The Leira Chronicles- The Complete Austin Series

by Martha Carr

  “Time for six o’clock medication. Okay everyone, you know the drill. Line up to the right of the window and the nurse will place the medication on your tongue, handing you the glass of water. Swallow the pills, stick out your tongue, lift it so that we can see that the medication is gone and this will all go smoothly.”

  He clapped his hands sharply again. Once, twice. “Come on people, dinner tonight’s burritos, everybody’s favorite. We don’t need anyone holding up the line or causing trouble. Ms. Berens, go get in line.”

  Eireka got up slowly and shuffled toward the line. She had mastered the look of the drug-induced haze years ago. Her paper slippers made a skitch, skitch noise against the worn-out linoleum floor.

  The redheaded girl in front of her was young and looked nervous. She was a new admittance, came in just last night, and she kept looking furtively from left to right, wringing her hands. She was crying hard enough that a sheen of snot glossed her lips. Eireka wanted to reach out and comfort the girl. She figured she had to be about the same age as her own daughter, Leira. But the risk that someone would notice and discover she was faking her torpor was too great.

  “Maggie! You’re next!” The orderly was doing his sharp clap again, trying to get the new girl to move forward in line. All it did was make her cry harder, an irritating whimper coming out of her trembling lips.

  “Burrito night!” An oversized woman with wiry gray hair sticking out all over her head was stomping her feet in the back of the line. She was also a fairly recent addition to the ward, but Eireka had a good idea that she was just at the start of a very long stretch.

  The old woman had had enough and started shoving the people directly in front of her in line, still yelling burrito night at the top of her lungs. Three orderlies immediately rushed her, restraining her and dragging her out of the room.

  “Burritos in your room tonight, if you’re awake enough to know they’re there,” one of the orderlies laughed.

  Eireka took the opportunity to surreptitiously raise her hand and gently push the crying girl in front of her, moving her forward as if she had no will of her own. Even if it’s the last good thing I can do. It was the one really good thing her mother had given to her, and she had done her best to pass it on to Leira. Never back down from doing the right thing, she thought. Never.

  Eireka caught a glimpse of the thin scars that marred the soft, white underside of the girl’s arms.

  The rumor was that her parents were wealthy and well-connected. Definitely a tourist, thought Eireka. As soon as her involuntary hold was over they would find her a more comfortable place where they could hide her away.

  When Eireka got to the top of the line the nurse barked, “Name.”

  “Eireka Berens.”

  Eireka opened her mouth and held out her hand for the glass of water. As the nurse handed her the water she let two of her fingers brush against the woman’s skin and whispered one of the few spells she had learned from her mother.

  “Invisibilia,” she muttered. She took a sip of the water and then opened her mouth wide, the three capsules still on her tongue clearly showing. The nurse gave a sharp nod and barked “Next!”

  Eireka had learned over time that the spell only lasted for a few seconds, and was really only good for creating an illusion on smaller things. She had tried to use it once or twice to make it look as if her bed was occupied, when she was still intent on breaking out. But it never lasted long enough or was big enough to influence people who weren’t in the room when she cast the spell.

  It took a few stays in isolation in a padded cell before she decided to stop trying to escape and instead focus on making things better for herself. She still held on to the belief that one day her beautiful, funny and clever daughter would figure things out, and come and get her.

  She knew Leira Berens was on the police force, but it had been a few years since she had seen her in person. Leira had come over four years ago to tell her that her own mother, Mara Berens, had disappeared.

  The weight of those words had crashed over Eireka, taking her breath away.

  “You’re alone!” she had gasped, shocked and alarmed.

  Eireka reached out, grasping her daughter’s arm in desperation. She tried to tell her where to look for her grandmother but the second Eireka started to talk about Oriceran again, Leira pulled back. Even stood as if she was ready to go. Determined to go.

  Still, Eireka had persisted and tried to tell Leira how to create a doorway, ask the elves for help. The orderlies overheard and dragged her away. They gave her an injection that left her groggy for a week and made it impossible for her to pull off a spell of any kind.

  Leira had visited her mother again, months later but Eireka could see the toll it was taking on her daughter and clasped her hand tightly, whispering, “Don’t come back. Get on with your life and forget I’m here.”

  Leira had protested, but Eireka had been thinking about what to do for months.

  “Invisibilia,” she had whispered, clinging to her daughter’s hand, conjuring the image of an empty space where her mother sat. She held onto the image as hard as she could, knowing the intensity of her feelings would help push the idea further into Leira’s heart.

  It wasn’t as if she expected Leira to forget about her, but she knew the spell would help shroud Leira’s feelings for her, and help her only child get on with her life. So far, the spell was working.

  Still, Eireka Berens had never given up hope that someday her daughter would be ready and figure out her true heritage in time to free her mother without exposing them both to danger. Then together, they would find out what had become of Mara Berens.

  Every day she woke up wondering if today was that day.

  “You’re crazy. Thin crust all the way.” Correk folded the slice like he’d seen people doing at the large table next to him, pushing half of it into his mouth.

  They were sitting on metal stools at a long, thin stainless-steel counter outside of a low-slung red brick building in Austin. It was a warm winter morning, the kind Austin was famous for. Large neon letters over their head spelled out Home Slice Pizza. Correk still had a knit hat pulled down over his ears and his long hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

  The waitress gave him a thumbs up as she leaned through the window service and refilled his Dr. Pepper.

  “Good call leaving the troll in the car,” he said. “But when he smells the grease he’s going to be pissed. We need to bring a peace offering.”

  “I’m the one who said thin crust is better. Roll it out thin, till it bakes into a giant cracker for a crust. You didn’t seem to mind deep dish back in Chicago,” Leira pointed out.

  “That’s before you took me to Home Slice,” he replied, looking around the small restaurant on the south side of Austin. The thin white paper plate in front of him was soaked through with grease.

  “Stopping for more pizza before we got back to my place was your idea. Granted, a really good one. I have to admit this is not half bad. This is as close to New York style pizza as you can get here in Austin.”

  “Yo phone is bluzzing,” mumbled Correk.

  Leira winced, watching the grease run down Correk’s chin.

  “Chew with your mouth closed, dude!”

  He pointed a greasy finger in the direction of a pile of vibrating small white napkins.

  “Swallow, Correk, swallow. Hello? Hagan, slow down, what is it?” Leira leaned toward the small window and waved at the waitress. “We’re going to need the rest to go.”

  “What is it?” asked Correk, wiping his hands. “This grease is tenacious.”

  “That was my partner. There’s a case. All hands on deck.”

  “How does he even know you’re back in town?”

  “I called when I went to the bathroom to check in. It’s a cop thing,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll drop you back at my place. The troll’s piece is coming out of your share of the leftovers.”

  “Not a chance, on either one, Leira. Okay,
he can have my pizza. But if I’m going to stay here on Earth for a while, then I’m going to stay by your side as much as I can.” He held up his hands to stop her from saying anything else. “I understand it’s a police investigation, but I’m not sitting around your tiny house with a troll for hours on end. And no, sitting out at the bar is not much better.”

  “Fine, I don’t have time to argue. But we’re still dropping off the troll and you stay back by the car. Under no circumstances do you interfere. I mean it,” she warned, throwing down a few dollars for a tip.

  “Do you normally get this agitated at the start of the case?” Correk asked, scooping up the box, as they headed for the car.

  “Normally, I make a point of not rushing. That’s the way you miss clues. But these are special circumstances. A child is missing, presumed kidnapped, and one person is already dead. We have a window of just a few hours before this could turn into another homicide. Besides, this is not the moment I want more people to realize magic is a thing, it’s gone local and Siegfried and Roy were really out of this world.”

  “Only Siegfried.” Leira scowled at Correk, and slid into the front seat. “But yes, I get your point,” he said, buckling up. Leira turned on the lights and siren.

  Chapter Two

  There was yellow and black tape around Pick One Up’s parking lot, stretching out to the street. Patrol officers were standing in front of a small crowd on both sides of the minimart, holding back the lookie-loos who had walked over from the nearby cookie-cutter subdivision a block away. The day was turning out to be one of those hot winter days that were pretty typical for Austin.

  Leira scanned the crowd as they pulled up and parked behind the short line of black and white Austin police cars. It was her usual practice when first arriving at a crime scene. Never know what kind of clue is sitting right out there in front. The oddest things becomes important later.

  She quickly formed a visual map of the area in her head. Behind the blocks of starter home ranchers and two-story houses was a dense patch of woods that was full of homeless people who rarely came out during the day. Leira had cruised past this area many times in the middle of the night, checking on leads and seen the small crowds milling about in the parking lot. Hagan swore they even had a generator to power up stolen cell phones and keep a small refrigerator going.

  The taqueria truck in the far corner of the lot would have been buzzing with activity till sunrise. “Guarantee there was a line of hungry people with just enough for a breakfast taco,” she said quietly. “They would be the best witnesses.”

  Correk already knew better than to say anything, and got out to stretch his legs but stayed by the Mustang.

  Leira looked at the uniforms standing near the door of the mart, quickly spotting Detective Hagan. He was taking notes, nodding his head, rolling his hand, trying to get the two officers in front of him to talk faster.

  He was clearly pissed off. He saw Leira as she ducked under the tape, and started waving frantically in her direction. There was a sheen of sweat on his face. Leira recognized all the signs of a case going sour, fast.

  “Was there more?” Hagan turned his focus back to the two officers, his eyebrows raised and his pen poised in the air.

  “Hey, Detective Berens,” said the younger officer.

  “Ritchie.”

  “If we’re done with the pleasantries,” Hagan snapped.

  “We’re done, Detective,” the officer said.

  “Anyone go into the woods to talk to the transients?” Leira turned her attention to the line of woods just a few blocks away. The tops of the older oak trees were visible from where they stood.

  “Not yet, no,” Ritchie said.

  “Well, then, grab a few more people and see what you can find out,” Hagan said impatiently, waving again, this time at nearby officers.

  “Hold on,” said Leira. “Don’t head out just yet. Look, they’re not suspects. They’re possible witnesses. Don’t treat them like suspects. Don’t mess with their belongings. Don’t threaten anyone with anything. Don’t find reasons to arrest anyone. We need them to cooperate and we need them to want to do it, now. Is that understood?” She waited till she got an affirmative from every cop.

  “You have an hour to find something,” she said. “If you can do it in less time, that’s better. Don’t edit what you hear, just write it down. Let us decide what’s useful.”

  “Now, go. Go!” Hagan ordered. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his face and the top of his balding head. “Hate these fucking cases. Only monsters steal kids.”

  “Where’s the dead guy?” Leira already knew he must be inside of the store. There was a swarm of technicians in blue booties circling around the front counter, bending down, meticulously retrieving things and dropping their findings into clear evidence bags. Still, she wanted to hear what Hagan had to say about it. Cases involving children always got him wound up, and he had to talk the whole thing out for Leira to get the bits and pieces she really needed. It was a process.

  “The owner. He’s behind the counter. Damnable thing. He died on his knees, still propped up. His head is resting on the shelf back there. Near as I can tell, the dumb fucker bent down to get a sawed-off, but never got back up. The gun is still there, under his head. Well, what was left of his head.”

  “And the child?”

  “His six-year-old niece. A Lucy Kate.” Hagan flipped open his small notebook and read from his notes. He was reluctant to type anything into the department-issued tablet. Everything about him was old school. “According to his daughter… That’s her sitting in the patrol car over there doing her best to pull it together.”

  Leira looked over and saw the young woman sitting in the back seat with the door open, resting her head on the seat in front of her. Reality still hasn’t sunk in, she thought.

  “According to his daughter, he was babysitting while the mom worked a night shift stocking a Walmart.” Hagan tapped his notebook. He was already chewing on an idea. Leira gave him a moment to put it into words.

  “The money from the register is gone,” he said, scowling, “but you should see it in there. Neat and clean. No fuss. Except for the blood splatter from the victim, nothing else is out of order. It’s like the killer waited for the store to be empty. No sign of anyone rushing out, or hiding behind something.”

  “Or they let him pass,” said Leira. There was a well-known code among the homeless in the rougher parts of Austin. See nothing, do nothing, say nothing. “And if that’s what happened and whoever this is didn’t shoot any of them…”

  “Then this is more personal, and he would have known about the code. Fuck me.” Hagan pushed the palm of his hand against his belly. “Damn heartburn.”

  “This gives us a place to start,” said Leira. “Let’s go look inside.”

  She glanced back at Correk who was leaning against the Mustang, carefully observing everyone around him. It was a sign of Hagan’s frustration that he didn’t say anything about tall, blonde and handsome waiting for her.

  Correk locked eyes with Leira and gave her a nod, his eyes briefly lighting up, glowing from within. He’s itching to use magic.

  She turned away, letting the thought go, and pulled on a pair of blue gloves and booties before stepping into the store.

  “Found anything yet?” she asked the older technician, Harriet who was carefully picking something up off the ground with tweezers. She was known to be no-nonsense and really didn’t give a shit how someone else was feeling. Leira liked working with her.

  “Oh, hey Leira. Nothing definitive. So much useless DNA in this place, including way too much old semen. What are people thinking? The little girl was sleeping back there…” She pointed toward the door behind the counter that was open slightly. “No signs of a struggle or any resistance. She may not have been awake.”

  Leira glanced at the food racks closest to the door. Several of them were empty. The same was true of a few of the boxes of candy just underneat
h the front of the counter. “There were people in here,” she said, pointing.

  “You know this because…” he asked.

  “Because the shelves that aren’t near the door are all full like they were recently stocked, but everything close to the door is just about picked clean. Easier to grab and go. But there’re no bloody footprints. No one went near the body, including whoever shot him.”

  Leira stepped carefully around the counter. “Okay if I go back here?”

  “Yep,” said Harriet. “We’re done. I told the coroner to wait till you got a look for yourself. I know how you like to see the crime scene. What’s it saying to you?”

  “That they wanted the girl. This guy is collateral damage.” Leira bent down to get a better look at the dead man. His finger was resting on the trigger. He’d been inches from coming out ahead. “Miss is as good as a mile,” Leira whispered.

  “The mother came rushing in, hysterical, and had to be dragged off and medicated,” Hagan said. “No father to speak of. Mother swore up and down the father wouldn’t have cared enough to do this.”

  “You know, the thing that bothers me the most, is that whoever did this knew not to shoot any of the homeless people standing around. Even if they were all outside, which is unlikely, he would have still been visible but nobody cared.” A warm curl of anger grew inside her, spreading out to her limbs. “This wasn’t personal. It was professional,” she spat.

  She glanced down at her hands and saw her fingertips start to glow cherry-red through the thin blue latex gloves. She balled her hands into fists and looked away, unsure whether her eyes were glowing. She needed to get to Correk.

  “Excuse me,” she said, stepping carefully back around the counter, keeping her head down.

  She hurried out the front door of the Pick One Up, shoving her gloved hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. Correk stood up straighter as she got closer, a look of concern on his face.