Did I just see someone move? Who are you? Where are you? Where am I?
What is that smell? It’s strange. I’ve never smelled anything quite like it before. It’s like...It’s like burning roses. My head is really killing me. Where’s Buster?
I’m in the park. I’m in the restroom in the park! Now I remember. Someone grabbed me. My God, am I paralyzed? Somebody help me.
Who am I? Karen? Yes, that’s it. I’m Karen.
That movement again. I can hear something. Something shuffling. What is it? Wait a minute. There’s something over my mouth. Why is there something covering my mouth. A rapist. I’m being attacked by a rapist! Please, somebody come in and help me. Somebody stop him.
Where is my husband? He isn’t home yet. Somebody help me. Where is Buster? My head is killing me. Please somebody help me. Don’t let him rape me.
What is that? Something is on top of me. No, SOMEONE is on top of me. What are you doing? Don’t rape me, please don’t rape me. Why are you wearing that robe? What is that in your hand? Your eyes, I can see your eyes. I’ve never seen eyes that grey. They’re so cold.
NOooo!
He’s cutting me. My skin is on fire.
NOooo!
Pain. Pain beyond all.
Fear.
Darkness.
What is that tugging at me? Who am I? Karen? No, that’s not right, Karen’s dead...If Karen is dead then who am I? There’s that tugging again. It’s coming from my waist. A rope. I’m tied to a rope. Who is that? She’s pretty. What beautiful red hair she has. What is that she’s saying? I can’t hear you. Speak louder. Do you know who I am? Are you the one that is pulling on the rope?
Falling.
Darkness.
Light.
He’s still on top of me. How long was I passed out? It couldn’t have been long if he’s still here. Dear God I hurt. My chest is burning. What is that pressure? Why is this happening? Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come…NOooo!
Pain.
Ouch! What are you doing? It hurts when you pull on that rope so hard. I’ve seen you before. You have such pretty hair. What? You want me to come to you? Why? Do you know who I am? I thought I was Karen but Karen is dead. Why are you so upset? I’m very tired. Maybe I should just go to sleep.
Darkness.
Light.
Fear.
Pain.
Terror.
Darkness. Cold, endless darkness.
I was intrigued by the sight before me. I wasn’t entirely sure how I was managing to float above it in mid air, but I was comfortable, and the mechanics of it were the farthest thing from my mind. Ben and Felicity were kneeling on the floor, and my friend was checking the pulse on a body sprawled between them. They looked very grim and seemed upset.
“Rowan, follow my voice.”
I heard my wife call to me, but I never saw her lips move. I wondered why she couldn’t see me; I was floating right above her.
“He hasn’t got a pulse!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m going to start CPR.”
“Who hasn’t got a pulse?” I thought. I needed to see whom they were huddled over.
“No!” Felicity told him. “Not yet, this isn’t what you think it is.”
“Rowan, I know you’re there. I’m pulling the rope as hard as I can. Help me! Follow my voice.”
Once again, Felicity’s melodious voice echoed in my ears, but her lips never parted. I floated a little closer. I had to see who was lying on the floor between them.
“Are you fucking nuts, Felicity?” Ben exclaimed loudly. “He’s dying! His fucking heart stopped beating!”
“Dammit Ben,” she shot back at him wildly. “I know what I’m doing, and your interruptions aren’t helping!”
“Rowan! Help me dammit! Follow my voice!”
Ben jerked back in surprise from my wild-eyed wife. I don’t think he had ever truly experienced her temper until now. I looked down between them as the space opened enough for me to see. The body on the floor had a very familiar face. Brown hair. Bearded. A small scar on his forehead. Exactly like a scar I had on my own forehead. It slowly dawned on me that I was looking at myself.
“Rowan!”
There was a sharp tug at my waist.
I began falling.
White noise filled my ears. I felt a sharp burst of pain through my chest, and I began hungrily gasping for air. I opened my eyes and looked up to see Ben and Felicity staring back at me. Ben shook his head as if he had just witnessed a miracle and let out a long sigh. Felicity’s lips parted in a slight smile as she stroked my forehead.
“Welcome back,” she said.
“Thanks for not letting go,” I whispered.
CHAPTER 11
The hot, bright sun flooded the landscape, beating down upon us from the clear sky and broiling the last drops of moisture from the ground. By late afternoon, no one would be able to tell that it had rained the night before. I was sitting on the back of Felicity’s Jeep drinking the remains of a lemon-flavored sport drink she had kept in her gym bag. The drink was hot and tasted horrible. Its acidic tang slightly burned the back of my tongue and my throat as I swallowed. I had tried to refuse the beverage; my wife however, insisted I drink it all in order to replenish the electrolytes in my body.
My eyes were still adjusting to the glare as I watched Ben and Felicity in silence. I remembered the entire incident clearly. The two of them were shuffling about nervously, making it a point to avoid one another, not saying a word or even making eye contact. Every now and then one of them would ask me how I was doing, and Ben even asked me several times if he should take me to the hospital. I finished the last of the sport drink with a gulp and screwed the lid tightly back onto the plastic container then tossed it over my shoulder into the rear of the Jeep.
“Are you two going to kiss and make up?” I finally asked.
Ben and Felicity both stopped in their tracks and looked at me suspiciously.
“Yeah,” I told them. “I heard you two snap at each other. I may not have been in my body at the time, but I was in the room.”
“So look,” Ben started, looking down at the ground. “I’m not really used to this kinda stuff, Felicity. I...”
“Aye, you don’t have to say it, Ben,” Felicity interrupted. “We were both on edge. If we should be mad at anyone, it’s him.” She motioned to me. “Not each other.”
“Wait a minute,” I protested. “I wasn’t involved in your little spat.”
“I beg to differ,” my wife informed me. “Just exactly who was laying in there with no pulse? I told you it was dangerous.”
“She’s right, Rowan,” Ben chimed in. “I thought you were dead, and for what?”
“Grey eyes,” I told them.
“Excuse me?” Felicity intoned.
“Grey eyes,” I repeated. “The killer has got grey eyes. I saw them.”
“So you actually did see somethin’?” Ben queried as he flipped out his ever-present notebook.
“Just the eyes,” I answered. “He was either very careful about being seen, or he was very lucky.”
“That’s somethin’ I don’t quite understand,” Ben stated.
“What’s that?” Felicity asked.
“Why would he care?” he continued. “It’s not like his victims can give an eyewitness description.”
“Fear,” I stated simply. “I think that might be why he props the doors open too.”
They both stared at me blankly as if I had lost them.
“Think about it,” I proceeded. “When my body shut down in there, my spirit or soul, whatever you prefer to call it, left. But it didn’t go very far, obviously, because I watched you two argue about giving me CPR. That’s what turned me on to this idea. I think the killer not only feels remorse but fear as well. He performs the Expiation spell for forgiveness, and he props the door open so his victim’s spirit can leave.”
“I still don’t see the connection with hiding his face from the victims
,” Ben puzzled.
“He fears retribution from the spirits of his victims,” Felicity interjected, realizing what I was trying to explain. “He keeps his identity hidden so they can’t find him.”
“You mean ta’ tell me he thinks the ghosts of his victims will come after him for revenge?” Ben asked incredulously. “That’s nuts. That’s just plain nuts.”
“It all depends on what you believe, Ben,” I told him.
“What about the fact that he killed her out here in the park?” he protested. “It seems like that would fit more with the wantin’-ta’-get-caught theory you mentioned.”
“I don’t know why he killed her out here,” I replied. “I just know what I feel, and what I feel right now is that he’s propping the doors open to let the victims’ spirits escape.”
“This is a pretty secluded section of the park,” Felicity interjected as she shaded her eyes and looked around. “You’ve got the wooded area with the fitness trail, but that’s about it. Most of the activity would be taking place closer to the front of the park where the pavilions and ballfields are.”
“Jeezus, this is one twisted fuckhead,” Ben muttered.
“We knew that already,” I told him.
“Does R.J. have grey eyes?” Felicity asked.
“Not that I recall,” I replied, “but I can’t say that I paid that much attention.”
“I still wanna talk to ‘im anyway,” Ben stated flatly.
Ben’s comment was followed by an awkward pause as his suspicion had once again reared its omnipresent head.
“So why don’t we head over to the house,” Felicity finally suggested, breaking the silence. “It’s cooler and there’s fresh, herb, sun tea in the fridge.”
“Sounds great to me,” I intoned. “Besides, that’s where my cigars are.”
“I’m with you,” Ben added.
Felicity rolled her eyes and went around the Jeep to climb into the driver’s seat.
* * * * *
Felicity was changing into shorts and a t-shirt while Ben and I set fire to a pair of cigars out on the back deck. I was just finishing the final adjustments to the patio umbrella when she came out to join us, preceded by our two bounding canines. She set a tray containing glasses and a pitcher of iced tea on the table and then lithely draped herself in a chair to join us.
It was still early afternoon, and the temperature had not yet begun to decline. The air remained thick with humidity, but there was a slight breeze, and as long as we stayed relaxed in the shade, the clime was at least tolerable.
“So I made a coupl’a calls on the way over here,” Ben announced, helping himself to the tea. “Seems Deckert managed to dig some info up on Devon Johnston.”
“Have they found him?” I asked, taking my turn with the pitcher and pouring a glass for my wife.
“Not yet,” he continued, “but we’re still lookin’.”
“What did Detective Deckert come up with?” Felicity asked, taking a sip of her drink.
“Found Johnston’s parents,” Ben answered, “or his mother anyway. His dad is deceased.”
“Why did it take until today?” I queried. “Not that I’m being critical.”
“Illinois license,” he replied. “We were just searching the Missouri DMV records initially. His mom lives in Urbana, and apparently, that’s where he grew up. He just never switched his driver’s license over. But, that’s not the interestin’ part. It seems that one Mister Devon Johnston was recently dismissed from his position as a medical technician with Mercy Hospital... And accordin’ to his records with the DMV, he’s got grey eyes.”
“So that should take the heat off of R.J.,” Felicity stated.
“Not really,” Ben told her. “It just gives me another asshole who’s moved one of his bricks into the suspicious pile ta’ worry about. Granted, his bricks are a little heavier than R.J.’s.”
“Seems to me they should be a lot heavier,” I interjected.
“Like I said,” Ben blew out a stream of smoke, “the information you get from one of your visions doesn’t do a damn bit of good in a courtroom. If it gives us a lead, great, but I still hafta come up with hard evidence. Hell, I don’t even know why I believe you. This ain’t exactly an everyday method of investigation, you know.”
“Maybe because you’re an open-minded individual,” Felicity chimed. “Whether you want to admit it or not.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But sometimes, I still feel like I might be a little nuts to go for some of this stuff.”
I knew exactly what Ben meant; I had even been known to be a bit skeptical myself in earlier years. I had been a practitioner of The Craft for all of my adult life, and though I had come to accept the things my otherworldly senses would tell me, I could still be surprised. As someone unfamiliar with the supernatural talents of the mind, this had to be very hard for him. I had to admit, he was holding up better than most.
I took advantage of the momentary silence to watch our dogs at play in the sun-soaked backyard. They tumbled and rolled with one another, tails wagging in a delighted frenzy as they wrestled, oblivious to the horror we three humans were being forced to contemplate. I sometimes wished I could be just as unmindful.
“Any ideas where Devon might be?” I queried, ending the self-imposed reticence.
“Nada,” Ben answered with a slight, somewhat animated shrug. “His mother hasn’t heard from him in six months, or so she says. We’ve got somebody sittin’ on her place too, just in case. We checked with his former co-workers, and it appears like he’s a bit of a loner. None of ‘em really got to know ‘im that well, and from what was said, they really didn’t care to either.”
“What about Cally?” Felicity intoned. “He called her once. Do you think he might try to contact her again?”
“We hafta hope that she’ll tell us if he does,” he returned. “We’re watchin’ her place, but if he calls ‘er or meets ‘er somewhere else, we’ll prob’ly miss it.”
“Can’t you follow her?” I asked.
“Not enough evidence at this point.” Ben turned his attention to me. “Last thing we need is ta’ get nailed for harassment.”
Ben paused as he puffed on his cigar and quietly watched the hummingbirds assault a hanging feeder like WWII era airplanes in a spectacular dogfight. Eventually he reached up and began smoothing his hair. Felicity and I looked at each other then back to him, as we were both intimately familiar with the gesture.
“So let me ask you somethin’,” he finally spoke.
“Shoot,” I returned.
“You said somethin’ about this creep taking Karen Barnes’ heart with ‘im so he could ‘finish the ritual’. What was that all about?”
“It’s part of the sacrifice,” I explained. “And what he does with it is entirely dependent upon what he is trying to accomplish. He might burn it, or he might bury it... Hell, he might eat it.”
“I was afraid you were gonna say somethin’ like that,” he mumbled.
“I wish I could say for sure, but I’m still not entirely clear on what he’s trying to do.” I continued with a frustrated sigh. “To be honest, something about his whole ritual is bothering me.”
“How so?” Felicity asked.
“The energy at the crime scene.”
“What energy?” she queried, confused. “I didn’t feel anything except death.”
“Exactly,” I replied.
“What are you two talkin’ about?” Ben interjected his question, coming fully upright in his seat and paying rapt attention.
“Whenever a Witch or practitioner of magick does something, an invocation for example,” I explained, “he or she leaves behind residual energy. Kind of a left over that just floats around until it dissipates.”
“So what’s your point?” he pressed.
“That excess energy wasn’t there,” Felicity stated. “Neither of us felt it.”
“I was at that scene within hours of the murder,” I told him. “And we were there again
today. That energy should hang around for a good long time, but there’s nothing there. Just the energies given off by Karen Barnes. Her fear, pain, and especially her death.”
“Okay,” Ben replied slowly. “So I’d still appreciate it if ya’ could tell me what this is s’posed ta’ mean.”
“Maybe nothing,” I answered. “There could be a few different explanations, like maybe he just went through the physical motions but didn’t actually perform the ritual as he should have. It’s just something that kind of bothers me.”
“So it’s not a lead or anything like that.”
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
Ben returned his attention to the cigar held loosely between his fingers then relaxed and leaned back in his seat. It was obvious that he was on edge, and I was certain that a lack of sleep was partially to blame.
“When is the last time you had a decent night’s sleep, Ben?” Felicity asked him, following my thoughts as if I had spoken them aloud.
“I think it was sometime during winter ‘bout three years ago,” he answered facetiously.
“Do you really need to talk to R.J. today?” I questioned. “Couldn’t that wait till tomorrow?”
“Probably. Why?”
“You need sleep, Ben,” my wife stated matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, chief,” I agreed. “No offense intended, but you’re all edgy, and you look like someone ran over you with a truck.”
“Your health is going to start suffering,” Felicity intoned. “You can’t keep going like this. You really need to decompress.”
“Yeah... I know,” he answered with a sigh. “I haven’t seen my wife face to face in nearly a week. Shit, she told me this mornin’ on the phone that the little guy asked her if Daddy still lived there.”
“Go home, Ben,” I told him. “Go home and hug your kid, kiss your wife, and have a meal with your family. Then get some sleep.”
“I haven’t got the time,” he objected.
Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation Page 15