Flint and I were sitting opposite Anthony in his office in the shelter where he worked.
“If you didn’t know her,” Flint said, “why did you join the search party?”
Anthony furrowed his brow. “Well, knowing her wasn’t required, was it?”
“I’m just curious.”
Anthony suddenly let out a little nervous laugh. “Oh, I get it.” He raised a red-scaled finger. “I’m a psychologist, after all. You’re here because I’m a single man with no attachments who could be trying to get close to the investigation, aren’t you?” He breathed out noisily. “You think I’m the killer, don’t you?”
“This is simply an interview,” said Flint.
Anthony pushed back from the desk. “Well, I don’t know what I can tell you, because when I look at it, it could all be twisted around. If I protest that I’m innocent, maybe I sound defensive. But if I don’t, then I seem guilty. So, I don’t know what to say. I could point to all the community work that I’ve done over the years, but that might look like a cover. As if I’ve been using this job to get to my prey. And who knows? You might go looking into all the kids who come to this shelter and then disappear, never to be seen again, and then conclude that I’ve been working up to dragons, that I started with these kids…” His voice was suddenly full of emotion, and he got up, putting his back to us.
“Mr. Barnes,” said Flint. “I have not intimated in any way that you were guilty.”
It was interesting that both of our suspects today were leaping to conclusions. Of course, I guessed they were both right. They were suspects.
I thought about how I had had felt when Flint had accused me of the crime. I squirmed. Neither of their defensive reactions proved anything, I realized.
“I’m sorry,” he said thickly. “It’s only that I love these kids, and thinking of them being hurt is too hard.” He turned back around. “I don’t know how to convince you that I live for this. That all I’ve ever wanted to do was help people.”
“Sit back down,” said Flint.
Anthony shook his head. “I don’t think I can.” He rubbed his forehead. “Oh my God, I’m going to have to get a lawyer. How am I going to pay for a lawyer?”
“Mr. Barnes, please try to calm down.” Flint’s voice had gone all soothing and soft.
Anthony let out another noisy breath. “Okay. Okay.” He shut his eyes.
“Now, you didn’t know Dahlia?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Or the other victims? Sophia Ward? Elena Watson?”
He shook his head. “No, none of them.” He sat down. “For what it’s worth, I joined the search party because I want that girl to be found, alive. There are a lot of terrible things that happen in the world. A lot of good things too, but a lot of terrible things. There are wars and religious persecutions and drug addiction and diseases and global warming and the list goes on. There’s no way that one person could fix all of those things. But you know what makes me crazy? Most people don’t even try to help fix one of those things. I’m trying to do my part, though. And so I do what I can. I try to help magical teens who need me.”
“I understand that,” said Flint. “You may not believe this, but what I’m trying to do is help make the world a better place too.”
Anthony surveyed him. “No, of course I believe that. You’re a civil servant. You try to keep people safe. I suppose we understand each other, then.”
“I think so,” said Flint, smiling.
“Well, then, I’m going to try not to be too nervous.” Anthony smiled too. “I’m a good man, and if you investigate that, you’ll find it to be true. I think you’ll realize that fairly quickly. I didn’t hurt those girls.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Flint massaged the bridge of his nose. “So, we can’t eliminate either of them yet.”
“No?” I said. “I mean, the drake guy, he seemed pretty on the level, didn’t he?”
“Maybe it was all an act,” said Flint. “He admitted to us that he was a psychologist. And if he were, in fact, a psychopath, he might be quite drawn to that field of study in order to be better at faking empathy.”
“Oh,” I said. I hadn’t thought of that. “Well, the stripper owner just seemed shady.”
“He’s probably not the killer,” said Flint. “He doesn’t seem smart enough to pull it off. But again, that could be an act. It could all be quite calculated.”
“I thought they both kind of reacted the same way,” I said.
“You can’t put much stock in the reactions,” said Flint. “Guilty people and innocent people don’t act markedly different when being accused of a crime. Sometimes very stupid guilty people will become very chatty and spill a big, concocted story. But innocent people also get nervous. So, there’s really nothing we can draw from that.”
“I guess I just…” I inspected my fingers. “I was thinking about Felicity. If I hadn’t been around for her, I would want a place like that around. Like that shelter. I’d want someone to try to help her. Is it crazy to think that there are people out there who just want to help people?”
“Of course not,” said Flint.
“It’s just that sometimes you seem to take a dim view of humanity.”
He laughed. “Really? That’s how I come across to you?”
“You think you should come across a different way?”
“We’re investigating serial murder, Ms. Caspian. That’s a dim filter to be looking through.”
I nodded. “I guess you’re right.”
“You want to come back to the office with me and help me make notes on the whiteboard about our suspects?”
“Actually, I’ve got something I need to do this evening,” I said. “I’ve got to prepare.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. “I want you to know, however, you’re missing a very good time.”
*
“I don’t see why we had to park three blocks away,” said Connor, who was lagging behind Felicity and me, clutching a cardboard coffee cup. He had just woken up, since the sun had gone down only fifteen minutes ago. He was cranky.
I’d brought him in the car as a statue, which meant I’d had to have him half in the trunk and half in the back seat. We’d driven up to Connecticut, where the burial vault for the Caspian clan was located. It had taken about five hours to drive up here, and I couldn’t wait until Connor woke up to leave.
We were all walking up the sidewalk from the place we had parked.
“I told you to ditch that coffee cup,” I said. “If you spill coffee on the remains of my ancestors—”
“I’m not going to bring it into the vault,” he muttered.
“You think there’s just going to be a little spot to leave it outside the door?”
“Maybe a trash can?” he said.
I glared at him.
He stopped and gulped down the rest of the coffee as fast as he could. Then he crumpled the cardboard cup. “Is there a trash can out here?”
“Just leave it,” I said.
“You want me to litter?” he said.
I groaned.
Felicity laughed. “What about the planet, Penny?”
“Look, it’s got to be better for the planet to litter than it is to shove stuff in plastic bag and bury it in a landfill. If you just leave it here, it will totally biodegrade.”
Connor considered. “Maybe you’re right.” He tossed the coffee cup.
I pointed. “We’re cutting through here.”
“What?” said Connor. “That’s like the woods. It looks like there might be briar bushes.”
I sighed. “There’s no woods left in Connecticut. It’s like twenty feet of woods. Come on.” I started off the sidewalk, up a slight incline and between the dark shadows of the trees.
Felicity and Connor followed me.
In was dark under the cover of the branches, even though most of them were still bare. A few had buds, but no leaves.
Dead leaves crunched under our feet, though.
I went slowly until my eyes adjusted, hoping that Connor wasn’t right about briars.
Overhead, the sound of a night bird calling.
“Why are we in the woods?” Connor whispered.
“It’s behind the cemetery,” I whispered back. “We’re sneaking in from the back.”
“Why are we whispering?” whispered Felicity.
“So that no one hears us,” said Connor. “Right, Penny?”
“Right,” I said.
“What happens if someone does?” said Felicity. “What happens if we get caught doing this?”
“Well, when I left Alastair, my grandparents told me that I was dead to them and that they never wanted to see my face again,” I said. “So, I imagine they wouldn’t be pleased I was looting our ancestors remains,” I said. “They’d probably have us arrested and press charges.”
“Seriously?” said Felicity.
“Well, that’s why we’re not going to get caught,” I said.
Ahead of us, the woods were already starting to thin out, and the cemetery was coming into view between the tree trunks. Rows of head stones gleamed in the moonlight, dotting rolling hills.
“Whoa,” breathed Connor. “That’s a big cemetery.”
“Where’s your family’s vault?” said Felicity.
I pointed. “It’s just over that hill. You can see the spire sticking out of the top.”
“The one shaped like a cross?” said Connor.
“I think it’s the one in the shape of a dragon,” said Felicity.
“Yeah,” I said.
Between us and the vault, there were a lot of graves and two stately oak trees, their bare branches dark against the night sky.
We all paused at the edge of the woods.
I looked at both of them. “Okay, this place closes at dusk, so there shouldn’t be anyone here, except maybe a night watchman. So, we’re just going to walk quickly and quietly over to that tree there.” I pointed. “Got it?”
They both nodded.
I took a deep breath, the air chilly in my lungs. It was different here, away from the heaviness of the ocean air. It used to be home, but I couldn’t say that I missed it.
I went first, and they flanked me.
I went in between the graves, doing my best not to trample on too many of them. But it was inevitable at some point.
The grass was blue-black in the darkness. It was springy under my feet, freshly cut, even though it was early enough in the year that it couldn’t have been that tall in the first place.
We reached the oak tree, a thick, shadowy hulking shape in the darkness. Its trunk was at least three feet across, and we could all stand in its shadow.
We stopped there together, and I peered around the trunk out at the rest of the cemetery.
I could see the vault better now. The doors were surrounded by stone bas relief sculpture of flames and flying dragons. The doors themselves were tall and metal, and they came to a point in the center where they would open.
The path there led us through more graves. Some had rounded headstones, others rectangular. A few scattered stone crosses were mixed in as well.
There was a gleaming white stone path winding through them, but the path wouldn’t take us anywhere near the vault. It was flanked by a few white stone benches here and there, the backs made of wrought iron painted white. The iron twisted and twirled, cast into the images of roses and leaves.
“Okay,” I said. “Do you guys see it?”
“It’s pretty big,” said Connor.
“It’s been in use since the 1700s,” I said. “Ever since the Caspian family came to America.”
“Cool,” said Connor. He started forward.
“Connor, wait.” I said.
He turned to look at me.
And that was when he tripped over a root—one of those big, gnarly roots that sometimes sticks up from the ground surrounding an old, big tree. It was half-covered in grass and difficult to see.
He tripped, and he went tumbling over a gray, square headstone that said Beloved Mother and Sister on it in carved script.
And his foot caught the headstone, and it toppled over.
And landed on his other foot.
And he howled in shock and pain.
The sound echoed through the entire graveyard, bouncing off the tree limbs, the other gravestones, the moon in the sky.
It was as if everything shook with the sound of it.
And then was still.
Felicity and I rushed over to Connor.
He was trying to push the headstone off himself. “Sorry,” he said. “It hurt.”
I drew up a bit of magic and forced it out, lifting the headstone and putting it back in place.
Connor clutched his foot, groaning softly.
I knelt down next to him. “Are you okay?”
“Mmmph,” he said.
Damn it.
Felicity stood over us, looking around.
“Can you stand?” I said to Connor.
“Yeah, give me a second, I’ll be fine,” he said.
“It didn’t sound like you were fine,” said Felicity.
“I’m a gargoyle,” he said. “I’m made of stone.” He turned to me. “Help me up.”
I got to my feet and offered him a hand.
He clutched it.
I hauled him to his feet.
He planted his hurt foot on the ground and stood still for a minute. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” I said.
He took a step. He winced.
“Connor, maybe you should wait for us in the woods,” I said.
“Um, Penny?” said Felicity.
“What?” I said.
She pointed. “We’ve got company.”
The night watchman was hurrying down the white stone path, his flashlight bobbing.
“Damn it,” I muttered. I grabbed Connor by the arm and dove back behind the big oak tree.
Felicity came with us.
For several minutes, we didn’t say anything. We just sat there, huddled behind the tree, kneeling there and trying not to breathe too loud.
“You think he saw us?” Connor whispered.
“Shh!” said Felicity and I together.
We waited.
I looked up at the sky, watched a cloud passing over the moon, and thought about what shape it was. Thing was, it didn’t much resemble anything except a cloud. The moon wasn’t full, but it was on its way there, at least I was pretty sure it was.
There was some trick to figure out whether it was waxing or waning, and it involved drawing a line on one side of the moon. If it made a small B, then it was being “born,” and if it made a small D, it was “dying.”
But the small B looked like a capital D, and that was why I always got confused.
The moon itself seemed a silvery color, like spun, shining metal hung in the sky.
My legs were getting cramped up from kneeling like this.
I wanted to look around the tree, see if I could see the night watchman. But what if he saw us that way?
On the other hand, if he was coming for us, we should know. That way, we could head for the woods.
But even then, I wasn’t sure we could do that without being seen.
Damn it. Damn it all to hell. I didn’t know what we were going to do.
I shot a glance at Connor, who was making a face.
Geez, I really hoped he hadn’t badly hurt himself.
I wasn’t even sure why I’d dragged them both into this, anyway. I could have probably done this on my own, without their help. True, it would be helpful to have them near the artifacts, because the bone and scale would speak to me and tell me which would be a better fit for each of them. But I could have gotten something that would have worked.
All this risk wasn’t worth it.
Man, my legs hurt.
I looked back up at the moon.
I should look to see if the watchman was around.
No. No, that wa
s a bad idea.
I looked down at the ground.
There were a string of tiny black ants crawling over a blade of grass. Their small, segmented bodies glistened, almost as if they were made from drops of black water.
Ants? At night?
Had I ever seen ants at night?
Weren’t ants daytime creatures?
Maybe they were odd, nocturnal, gargoyle ants. Maybe in the day, they turned to stone.
Gah. This was ridiculous.
My legs were screaming at me. I had to shift position.
I didn’t. I shut my eyes and tried to distract myself from it.
I needed to look around the damned tree.
Next to me, Felicity moved a little, settling her weight around the tree trunk.
The noise of her movement sounded deafening.
I glared at her.
She made an apologetic face, pointing to her legs.
My own legs felt as if they were being poked with ten thousand hot needles.
I moved too, sitting down on the ground.
I looked around the tree.
The night watchman was no more than five feet away, but his back was to us. He was moving the bright circle of his flashlight over one headstone and then another, moving in a tight circle.
He illuminated a gravestone with quartz embedded in the outline. It shimmered under the flashlight.
Next, his flashlight stopped on a fresh bouquet of flowers. There was a brilliant yellow daffodil and a pink lily. Some carnations. All set in a spray of baby’s breath.
He turned, moving the flashlight.
I could see his profile now.
Gulping, I pulled back behind the tree.
My heart had started to pound now, as if I’d been running a marathon.
Felicity looked at me with wide, questioning eyes.
I put my finger to my lips.
Connor shut his eyes.
I leaned my head against the tree.
The flashlight beam was coming for us.
I could see it traveling slowly over the grass. When it touched the blades, they glowed golden-green.
It came closer.
And closer.
Fire Song (City of Dragons) Page 10