.

  Kell set up his ghost hunting computer and readied the cameras and microphones. Teag only needed a quick primer to figure out the system, and he donned his own headset, ready for the night’s work.

  “Anything else you can tell us about the murders in the Eighties to help us identify the trophies if we find them?” I asked.

  Anthony moved off to get more coffee and lingered with his back to the table while Teag dug around on the police server. “Kevin Robart, age eleven. They found his bike near the school, and his body two days later by the dumpsters. Looks like he was missing a baseball cap he always wore. His dad gave it to him before he died in a car wreck. Kid wouldn’t have lost it or left it behind.”

  “Damn,” I swore under my breath. Details would help us put an end to the killer, but they made the victims far too real.

  “Connie Strand, age ten. Disappeared on her way home from school. She was missing a charm bracelet with an angel on it. Never took it off—present from her grandma.”

  “Anything else?” I asked, my voice thick.

  “Give me a sec; I’m looking at the murders from 1987 to 1996,” Teag replied. “Crap. Charleston isn’t New York City, but there are still enough reports, this is going to take some time. But I bet there will be at least a few unsolved killings that might not fit the wound profile but are missing items with sentimental value.”

  “The school closed in 1990 when a new building opened to replace it. I guess the old school got too expensive to repair,” Kell said. “If we knew where Steven went to high school, you might find a link to more victims.”

  “Whatever we find, we’ll salt and burn,” I said. “That will release Steven’s anchor, and should make it possible for any trapped ghosts to find peace, too.”

  Anthony’s jaw tightened. I knew he was thinking about the possibility of closure for the families who had gone so long without knowing who killed their loved ones. But even Anthony had to recognize the impossibility of convincing the police of the truth. At best, they’d disregard the information. At worst, we’d find ourselves locked up as accomplices.

  “Maybe when this is all over, an anonymous tip could point the finger in Steven Delarue’s direction, and suggest police take a fresh look at the earlier murders,” I said. If anyone would know how to make that happen without being traceable, it would be Teag and Sorren.

  Anthony gave a curt nod. “All right. That’ll do.”

  Sorren returned without fanfare at some point during the discussion. He gave me a look, and I knew he had gotten hold of the missing trophy items and the damaged rug. By now, it was after eleven o’clock, plenty late to skulk around an abandoned school without attracting undue attention.

  “Let’s go,” I said, standing. Kell stood with me, and I expected a protest from Sorren, but he turned instead to Teag, Anthony, and Maggie.

  “Whatever you see on your cameras or hear on your audio, whatever happens, do not leave this house,” Sorren warned. I wondered if he would go so far as to use some of his vampire mojo on Anthony and Maggie to make sure they did as he said. Teag was probably immune, and I knew for sure that not only did my family’s long acquaintance make me able to meet his gaze without being glamored, but I had Sorren’s word that he would never abuse my trust like that.

  Baxter, it seemed, fell outside that understanding.

  Sorren, Kell, and I didn’t talk as we headed for the old school. I drove this time, and Kell rode shotgun. Sorren sat in the back, watching for any sign that either police or vengeful ghosts pursued us. As urgent as our mission was, I kept to the speed limit, having no desire to explain the small occult arsenal in the gear bags in the back or the strange damage to my SUV.

  I’d brought my athame and walking stick, along with plenty of protection charms and Bo’s dog collar. The bag held more than enough salt and lighter fluid, plus holy water and iron filings. A couple of iron knives would help keep ghosts at bay, and the crowbars not only were good against spirits but helpful if we had to do a little demolition to find the missing trophy items. We also brought a portable propane torch that Sorren picked up when he was out, to melt or burn whatever trophies we might find. Sorren had slipped the signet ring and other mementos he stole from the evidence room into a lead box along with what remained of the damaged rug. Kell carried the bag, keeping a flashlight in one hand and his shotgun in the other.

  Kell and I dutifully put on our hats with the action cams and hooked up the earpiece microphones. “Do you copy?” Kell asked, and I felt like I’d been dropped into Mission: Impossible.

  “Yeah, I copy,” Teag replied. We’d all watched enough movies to know not
to use names. “Good luck. Give him hell. He deserves it.”

  “Will do,” I said. “You have the floor plans?”

  “Roger,” Teag answered, getting into the spirit. “Hate to go all Freddy Krueger, but I’m thinking the basement is the best bet.”

  “Seems logical. We’ll head there first.” I paused. “If this goes badly, you know how to reach Archibald, right?” Archibald Donnelly headed up the Briggs Society, one of our Alliance allies. Donnelly was a powerful necromancer, and while I hoped we didn’t need his help, I knew he’d settle the matter permanently.

  “Got it. Not planning to need it,” Teag said, and he knew he projected more confidence than he felt. “Go get ‘em.”

  We went radio silent then until Sorren picked the lock on the back door. Kell glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged. Tomorrow, I’d have to explain and answer some tough questions, but right now, we had a job to do.

  The old building looked just like I remembered my own middle school, with painted cement block walls, doors with window panels opening into classrooms, and ugly beige floor tiles. No one had bothered to rip down the posters on the walls before the lights went out for the last time. The drama department announced an upcoming play that opened nearly thirty years ago, the football team urged school spirit, and a fundraiser offered cheap donuts to help support the band. Once lively posters hung askew, faded and mildewed.

  Kell supplied us with night vision goggles, courtesy of SPOOK, and he pulled his EMF reader from his pocket. “Nothing nearby,” he muttered, keeping his voice down although we were alone.

  I stretched out my magic. When resonance is strong enough, I’ve picked up vibes through the soles of my shoes. Now, I felt a vague restlessness, but nothing nearby or imminently dangerous. Still, the back of my neck prickled, and all of my intuition told me to leave and never come back.