Defender (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 11)

by Christine Pope

  “So you heard these things, but you didn’t have any actual dealings with him.”

  “No.”

  But again came that sideways look. Liar. Good thing Harkins had never decided to try the professional poker circuit. He would have been doomed to failure before he even got started. “So what made you start reading material that your girlfriend” — Jack glanced down at the file before him — “referred to as ‘devil books’?”

  Sweat was actually beading on Harkins’ forehead, even though, like most public buildings in Arizona, the temperature in the room was set to something just slightly above “meat locker.” “Can’t a guy even choose what he wants to read?”

  “Of course he can, Mr. Harkins,” Jack responded, his tone smoothly casual. “I just find it interesting that you were reading ‘devil books,’ to use your ex-girlfriend’s phrase, while by your own admission you knew that Matías Escobar was guilty of a crime that involved satanic rituals. Escobar can be a very persuasive guy. Maybe he was looking to have someone on the outside to do his dirty work, since he knew he himself wasn’t getting out for a very long time, while you were up for early release on a minor conviction.”

  “No — no, it’s not like that,” Harkins stammered. He reached up to pass a hand over his damp brow before continuing, “He just said I might want to read some of this stuff, that it might open my mind. That’s all.”

  “Ah.” Jack leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a very small smile. “So you do admit to speaking with Matías Escobar.”

  “No, I — ” The other man stopped dead right there, as if he’d just realized that Jack had neatly maneuvered him into a trap. “That’s not what I said.”

  “But it is what you said. You’ve admitted to at least a social relationship with a convicted murderer. And two nights ago, a murder was committed here in Scottsdale, one that had all the earmarks of an occult ritual killing. Do you recognize any of these symbols?” From underneath the file folder, Jack drew out one of the photos of the blood-smeared walls of Jeff Nichols’ apartment and laid it flat on the table in front of Bret Harkins.

  The ex-con went pale under his weather-beaten tan. “Is that…?”

  “Blood? Yes. A lot of it, in fact. Satanic symbols. You’ve just admitted that you were reading this sort of material after fraternizing with Matías Escobar while behind bars. So unless you want to be booked on suspicion of first-degree murder with special circumstances, you’d better start talking.”

  “I — I didn’t do that. I was home, I swear!” Harkins’ agitation was so extreme that he started to launch himself up out of his chair. Immediately, the deputy who’d been keeping watch in the corner the whole time began to move toward the man. Jack shook his head almost imperceptibly, and the deputy backed away. “I was. I had nothing to do with it. But….”

  “But what?”

  “But the last time I saw Escobar, he said he needed foot soldiers on the outside, that something big was coming, and anyone who was loyal would get their reward. He wouldn’t give me any details, though, said I’d know when the time came.”

  Most people would have dismissed that confession as the babbling of someone who was just telling his interrogator what he wanted to hear, but Jack knew better. Something in his gut told him that Bret Harkins wasn’t just talking out of his ass. Who exactly had been talking to the felon, Jack didn’t know yet, but the murder of Jeff Nichols and the tampering with Kate McAllister’s car couldn’t be dismissed that easily.

  Something big was coming. Cold inched its way down Jack Sandoval’s spine.

  “You have any contact with Matías Escobar after you were released? I don’t have to remind you that any such contact is a violation of your parole.”

  “No, I haven’t talked to him,” Harkins replied, naked fear on his sharp features. “I know better than that.”

  “But you’re doing your assigned reading. Getting prepared.”

  “I guess.”

  “Prepared for what?”

  “I said I don’t know. Escobar wouldn’t tell me any more than that.”

  Which Jack did believe. Say what you wanted about the rogue warlock, but Matías Escobar was not stupid. He wouldn’t have given any details to the stooge who sat in the interrogation room now. All he’d done was puff him up, give him a reason to think that he might have a chance to become someone other than the nobody he was now. Asking any further questions would be a waste of time. Even so, he’d still request a warrant to check Harkins’ computer, just to make sure, even if he didn’t for a minute believe that the petty criminal was capable of the sort of brutality he’d witnessed in Jeff Nichols’ apartment.

  “All right, Mr. Harkins, you’re free to go,” Jack said, ignoring the visible relief on the other man’s face. “We will want to take a look at your computer, just to confirm your story.”

  “Sure, absolutely.” He didn’t look dismayed at all by Jack’s comment, which meant there was probably nothing to be found. Still, it didn’t hurt to be thorough.

  Jack nodded at the deputy, who stepped forward so he could escort Harkins from the interrogation room. Once he was alone, Jack stared down at the file in front of him, at the crime scene photo from Nichols’ apartment.

  Foot soldiers. Something big coming.

  What the hell was going on?

  10

  The three of them all looked at one another rather awkwardly, and Kate fought back a grimace. Yes, getting coffee had taken up some time, but right then, seven o’clock and Jack’s return felt eons away.

  “So….” Kate said at last. “Do you get a lot of jobs babysitting civilians?”

  “Not really,” Caitlin replied. She smiled somewhat lopsidedly. “Most of the time we probably seem like normal people. Our neighbors have no idea.”

  “Thank God,” Alex said. “Sometimes I think it would be easier up in Jerome, with witches on every side.”

  “Are there?” Kate asked, somewhat confused. “My brother made it sound as if only about half the people in Jerome are actually McAllisters.”

  “Your brother’s right,” Caitlin said, giving her husband a mock-severe look. “But all the civilians who live there know who we are, so it’s a lot more relaxed than living down in Tucson or here in the Phoenix area, where we have to pretend every second of the day that we’re something we’re not.”

  “Not every second,” Alex protested. “Once we’re home, it’s a different story.”

  “As long as we’re not having a barbecue with the neighbors or something.”

  “Well, true.”

  Kate sipped her coffee, weighing their words. That all sounded very normal and suburban, and a far cry from how Colin had described day-to-day life in Jerome.

  “It’s not so bad,” Caitlin said. “I just had a little adjustment period. Luckily, though, my talent isn’t the sort of thing that’s flashy, you know? It’s not like Jenny’s dad, who can throw fireballs.”

  “He can?” Kate asked, impressed. She knew that Jenny’s father was a warlock while her mother was a civilian, but Colin hadn’t gone into any details about his father-in-law’s talents.

  “Yes. It’s a fun trick, but not something you really want to mess around with during fire season.”

  “I guess not.”

  Another silence as they all drank some coffee. Alex didn’t let it last very long, though, because he said, “Has Jack told you much about what he thinks is going on?”

  Damn it — for a few seconds there, Kate realized she’d almost forgotten the reason why Caitlin and Alex were here. “Demons,” she replied, and the witch’s eyes widened.

  “‘Demons’?” she repeated, managing to sound frightened and disbelieving at the same time.

  “Well, I don’t know if that was who — what — was responsible for Jeff’s murder,” Kate said. “Jack thinks it was a warlock who summoned the demons to do his bidding. Problem is, we’re not really sure what that bidding was. Jack has a theory that it might be an oblique way of getting
back at the McAllisters, that striking at civilians connected to the family was this warlock’s way of getting revenge.”

  “‘Revenge’?” Alex echoed. “The only people I can think of who’d want revenge are Matías Escobar and his two cousins, and since all three of them had their powers taken away, I don’t think they’re much of a threat.”

  “That’s what Jack said. But maybe they have family members who aren’t happy with the current situation?”

  Caitlin and Alex exchanged a glance. Kate didn’t know them very well, but it was easy enough to tell that her question troubled them.

  “Maybe,” Caitlin allowed. “Although Matías himself was kind of adopted into the Santiago clan and didn’t seem to have any immediate family other than his sister, who’s a nunca — ”

  “What’s a nunca?” The word meant “never,” if Kate remembered her three years of high school and college Spanish correctly, but it didn’t seem to make much sense when applied to a person.

  “It means someone who was born of a witch clan but never developed any real powers,” Alex explained. “So Matías’ sister Olivia definitely wouldn’t have anything to do with it, and from what I was able to gather, his mother is dead, so that doesn’t leave many other possibilities.”

  “What about his father?”

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. He must be still in El Salvador, if he’s even still alive. Matías’ mother came to California when her two children were little, from what we’ve been able to gather, but we don’t really know anything more about their history besides that.”

  “I could ask Lucinda,” Caitlin offered.

  “Lucinda?” Kate asked, somewhat bewildered. Yes, she’d had a lot of de la Paz and McAllister names thrown at her over the past couple of days, but she didn’t recognize that one.

  “Simón Santiago’s daughter,” Alex said. “Old Santiago doesn’t want to have anything to do with us, but luckily, he’s also not the most technologically savvy guy in the world. Caitlin and Lucinda keep in touch by private messaging on Facebook — it’s something her father wouldn’t even think to check. He does watch her emails, though.”

  “Does he really keep that close an eye on her?” Kate asked, reflecting that she had it easier than she’d thought back when she was in high school. “How old is she?”

  “Late twenties,” Caitlin replied. “But Simón doesn’t care about that. She disgraced him, and so he’s going to keep her locked up in their house like Rapunzel in the tower or something until he drops dead.”

  As she spoke, Caitlin’s blue eyes flashed angry fire, and her pretty features hardened. Obviously, the man running the Santiago clan was not a favorite with her. Since her previous response had only prompted more questions, Kate asked, “What did Lucinda do to disgrace her father?”

  “Slept with Matías Escobar,” Alex said, adding quickly, “Not her fault — Matías’ talent was to make everyone around him do whatever he wanted. Or at least, he could get most people to do what he wanted. There were a few exceptions, like my cousin Jack. But Simón Santiago was one of the few people Matías couldn’t wrap around his little finger, and so when he found out that Matías had despoiled his only daughter, Simón banished Matías from Santiago territory.”

  “Which was why we ended up with him here in Arizona,” Caitlin put in. “Just our luck. Anyway, I’ve kept in touch with Lucinda. She’s really lonely, since none of the other Santiagos want to have much to do with her. I keep having fantasies of going to California and busting her out of there, hooking her up with a nice McAllister guy.”

  “What’s wrong with a nice de la Paz guy?” Alex asked, feigning wounded pride for his clan.

  “Nothing at all, only it just seems like it would be safer to have her up in Jerome. The farther away from her father, the better.”

  “In which case you might as well hook her up with a Wilcox. Flagstaff would be the best solution, if that’s your take on it.”

  Caitlin sent Alex a sly smile. “Maybe you’re right. There are a lot of good-looking Wilcoxes.”

  Alex appeared so offended by that remark that Kate couldn’t help chuckling. “That’s what I’ve heard, too,” she said, knowing she was only adding fuel to the fire. But it was good to deflect the conversation toward Wilcox men. The last thing she wanted was to admit that she thought de la Paz men were pretty hot…or at least, one of them was.

  “I feel outnumbered,” Alex complained.

  “We’re just making an observation,” Caitlin said. As she spoke, though, she was rummaging around in her purse, which sat next to her on the floor. After a minute, she retrieved her phone and unlocked the screen so she could navigate to the Facebook app. Still looking down at the phone, she went on, “Lucinda spends a lot of time on her computer, if she isn’t tending to her parents. It sounds like Simón is pretty demanding, and with her mother confined to a wheelchair — ”

  “The prima of the Santiagos is in a wheelchair?” Kate cut in. “Their clan doesn’t have a healer?”

  “They do,” Alex replied. “But not every clan is lucky enough to have someone who’s particularly strong. It’s sort of a roll of the dice when it comes to that sort of thing. I guess when the Santiago prima had her accident, their healer was able to save her life, but couldn’t fix her up enough to keep her out of the wheelchair. But that’s why Simón basically runs the clan, even though the Santiagos don’t believe in having a primus the way the Wilcoxes do.”

  “Ah,” Kate said. It all sounded very complicated to her, although she supposed she could see why having a prima who wasn’t on top of her game could cause issues in her clan. Big, messy issues like Matías Escobar, although it sounded as if he’d been pretty well handled.

  Letting out a small sigh, Caitlin set her phone down on the coffee table. “Well, I sent her a PM. It didn’t look like she was online, so I guess she’s off doing something else right now. But usually she gets back to me within an hour or so. We’ll just have to wait.”

  Waiting was the last thing Kate felt like doing right then. She’d tried to resign herself to being confined to this apartment all day, but Jack had said they could go out for food or something, as long as the three of them stuck together. The digital clock on the cable box across the room said it was now ten-thirty. Great. Kind of late for breakfast, but definitely too early for lunch.

  Or maybe not. By the time they chose a place and went out and actually had food served to them, it would probably be closer to eleven. “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  Both Caitlin and Alex looked at her as though she’d just sprouted horns. “We ate on the way up,” Caitlin responded. “Why…are you?”

  “I’m running on a kid’s box of Rice Krispies,” Kate said. “Your cousin doesn’t exactly have a well-stocked pantry. I’d kill for a breakfast burrito. Or a burger. I’m not picky.”

  “Do you really think it’s that good an idea to go out?” Alex wore a dubious expression, and she couldn’t really blame him. The safest thing would be to stay here, although Jack had said they could go out as long as they didn’t venture very far.

  And really, would ordering in even be the safest thing? After all, that meant having someone come straight to the apartment. If the killer had known where Jeff lived, and probably knew where she lived, then it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine he’d also pinned down this apartment as being Jack’s. It would be pretty easy to tamper with any food sent here, whereas if they all went out, and took a circuitous route to whichever restaurant they chose, then the odds of the killer — or his demon servants — catching up with them seemed much more remote.

  She explained this reasoning to Caitlin and Alex, and, to her relief, neither of them shot her down immediately.

  “She does have sort of a point,” Caitlin said, to which Alex lifted his shoulders.

  “Maybe. But we still need to stay on our guard.”

  “Of course,” Kate said. “And if any of us feels like something is off, we’ll come straight back. But come on
,” she added frankly, “wouldn’t you rather get out for a bit instead of sitting here and staring at each other for the next eight hours?”

  Alex grinned, a flash of white teeth that went a long way in showing exactly why Caitlin might have fallen for him. “Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

  “I’ll text Jack once we’re on the road, just to let him know what we’re doing,” Kate said. “But I won’t tell him which restaurant we’re going to…just in case.”

  “You think his phone is compromised?” Caitlin asked then, one russet eyebrow lifting in obvious skepticism. “I thought we were dealing with demon-summoners here, not the NSA.”

  “I don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Kate said frankly. “So I figure it’s better to be as careful as possible.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Alex remarked. “Well, let me check to make sure the coast is clear, and then we can head out.” He paused and sent an inquiring glance at his wife. “You feeling anything about this?”

  “Other than an odd spike of hunger? No. I’m not getting any bad vibes. But you know my visions don’t always work that way.”

  “True.”

  Caitlin got her phone and deposited it back in her purse, while Kate rose from the couch and went to fetch her own bag, which she’d slung over the back of one of the dining room chairs. At the same time, Alex sidled up to the vertical blinds that covered the sliding glass doors, then carefully pushed one of them aside so he could look down onto the walkway that wound its way past the building.

  “I don’t see anything,” he said, after watching in silence for a moment. “I mean, I just saw a guy go past with a couple of Trader Joe’s bags, but he didn’t give me the impression of being a demon in disguise.”

  Would any of them be able to recognize a demon, if it had taken on human form? Could demons even do such a thing? Kate had to admit that when it came to demonology, she was pretty clueless. And for all she knew, it wasn’t even a demon they should be looking out for, but the killer himself. Except, didn’t witches and warlocks have the ability to sense when they were around one of their own? She seemed to recall Jenny making a comment to that effect at one point, but now Kate couldn’t remember for sure.