by P. C. Cast
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re back. You’re fine,” he said inanely, thinking how small she was—God, would she even weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet?
“It’s getting worse,” she said against his chest.
“Where were you? Where do you go when that happens?” he asked.
She stepped back out of his arms and looked at him in surprise. “Ohmygod, Raef! I never even thought about where I go, just how I feel.” She shook her head and went back to the breakfast table, pushed aside her half-eaten plate and sat heavily. Lauren wrapped her hands around her mug of coffee and took a sip. Raef righted his chair and did the same.
“So, describe it to me,” he said.
She looked over her mug at him. “It’s foggy there. And cold. Ugh, and it’s wet, too.”
“Wet? It’s raining?”
Lauren shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe it’s not really wet, but that place makes me feel like I’m drowning,” she said.
“Could be part of the spiritual draining. That must be how your body and mind are interpreting it.”
“It’s so hard to tell you anything for sure because everything is in black and white, but foggy or blurred, like one of those old silent movies.” Her eyes narrowed contemplatively. “Actually, it’s a lot like a silent movie. Things skip around, like movie frames freezing.”
“Is anyone else there?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, and then added more slowly, “Aubrey is there, and there are other people, too. But they’re hard to see. They fade in and out. They’re only vague images. I do know they’re in pain. They’re all in pain.” She shook her head again. “I’ve known it all along and just refused to think about it because it’s so, so terrible there. But it has to be where the murderer is keeping his victims’ souls.”
“The Land of the Dead,” Raef said.
“What?”
He snagged the slim book from where Lauren had left it on the kitchen counter. “It’s in here. It’s also what Aubrey’s talking about when she gets ripped back there by him.”
“Bread crumbs. She’s trying to lead us to her with bread crumbs, but they keep getting eaten,” Lauren said.
“Maybe not totally eaten.” He got up, refilled their coffee and brought a legal pad and a pencil back to the table. “So, whenever Aubrey’s emotions change—whenever she tries to talk about her death or her killer—he can sense it and he rips her away from here. Correct?”
“Correct. But it happens so fast that she never really gets to tell us anything.”
“But she tries,” Raef said. “Maybe we should listen better.”
“Okay, well, I’m not going to be very good at that because I feel her pain and I get ripped away with her. Or at least part of me does—that part that’s attached to Aub.”
“I get that. So let me help, or at least help with what I’ve witnessed. The first time Aubrey disappeared was in my office when you hired me and I asked her to tell me about her murder.”
Lauren nodded. “I hired you because she told me to, and that took her a while because she kept getting ripped away. She finally just described you and then said ‘KooKoo Kitty.’ I figured it out from there.”
“KooKoo Kitty? How the hell did you find me from that?”
Lauren smiled. “It’s twin speak. We had a cat when we were twelve. Someone had dumped her on our grandparents’ ranch by one of our guest cabins. She was, of course, pregnant. She was a sweet, friendly little thing, so Mother let us keep her as one of the barn cats, but said we’d have to give away the kittens and get her spayed. We called her Cabin Kitty. Well, she had her kittens and then promptly lost her mind protecting them. She attacked every cat, dog, chicken and even horse at the ranch. We renamed her KooKoo Kitty.”
“Nice story. Still don’t know why the hell that led you to me.”
“Oh, that’s easy. After Moonrise and the whole Psy thing is seriously cuckoo, and you’re the only tall, dark and handsome working there.”
“Thank you. I think.” Then he tried not to dwell on the fact that Aubrey described him as handsome. “So, that was time number one.”
“Obviously the murderer doesn’t want you involved in his case.”
“Yeah, well, too late. Second time was at Swan Lake.” Raef thought back, frowning. “I don’t remember her saying anything even vaguely pertaining to her death, do you?”
“Actually, I do remember what she was saying because it seemed harmless.” She moved her shoulders. “Sometimes I can tell she’s getting ready to get ripped back. I mean, I know that she’s trying to tell me something.”
“Like today.”
“Exactly. But yesterday she was totally happy. All she was doing was talking about the trees. She called them soldiers, wise and strong, and said they must need a lot of care. And that was it. He took her away.”
Raef’s eyes widened. “I’m an idiot. She wasn’t talking about trees—at least, not just about them. She had to have been giving us a clue about the murderer for him to have jerked her away.” He sat up straighter. “Ah, shit. She did it again today. She said when I stop looking at the forest and find the tree I’ll get a piece of the puzzle.”
“Raef! Whoever killed her must have been working on the trees at Swan Lake,” Lauren said.
“Puzzle piece found,” Raef said grimly. “And that tree-loving bastard better watch the hell out.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“So what you’re saying is on July 15 there were no city tree trimmers at or around the area of Swan Lake?” Raef was talking into his cell as he paced across his home office.
“That’s correct, Mr. Raef, I see no record of having sent our tree trimmers out to Midtown at all that day.” The city worker’s voice sounded like she was talking to him through a tin can. Hell, with the City of Tulsa Works Department and their crappy budget, that might be true. He glanced at Lauren where she sat at his computer. She looked up at him. He shook his head, and she went back to concentrating on the computer. “Could you double-check your records, ma’am?”
“Certainly. Hold please,” she said.
“I’m on hold. Again.” Raef growled and continued prowling around his office. Finally the tin-can voice returned.
“Sir, I have checked and rechecked our records for that day and the day before. All of our tree-trimming teams were in the Reservoir Hill neighborhood on the fourteenth and the fifteenth of July. I am sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“Yeah, me, too, but thanks,” Raef said, disconnecting. “Struck out,” he told Lauren.
“Well, I think I just hit a home run,” she said, excitement raising her voice.
“How so?” He went to look over her shoulder at the Swan Lake website she had up. She’d clicked into several of the pictures and was studying them intently.
“First, I’ve quit thinking like a grieving sister and started thinking like a landscaper. Those are elms.” Lauren pointed at the picture. “Actually, almost all the larger trees lining the pond are elms.”
“Okay, why is that important?”
“Because of our weather patterns elms are especially susceptible to Dutch elm disease. It can be devastating to them.”
“And?” Raef prompted.
“And the pretty neighborhood around Swan Lake wouldn’t stay pretty if its biggest shade trees withered and died from a nasty, highly contagious fungus. These trees are healthy—strong and soldierlike, as my sister would say. That tells me Midtown has
an arborist.”
“A what?”
“Tree doctor. This many elms, old and young, tell me they’ve been well cared for. Hang on, if I remember correctly…” Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she searched and clicked. “And I do! There’s an innovative preventative treatment for Dutch elm disease that needs to be applied in the spring and early summer.” She looked at him. “Mid-July would have been a perfect second-application time.”
“I was calling the right department, but asking the wrong question,” Raef said, but before he punched the city number again, Lauren’s words had him pausing. “He has more souls trapped than just Aubrey’s. I can feel them.”
“He’s a serial killer,” Raef said grimly. “I wonder how many more accidents have happened to people in Tulsa in the past year or so, and how many of them were close to other well-tended groves of trees.” Raef hit the number to the After Moonrise office. “Preston, I need you to get into the database and do a search for me. Deaths ruled as accidental in the past year. I’ll need specifics on the death sites. Pay special attention to details about the trees in the area—like, did the accident happen in Mohawk Park or did someone fall down the stairs at the BOK Arena. I’m interested in the trees, not the structures. Our killer has a connection to trees, might even be a tree doctor. Got it?…Good. Call me back ASAP.” He disconnected and glanced at Lauren.
Even though she was completely focused on the computer she must have felt his look because Lauren said, “I’m already checking arborists in the area. Call the city back.”
Raef did as he was told.
* * *
“SO, THE CITY USES three arborists. Chris Melnore, out of Hardscape in Bixbie, Steve Elwood, who has his own tree-trimming business in Broken Arrow, and Dr. Raymond Braggs, who is a professor at TU.” Raef read from the list the public-works director had given him. “All three have serviced Midtown. Murphy’s Law is working well, which means the city had a major computer crash last week, so they don’t have a record of which one of the three might have been to Swan Lake in July. They’re gonna check and see if anyone kept any physical notes, but it’s doubtful that they’ll find anything. It was back in July and this is October.”
“Can’t we just call the three men and ask if he was at Swan Lake that day? We could pretend like we’re calling from the city for, uh, tax records or something like that,” Lauren said.
“We could, but you see how jumpy the guy is already. He jerks Aubrey outta here if she so much as mentions a damn tree. I don’t want him going rabbit on me.”
“Then how do we figure out which one he is?” Lauren rubbed a hand over her face and brushed back a strand of long blond hair.
She looks tired, he thought. Again. I have to remember that this is draining her along with Aubrey.
“Well, we can’t do much until we get the list of accidental deaths from my office. Then we’ll check out the death scene and see if there is any link to a tree doc, and go from there.”
“Or we could print off pictures of each of the three guys and when Aubrey manifests next see if she can point us to one of them.”
“You mean before she screams and gets torn into pieces and part of you gets sucked away with her? No. How ’bout I try some old-fashioned detective work instead.”
“Aubrey and I can handle it. We’ve been doing this for months.”
“How much longer do you think you two have?” he asked bluntly, his voice a lot colder than he meant it to be.
Her face lost the little color it had had. “I don’t know,” she said listlessly. “I can’t tell because I don’t feel right—don’t feel whole—without Aubrey. So a piece of me is missing whether I’m being drained by a serial killer or not.”
“All right, then, let’s not push it.” He gentled his voice. “You’re tired.”
“I’m always tired.”
“I’ll take you home. You can rest and I’ll call you as soon as I have something.”
“Do you have to?”
Raef raised a brow at her. She looked away and he saw some color in her cheeks. Before he could say anything she seemed to collect herself and turned her eyes back to his. Their gazes met and held.
“I know you have a thing for Aubrey. That’s fine.” Lauren looked away.
“That’s weird,” he said, wishing she’d meet his gaze again. “She’s dead.”
“That’s fine,” she repeated as if he hadn’t spoken. “I don’t want to stay because I want to have sex with you or anything like that.” When he just stared at her, she added, “Not that you’re not an attractive man. You are. Really. Obviously my sister thinks so, and she and I have similar tastes in men.” She pushed a thick strand of blond hair from her face, looked up at him. This time her cheeks were bright pink.
She was beautiful.
His throat felt dry. He cleared it. When she didn’t continue speaking he prompted, “You and Aubrey liked the same guys?” Then he realized what he’d said and he hastily added, “Not that I’m into twin sex fantasies or anything too weird.”
“Define too weird.” Her eyes found his again.
And damned if his cheeks didn’t suddenly feel hot. “Well, after what happened last night between your sister and me, I think my definition of too weird is changing.”
Lauren’s smile was warm—so warm it made his skin tingle. She gave a little laugh. “Okay, before this gets too crazy, let me start over. Raef, I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me stay here until we find my sister’s killer. I mean, if you don’t mind too much.”
“That might be days or weeks,” Raef said.
“It can’t be,” she said, no longer smiling or blushing. “There’s no way Aubrey and I have that long.” She drew a long breath. “The truth is that every time Aubrey gets ripped out of here and takes part of me with her, I’m afraid I may never come back. For some reason you are able to get me back. I don’t think you always will be able to, but for right now being around you makes me feel as safe as I’m able to feel.”
Ah, shit, no! he thought. What he heard himself say was, “Fine. You can stay. But you get the couch.”
“That’s perfect. I like to go to sleep watching TV.”
“That shows a lack in your upbringing,” he said.
“To say the least.”
“What, rough time with nannies?” he asked sarcastically.
“Mother doesn’t believe in nannies. She didn’t have any. Mother also doesn’t believe in children, especially not girl children. Sadly, she had two of them. And our father never paid any attention because we weren’t a son. Here’s a news flash—you don’t have to live in a trailer to be abused as a child.”
“Hey, sorry. That was out of line of me,” he said, feeling like a douche bag.
“Don’t worry about it. Almost everyone assumes Aub and I are spoiled rich girls.” She shook her head wearily. “Were, I mean. She’s dead. I have to start remembering that.”
“All right, that’s enough. Let’s go.” Raef gestured for her to come out from behind his desk.
“Are you making me leave?”
He hated the soft, scared tone of her voice. “No, I said you could stay. I may be an ass, but I don’t break my word. What I’m making you do is take a nap.”
She stopped halfway down the hall. “Seriously?”
“Naps are healthy. Again, this shows another lack in your upbringing.”
“I can assure you that’s only the second of many,” she said,
following him to the wide leather couch that was already loaded with soft pillows and a faux-fur throw. She plumped a pillow, kicked off her shoes and curled up on her side, pulling the throw up to her neck. “You know, it really does look like a girl lives here.”
“I didn’t realize pillows, a blanket and a few antiques and art were gender specific.”
“Your pillows are baby-blue and cream, your throw is faux leopard and your art is Erté. I have two words for you, and they’re hyphenated—girl-like.”
She was looking at him through big blue eyes that were ringed with shadow, her hair was already rumpled and she was all curled up in a ball that he thought was so little he could almost pick her up and toss her into the other room—but she had an impish smile and a lifted chin that said she’d dare him to try.
Raef liked her. Really liked her.
He leaned down, clicked on the universal remote and handed it to her. “Girl-like or not, I also have all the cable channels—in HD.”
“That’s not girl-like. That’s civilized.”
He chuckled all the way back to his office.
* * *
RAEF TRIED TO WORK, but it was an exercise in frustration. He searched the internet for everything he could find about the three tree doctors, and then stared at their websites. Nothing stood out and screamed psychic serial killer about any of them. Melnore, a white guy in his mid-thirties, was divorced and had a part-time kid, or at least that’s what his Facebook page said. Elwood, another white guy, didn’t have a Facebook page. His website had a fish with a cross in it and by his Photoshopped picture he looked to be late thirties to early forties and in denial about balding. “Great, a church boy. He’s gonna be fun to research.” According to the TU faculty website, Braggs completed the white, middle-aged trifecta. He was single and newly tenured at the university. His faculty picture was standard conservative suit and tie. He looked professorially boring. His bio didn’t mention any family. He needed a haircut, but besides that looked as harmless as the other two. “Could be any or all of them.”