by E. M. Moore
Mel eyed me. I gave a quick shake of my head. After coming clean about seeing Mrs. Paladino, she was often looking at me strangely, probably wondering just what was going on in my head. I wondered myself enough for the both of us, so there really wasn’t a reason for her to worry.
I pulled into the parking lot in front of the baseball diamond next to Jackson’s sleek black detective car. There were also other cop cars there, lights flashing with no sound. We got out and a young officer moved toward us. Just then, Dezi came down from the trail and shouted out. “It’s okay. They’re with us.”
The young female cop eyed Mrs. Ward who only smiled. “I’m Detective Ward’s mother.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. I was sure in Mrs. Ward’s head that allowed her to be near a crime scene, but I doubted the police officer felt the same way.
“Hey, Dez,” I greeted him as he walked up. I gave him a short hug, and then he stepped back. “Jackson wasn’t kidding about Gallows Hill, huh?”
Dezi’s lips pressed together, and he shook his head solemnly. “No. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. Such a tragedy.”
Without answering any questions, he turned toward the trail and led us up it, grabbing our hands in turn to help us over the top part where tree roots marred the pathway. We walked a little further over a worn path that led to a clearing. There, in the background, stood a pyre.
Both Mel and I stopped walking when it came into view. Mrs. Ward barreled into our backs and made a surprised cry. Not because she’d seen what we had yet, but because she’d walked right into both of us. She mumbled something about stopping short, then walked around to stand in line with us.
The body, thankfully, was covered. Or, at least, that was what I thought the big black plastic bag draping over the large piece of wood sticking out of the ground was for. The cross section was also a plank of wood stark against the backdrop of field and trees.
“Mom?” Jackson’s disbelief wafted toward us. I turned, seeing him moving in faster, his intense look on full blast. “What are you doing here?”
“You called us in for help.”
“I called Maddie for help. Maddie only,” he said eyeing Mel first, then me.
I shifted from foot to foot. He obviously had never tried to exclude his mom from anything. That was all I was saying about that.
“Dezi,” Jackson called out, calling back our old friend from high school, Josh Destin. The nickname Dezi had started a very long time ago and had stuck around until now. Everyone in the police department now called him Dezi. “Could you please take my mom back to the car?”
Mrs. Ward’s eyebrows slammed down. She eyed Mel next. “Why just me? Mel wasn’t invited either.”
Jackson ran his hand over his forehead. “Mel might be able to help, too.”
Okay, this was getting more interesting. With the pyre involved, obviously this had something to do with witchcraft which was why Mel or I could help. Mrs. Ward couldn’t understand that though. She only agreed to wait over by the hedgerow with Dezi. I could hear her asking him how his mother was doing as they walked away.
I stared up at Jackson who was already looking down at me with his chestnut brown eyes.
“Sorry.”
“Please don’t bring my mother to crime scenes.”
I glared at him. “You try telling your mother no. I didn’t realize there was going to be this…” I motioned toward the pyre and frowned. Mel had been unusually quiet. I looked her way and saw the shine in her eyes. Though we were centuries removed from the tragedy that struck our ancestors, it still stung that people could be hated that much just because of who they were.
“I guess I should’ve given you a warning.” He looked back over his shoulder. “I actually wished I didn’t have to call you in at all, but I’m a little out of my element with this one and knew you guys would know.”
Mel straightened. The death of her coven members was still too close, too raw. “Who was the victim?”
He shook his head immediately. “No one you know, I think. She’s younger, in college. It’s not who the person is that I think you can help with, it’s what she is.”
“And she’s a witch?” I asked.
He nodded. “We think, anyway.” He pulled out a Polaroid of a hand. It could’ve been anyone’s except that it looked lifeless. It was pale, just lying there. The only sign of anything on it was the bracelet. “Do you guys recognize this?”
Mel tore her gaze away from the pyre and huddled closer to us. We both stared down. “Well, yeah,” I said. “It’s a pretty rudimentary spell, but it’s also something you can pick up at some of the witch shops in the area.”
Mel nodded. “I even sell something similar at my shop, but…” She leaned down further to get a better view. “I think this is handmade, Maddie. It’s got a few stones that people wouldn’t normally match with the other.”
Jackson looked back and forth between the both of us. “Meaning…?”
“Meaning,” Mel huffed. “That isn’t store-bought. At least as far as I can tell from a picture.” She looked up. “Any chance at seeing the real thing?”
Jackson’s brows lowered over his eyes. “Not at this time. Once we take it off the body and get any evidence we need from it, I can let you take a look, but not now.”
I glanced from the picture to the pyre. The poor person who wore this bracelet was dead under there.
Jackson moved a little closer. “So, does this,” he said, pointing to the picture, “…mean this person is like you guys?”
Mel frowned, regarding Jackson up and down.
I didn’t want to listen to Mel go off about this, so I jumped in. “There’s a difference between people like us,” I said, thumbing my hand between Mel and I, “…and Wiccans. As far as we can tell right now, it’s hard to know if she’s like us or Wiccan, or if she just liked a bracelet. We’ll need more information.”
“Information is something we don’t have a lot of right now. The investigation is just starting.”
“Obviously,” Mel deadpanned, staring up at the crude pyre.
Looking at it made my stomach roll. If the world ever decided it wanted to witch hate again, we could end up over pyres like that. History had a way of repeating itself, and it may not be burning to death on crosses, but some new-aged thing could be the means of our downfall. For all most people knew, we were just Wiccans, and I’d like to keep it that way. Wiccans weren’t exactly widely accepted either, but it was better than telling everyone what we really were. That we really had powers at our disposal. I could imagine if I’d told people I’d helped solved Mr. Paladino’s murder because the late Mrs. Paladino came to me in her spirit form. Then again, she hadn’t been that much help. She was just hating on the fact that her husband had a very young girlfriend. If I’d listened to her, I would’ve sent Jackson in the wrong direction.
So sad we were seeing someone like us in that position again. I couldn’t help it if my mind immediately went to witch haters. Why else put this show on? The stake? The body? The charred wood at her feet? What did it all mean? “She wasn’t burned to death, was she?”
Jackson shook his head. “No. How’d you know she was a she though?” he asked, eyeing me.
It wasn’t just a curious look, he was asking me without asking me if I’d seen a ghost yet. “Still nothing of the spirit variety,” I told him. I really hoped it was going to stay that way too. I didn’t like the idea of spirits just popping into my life whenever they wanted. What about alone time? What about private time?
“Clearly because of the feminine arms, Jackson,” Mel said, giving the picture back to him. “Those aren’t man hands. They’re feminine. Not a lot of arm hair and slight in structure. So, give us the rundown, what do you know so far?”
Jackson eyed Mel, then looked at me. “Any chance we can talk alone?”
Mel dropped her head back. “Fine. Just know that she’s going to end up telling me everything, anyway.”
She walked away, turning to where
Mrs. Ward now stood near the trail head while I stayed with Jackson. I looked back up and found him staring at me again. “Is that true? Are you just going to tell her everything, anyway?”
I shrugged. The answer was probably yes, but I could tell that wasn’t the answer he wanted. “It depends.”
“On?”
“If you tell me I cannot absolutely tell my sister something, I will do my best not to tell her.”
His lips thinned. It didn’t seem like I’d actually convinced him. “Try to keep this to yourself, okay, Mads?”
I nodded, eager to hear what he was about to tell me.
“Victim is Salem State University sophomore Taylor Hawkins. She’s from nearby Marblehead. Her parents are being notified now. I’ll be leaving shortly to go talk to them. The reason I wanted you here was because of that bracelet and because of a few other things we found on the body. A pentagram necklace, for one, and of course, the other being the way she was displayed. She did not die here, but she was certainly brought here and made up like that for a reason.”
I nodded. I couldn’t agree with him more. “Seems like something you would do if you hated witches, doesn’t it?”
“That was my first theory, but no names are popping into my head. There are a few religious zealots around town that hate this part of Salem’s history, but for the most part, we pretty much go with it because of the tourism it brings us.”
“Could be an outsider?” I suggested.
“We’ll have to keep that in mind, too.” He rubbed his chin and looked down. “Keep your eyes peeled open for anything off and be careful.” He gestured toward the cross. “If someone out there is targeting witches again, I don’t want you near it.”
A voice rang out, interrupting his heated glance. “Ma’am. Ma’am! You can’t go near the body like that.”
Jackson spun around to find his mother poking around near the cross. “Sweet lord,” he said, before he jogged off toward her. He reached out for her, putting his hand around her shoulders. “Mom, what are you doing? I asked you to stay with Dezi. Where is he?”
“I’m parched. I asked him to get me some water, and you guys were busy, so I just thought—”
He steered her toward me. “You just thought you’d like to see a dead body?”
Mrs. Ward shrugged, looking properly chastised. He seared a look into me, and I got the hint. We’d overstayed our welcome.
“Come on,” I said, “Let’s go. The kids will be getting out of school soon, and they’ll need us back at the library.”
He gave me a small smile. “I’ll call you, Maddie.”
I nodded, taking the car keys out and steering both Mel and Mrs. Ward away from the scene. I could distract Mrs. Ward with library talk, but Mel would be more difficult. The sight of that body had shaken her. I sure as heck hoped she hadn’t heard of anything going on around town. Maybe there was some religious zealot out there terrorizing witches again. It was ridiculous though, wasn’t it? Religions had foundations in acceptance and treating others well. I guessed that only extended so far though. Tragic.
Chapter Three
I’d expected Jackson to call me that night, and he did, just later than I’d imagined. I’d already been in my pajamas and in bed, cell phone sitting on the bedside table. When the screen lit up the room, I jumped even though I’d been staring at it. Jackson had just finished talking to the parents and wanted to know if I’d go with him to talk to an ex-boyfriend at Salem State the next day. They’d broken up recently, and the parents hinted they’d started the Wiccan thing together. Since the manner of her death involved witch symbolism, it was his best bet so far. When I agreed, Jackson wasn’t surprised. “I figured. I already called and told my mother not to expect you tomorrow morning.”
I replayed the phone call over and over in my head before I went to sleep that night, and here it was the next morning. I’d just gotten in from taking Maxie out for his walk. The sun had shone overhead, and the ocean waves whispered in my head, a testament to the beautiful morning that it was. Since it was such a nice day out, I decided to wait outside for Jackson. I closed and locked the door behind me and waited for him downstairs. Maxie gave me a look of longing before I went as if he knew I was going to be hanging out with Jackson today without him. I didn’t wait long until Jackson’s car pulled up. He got out of the car before he even realized I already waited for him. “What are you doing? I could’ve come up.”
I walked toward the passenger side. “I haven’t been waiting long. It’s no big deal.”
Jackson worried over his lip and then made his way around the car to the driver’s side again. He got in, started it, and turned toward me. “Thank you for coming. It’ll be better having your ears there when we talk about witch stuff because I won’t have to research it later. Plus, you might think of questions to ask that I wouldn’t.”
“I don’t mind,” I told him, trying to keep it low-key. I actually loved this stuff, working out problems, digging for clues. It was my bread and butter. The part I didn’t like was when things went downhill, and guns were held to your head and the like. That part I could live without very easily. Figuring out who was hurting people was the fun part. “How were the parents?”
Jackson’s jaw tensed. “As you’d expect. No one wants to be told their child is dead. Then, of course, you got Troy Levine on the damn news talking about it because it fits in with his reenactment proposal. Sleazy son of a—”
“No…” I said stunned. Could he really do that?
Jackson nodded. “He wasn’t sensationalizing it or anything, just merely giving his condolences. But you know the media, they won’t stop at that. That poor family will have to listen to the media dissect her homicide repeatedly.” He leaned back in the seat, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “I hate that part about the job. If we could keep the media out of it, I’d be so much happier.
I looked at him closer. He’d been working a lot since the Paladino case, not really giving us a lot of time to talk. He called his mom every day, as good sons did, but often those calls didn’t come in until late like the one I had gotten yesterday. “Are you working too much?” I asked quietly. It wasn’t my place to ask, but I worried about him. He was one of my oldest friends.
“Someone has to. Murderers don’t usually turn themselves in, Mads.”
He cracked a smile, and I followed suit. “Just checking in on you, Jackson.”
He nodded, though his eyes were already a million miles away. Turning away from him, I didn’t talk much as we passed into the other section of Salem where the university was. A bunch of memories hit me in the face as we made our way to campus. I’d done my undergraduate degree here, as well as Jackson and Derek. I took a deep, leveling breath.
He took his hand off the wheel and patted my leg. “I know.”
We sat in silence, memories bombarding us as he steered the car toward a dorm building. It wasn’t mine, or Derek’s at least, so I would be good on that front. I didn’t know what I would feel if I had to walk right back into Derek’s dorm. I shook my head to take my mind off it. “Who are we talking to?”
Jackson answered right away. Probably thankful for the reprieve, too. “His name is Reggie Gilman. He and Taylor broke up a few months ago. Her parents said it was a bad one.”
“So, are we going in with the thinking that this could be a suspect? Or just someone we need information from?”
“Everyone’s always a suspect, Maddie. I just want to glean some information from him though. See what his reaction is, try to work out anything in my head that will bring us closer to the killer.” He paused, looking up at the building. “Ready?”
In answer, I opened the car door and swung it out. I stood, closing it behind me and then waited for Jackson so we could walk up to the dorm building together. We signed in at the front desk. The eyes of the student watching the desk rounded. No doubt the rumors about how a detective had come to talk to Reggie were about to plow through the building with lightnin
g speed. We got directions and then headed up a flight of stairs.
After Jackson’s intense knock on the door, it slid open a crack. Jackson pulled out his badge and showed it to him. “Reginald Gilman?”
The boy nodded, his eyes quite a bit wider than the window clerk downstairs. “Is this about Taylor? I heard it on the news. It’s terrible.”
“May we come in?” Jackson asked, not bothering to even answer the question.
He stood back, holding his hand out to show us in. “I haven’t spoken to Taylor in months.”
Jackson nodded, pulling out one of the desk chairs and offering it to me. I sat and tried to make myself comfortable. The rooms seemed quite a bit smaller than they used to. “Her parents told us you’d broken up, but we wanted to talk to you anyway to see if you can’t help us find out who the killer might be.”
Reggie stumbled. “So, it’s true? She was murdered?”
“She was,” Jackson stated simply. He had his business face on, and he was only about the facts. I enjoyed when he got like this. I loved facts and truths. He pulled out a notepad and a pen and stared at Reggie who’d sat on the edge of one of the beds in the room. “When did you guys break up?” Jackson asked.
Reggie rubbed his hands together. He looked briefly toward the other side of the room and then back. “A few months ago. I can’t remember the exact date.”
“Was it an amicable breakup?” Jackson asked.
The tips of his shoes dug into the carpet. “So-so. We weren’t friends or anything. But we also weren’t friends before either. I guess we didn’t have all that much in common.”
“Oh, really?” Jackson asked. “Her parents said the opposite. He said you guys met at a Wiccan Circle?”
Jackson peeked at me and I nodded minutely to encourage him to talk.
“We had that in common,” Reggie said, shrugging.
“And you started dating right away?”
Reggie looked off into space. His voice lowered. “Yes. Pretty much.”
“What did you like about her?”