“No, no! I’m fine.”
He stood back up. “Someone called in a fire at this address. Any idea who might have done that?”
I shook my head and gave him my best bewildered look, which wasn’t too difficult considering the circumstances. “I have no idea.”
He glanced around the cars parked in the rear lot and then walked back in the shop. Sugar, I mouthed to Sea Bass.
“Fuck yeah, it was. Remind me to give her a big kiss when I see her.” He helped me up and looked around for signs of the host. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “Here. You’re staying at my place for a while.”
“I’m going home, Sea Bass.”
As he started to object I cut him off. “To call Fin and pack a bag. There’s only one safe place for me now. I guess I’m moving into Lillian’s house until this is all over with. I hope she likes cats, because I’m not going anywhere without Jet.”
“Roger that, Katie, but what if the host is waiting for you when you get home?” He gave me his classic pointed stare, the one where his forehead creased and his eyebrows lifted into tight question marks.
“I guess I’ll find out, won’t I?” I doubted that would happen. The spirits may have acted on impulse at times, but I had a feeling Legvu wasn’t as stupid as his individual parts seemed to be. Cornering me in a public place where my dragon wouldn’t be provoked as easily was a smarter strategy. And besides, it needed that tattoo and this was where the ink was. “I’ll call Fin on my way home. He’ll probably be waiting for me by the time I get there.”
“All right, but you call me and let me know where you are,” he insisted.
I agreed and headed for my car. As soon as I hit the street I picked up my phone and dialed Fin’s number. It rang five times and then rolled to voicemail. “Damn it, Fin!” I growled at the phone before tossing it on the console. I must have called his number six or seven times before I reached the house, each time rolling to voicemail. I was beginning to wonder why that was, seeing how my number popping up on his phone should have triggered an immediate answer. Six or seven calls in a row should have had him alerting the National Guard.
Being late afternoon made it a little less creepy to walk inside the house, and Jet would be a good barometer of anything strange going on inside. If he met me at the door with his tail up in the air, I’d know that the house was clear. “Hey, baby,” I greeted him as he brushed against my legs. “Anything interesting happen around here today?” I did a sweep of each room and then reached into the kitchen drawer for that bone charm that shouldn’t have left my side.
My cell phone rang, nearly sending me through the roof. Expecting to see Fin’s name across the display, I grabbed it off the kitchen counter and deflated a little when I saw Sugar’s name pop up. “Hey, Sugar,” I said, waiting to hear all about that false alarm I knew she was responsible for reporting.
“Hey yourself,” a voice said back. It wasn’t Sugar. The voice was cold and steady, just like the one I’d heard less than an hour ago in my shop. “Sugar has caused me a lot of trouble, Katie Bishop. I’d like nothing more than to slit that thing’s throat from ear to ear. But that would be like burning all my aces, now wouldn’t it?”
I steadied the tremor in my hand as the phone rattled against my ear, trying to sound unfazed and in control. Never let your opponent see you sweat. “If you’ve got her, you’ll have to do better than that. And I’ll need some proof that she’s okay.”
The sound of a deep breath came through the phone. “Okay is a relative term,” he snidely remarked. “But I’d be happy to provide proof of life. In fact, I think I’ll put together a little home video for you.”
I cringed because my time was up. “Let her go and I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Her?” The host laughed on the other end. “I bet there’s a flaccid little dick under that skirt. You know what? I think I’ll take a look after I hang up this phone.”
I don’t know why I bothered to frantically shake my head. Only Jet could see it. “If you touch her, you’ll never get that tattoo,” I warned. “Now stop fucking with me and tell me what to do.”
There was that laugh again. “You just sit tight,” he instructed. “I’ll be coming to you.”
The call ended. I stared at the screen as I waited for the proof he was about to send. Then I heard the telltale ping announcing a text message. There was a video attached of Sugar with her hands tied, suspended from a beam above her head. Her mouth was taped, and I could see the fear in her eyes as he approached her with the phone camera, his hand coming into view and reaching for her skirt.
I closed the video without watching it all the way through. Then I made one last call to Fin, leaving him another message that I was going to hunt him down and murder him if he didn’t pick up his goddamn phone. With my gun retrieved from the box in the cabinet, I slid down to the kitchen floor with the barrel pointed toward the door while I waited to see who would get to me first.
23
I’m not sure how long I sat on the floor with my arm propped on my knee and the gun dangling from my fingers. I decided to keep the safety on, figuring I could have it off in less than a second. No need to kill anything from a nervous jolt every time the icemaker dropped a load of cubes, or an unfortunate bird hit the glass patio door.
Jet seemed amused by the whole sitting on the floor thing, winding himself under and around my propped knees and climbing halfway up my shoulder to sniff my face. “Just stay out of the gun sight, Jet. Fin will knock on that door any minute now.”
The room was getting darker. Since it was late afternoon when I took my position, I hadn’t bothered to turn on any of the lights. Probably a good idea since a lit room would only give an intruder the advantage.
Thank God the safety was on, because the gun hit the wooden floor when my cell phone rang. Fin’s name displayed across the front as I reached for it. “Where the hell have you been?” I answered without a greeting. He seemed relieved by the fact that I was intact and barricaded in my house. Then he justified his lack of response by alluding to the woman lying next to him. Good to know that the one thing that could keep him distracted from matters of life and death was sex. He instructed me to stay put with the lights off. “You better identify yourself first, Fin. I got a loaded gun pointed at that door.”
I hung up the phone, feeling a little relieved but knowing damn well what could happen in the blink of an eye if he didn’t get to me first. It felt like an hour had passed before I heard the faint sound of a car pulling into my driveway. Jet padded over to the front door, his ears pinned back and a low growl coming from his throat. “Get over here, Jet,” I coaxed quietly, patting my thigh to get his attention. He shot under the sofa in the living room instead.
Heavy footsteps came down the sidewalk, accompanied by voices. They paused before hitting the front step and knocking on the door. My heart raced wildly. Fin would have been more deliberate in his approach, and he would have come alone. And he sure as hell would have announce himself before he knocked, on account of that gun he knew was aimed at the door.
The knock came again, only this time much louder “Police! Open the door, Miss Bishop!”
Police.
My chest felt like it had dropped into my gut. It could have been a trap, but I could hear the faint sound of breaking voices coming from a police radio on the other side of the door. There was only one reason I could think of why the police would be here. And even though Fin had supposedly gotten rid of Christopher’s mutilated body, there was still a chance it had been found and the evidence led straight to me.
Without thinking rationally, I creeped toward the door with the gun still dangling from my right hand. Through the peephole I could see two uniformed officers. “Can I see your badge?” I said. Anyone could rent a uniform. A Chatham County Police badge appeared through the lens of the peephole.
Suddenly realizing the gun was still in my hand, I stashed it in the hall closet before opening the door,
hoping Fin’s car was right behind them. It wasn’t.
“Katie Bishop?” one of the officers asked.
“Yes,” I nodded. “Is this about the false alarm at my shop earlier today?” It was a long shot, but worth a try.
The second officer spoke up. “Miss Bishop, we’d like you to come with us down to the station.”
My eyes darted back and forth between them. “For what?”
“For questioning related to the disappearance of Christopher Sullivan.”
“What?” I asked in a quiet voice, more from shock than in search of reasonable cause. “Am I being arrested?”
“Not yet, but we’d like to ask you some questions. We have an eyewitness that placed you with Mr. Sullivan the night he disappeared.”
Never so much as having a speeding ticket before, I had no idea how to respond. But the police station was probably the safest place for me anyway.
“Let me get my bag.” They watched me like a hawk as I nervously grabbed it from the kitchen counter. As I was shutting the door, Jet slipped out and ran for the side of the house. “My cat!” They ignored my protest and escorted me to the patrol car. “Is this necessary?” I asked, staring at the opened rear door where criminals usually sat. “I can follow you in my car.”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Bishop. Please step inside.”
Not wanting to fuel the trouble I was already in, I complied. As we drove out of the neighborhood I decided to discreetly text Fin to have him meet me at the police station, but as I rooted around my purse I realized my phone was still sitting on the kitchen floor. “Shit,” I whispered.
The officer in the front seat turned around. “There a problem, Miss Bishop?”
“I left my cell phone at the house. I don’t suppose either of you have a phone I can borrow?”
“You can make a call from the station,” he replied, turning back around to respond to a voice on his radio.
When we got to the station I was immediately escorted to a questioning room where a detective was waiting. He was wearing a gray pinstriped suit with his tie loosened around his neck. “I’m Detective Ryan. Please have a seat.” He motioned to the folding chair on the other side of the table that I’m sure was designed for discomfort. “I hope you don’t mind,” he continued, stretching the knot even farther away from his throat. “The air conditioner is only working at about fifty percent in here.”
I guess that explained why sweat was dripping down my neck like condensation on a bottle of beer. I prayed it wouldn’t start rolling down my face next, like I was guilty or something. Of course, speculating on who—other than Fiona—could have identified me with Christopher that night was enough to make me sweat blood.
“I was told I could use a phone,” I said, desperate to get a message to Fin.
“Plenty of time for that after we’ve had a chat, Miss Bishop.” He gave me a curious look and added, “Unless you have something to hide.”
I refused to say another word. In return, he sat straight in his chair and leaned into the table, pinning me with a glare that probably worked on more meek suspects. But I prided myself on intelligence, and there was nothing remotely intelligent about waiving my right to remain silent.
“That phone?” I requested again, making it perfectly clear I was going to place that call before I opened my mouth.
The door opened and another detective waved him over. They spoke for about a minute before he returned and retook his seat with a smug look on his face. “Your lawyer has arrived.” He leaned back and crossed his right ankle over his left knee, folding his hands on his stomach just above his belt. Not once did he take his eyes off me as we waited for this lawyer who claimed to be mine.
“Okay then,” I announced, nervously wondering what the hell was going on. It had to be Fin who sent him. But how did Fin know I’d been taken to the station for questioning? Maybe he’d spotted me in the back of the police car driving out of my neighborhood. Or maybe I’d been assigned a public defender, but I was pretty sure I had to be charged with a crime first and then ask for legal assistance.
The door opened again, and in walked a man wearing a sharp looking suit and carrying an expensive briefcase. Court appointed attorneys probably didn’t dress that well. He dropped the briefcase on the table and took a deep breath through his freckled nose before turning to look at me. He made me uneasy as he held my gaze with his intense blue eyes, eventually turning to Detective Ryan with an extended hand. “David Brady,” he introduced. “I’m Miss Bishop’s lawyer. Now, before we go any further with this interrogation, I’d like to know exactly what my client is being charged with.”
As soon as Detective Ryan began to speak, David Brady pulled out one of the rickety chairs, sliding the leg across the hard floor until the metal squealed. Ryan stopped talking and glared at Brady. “My apologies, Detective Ryan,” he said as he took his seat. “You were saying?”
Ryan exhaled and continued. “No one is under arrest. Yet.”
“Then why is my client being detained for questioning?” Brady countered before Ryan could get another word out.
“Mr. Brady, as a member of Savannah’s legal community, I’m sure you’re familiar with the disappearance of Christopher Sullivan from the Chatham County DA’s office.” Brady nodded. “A witness has come forward who can put Miss Bishop in Mr. Sullivan’s company on the last night he was seen alive.”
“Alive?” Brady said. “Are you telling me you have evidence to support that Mr. Sullivan is in fact dead?”
Detective Ryan smirked, clearly familiar with the game. “No, Mr. Brady, we haven’t found a body yet, but our witness saw Miss Bishop with Sullivan the night he disappeared.”
David Brady made no indication that he was impressed with the detective’s statement. He just sat there as if waiting for the real evidence to be revealed. “And this witness,” he finally said, “has been questioned by you?”
Detective Ryan lost his cocky smugness. “Well, not yet. He—”
“What do you mean by not yet?” Brady interjected.
The detective looked a little uneasy. I could tell by his body language that his defenses were up. “He’s agreed to come in tomorrow to give a statement.”
“And his name is?” Brady pushed.
Now, Detective Ryan looked downright embarrassed. “We don’t have that information yet. The tip was called in from an untraceable number, but as I said, he agreed to come in and make a statement.”
David Brady stood up abruptly, sending the chair a few feet back. “I’ll be taking my client home now.” He handed Ryan a card. “When you have legitimate cause to haul Miss Bishop back down here for questioning, you let me know.”
There was nothing Detective Ryan could do but sit there and watch us leave. I’d been taken in for questioning, in the back of a police car no less, based on an anonymous tip.
We exited the police station and head for the parking lot. “Did Fin Cooper send you?” I asked. He kept his eyes straight ahead as if I hadn’t spoken. “I don’t care who sent you. I’m just glad they did. But I would like to know who to thank.”
We rounded the corner of the building and headed for a black sedan parked at the far end of the lot. I struggled to keep up with him as each of his long strides equaled two of mine. From behind, his bright red hair reminded me of something, but it was the way he bounced his foot nervously against the pavement as he opened the door that jogged my memory.
I turned around to confirm where I’d seen his face before. The red mohawk was gone, but the piercing eyes were just as blue as they were the night he sat at the bar next to me at MacPherson’s.
“I know you,” I began as reality set in and a sickly feeling overwhelmed me. Before I could step out of his reach, he draped something over my head that rested around my neck and hung down to my cleavage. The weight of it was too much for my legs to bear, clouding my mind like an anesthesia coaxing me to sleep. I touched the necklace, the bone fragments studding the chain every few inches, and Pear
l May Mobley’s words filled my mind: You got to learn to see him, else he’ll come right up on you and put the bone to you.
Legvu had finally won.
24
A bright ray of light hit my face when I opened my eyes. For a moment, I forgot what happened the night before and how I ended up on a cold floor in a room that wasn’t a room at all but a cavernous enclosure that seemed to go on forever. It looked more like an airplane hangar, with its mile-high ceiling and echoes bouncing off the walls from the slightest move I made. But then the memory of the police station and the bones draped around my neck came crashing back like a freight train. The ramblings of an old conjure woman had come true, and Legvu had done exactly what Pearl May Mobley had warned me about. Sugar had to be somewhere nearby.
I pushed myself off the floor and propped up on my right elbow, nearly falling back down from the crushing pain inside my head. My vision was so blurred that I could barely make out the figure across the room. I could hear what sounded like thunder rolling in the distance, booming quietly twenty miles away, but as I regained my focus I spotted a large sheet of metal near the dilapidated roof, bouncing up and down from the wind like a bird’s wing. There were tall steel posts positioned along the length of the space and rusted strip lights suspended by wires from the tall ceiling. It must have been a warehouse or a deserted factory.
“Head hurt?” he asked, his head cocking at me from across the room where he sat on a rusted table. He hopped off and took his time approaching me. “Aspirin would probably help with that.”
I replied cockily, “Why? Do you have any?”
“Unfortunately, I do not. But I do need a steady pair of hands today, so perhaps a little hair of the dog that bit you will do the trick.”
I thought that only applied to a hangover, and I hadn’t been drinking. “And what exactly was it that bit me last night?” I asked.
“Just a little bit of the crossroads. I can give you more if it will relieve your symptoms.” He noticed my face light up at the mention of it and quickly quelled my hopes that the bones had been unearthed. “Don’t get too excited, little dragon. I haven’t resurrected the mother lode—yet. Those bones around your neck were just enough to take down the beast and keep it sedated. And if you’re thinking, hmm, why don’t I just lift this necklace of bones from around my neck and toss it away, it won’t work. Only the doctor who applies the medicine can reverse it.”
Crossroads of Bones (A Katie Bishop Novel Book 1) Page 21