TWENTY-NINE
Before Skye had left the morgue, she’d spoken with Andy Rucker, the distraught husband of the dead Barbara Rucker.
According to Rucker, he and his wife had been happily married for twelve years. Barbara had always been insecure about her weight and upset that she hadn’t had a baby, which she desperately wanted. But Andy thought she’d been relatively happy until she turned forty and found out she couldn’t conceive.
Barbara had called him yesterday afternoon on his cell phone. He was in a meeting, let it go to voicemail, and when he called her back she was crying and wouldn’t tell him why. He almost went home but was delayed by an office emergency.
Just after five in the afternoon, Barbara showed up at Andy’s office in Santa Maria. She accused him of having an affair. When his colleague walked into the office without knocking, Barbara stared agog at the very pregnant office worker. Barbara then chased the woman out of the office and pushed her down the stairs.
“Barbara just … I don’t know, lost it. I thought it was because of the baby. Martha was seven months pregnant, and Barbara can’t have kids …”
After pushing Martha down the stairs, Barbara Rucker ran out of the building. Fifteen minutes later, her car crashed into a light pole traveling, according to the accident investigation, in excess of seventy-five miles an hour. There were no signs that she’d attempted to brake.
A second suicide by car in as many days? Both women who worked at the high school? It made no sense-unless Skye listened to Anthony. And even he didn’t know what was going on.
But Andy Rucker was 100 percent certain that his wife was home all night Tuesday-far away from the demon-ridden cliffs. Skye didn’t see why he would lie, and though she supposed the secretary could have slipped out of the house for a couple of hours and sneaked back in without her husband waking, that was doubtful.
When she arrived at Santa Louisa high school, the principal had confirmed to Skye everything Andy had told her: Barbara Rucker was sweet, a little insecure, very much in love with her husband, and yesterday she’d been unusually emotional.
After talking to the principal, Skye asked the receptionist to call Ari Blair into the office between periods, but not to alert her that the police wanted to speak with her.
“Ari is absent,” she said.
“Did her parents call in?”
“We have two hundred sixteen first-period absences,” the receptionist said. “I couldn’t tell you if they called yet; we’re still processing the attendance slips.”
“Is two hundred and sixteen absences unusual? It seems high.”
“Extremely unusual. We average thirty-two a day, sometimes double that in flu season. But over two hundred?” She shook her head. “Most of them are juniors and seniors.”
“Isn’t that strange?” Skye asked. “Is it a senior prank or something?” It was Friday. Maybe a group had driven south to Disneyland. She dismissed the thought as soon as she thought it. A dozen seniors, sure. But two hundred? Not likely.
Before the receptionist could comment, a student sitting against the wall said, “I saw Ari this morning in the parking lot.”
“What was she doing?” Skye asked the girl.
“Nothing. Just sitting in her car.”
Skye asked more questions about Ari during the break and learned from three students that Ari was seen sitting in her car in the parking lot until approximately 8:45 a.m., when she talked to Jared Santos and they left together. Skye also learned that Lily Ellis hadn’t shown up today, either.
She called Deputy Hank Santos. “Do you know where Jared is?”
“School. I dropped him off this morning.”
“He’s not here. Several students saw him drive away with another student.”
“Dammit! It’s that Ellis girl, isn’t it?”
“No, actually, it’s-” She stopped. “Lily Ellis isn’t at school, either.”
“I’ll be right there.” He hung up, and Skye swore under her breath. She didn’t need Hank getting up in arms about this, or digging deeper into what had happened at the cliffs. He was already on the cusp of whether he trusted her to be sheriff, and if she lost Hank’s support, several other deputies would follow.
While the receptionist pulled Ari Blair’s parent contact information, Skye took a call from Deputy Baca, who’d been interviewing Ned Nichols’s neighbors this morning.
“Give me the nuts and bolts,” she said.
“Nichols was the manager of the eighteen-unit apartment building. Clean but run-down. The crime scene investigators are still in his apartment, but there’s nothing obvious like pictures of his colleagues with targets drawn on them. We caught one tenant leaving for work; he didn’t care for Nichols, said he was a stickler for rules like no political signs, only one pet per apartment, things like that.”
Skye cut him off. She didn’t need to know all this right now, and nothing he said helped her figure out how he had a birthmark that matched those of two other dead people. “Anything else?”
“We’re going to track down the other residents. The gal next door works at the high school; since you’re there, I thought maybe you could talk to her.”
Skye stiffened. “His neighbor works at the high school?”
“Nicole Donovan. English teacher. New, moved to Santa Louisa over the summer.”
“I’ll talk to her. Thanks.”
She hung up, asked the receptionist what room Donovan had, and was informed that Donovan had a free third period starting in fifteen minutes.
Skye stepped out and decided to wait until class was over, make it casual. She had no reason to think that Nicole Donovan was involved in Abby’s death, but at the same time this was one of those strange coincidences that got her police instincts humming. Nicole Donovan, English teacher, was the only apparent connection to the high school that Ned Nichols had, other than the fact that he graduated from here nearly twenty years ago.
Donovan, Donovan … Skye pulled out her notepad. She had Abby’s schedule written down. First period:
English 4, N. Donovan, Rm 119
One more connection. She was heading to room 119 when her phone rang. It was Reverend Matthew Walker returning her call.
“Thank you for returning my call,” she said.
“I was surprised that the sheriff of Santa Louisa wanted to talk to me. I heard on the TV news what happened yesterday in Santa Louisa-the murders at Rittenhouse. I’m stunned. I know the Rittenhouse family well.”
“I’m calling about Pastor Garrett Pennington, your replacement at Good Shepherd.”
There was a brief silence. “Replacement? I didn’t know they’d found a replacement.”
“Who are ‘they’? Your employer?”
“Good Shepherd is affiliated with Lamb of God Ministries. My mother’s illness was sudden, and I couldn’t stay while they searched for a new pastor. I thought they’d have told me, but …” He let his voice trail off.
“Do you have contact information on your ministry? I need to verify some information. So you don’t know Garrett Pennington at all?”
“Never heard of him. But Lamb of God is small; they often recruit outside their ranks. Most of our churches have small congregations in rural communities.”
He gave her two phone numbers and an address in San Diego-for Vance and Trina Lamb-and assured Skye that “Lamb” was their true last name.
“When did you leave Santa Louisa?” she asked.
“The first week of August. My mother collapsed and was admitted to the hospital. I drove up, and after talking to the doctors learned she had a brain tumor. They said she could live for a week or possibly a month. It’s been seven months, praise the Lord, but she’s still not out of the woods.”
“You haven’t been back since?”
“I returned for a few days to pack up my things, gave my last sermon on August ninth, told the congregation what happened, and asked them to pray for my mother. I contacted Lamb of God and informed them of my leave of
absence, and they said they’d start searching for a replacement. Is this a new hire?”
“About five or six months ago, I believe. I don’t have those notes in front of me, but he was there at the end of the summer.”
“That’s odd. I spoke with Vance two weeks ago and he didn’t say anything to me.”
Odd indeed, Skye thought. She thanked the pastor and hung up, then called the number he’d given her.
A female voice answered.
“I’m Sheriff Skye McPherson in Santa Louisa, California. I’m calling to speak with Vance or Trina Lamb.”
“This is Trina Lamb. How may I help you?”
“I’m calling regarding Good Shepherd Church in Santa Louisa.”
“Yes?”
“I’m following up on your pastor, Garrett Pennington.”
“Good Shepherd has no pastor. Matthew Walker took a leave of absence, and we haven’t filled the position yet.”
“Mrs. Lamb, Garrett Pennington has been acting as the pastor of Good Shepherd since the end of August.”
“We don’t know any Garrett Pennington.”
“But Good Shepherd is your church?”
“In a manner of speaking. We don’t have the organization of the larger churches with mandates and funding. We supply material like prayer books and stock newsletters, and take care of organizational matters such as tax filings, in return for a percentage of the collection and fund-raising. Matthew really built the church up. When he took a leave of absence, he asked for us to find a replacement for him, but we’ve been unable to do so. We sent two candidates to the church council, and neither met with their approval.”
“Church council?”
“Yes, when Matthew left to care for his mother, three in his congregation volunteered to interview replacements. We sent up two, but they rejected them. They’ve been holding prayer services, but I fear unless Matthew returns they’ll wander away.”
“Who is on the council?”
“I don’t know all the members, but my contact is Elizabeth Ellis. Do you know her?”
Lily’s mother, who Anthony called a witch. “I know of her.”
Lamb’s voice became indignant. “I’m disturbed that someone would be pretending to be a man of the Lord.”
Skye sighed wearily. You don’t know the half of it.
Moira was relieved that Anthony hadn’t asked her why she was going to Santa Louisa High. She’d have to lie to him, and she didn’t like lying to him. He couldn’t read minds, but he was sharp, and even though she was a terrific liar-thanks to years of having to lie to her mother in order to save her own life-she wasn’t sure she could come up with a plausible excuse.
She left a voicemail for Jared; she assumed he was in class when he didn’t answer. She walked around the silent halls, hoping no one questioned her. The nice thing about Santa Louisa was that it was a smallish town with small-town mentalities. No metal detectors at the doors, no campus cops, no one particularly concerned about someone walking the halls between classes.
But the downside of a small town was that everyone knew everyone, and Moira was a stranger. Worse, she didn’t know how far the tentacles of Fiona’s coven extended, and people she didn’t know might know her. She was always wary of Fiona’s human spies.
She walked around the halls looking for any sign of witchcraft, or the lingering stench of sulphur that demons left in their wake. Slowly by the lockers, breathing deeply at each narrow vent, seeking the subtle aromas of herbs and plants that might tell her someone was practicing witchcraft-or was hexed. Moira didn’t know if they would be the next victims of the demon or if they were protected from what they’d brought forth. But each person was a possible lead for her to find Fiona.
She’d passed by several lockers that were suspect, but one stood out as if it glowed with a big neon sign: witch.
She glanced around. Heart racing, she took out her pick and popped the lock in less than three seconds, though it felt like three minutes.
It was myrrh that she smelled, fresh and potent. On the inside of the locker was a symbol Moira knew well from her youth-it went with a spell for popularity. As if to reiterate the fact, she found a turquoise charm hanging in the back.
She quickly went through the books. The locker belonged to Ari Blair, student body president. In notebooks were doodles of witchcraft tables, and another notebook was the beginning of her own grimoire.
And there was an address book.
The bell rang; Moira pocketed the address book and shut the locker, walking away with purpose, as if she belonged.
No one stopped her, no one commented. She walked right out of the school, toward where she’d parked Jared’s truck.
Shit!
A sheriff’s car was parked in front of his truck and Hank Santos, Jared’s father, was looking in the windows. Moira turned and walked in the opposite direction. She didn’t know what was going on, but she wasn’t going to waste time finding out-or risk going to prison.
But dammit, she needed a car! Maybe she could just wait a few minutes and he’d be gone.
She found a place on the far side of the main school building where she could stand among the trees and still see Jared’s truck without being exposed. She went through Ari’s address book, hoping there was information she could use to find Fiona or Garret Pennington.
THIRTY
Serena was taking a huge risk showing up at Santa Louisa high school, but Nicole Donovan was hysterical and hysterical witches did stupid things. Like Elizabeth Ellis’s rant this morning to Fiona. Elizabeth was lucky to be alive and breathing. Nicole would be lucky to be alive by the end of the night.
Nicole had third period free, so Serena waited until her students left the classroom before slipping in and locking the door behind her. She’d seen a police car out front. Probably not the sheriff, but Serena didn’t want to take too many chances. Skye McPherson was one of the few people who might be able to identify her-if she looked close enough.
“Ari drove off with Jared Santos!” Nicole exclaimed in a loud whisper. “That can’t be good. We have to find her.”
“That’s why you called and demanded that I come here?”
“Yesterday Ari was on edge, and did you hear that her boyfriend died?”
Serena hadn’t heard, but she acted nonchalant. In truth, she was concerned because the death was unusual. She hadn’t been able to decipher the entire Conoscenza but she knew the Seven behaved differently. Their coven was protected, but what about those they associated with?
Instead, she told Nicole, “That doesn’t concern us.”
“Yes it does! I heard that the sheriff brought Anthony Zaccardi to the morgue with her. Everyone is talking about Chris Kidd’s death. He collapsed, bleeding from both ears. The secretary died in a car crash going seventy miles an hour. The librarian committed suicide! No one knows what is happening, but now people are talking about the cliffs, about Abby, about strange things they’ve seen. We can’t keep this a secret! Someone’s going to find out and-”
Serena laughed. “You think that the average person in Santa Louisa is going to believe that demons are on the loose? And why do you think they had anything to do with those deaths?”
“They had to.”
Serena wasn’t going to fuel Nicole’s panic, though she agreed. No one had successfully brought forth all seven of the Seven Deadly Sins at one time, and when a coven had summoned one of them, it was under tight control, and returned as soon as they completed the ritual. What Fiona had planned was far grander in scale, to not only summon the Seven, but to keep them trapped in the arca instead of sending them back to Hell. The possibilities were endless.
“We have a plan, and we will succeed,” Serena said. “Tonight. Either you’re with us one hundred percent, without hesitation, without doubt, or you’re out.”
And Nicole knew damn well what being out meant.
“It’s on tonight? Where?”
“You’ll know in time. But until then-keep your mo
uth shut.”
“What if Cooper shows up again?”
“He’ll be there.” Serena smiled. “He’s no longer a threat.”
A knock on the door surprised both of them. “I have to get that,” Nicole said. “It’s open period, and I don’t want any rumors going around. There’re too many as it is.” Nicole walked to the door and unlocked it.
Sheriff Skye McPherson stood there. “Ms. Donovan? Do you have a minute?”
“Is this about Abby? Poor girl.”
“No, it’s about your neighbor, Ned Nichols, if you have a minute.” Skye glanced at Serena and gave a slight, inquisitive nod. Serena responded in kind. She wasn’t going to speak. Some people remembered faces easier, some people remembered voices. And while Serena had changed her appearance back to her usual self, she couldn’t change her voice. Even though it had been more than two months, Serena wasn’t taking any chances.
Nicole shook her head. “I heard about it on the news. It’s so hard to believe that he could do something like that.”
Serena didn’t need to listen to this, nor did she want Skye McPherson to spend too much time studying her. She waved good-bye to Nicole, nodded to the sheriff, and walked out of the classroom as Skye asked Nicole when she’d last seen her neighbor.
The halls were deserted. Serena was thankful she’d never had to suffer through school.
She left the building by the side door, then started down the path to the sidewalk and toward her car.
The crystal in her pocket vibrated and burned so hot she yelped out loud, stunned. She’d almost forgotten she’d brought the blood demon with her.
Something was not right.
Serena slowed her stride, moved off the sidewalk and into the trees that lined the road. She willed herself to be camouflaged, murmuring a concealment spell to surround her. The fog had lifted, but the gray sky cast odd light and dark shadows around her, as if the world were black-and-white.
She pulled out the crystal, holding it carefully between her thumb and forefinger. It was glowing, pulsating. She’d never seen this happen before, and for a brief moment she thought that the demon was about to escape. That wouldn’t be good; he’d be one pissed-off demon. She needed to send him back before that happened. She could do it alone, and was about to begin the incantation when she saw movement from the corner of her eye.
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