“He said there was a newspaper article. Will you go find me a copy?”
I didn't have the heart to look up the coverage online. Any death connected to a celebrity was blown completely out of proportion by the media websites. I didn't think I could handle to read about their last moments as described by TMZ.
Cyrus squeezed my hand and disappeared faster than I’d ever seen him. I looked out over the calm water. I counted every sailboat I could see before my beloved returned. He looked grim but he didn’t protest when I reached for the newspaper. I put it in my lap to run my hands over the thick black letters that announced my tragedy to the world.
THE MCRAYNE MURDERS: SLAUGHTER ON SULLIVAN’S ISLAND
The editors had put a picture of me that had been taken at some premiere in the very center of the page. I was smiling and waving to the crowds. On each side, images of my parents balanced out the lineup before the article started. I wiped angry tears away from the corners of my eyes as I read words more focused on my career than the people it was supposed to be about. There were small biographies mixed in, so I skipped ahead to read those.
“They forgot to mention my mom’s love of all things Southern.” I muttered. “And Daddy’s plans to close the store as soon as he finished building his sailboat.”
“I’m sorry?” Cyrus tucked his hands into his pockets. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“Nothing.” I sat the newspaper down on the table next to me. “Cyrus, what am I going to do?”
“What do you mean?” My beloved keeper brushed the hair back from my cheek. “About Lancaster?”
“Yes. And….this.” I gestured to the newspaper. “I haven’t been online today, but I’m sure it’s all over the place.”
“You will do as you have always done, Little One. Take things as they come.” Cyrus tilted my chin up to kiss me on the forehead. “But you are not alone. You will never be alone in the trials you are facing.”
I started to tell Cyrus how much I loved him. How I was sure I would have collapsed the moment I saw my mom in the mirror if it hadn’t been for the strength he gave me. But I never got the chance. A knock on the door interrupted our sweet moment.
“Joey?” I let my keeper take my hand to help me stand up. “Or the detective?”
I smoothed out the wrinkles in my pants when Cyrus opened the door. I got my answer soon enough. Joey led a man inside my hotel room. He crossed the large suite in no less than three steps and enveloped my pale hand into his dark one.
“Miss McRayne. Detective Andrew Holston with the Charleston County Sheriff’s Office. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.” I gestured to the seat across from mine. “Have a seat, sir. I’m sure you have much to discuss with me.”
“I do have several questions.” The detective admitted. He placed a hand on his tie as he sat down. “Ms. McRayne, forgive me if I do not go into details over their deaths.”
“Their throats were cut. I know that much.” I lifted my chin in defiance of his tone. “I saw them last night.”
“Pardon?” The man leaned forward. “How could you have seen them? Ms. McRayne, if you are suggesting…”
“I’m not suggesting. I’m telling.” I met his hard stare with one of my own. “I saw them in my mirror last night. My mother asked me to help her.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No. It’s all part of what I am.” I sat down and folded my hands in my lap. “But never mind that. When I met with the LAPD officer last night, he suggested that there were similarities between what happened to my parents and the serial killer in California.”
“I am hesitant to speak with you about what we know.” The detective appeared to be choosing his words carefully. “I will say we believe your parents knew their killer.”
Of course they did. They met Elliot through me when he would accompany me home during our summer vacations. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.
I wanted to take down Elliot myself. I didn’t want to see him in handcuffs. Or paraded around on a televised trial where he could buy himself out of prison. I wanted to feel his blood run between my fingers. I wanted to rip his damn heart out as he had done to so many others.
"They let him in, didn't they?" I gripped at my pants leg so tight, I almost ripped them. "Isn't that what always happens on the cop shows? The victims let the killer in only if they know them."
"We did not find any evidence of forced entry if that is what you mean." The man studied me for a moment. "You said 'he'."
"My dad wasn't a little man, Detective Holston. No woman could have been strong enough to slit his throat."
Martin McRayne's angry eyes swam before my vision. The hatred that twisted his features engulfed my thoughts. I started gasping for breath as I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to chase the image away. I couldn't stand it.
“Eva?” The detective had taken out a notepad at some point. “Did you hear my question?”
“No.” I pressed my fingers against my closed eyelids. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you could give us any insight on who may have done this.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” I shuddered. “My parents didn’t have any enemies. They had no bad business deals. No jilted lovers. They were painfully normal.”
“Except that their daughter became a celebrity overnight.” Detective Holston wrote something on his pad. “Do you have any enemies, Ms. McRayne?”
“Do you watch Grave Messages?” I released a short, harsh laugh. “Because if you do, then you’d already know the answer to that question.”
“Is that a yes?”
I nodded. “I’m not shy, Detective Holston. And I don’t hold back when I need to tell someone the truth. I found that makes for more enemies than friends.”
“What can you tell me about their lives? Drug use, financial dealings…things of that nature.”
“Not a damn thing.” I snapped. “Look, I wasn’t kidding when I said they were model citizens. My folks met at the University of Georgia, dated, got married after graduation. They moved to Charleston because my grandmother let them move in with her, had me, and led utterly dull lives. No drugs. No money problems. There was no conflict whatsoever between us until I moved out to Los Angeles.”
“What happened then?” The detective was writing as fast as he could. “Your parents – they disapproved of your decision?”
“Daddy did. He hated Elliot.”
"Who is Elliot? What connection did he have to your father?"
I closed my eyes when my father’s last words to me resurfaced from my memories. “Elliot Lancaster. I met him at UGA and took him up on the offer to be the co-host of Grave Messages.”
“And Elliot? How did he feel about your father?”
“Hell if I know.” I rubbed my fingertips over my temples. “Look, Elliot is in California right now. He hasn’t been to Charleston in years.”
The detective nodded and closed his notebook. “I won’t keep you during this tragic time. Feel free to call me at any time. I can’t promise resolution to this case, but we will do what we can.”
"When can I see them?" I interrupted his attempt to close our conversation. "Steven Percy told me that they wished to be taken to the Thomas Brockman Mortuary. Is that where I can view them?"
"Yes. I suppose so. That decision will be left up to the funeral director though." The detective gave me a hard look. "I must advise against this, Ms. McRayne. You do not know what you are asking of us."
"I know exactly what I am asking." I sighed. "You must understand what I am going through. Surely I am not the first person you have talked to about this sort of thing. And I won't be the last."
"No. I can't say that you are. And you certainly won't be the last."
“I am meeting with their lawyer tomorrow morning to go over to their property.” I stood and changed the subject. “Am I allowed to go to their house?”
“Yes.” The detective nodd
ed. “Our work on the crime scene is done.”
Crime scene. Really? Did he have to say it like that?
He shook hands with Cyrus and Joey, but before he reached the door, the man turned to look at me one last time. “There is one final topic I needed to discuss with you.”
“What?” I had folded myself back into the chair. “What can I do for you, Detective Holston?”
“The media has picked up on this event given the nature of the murders and your celebrity status. Sheriff Solomon is going to hold a press conference tomorrow at the courthouse if you wish to attend. It is scheduled for two o'clock.”
“No.” I glared at him. “Tell the sheriff he can do just fine on his own.”
Cyrus closed the door behind the investigator when he finally crossed the threshold. I kicked off my shoes and stared at the newspaper still folded up on the side table. I would do what was expected of me to honor my parents. Then I would go after Elliot with every weapon I could get my hands on.
Nothing else mattered. Not the show. Not Joey. Not even Cyrus. I would finish this fight. I would cause Elliot more pain than he had ever caused me.
One way or the other.
Chapter Eight
I am convinced that no other society on earth celebrates death like Southerners do. Word that I had returned to Charleston spread like wildfire. Casseroles and gifts with sympathy notes began to appear in my room at The Carriage House the night of my arrival. And the flowers, by god, the flowers. I received so many vases that I made arrangements with the hotel staff to have them re-routed to Potters Field outside of town.
Along with the gifts and plants came the inevitable crowds of fans and paparazzi. I stood by the window for over an hour the night before, watching as they set up a mini-memorial for my parents while holding signs up declaring their love for me. At some point in the night, they began to sing songs. Then shouted their support so that I could hear them. Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but I wanted to be left alone. I didn't need a memorial. I needed my parents back where they belonged.
When I left to go to Steven Percy’s office the next morning, Cyrus had to throw his jacket over my head to keep the vultures from snapping photographs of me. I kept his coat held up to my face even after he pulled away from the hotel. Not because it created a damned good shroud, but because it smelled like my beloved. I know. It was stupid. But that single piece of clothing calmed me more than anything.
It smelled like strength. Resilience. Home.
Just as before, I directed Cyrus through the old streets until we reached a brick building in the center of town. Black shudders contrasted against the red exterior. The black and gold sign screamed distinction. I waited until Cyrus stopped the car before I turned to him.
“Meet me inside. I want to get out of the street before the press hounds catch up.”
My keeper nodded as me and Joey got out. I ran up the steps to get inside to announce my arrival before the screaming fans did. The heavy door closed behind me and I wrapped Cyrus’ jacket around my shoulders as I approached the desk. The receptionist who greeted me looked like the perfect image of a Charleston professional. Expensive clothes, not a hair out of place – she even had a tiny Gamecock pin on her lapel.
“Ms. McRayne, can I call you Eva?” Her blue eyes were filled with a sympathy I was becoming all too familiar with. “I’m Vanessa, Mr. Percy’s assistant. Please have a seat.”
She went through the ritual of offering us coffee which I gratefully accepted. I took the cup from her before I stood by the large windows overlooking the street. I was watching for Cyrus. I was watching for the fans. The press. But what I saw instead made me stand stock still.
A woman stood on the sidewalk across from me. Her dark hair was streaked with a mixture of green and blue. Despite the drenching heat, she wore an overcoat. I leaned forward to get a better look at her. The woman must have seen me because she smiled and beckoned me outside.
“Joey, tell Valerie…or whatever her name is that I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?” He glanced up from his magazine. “They could call you any minute now.”
“They can wait. I'm sure this won't take long.”
I turned on my heel and opened the door before Joey could argue. The woman on the street watched me until I was standing in front of her. She grinned and this time, I could see the sharp points of her teeth. They matched the massive dragon tattoo that wrapped around her throat to perfection.
“Sibyl.” She hissed. “I had to come see for myself if it was true.”
“If what is true?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “What’s the deal, lady? What do you want?”
“To see that you had been destroyed. Hera declared the winner of the bounty last night. Yet, here you stand.”
“Yeah. Look at me. Destroyed. Totally devastated.” I spoke in a flat tone. “I'm completely broken.”
The woman sneered at me. “Hera was right to inform us of your arrogance. I will go to her right away…”
I can’t explain what happened next. Maybe it was what I had been through. Maybe I’d finally reached a breaking point. But I acted without thinking. I threw the steaming coffee in her face before I swung the mug across her cheek. The woman screamed as she fell to her knees. I threw the remaining pieces of porcelain onto the sidewalk before I planted my high heel in the center of her hand.
“Go to Hera. Tell her that she has done her worst, but I am still standing. Then do yourself a favor and disappear because the next time I see you? It will be the last thing you ever know.”
The woman disappeared in a haze of black smoke. I stared at the shattered pieces of the coffee mug until I heard Cyrus running up behind me.
“Eva?” My keeper looked down at the mess before turning me towards him. “Are you alright? Why are you not inside?”
“Yes.” I refused to look at him, so I focused on the building behind him. Joey was staring at me out the window. “Joey is waiting on us.”
Cyrus released me with a strange expression, but he remained silent as he took my arm. I took a deep breath before I spoke again.
“Hera has called off the bounty. She spread the word that I had been destroyed.”
“And you just had to prove her wrong, didn't you?” My beloved held the door open for me. “I saw what happened with Kampe, Little One.”
“With who? Look, it doesn't matter.” I took his hand. “I won’t let Hera destroy me, Cyrus. I can’t.”
“No,” Cyrus tightened his grip on my hand. “I don’t believe anyone can destroy you, Eva. Not even the gods.”
***
The next three hours was pure hell for me. Steven Percy flittered over me like a nervous bird. He offered me more coffee. Brushed aside my offer to pay for the mug I’d broken. Then he pulled out the wills and started going over them line by line.
Everything had been left to me. The house. The store. Everything. I said nothing as he read the last wishes of my parents. The only thing I focused on was that they had wished to be cremated. When he finally finished, I sat up in my chair.
"When can I see them?"
"Pardon?" The lawyer examined me over his reading glasses. "What do you mean, see them?"
"I want to see their bodies." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why is that so damn shocking? Don't people do visitations before funerals anymore?"
"Eva, what you are asking is impossible."
"Why? Are they still at MUSC?" I dug my nails into my purse. "I thought I made it quite clear yesterday..."
"They have already been cremated." He interrupted me. "This morning. The funeral director made the decision himself after I faxed over a copy of the will."
So this was it. I wouldn't be able to prove they were really gone. Not to my own satisfaction at least. I would have to depend on what strangers told me. What the damn mirror had shown me. I bowed my head and counted to five. Then again until Cyrus put his hand on my shoulder to remind me there were other pressing matters I had to add
ress with the man across from me.
“Mr. Percy, can you do something for me?” I lifted my head and bit my lip then continued. “Can you make the funeral arrangements? I’ll cover the costs. I just…I want this thing to be done tomorrow. No wake. No family get-togethers. No press conference afterwards. I want it to be over with.”
“Eva, of course.” He nodded again. “I will take care of everything. Is there anyone you wish to notify?”
“Thanks to the press, all notifications have already been made. The whole world has become very familiar with the fate of my parents.” I sat back and closed my eyes as I stated the rest of my business here. "I want you to sell the house and the store as well."
“Are you certain?” The lawyer looked at me with surprise. “Surely you wish to keep something as a memento.”
“I have my memories. That is enough.” I slipped my arm through my purse strap to get ready to go. “I plan on going to the house this afternoon. If there is anything I wish to take, I will get it at that time. Whatever I leave behind, you can sell.”
“And the profits from the sale?”
“Take out your fee. Donate the rest of it to a victim’s advocacy group here in South Carolina.”
“Eva, do you realize how much that house is worth?” Percy raised his eyebrows at me. “We’re talking millions of dollars in the current real estate market.”
“I couldn't care less, Mr. Percy. Donate every penny so that some good can come out of this somehow. Now, I want a contract detailing my wishes drawn up today and faxed to my lawyers in Los Angeles. If you change even the smallest detail then I will take my business elsewhere.”
“There is no need for that.” Percy clasped his hands together. “I only want to make sure I understand you correctly.”
“You do.” I glanced at a young man sitting off to the side taking notes. “Did you catch everything?”
Percy’s paralegal nodded while he continued to write. I waited until he finished before I stood. My companions stood with me.
The Oracle Series: Vols. 4, 5, & Grave Endowments Page 7