The Witch On Twisted Oak

by Muller, Susan C.

  The worry stone in Ruben’s pocket was getting a good workout. “It’s called a safe house. That’s where you leave things you want to keep safe. This place is clean. He certainly didn’t leave anything here. If nothing else, maybe we can find out what car he’s driving.”

  “And second, none of us speak French.” Hard Luck kept talking, as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

  A slow smile spread across Ruben’s face. “Remy Steinberg does.”

  Hard Luck shoved his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “He speaks Cajun.”

  “Close enough.”

  Ruben paced the squad room and chewed on a thumbnail while Remy Steinberg worked the phone. Acid boiled up in his stomach and threatened to eat through the lining.

  The company that published Jacinto’s porn magazine was long closed for the night, but Remy had an impressive vocabulary of curse words, some in English, some in Hebrew, and enough in French to insure that a low level employee was sent to the Paris office to check the computer.

  Remy executed a mock bow and presented Ruben a slip of paper. “Voila. Fait accompli. J’ai fini, y’all.”

  Ruben yanked the paper out of his hand and growled.

  “Is the warrant going to cover this address or do we need to apply for a new one?” Adam waited at his computer.

  “Nah, the one we have is vague enough to cover it.” When Trophy Wife said Jacinto was gone for weeks at a time, he’d known there’d be a second place to search and had worded the warrant accordingly.

  “Then why are we sitting here?’ Adam grabbed his coat.

  “I’ll drive. You check on the girls. I’m half afraid to call Tessa. She bit my head off yesterday.” And again this morning.

  “I called while Remy was on the phone. I had to do something. Listening to him murder a beautiful language was hurting my ears.”

  Ruben glanced over his shoulder at Remy, already back at work on his own case. “French with a southern drawl is bad enough. Add a New Jersey kick, and it’s an outright crime.”

  Adam pushed the button for the elevator. “As picky as the French are about their language, I’m surprised they would help him at all.”

  “Self-defense. It was the only way he’d shut up.” He might have to try some self-defense of his own if Adam didn’t stop dawdling and step on it. Jacinto was getting away as they talked.

  A twenty-minute drive took them back to Triple D’s neighborhood.

  “Ya’ think he had D scout this place for him?” The stupidity of criminals never ceased to amaze him.

  “That or he spotted it when he was over here. I’m wondering about the old woman, D’s mother. How much do you suppose she knew?”

  Ruben popped another Tums into his mouth. “The older I get, the less I trust anybody. Right now, I’m not even sure about you.”

  “I don’t guess there’s any point in questioning her. Your withering stare would be a waste of time on a blind woman. And threatening her with jail . . . She might be better off there, with someone to take care of her.”

  Ruben drove past the house and parked around the corner. They slipped on their vests and checked their weapons as Tenequa and Two Times Tommy pulled up beside them.

  “You take the front. Adam and I will take the back. If he’s going to rabbit, he’ll try the back, and I’ll be happy to stop him.” He’d be more than happy. He’d be ecstatic.

  Although, exactly why, he wasn’t sure. A week ago, he’d wanted to close this case so he could get back to his old life. Now wrapping this up meant either opening a new door, a door he’d never been interested in before, or never seeing Tessa again.

  “Do you think he’s in there, in there?” Tommy asked.

  “Not likely, but don’t take any chances. We already know he won’t hesitate to kill.” Why did they bring Tommy? It would take him five minutes to say, “Police. Open the door.”

  He and Adam crept through a neighbor’s back yard and waited.

  Tommy beat on the door, but nothing happened.

  He glanced at Adam and nodded. They mounted the back steps and eased into the kitchen. The house smelled of stale French fries. Take out bags littered the counter and the trashcan overflowed with empty beer bottles.

  No maid service for this place. Here was the true Ruben Jacinto.

  Tommy and Tenequa came through the front, and together they searched the house.

  Empty.

  Adam slipped out the back door but returned immediately. “His car’s in the garage. Situated in the back the way it is, he could come and go without the neighbors noticing. So we’re back where we started.”

  Ruben’s shoulders sagged. “Let’s get to searching. There has to be something in this pig sty to tell us where he went or what he’s driving this time.”

  Heat raced up the back of Ruben Jacinto’s neck and he could feel the anger churning in his gut as he watched from across the street.

  Did Marquez think he was fooling anyone, sneaking through back yards, pretending to be invisible?

  How had they found this place? He hadn’t left any trail from his apartment to this safe house. If the old man had told them, he would have admitted it before he’d finished with him. And they would have been here a couple of days ago.

  Had Triple D’s mother told them? He might bother to find out someday, but for now, he couldn’t risk going to her house.

  He had to think of something fast. He was tapped out.

  He couldn’t stay here for long. The woman’s husband would be home eventually. And that baby wouldn’t stop crying. She didn’t have enough cash to buy a decent dinner, let alone a hotel room.

  Let’s hope her car has plenty of gas.

  The speed with which they’d honed in on Triple D, the Lumberjack, even the old man and his gym, proved he’d been right to cut those ties. But it sure had left him in a bad spot, with no one to run his business for him.

  Last night he’d had to do the work himself. Actually show his face to people he didn’t trust. Run all over town, peddling his wares like a snake-oil salesman. Getting half what his product was worth.

  His last errand was strictly personal. A little gift left for Marquez. He won’t know it’s there, but I will. Maybe I’ll send him a message someday. Or his mother.

  He didn’t get in till almost daylight, then passed out on the sofa. With his fucking phone turned off. An amateur mistake.

  The afternoon sun woke him, and he was so hung-over he didn’t think to check his messages until he’d downed two cups of coffee with a splash of hair-of-the-dog.

  And there it sat, blinking in his face. A warning from his alarm company. They’d entered his apartment.

  He didn’t like it, it meant they had enough evidence for a warrant, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Nothing in that apartment led to this place.

  Yet here they were. If he hadn’t glanced out the window to see Marquez driving past, he’d have been trapped.

  Only one silver lining to this fucked-up rainbow. He knew where Marquez was. And if he led him to the girl, even better. A two-fer.

  He’d tried every psychic, clairvoyant, palm reader, and fortuneteller in two counties. Not one had sent an electric charge up his arm like the witch and her spawn. All the pretenders had claimed to predict his future, but he hadn’t gotten where he was without knowing when he was being fed a lie.

  When he discovered that the witch had come back home to roost, he’d expected answers. But no such luck.

  The old witch had refused to help him. Maybe he’d have better luck with the baby witch.

  Chapter 33

  Ruben glanced at the clock on his dashboard. Looked like he’d be late picking up Tessa again. At least Jillian wouldn’t make her sit on the curb.

  The call from Wayne Watson had set his teeth on edge. Couldn’t they keep track of that damn dog? So she’d gotten in Mamacita’s back yard. Leave her alone, and she’d come home when she got hungry. He didn’t have time for this baloney.

  Maybe he c
ould raid Mamacita’s freezer while he was there. Pick up something for their supper. And get that stupid journal.

  Why did he fall asleep every time he tried to read it? He’d gotten through gun-cleaning manuals that weren’t exactly edge-of-your-seat reading without dozing off. He’d finish that thing tonight if he had to down a pot of coffee.

  Ruben parked in front of the house. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he noticed the overflowing mailbox. Had he forgotten to stop Mamacita’s mail? He turned toward the house next door. Had anyone stopped Yolanda Garza’s mail?

  Under the Villarreal’s mailbox rested a second box. He grabbed the meager contents and tossed them in the backseat along with Mamacita’s mail as Elissa Watson skipped across the street.

  “My dog is in your backyard and she won’t come out.”

  “I know, honey. I’ll get her for you.” Because he didn’t have anything better to do than drive across town to rescue her dog from the horror of being an hour late for supper.

  “Have you got a leash?” Wayne should have come over, or sent Bobby. If Molly didn’t want to go home, Elissa wasn’t strong enough to make her. He’d have to go over there and be pleasant. Making him even later.

  “Right here,” Elissa said, using it as a jump rope.

  Ruben held the screen door open for Elissa. The house smelled stuffy, empty. They’d only been gone a few days. How bad would his apartment be? If he ever got back to it.

  Elissa followed him through the house and out the back door. Molly ran in circles around the big oak tree, barking.

  What had that dog been up to? She’d dug a hole under the tree and was covered in dirt. Somehow that would probably turn out to be his fault, too.

  Now he’d be in trouble with Adam for leaving early, Tessa for picking her up late, the Watson’s for allowing their dog to get muddy, and Mamacita for the big hole in her yard.

  Life was just one big joke, wasn’t it? He felt in his pocket for the roll of Tums.

  Elissa chased the dog around the tree, laughing.

  Ruben reached out to stop her. He didn’t want to be around if she got muddy, too.

  He froze, his hand halfway out, when she started screaming. Like déjà vu all over again.

  Molly stood, almost grinning with pride. Blood coated her muzzle. Wait till the Watsons saw that. The poor dog had probably had it this time. She might as well start looking for a new home.

  “I hope you didn’t mind staying at Jillian’s. I called as soon as I realized how late I’d be.” Ruben glanced at Tessa out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t seem upset, but as he’d learned the hard way, many times, being late was a capital offense.

  “Jillian and I got along fine. She gave me a shooting lesson in the morning and I spent most of the afternoon on the deck, painting. How did she and Adam meet?”

  “Through a case. I was out with a ruptured appendix when he interviewed her about a gun that had passed through her store. I think she was a big help to him.” There was a lot more to it.

  Jillian had claimed the spirit of her late sister was involved in several cases, but he wasn’t willing to discuss that with Tessa. Not after insisting there was no such thing as a witch.

  He hadn’t seen this so-called ghost, and wasn’t sure he could accept a real one, but in theory, they were just the remaining spirit of a person’s soul. The church talked about a person’s soul all the time. Accepting that part occasionally got left behind wasn’t too big a stretch. Believing that some people were born with magical powers was something else entirely.

  “So what’s in the bag?” He nodded at the sack she had placed on the seat between them. He didn’t smell anything, but Adam claimed Jillian was a good cook. He had grabbed a burger and a milkshake at noon, but it was getting close to nine by now and he was starving.

  “Jillian lent me some clothes. We’re about the same size and all mine were dirty.”

  Dare he hope those clothes didn’t include clean pajama bottoms? She’d rinsed out the ones Molly got muddy, but somehow he’d gotten them all wet when he showered last night. And again when he’d shaved this morning.

  The hanger she’d draped them across just wasn’t that sturdy.

  Tessa twisted toward him and smiled.

  Good, she really isn’t angry.

  “What kept you so late? Was it something to do with my mother’s case?”

  Just when things were going well. Time to bring back the Bad News Fairy.

  “Several different things went down today. The report came back on the fingerprint in your house. It matched Ruben Jacinto and that gave us enough for a warrant. We searched his apartment this morning, but couldn’t find anything incriminating. However, we did find another address he sometimes used.”

  He’d have to buy Remy Steinberg lunch, but it was worth the cost. He might even spring for Brennan’s. Not because Remy deserved it, but the thought of their seafood gumbo made his mouth water. Or maybe the etouffee.

  “That led us to a house on the east side. And there’s where we found a shit . . . truck load of evidence on everything from drug sales to money laundering. Unfortunately, we didn’t find anything tying him to the murders we’re investigating, including your mother’s.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “And he’s still on the loose.”

  A gigantic yellow M, the golden arches, glowed in the distance, beckoning him. But Ruben couldn’t ask Tessa to wait for the rest of the story while he grabbed a bite to eat. He’d have to hold on till they got back to the cabin. There might be a can of tomato soup in the cabinet. He’d lost his appetite anyway.

  “He’s on the run, but he doesn’t have any place to go. We found the lady across the street tied up in a closet and her car missing. He searched her house for any cash, but she didn’t have much and he acted desperate.”

  “And you said that was the most dangerous time.”

  Why did she only remember the things he didn’t want her to? “He doesn’t need to get rid of that appointment book now. We have all the evidence we need to put him away for a long time. He’d be a fool to show his face anywhere in this town. Odds are, he’s headed for Mexico.”

  “So I can go home?” Her eyes opened wide.

  He should have waited and told her this at the cabin. What if she got upset while he was driving? What would he do?

  “Well, no. Not until they know for sure that he’s run off. He seems to have a personal grudge against you.” And me. “This is the last night you have to stay at the cabin. Tomorrow, the Marshall’s service will take you someplace safe. After a week or two, if he hasn’t tried anything, or they find traces of him in Mexico, you can go home.”

  How did he feel about that? He’d been yearning to close this case so he could return to his own apartment with its big-screen TV and leather sofa. Those things didn’t seem so appealing now.

  “And look over my shoulder for the rest of my life?” She dropped her face into her hands.

  He’d been hoping she wouldn’t think of that.

  “What about Bob? Will he have to go into hiding with me? He’ll hate that.” Her voice was muffled.

  “He can stay at my place.” Where had that come from? He couldn’t keep a cat. But if he did, she’d have to come over and get him when this was all over.

  “So, let me get this straight.” A tear fell onto her lap. “This guy scarred me for life, terrorized my mother before killing her, murdered several people, and, if you ever find him, might be arrested for selling drugs?”

  He’d give everything he owned in the world not to have to tell her the rest. He wasn’t the Bad News Fairy. He was the Bad News Demon. The Bad News Satan.

  He couldn’t continue this in the car. What if she got upset, started crying, what would he do? They had left the highway and there was little traffic on the road. Ahead a closed store offered an empty parking lot. He pulled in and cracked the windows an inch before cutting the engine.

  An overhead sign cast a canary yellow light that would have given most
people a sickly pall, but made Tessa’s skin glow.

  He twisted to face her.

  “In Jacinto’s trash”—among the empty beer bottles and fast food wrappers, but she didn’t need to know that—“was a plastic baggie that appeared to have blood in it. We sent it to Forensics, but didn’t think much about it. On the way to pick you up, I got a call from the Watsons across the street. Molly had found a way into Mamacita’s backyard and they couldn’t get her out. I drove over there to unlock the gate.”

  This was it. Sometimes he hated his job.

  “Molly had been digging under that big tree, and she unearthed what we believe are the pieces missing from your mother’s body. They were still partially frozen. And Jacinto had stolen a small freezer tote from the neighbor’s house.”

  This news had to be difficult to absorb. He cut his eyes toward Tessa. Instead of bursting into tears, she seemed calmer.

  “Thank goodness. I was afraid we’d never find those pieces. Now I can spread her ashes knowing she’s all together, the way she wanted.”

  Chapter 34

  Only a crescent moon showed through the trees. Stars in abundance decorated the sky, but offered little light.

  Ruben Jacinto watched as the car ahead of him pulled into the deserted parking lot. He had no choice but to keep going. He’d been following Marquez and the woman for almost an hour without any sign they noticed him.

  So why had they stopped? Was it a trick to make him show himself? He wouldn’t fall for it. There had to be a place to wait unnoticed.

  He drove for two miles, three, but no opportunity presented itself. Side roads turned off, but no store or business offered an anonymous hiding place.

  In the distance, a dim glow promised a spot to pull over. When he reached the lights, he found a closed craft store. He parked to the side and hoped a lone car in a deserted lot wouldn’t sound any alarms.

  He waited thirty minutes, cursing himself. Had they taken one of the side roads? Were they still waiting where he left them? They might have U-turned the moment he was out of sight.