“Fine,” Paul snapped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his face still dark. His words said fine, his body language something quite different.
Will clapped him on the shoulder. He was smiling and confident, Paul’s clear irritation at his presence apparently of no great concern to him. “Come on, Paulie. You know you’ve missed me.”
“We don’t need a babysitter,” Paul said in a low voice.
Shaking his head, Will told him, “Not here for that, Paulie. I’m here as another set of eyes and I’m here for Joanna. That’s it. Don’t get your shorts in a twist over this.”
“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get this done.” He turned away and went to Lisa’s side.
Later, Circe intended to find out what this was all about. Judging by the exchange between Will and Paul, they had a history of the contentious kind. Bound to be interesting, given Paul’s emotional response. She didn’t know the man well, but she had the sense this wasn’t his typical mode of operation.
By the same token, whoever Joanna was, she’d left a lasting impression on not only Diana, but Paul and Will too. The three of them were quick to set aside obvious tensions in order to try to find the woman. She’d get the scoop on all those stories another time. Right now she just wanted to get started. The charge of energy flowing through her was growing stronger the longer they stood here. Diana was right about one thing. Something, or someone, was close by.
“Where do we start?” Circe said when no one took the lead.
Relief washed over Diana’s face. Circe got the impression she was grateful to be drawn away from the confab that had started the moment Paul got out of the car. “The strongest vibes I’ve gotten are to the northwest near the river.” She waved toward the steep slope to their right.
Circe took a hard look around. The circular parking area lay on a bluff. In this part of Riverside State Park, to the south, flat fields bordered a great distance of an asphalt path that wound for miles throughout the park. On the north side, the land sloped sharply toward the Spokane River below. Much of that area was wooded, though every so often fields of wild grass, spring golds, sagebrush buttercups, and camas dotted it. In the springtime it was a dichotomy of flowering beauty and allergy-inducing pollen. Didn’t matter to her though, because she loved it here.
Circe leaned down and pressed the button on Zelda’s collar to sync it with the GPS. Though they didn’t have a defined search area, she readied her GPS unit nonetheless. Once they started, she planned to have her track manager on. The tracking function would allow them to view a map of the area and know exactly what ground they covered. Nobody had to tell her it was compulsive behavior; it was simply her way.
She took the lead, and as they started down the steep slope in the direction of the river, everyone quieted. Zelda was on lead until they reached the flat ground below the bluff. Once there, Circe unclipped the lead from her collar and ran her hand over her silky head. “We’ll head north first,” she explained to the others. “And then we’ll grid east and west, as the wind is coming from the south. Working Zelda into the wind gives her the best chance of picking up a scent cone.”
After instructing her posse to stay behind both her and Zelda, Circe leaned close to Zelda and whispered in her ear.
One thing she’d learned about German shepherds: they like to work and at a clipped pace. The second she gave her the command, Zelda was off. Circe ran most days of the week to keep in shape and to gear up for long treks with Zelda. While she didn’t have to run to keep up with her, she wasn’t in for a leisurely walk either. If she didn’t work to stay in prime form, she’d drop behind Zelda in minutes.
With a wave of her arm, she directed Zelda toward the river, and once they reached the bank, she turned and began to walk west. Zelda, who always had one eye on Circe, saw the change in direction and changed her pattern as well. Along the riverbank, the trees were sparse and the view unobstructed. It seemed unlikely anyone would be able to conceal a crime here—too great a risk for exposure. In fact, as she looked, she realized from here she had a clear view across the river.
Still, to be thorough, she and Zelda covered the open area. After trekking about four hundred meters along the river, Circe turned south and walked another fifty meters, then turned east. From experience she found fifty-meter grids worked perfectly for her and Zelda. Despite roaming a good twenty-five to thirty meters away, Zelda saw the turn and made her own. Soon she was roaming ahead of Circe again, still intent.
If Diana and the rest of the crew were talking as they moved, she didn’t hear them. Like Zelda, once they began to work, she kept her eyes on Zelda and at the same time surveyed the surrounding area, looking for anything out of the ordinary, like the appearance of the dead. Everything else, like people talking, became a low murmur of background noise.
As they moved through each grid line, the trees became thicker, the view from the open fields and river banks more obscure. Sunlight punched through the trees, giving the ground a green-and-gold-dotted appearance. The air was clear and fresh. It was beautiful, yet suddenly tendrils of unease wrapped around her. Diana’s instinct about this place was right.
Zelda’s ears twitched and her body stiffened. She was on scent. Then, only moments after Zelda’s telltale signs of scent, she noticed the woman.
Sitting on the ground with her head down and her hands folded in her lap, she was far different from the women they’d found yesterday. Her clothing was expensive, and when her head came up, despite the blood on her neck, she was pretty. Briefly her eyes met Circe’s and then she was gone.
Circe’s heart ached and she was certain the woman she saw was Diana’s friend. All she had to do now was wait for Zelda to do her job. Zelda kept working as Circe’s pace slowed.
After circling a piece of ground three times, Zelda proceeded to alert. Well, that didn’t take long, not that she was surprised. It was only one of the reasons they made such a great team. Circe was always able see the dead just as Zelda was always able scent them. Circe stopped, pulled a flag from her pack, and put it in the ground next to where Zelda was holding her alert. Then she pulled the toy from the waist pack and rewarded her.
Turning to look behind her, Circe said to Diana, “Zelda says there are human remains here.”
Chapter Six
His day was going very well until the evening news came on. Then everything blew up and the rage that filled him was hard to contain. It was all over the news, the discovery of another body by a K9 team, this time in Riverside State Park near Seven Mile Road. He knew exactly how near to Seven Mile Road because he was the one who’d put her there. She was his first after he’d returned home and was special because of it. His welcome-home present to himself. She was the one who’d made him believe, because if he could make her disappear, then what he had to do was going to work out well.
What the hell had been going on the last few days? All things considered, what he was doing wasn’t wrong. It was necessary. It was also important and needed to continue. How his work was being uncovered baffled him. God knows he was incredibly careful. Okay, well maybe the three down near People’s Park were less careful and more fun, but overall he took great pains to keep everything tidy and well hidden. Now, interference by the cops could mess things up, and he couldn’t afford for that to happen. He was too close.
On the news clip tonight, he caught sight of two familiar faces, the same two detectives from yesterday. He didn’t recognize the woman, but he knew the guy, and it made him groan. What was his name? Paul something or other. He’d made his acquaintance and didn’t care for the guy.
This was so frustrating. If he didn’t talk to someone he was sure to go nuts. In a pinch he knew one person he could always talk to about anything. Eve. Of all of them, she was the steady one. Nothing ever seemed to rattle her, and she had a way of talking to him that ultimately gave him a sense of calmness. Typically, she was close by, which was another thing about her he found comforting.
She didn’t disapp
oint him today either. “Hey, handsome, what’s bothering you?”
What wasn’t bothering him at the moment? Distilling it down to its essence, he told her, “I’m worried they’re going to track the dead women back to me before I have a chance to finish things.”
“You’ve been careful, right?”
He nodded. “I’m careful. Extra careful. It’s not like I’m stupid.”
Her voice was soft and soothing. “You are definitely not stupid. This will all work out.”
“I want to believe it will.”
“It will. You have a support system that others would kill for, and you have the book. Nothing can derail what has to be done. Look at the rewards you’ve reaped so far.”
She was right. Since the book came into his hands and he began to follow its teachings, his life had changed dramatically. He had money, love, and respect. The final ritual and all he needed to make it happen were close. Afterward the power and vast wealth promised to him within the pages of the text would make everything that came before inconsequential. She was right; he had no reason to panic now. If he continued to follow the path, everything was bound to work out.
Besides, how in the world could they connect any of those bodies to him? Except perhaps the one found in Seven Mile. He didn’t want to admit to Eve why that one was different or why he had selected her when he had known of others more suitable. Really, if he thought about it, the risk was small that the investigators would link her back to him, so he didn’t see the need to tell Eve. No, he would keep that particular secret.
He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “You know, it will all come together. You’re right, Eve.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Yes, you are.”
*
It was dark by the time Diana found herself on Circe’s front porch once more. Earlier she’d promised Circe she would update her on the body that turned out to be exactly where she said it was. If she harbored any doubt about Zelda’s ability as a human-remains detection dog, her discovery this afternoon had put it firmly to rest.
To her it seemed a logical conclusion that this body was Joanna’s, unless some other missing person wore a small silver pentagram, that is. For her friend it wasn’t a satanic symbol but rather a testament to her belief in Wicca. The pentagram didn’t embody evil. No, its five points represented fire, water, air, earth, and spirit. Diana had never shared Joanna’s beliefs, but she respected her right to practice the faith of her choosing. More than anything, she hoped the spirit of that symbol had taken her to a place safe from harm. She really wanted to believe that because it hurt her soul to think of her out in the wilderness for all those months, cold and alone, and buried beneath the dark, rich earth.
She pushed the doorbell button. From deep inside she heard the echo of the bell, followed immediately by a barking dog. Zelda, of course. Despite the roar of the bark, Diana found it welcoming. She was beginning to really like that dog.
“Come in,” Circe said as she opened the door.
Diana didn’t need to have the invitation offered twice, and she stepped on in. The search for Joanna was all her idea, and finding her was a relief on many levels. Despite that, the reality of her death was depressing, and she had to acknowledge a small part of her really hoped she was wrong. The one bright spot in the day was the opportunity to spend time with Circe. From the moment they met yesterday, she’d felt drawn to her. Some people were like that. No rhyme or reason why, but they were special and the feeling of kinship was immediate. That’s the way it was for her with Circe. It was as if they’d known each other for years.
Now how Circe felt about her was a mystery. While she was friendly to Diana and amenable to doing her a favor today, Diana still didn’t have a clue if she felt that pull of friendship.
Or even, at the very least, the beginnings of friendship. Diana was all for becoming friends, and if it ended there, great. Who ever had enough friends? Except, truthfully, it was more for her. The tingle of interest went much deeper than making a new friend. She recognized the thrill of attraction, despite her less-than-active dating life these days, and hoped she wasn’t alone in the feeling. Today, in particular. Finding Joanna was a double-edged sword. She was grateful to be able to bring her home, though finally knowing that her dear friend had lost her life at the hands of another also broke her heart. She wanted, or perhaps needed, something to bring hope back into her heart.
In the living room, Circe motioned for her to sit on the sofa, and Diana sank to the cushions at one end. On a low table in front of the sofa she saw a ceramic teapot and one china teacup painted with delicate blue flowers.
“Do you drink tea?” Circe asked.
Diana started to shake her head, then stopped herself. Not usually especially this time of night. A beer, sure. A nice merlot, absolutely. Tea in a delicate bone-china teacup, never. “Tea would be nice.” Who the hell just said that?
“Give me a sec,” Circe said as she disappeared down the hall. A minute later she returned with another teacup and saucer. This teacup was covered with pale-yellow flowers.
As Circe poured tea into the cup, the rich scent of bergamot filled the air. Darned if it didn’t smell fantastic too. She might have to rethink that beer and wine. Could she possibly be evolving into a tea drinker? There were worse things.
It tasted as good as it smelled. She liked Earl Grey tea, but she’d never brewed a cup this good. Her style of nuking a mug of water and slapping in a tea bag that had been sitting in her cupboard for a couple of years obviously lacked a lot. Clearly she didn’t possess the touch and would have to find out what Circe’s secret was. She might drink the stuff more often if it always tasted like this.
When Circe sat down on the far end of the sofa, her legs tucked up beneath her and her teacup held between both hands, neither of them said a word for a few minutes. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence; in fact, just the opposite. Diana appreciated the easy companionship. The peaceful silence was nice and something she needed right now.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” Circe finally asked. “Your friend, I mean.”
Diana thought she had it under control. When they went out there today, she’d mentally prepared herself for the possibility of finding Joanna’s body and had managed to hold it together all day. Still, hearing the words out loud suddenly made tears prickle at the back of her eyes, and for a minute she was afraid she might lose it. Not something she wanted to do. She wasn’t the kind of woman who cried—at least not in front of other people. Then again, the way she was feeling, Circe wasn’t “other people,” and tough as she was, even she was entitled to moments of being human.
Taking in several slow, long breaths, she stared down at her tea without answering. When she felt a little more in control, she said, “It was her. God, yes, it was her.”
Circe slid closer and took her hand. “I’m so very sorry. Tell me about her.”
Talking about Joanna might be the thing to break her, and she wanted to keep it together. Or maybe she did need to share. What was the right thing to do? A knot sat in the pit of her stomach so heavy it hurt, and the feel of Circe’s hand in hers helped. “Joanna Decker was the first friend I made when we moved to Spokane. The Deckers lived across the street, and the day we moved in, she was in her yard. She walked over, said hi, and that was that. From the fourth grade on, we’ve been friends.”
“Then she went missing.”
How could she explain her pain at losing her friend encompassed more than the months of not knowing whether she was alive or dead, or the cruelty of today’s discovery? The roots of her despair had come far earlier when she realized Joanna had been going through something she didn’t want to share with Diana, or anyone else, that she could tell. From what she’d been able to piece together at the time, it seemed to have been a mid-life-crisis type of event, and Diana had tried to be there for her. But for whatever reason, Joanna wouldn’t talk to her. It was like they were strangers instead of the kind of friends who’d
shared all the important events in their lives. For a while, she kept tabs on Joanna and continued to try to convince her to confide. Whatever it was, Diana believed she could help. At the very least, she could be there as the friend she really was. Then life got in the way. Diana got busy on the job and didn’t check in for a good long while.
That was the part she regretted more than anything else. It had been so easy to let it go, to tell herself Joanna would get over it and be back to normal soon. She was busy, her career was taking off, and she pushed the needs of her friend to the back burner. Days went by. Then it was months. One day Joanna’s father called her, and only then did she get the full picture. Joanna was missing, and Diana, the one person who’d promised to always have her back, had let her down when it mattered the most.
Difficult as it was, she dredged up the words to explain all of this story to Circe. Being honest about what had happened was easier than she’d anticipated. Even to her own ears she came off as an uncaring bitch. When it counted she hadn’t come through as much of a friend.
She was afraid to look up, to see in Circe’s face what she felt in her heart. When she finally raised her gaze, surprise washed over her. Diana didn’t detect even a tiny trace of disapproval in Circe’s clear hazel eyes. What she saw instead was compassion and empathy, which made her like Circe even more.
*
Paul dropped into his favorite chair, an old recliner he’d bought for his very first apartment. Pretty much everything else from the early days of being a bona fide adult was long gone except the well-used chair. Back in the day it’d cost him more than he could afford, but he’d allowed himself this one luxury. These days it didn’t match any of the rest of the furnishings and contrasted with the contemporary furniture he’d put together for this house. It didn’t matter to him. This beat-up chair was his place of comfort, and for whatever reason he was always able to think better when he relaxed in it.
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