Sekhet

  “Suit yourself.” Taking the cup and gulping from it with a sign of pure contentment, Lucy walked out of the kitchen, giggling at her ability to still make the young man fear even the smallest of good gestures.

  “So you talked to Sarah?” Joe asked Victor, his voice lighthearted, following the show of dominance by Lucy.

  “Yeah, she’s looking for answers, which is understandable. Is there no coffee in this whole house?” Victor questioned, his gaze following Lucy to where she stood at the window facing the front gate. Sipping on what was obviously good tea, she didn’t move; he wasn’t sure she was even blinking.

  He wanted to kick himself for his quickness in turning down the hot beverage he needed so badly this morning. It had been a long night, and one he didn’t want to repeat any time soon.

  While the house slept, he had stayed awake, ready for the showdown of all showdowns. After hours outside, circling the house, keeping lookout along the roadside, and to his utter shock, conversing with his father about the best way to use his power over the dead, if that became an issue, he was ready for a couple hours’ respite.

  “How were things with Molly last night? Did you learn anything?” Victor needed answers, and whether he got them from Joe or Molly, he would get them.

  Twisting in his chair, Joe glanced over his shoulder, threw a look Victor’s way, and motioned towards the door with his eyes. Taking the hint, Victor shut the cupboard door with a heavy thump and stretched dramatically. “Well, Partner, I think we should head back to the station and see if the chief is around.”

  “We will be back soon, Lucy,” Joe called to her as he hauled himself with an ample amount of effort up out of his seat, while groaning like a dying pig for extra effect.

  “If Molly leaves at all, contact us,” Victor added as they went out the front door. He pulled a face in Joe’s direction. “What the hell was that?”

  “What?”

  “That groan! Dude! Seriously, that was the worst thing I have ever heard. What was that?”

  Joe laughed out loud.

  That drew the attention of the woman across the street. Waving, they continued to the car, ignoring the fact that the only reason the woman was out so early was to meddle in other people’s business, namely theirs.

  “Well, you did a stretch, so I couldn’t exactly do the same thing, now could I? Besides, she wasn’t paying attention to me anyway.”

  “Lucy pays attention to everything.” Victor pointed at him. “Always remember that.”

  “That would be okay, if there was actually something to hide from her, Partner. The fact of the matter is, we have nothing to go on right now, and Molly isn’t talking.”

  “What do you mean, she isn’t talking?” Victor’s surprise was evident as a slight tightening of his lips told Joe of his displeasure in hearing that Molly wasn’t giving them any clues on the matter at hand.

  Sharing a look of apprehension, they drove away from the house and its occupants and went in search of answers.

  Unlike the previous day, the chief was at the station when they arrived. Normally, he would be giving the impression of anticipating the arrival of the outsiders who had dared to enter his town uninvited, but today, he was interested and focused on the lifeless body of a girl who had turned up that morning.

  The receptionist who had smiled at them yesterday was a pasty white, her lips thin with images of what she had, Victor was assuming, already seen this morning. Not that the police force made a habit of sharing dead bodies with the receptionist, but seeing as the coroner was not around, the next best thing was to bring the body down the street. The town was buzzing. The two deputies full of confidence that they would find and deal with this monster who had taken the life of a helpless child, one with chocolate ice cream still on her face.

  The Chief was very much all business when Victor and Joe walked into the office.

  Pulling hard on Joe’s arm, Victor eyed the window and coughed, drawing the attention of the chief, who had been rummaging through paperwork. “I know him,” he mouthed.

  “There is water in the corner, detectives,” Chief Jack Budrow said without looking up, the exhaustion of his early wake-up call coloring his voice. He pointed to the cooler in the corner by a stack of pamphlets regarding child safety, road awareness, drinking and driving, and the up’n’coming fireworks show.

  Hiding his words under a cough, which was beginning to sound forced, Joe signaled toward the heavy door of the funeral home. “Watch that door, Victor.” A door he reflected was excessive, but for all intents and purposes gave a great impression of safety for the comfort of the deceased’s loved ones, who may or may not enjoy the idea of leaving Grandma or Grandpa in a place on their lonesome, all night.

  With the chances of young hooligans redoing makeup or stealing the family wedding ring passed down through the family for generations, the door certainly showed a powerful stance against tarnishing bodies or belongings.

  This still didn’t stop Joe from thinking of this flower-covered, delightful abode for the deceased to hang out before their big shindig, where the food would flow and stories would bring with them laughter and tears and how well a place like this might do in Seattle. He had seen many funeral homes in his time over the years, and none seemed as approachable as this one.

  “What are you talking about? There is nothing there,” Victor responded softly, patting Joe on the back dramatically, showing a supportive partner as he smiled at the chief, who seemed to be giving them his attention at last.

  “Count to five.” With that, Joe straightened and sauntered to the water cooler, not taking his eyes from the building across the street. There she was. Stumbling out onto the sidewalk, she looked terrified and confused. Joe and Victor had no idea who she was, but they did know she wasn’t dead – she was very much alive.

  “Chief Budrow,” Joe called out, drawing a frown from the man who already seemed to have lost interest in the two Seattle big shots. “Isn’t that your dead girl?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Bolting from behind his desk, he froze at the sight of her, mouth open. “This is …what the hell? She was declared dead hours ago.”

  “Maybe she is just a deep sleeper.” Taking a sip of water from his paper cup, Joe had not altered his facial expression since declaring the girl now alive and kicking.

  “Don’t be a goddamn smart-ass!” Budrow barked, clearly not impressed by Joe’s sense of humor.

  “Ignore my partner, Chief,” Victor said with a smile, punching Joe in the shoulder. “He has no filter. Isn’t that right, Joe?”

  They followed Budrow as he ran across the street, stopping the one car he encountered, which seemed to arrive as if written into a script for extra effect. Screeching to a halt, the driver gawked wide-eyed at the stream of police uniforms exiting the building.

  If he hadn’t been so interested in the actual facts of what had happened to the girl, Victor would have stopped to take a mental photo of the scene unraveling before him, but he would find what he needed some other way. Right now, they had to leave and go talk to Molly.

  Victor’s mind was racing with questions: The girl was used, possessed, and discarded, but why? What does this mean for Molly? Why doesn’t Sekhet just use Molly for her doing? “Because she is playing a damn game, that’s why!” He spat, frown lines forming across his brow as his anger was growing. He couldn’t imagine what Joe was feeling.

  CHAPTER 14

  A Gift amongst Friends

  That night, Chief Jack Budrow fell into his bed following a long, staggering, rather astonishing day. After thirty years on the force, for the most part in Skagit County, where he had thought he had seen it all, his mind had been blown today. A dead girl meandering up the sidewalk, clearly distraught and crying for her parents, was definitely something he had never seen in Twisp before. Or anywhere.

  He had witnessed murders, he had been part of that area within the crime scene world, and while he had at one stage in his early youth ba
sked in the crazy, fast-paced world of death and criminality, there was a special, secret reason he had accepted the position of Police Chief of Twisp, although one too many persons knew it.

  Every morning, he would park the town cruiser, stroll into one of the coffee shops, and converse with the locals. The old-timers, who knew bits and pieces about everyone who strode past – the free-spirited individuals who lived as one with nature, the working class folks, and the high-class, who liked a certain coffee establishment. But although there was such a distinctive difference within the neighboring citizens, they all blended together wonderfully. That was something Chief Budrow at no time missed about Seattle, where people kept those they considered unusual at arm’s length and away from what is deemed normal living.

  Budrow liked for the small town community feeling of union with its inhabitants. Would he ever suggest it as the place to be to a young and up-and-coming officer who was out to get himself a name for himself? No, he wouldn’t, even though he believed with all that was in him that the quality of life was so much more important than the quantity that is gained over the years of kicking ass and taking names. Small town living was not for young newcomers.

  Today had been the wake-up call he hadn’t wanted. Budrow didn’t have the resources or manpower to deal with what he feared was going on in his town right now. While the normal tourist trade that came their way three months of the year, hunters seeking to fill their freezers, was usually met with a welcoming chat and information they may or may not find noteworthy, in this moment, Budrow couldn’t help but wish it would be over without exposing him.

  Following what could only be described as the nastiest forest fire of their generation, the hunters had dwindled, due to the lack of animals. The deer didn’t frolic in the fields this year, and as Budrow was overhearing many a man and a few women complain, it had turned into a sad state of affairs. Hunters leaving their own towns and homes to enjoy what Twisp and the surrounding areas had to bestow upon them was something the town had thrived on for years. It was, to some degree, what the locals had come to depend on, financially.

  A scandal like this, coming at the beginning of the summer, would mean there would not as many people tubing, kayaking, and canoeing down the river, enjoying the panoramic landscape as they went. Pearrygin Lake tourism would slow down significantly.

  That night, changing positions with the hopes of comfort, Budrow tossed and turned until he woke his wife, Jess, and their youngest child, who had climbed into bed with them. The little girl had taken over the whole center of the bed, from the midpoint out to where his wife lay, though how someone so small could take up so much space amazed him. After she patted him on the face gently, his little daughter fell into a soundless sleep.

  “This is useless.” Budrow rolled out of the warmth that had surrounded him. Making his way to the kitchen, he grabbed the folder he had left on the dresser. His oldest, Jason, a night owl, who had yet to decide what his future would hold, was already at the kitchen table. They had discussed him joining the force, which Budrow had to admit, he wasn’t so sure about.

  Budrow had seen so many things in his years on the job; when Jason was a child, there had been one night in particular, when his secret had almost gotten out, that could have destroyed him and his family, but he had managed to keep the lid on. It wasn’t something he wanted Jason to ever find out.

  That terrible long ago night, he had raced home, siren blaring, flashing lights blazing all the way, sprinted into the house, grabbed Jason and clutched the child to himself and held him for hours, not letting go. His own memories of that night were enough for him to contemplate begging his son to mull over a different career. He knew Jason would be one of the good ones, if that was the path he chose for himself. “Why are you still up?”

  “No reason, just felt like a late-night snack. You?” his son replied, stifling a yawn.

  “My bed’s been taken over.”

  “Lizzie? Well, she doesn’t still wet the bed,” Jason laughed.

  “That’s something, I guess.” As the coffee maker brewed its perfect cup of steaming forget-my-bad-day beverage, Jack looked at his son and couldn’t help but allow the flashbacks to break through his barrier.

  “What?” Jason asked, taking in his dad, opposite him.

  “Nothing!” Shaking his memories off, Budrow grabbed a cup of scalding coffee, took a swig, closed his eyes, and smiled. “Now that hit the spot.”

  “How can you drink coffee at three a.m.?” Shaking his head, Jason couldn’t help but wonder about his father’s cast-iron stomach.

  Budrow took another gulp.

  “What’s this?” Motioning to the folder his father had just put on the table, Jason waited.

  But the only response was his father’s murmured complaint under his breath as he rubbed his face tiredly. Ignoring Jason’s question about the folder, Budrow asked, “How’s Lisa?”

  “Melisa.” Jason said it with a wink.

  “That’s what I meant.”

  “Moved out, moved on.”

  “Ah, so that is the reason you’re home.” Stopping himself before he said something stupid, Budrow simply clapped his son on the shoulder and said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be, the sex was shit.”

  At this, Budrow laughed, spluttering coffee everywhere, leaving Jason to delight in the fact that he could still shock his father into a fit of coughing, which continued until he took a gulp of water.

  Jason let his focus land on the information hidden within the yellow folder. “I heard your dead girl is alive and kicking.”

  “How’d you hear that?”

  “Everybody in town is talking about it.”

  “Hmm.” Groaning, Budrow took another mouthful of his coffee.

  “Medical condition?” Jason asked.

  “Honestly, I have no idea what the hell is going on.” There was someone he could ask, but right now, he preferred to leave him out of this. “She was dead.”

  “That makes no sense. So this is everything you have on her?” Taking the folder, Jason waited for the don’t-open-that look from his father, but it never came.

  Opening the folder, he saw a photo of a young girl, relatively clean clothes, new sneakers, a bruise on her left cheek, but nothing else. The second photo showed her flat-backed on a slab, waiting to be placed in the freezer until her parents or guardians could be found. Obviously deceased, with the familiar toe tag.

  “Where did you find her?” asked Jason, still taking in the photos in the folder.

  “South Lincoln Street.”

  “That’s what the commotion was when I was passing yesterday?”

  “Yeah, I had to have all the way to Third Avenue cordoned off, then I had to call the Okanogan Sheriff’s Department and get their detective crew down here. That took a good hour or so, only when they did turn up, they wanted it cordoned off all the way to where South Glover

  Street connects with Lincoln. Not exactly a huge job, but…”

  “Time consuming.”

  “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, long story short, whoever she is, she’s not from around here. She was obviously brought here and dumped, so I called the State Patrol and filled them in on what we have.”

  “Well, that makes sense, considering they have the power to perform Total Station. A pain in the rear, when you think of it.”

  “What?” Budrow asked Jason. Their eyes met fleetingly as they exchanged the folder.

  “That the funds aren’t here to perform the task and get the job done faster, instead of all this waiting around.”

  “Maybe you should go into politics,” Budrow suggested with a shrug.

  “Pop! Stop!” Jason implored, as he had so many times before.

  “Okay, okay.”

  “So let me get this straight. You have a dead child, you have the Sheriff’s Department and State Patrol in your office, you’ve obviously done your paperwork, or started it anyway, from the looks of this, and it turns out
she wasn’t even dead?”

  “Dead as a doornail. Sealed, bagged, brought to the morgue, put in the vault, and left there. Next thing I know, I have these smart-ass guys from Seattle pointing her out, walking in the street.”

  “What smart-ass guys?”

  “Two homicide detectives from Seattle.”

  “Here? Why?” Jason asked his dad.

  “Following a lead. So they said. To be honest, son, I wasn’t really listening. But the smaller one has a big mouth; the other grew up here. Victor Wright.”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember him from middle school. Weird guy. So you think they’re here because of her? Your non-dead girl.”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t seem as anxious to get to her as I was. And they didn’t stay around when she was taken to the hospital for examination. At the end of the day, she isn’t dead, so now I have to look at it as a kidnapping. The child was brought here by someone, now I have to figure out who brought her here. Not to mention if she is in fact from out of state, I’m looking at Federal assistance.”

  “So where is she now?” prodded Jason, making use of the chance to gather information while his father was in a talking mood.

  “Mid Valley Hospital in Omak. Since yesterday noon.”

  “Does she remember anything?”

  “Nothing. The girl doesn’t even know who she is, Jason, let alone how she got here,” Budrow uttered darkly.

  “How are you doing?” Jason asked, giving his dad his full attention.

  “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  “I know how you are.”

  “I just can’t get my head around it. She was dead!” Budrow didn’t tell his son what he knew about that.

  “Kind of wishing you stuck with chemistry and biology now, huh?” Jason’s voice told of a son jesting with his father with the hope that he would finally admit that even though he had two degrees, the force still called his name and kept its hold on him, even now.

  “Right. I’m going to take my folder of delights with me and head to the station. There are a few things I want to check. Get some sleep. One more thing,” his father said as he stuck his head back in the kitchen door.