Crone’s Moon argi-5

by M. R. Sellars

  I glanced back and forth between the two renditions, considering what he had said. The sketch was rough and in reality, just a simplified version of the smears that coated the bathroom mirror. Unfortunately, what we were looking at could be any one of a hundred intersections on the map, not to mention that we were looking only at Missouri. Still, if you did as he said and made certain assumptions, the details could be construed to support his conclusion.

  “Tamara Linwood was found in Rafferty Park, right?” I asked. “Near the Missouri River.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “And that is southwest. And, Sarah Hart was found in River’s Bend Park.”

  “Northwest,” I murmured. “Again, near the Missouri.”

  “I know, I know,” he replied. “You’re thinkin’ ‘So, why dump a body near the Mississippi now. It breaks the pattern.’ Well, believe me I’m thinkin’ the same thing, but it’s still near a river. And, just look at the map.”

  “But, why so close to the state line?” I mused aloud. “The plates on the car were Illinois, right? Wouldn’t that be too close to home?”

  “Yeah, the tags were Illinois, but the car was from Wisconsin. Remember, they were both hot, Row.”

  “I don’t know, Ben,” I replied. “I can see half a dozen spots on the map that look just like the drawing. What do you think, Felicity?”

  My wife had been completely mute through the entire explanation, and even now she didn’t reply. I looked over and found her motionless, staring down at the map-covered surface of the table. Her gaze was once again unfocused, and she looked dangerously like she was inches from slipping across the veil yet again.

  I reached out and gently placed my hand on her shoulder as I spoke, a thin note of concern underscoring my tone. “Felicity?”

  “That’s it,” she finally said in a soft monotone, her fixed stare still aimed at the table. She reached out and placed the tip of her finger against the map, southwest of the location Ben and I had been discussing. The words next to her lacquered nail read, Woodcrest State Park.

  “That’s it,” she repeated. “That’s where I am.”

  CHAPTER 22:

  “Woodcrest is gated,” Agent Mandalay said, looking at the map. Then she tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

  She had arrived almost immediately following Felicity’s announcement pinpointing what she believed to be the location of Brittany Larson’s remains. Ben had filled her in on the necessary details, including his pet theory about the rest area on Highway 270. Now, we were all huddled around the table staring at the maps once again.

  “Sorry about that,” she apologized before continuing. “Anyway, if I remember correctly, they open at seven A.M. like most of the other state parks.”

  “That’s almost three hours from now,” Felicity objected.

  “I’m sure I could get someone out there to unlock the gate,” Mandalay replied. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea. This is still just between us, and if you’re wrong, the whole thing could blow up in our faces.”

  “But I’m not wrong,” Felicity objected.

  “I believe you think that, Felicity,” she said. “But are you absolutely sure? You’ve been through a lot tonight. Both of you. How do you know you aren’t misreading it all? The map you drew doesn’t look anything like the park you are pointing at.”

  “I just know I’m not,” my wife returned.

  “That’s not good enough,” Constance told her. “You have to remember what, and most especially who, we are dealing with here. My influence with the Major Case Squad is tenuous at best. If we attract attention from the wrong parties, then this could go very sour. Especially if this turns out to be a wild goose chase.”

  “Besides, Felicity,” Ben interjected. “Even if ya’ Twilight Zone in on the right spot, it’s still gonna be dark for a coupl’a hours yet.”

  She gave him an animated raise of her eyebrows. “So?”

  “So, I don’t think it’d be a good idea for us to go knockin’ around in the woods with flashlights,” he returned.

  “But we have more than flashlights,” Felicity countered. “We have me.”

  Mandalay forced back another yawn with the back of her hand and then shook her head at my wife. “You’re beginning to sound like Rowan.”

  “Aye, and you’re sounding like Ben used to,” Felicity replied.

  “Just trying to play it safe, Felicity,” she told her. “You know how touchy all of this is.”

  Ben spoke up again. “Like I said, Felicity, even if you go la-la and give us an exact location, we can’t see in the dark. The point is, if we go screwin’ around out there, we might accidentally fuck up the crime scene and lose a crucial piece of evidence without even knowin’ it. It’d be better if we do this at first light.”

  “He’s right,” I said.

  “I know he is,” she replied, resigned frustration seasoning her words as she made nervous motions with her hands. “But, I… I just… I don’t know… I just feel like I have to do something.”

  “I know, honey,” I replied. “I’ve been there, remember?”

  “So why don’t we look at a map of the park, then?” she proposed. “Maybe the one I drew is on a smaller scale, then.”

  “That’s true, it could be. It would be a starting point at least,” Constance agreed. “Do you have one?”

  “No,” she replied in a dejected tone, then let out a heavy breath as her shoulders drooped noticeably. She turned her back to the table and silently walked into the kitchen.

  “I can probably download one from the State Parks or Conservation Department website,” I offered, speaking loud enough that I hoped she could hear as well.

  “Okay, let’s do that,” Mandalay gave a nod as she spoke.

  “Let’s back up for a second. We can go at this from a different angle too,” Ben offered. “Row, you got a phone book handy?”

  “Sure,” I replied, starting toward the bookshelves in the living room. “What for?”

  “Woodcrest Park is named after the muni it borders,” he told me. “So I’m gonna call Woodcrest PD and see if there’s been anything suspicious happen around there in the last day or so.”

  “Good idea, Storm,” Mandalay said.

  “Yeah, I have ‘em on occasion,” he replied with a slight sardonic note.

  I returned quickly with the phone book. He flipped it open as he took it from me and then began thumbing his way toward the government office ‘blue pages’. “Can I use your phone?” he asked as he searched the hefty book.

  “Sure. I’ll get it,” I replied and then stepped into the kitchen to retrieve the handset. When I came around the corner, Felicity was standing with her arms crossed and leaning back against the counter. She was staring at the floor, her chin against her chest, and she was nibbling at her lower lip once again.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Aye.” She gave a small nod. “I’m fine.”

  “Ben is going to call the Woodcrest Police Department,” I offered.

  “I heard.”

  “You know, we can probably get a map of the park off the Internet.”

  “Aye, I heard that too.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  She looked up and gave me a weak smile. “I’m fine, Row. Just very, very tired, that’s all.”

  “Here it is,” Ben announced behind me. “Row. Phone.”

  I glanced over my shoulder then back to her. “It’s going to be okay,” I said as I started backing out of the doorway. “I promise.”

  “I know,” she answered with a nod. “I’ll be sure of that.”

  Ben took the phone from my hand as I turned, and then he began stabbing the number into the handset. A moment later, he tucked it up to his ear and waited expectantly.

  “Yeah, good morning,” he said suddenly. “My name’s Ben Storm, I’m a detective with St. Louis City Homicide. I need to speak with your watch commander… Yeah… Great, what’s his name? Okay, what’s her name? Serg
eant Michelle Marshall… Great… Thanks… Yeah, it’s Detective Ben Storm… Yeah, that’s right, City Homicide. Yeah, I’ll hold. Thanks.”

  Ben twisted the handset away from his mouth and reached up with his free hand to massage his neck. After a moment, he canted the receiver back up to his mouth and began speaking again. “Yeah, Sergeant Marshall. Detective Storm. Yeah… I know… Yeah, tell me about it, I’m runnin’ on about four hours outta the last twenty-four… Yeah, kinda… So listen, I’m wantin’ ta’ check if you’ve had any reports of vandalism or trespassing over at Woodcrest Park the past couple of days?… Really?… When was that?… No kidding… You find anything?… Okay… Yeah… Yeah… No, just a theory I’m workin’ on, nothing for sure… No, pretty minor case, nothin’ too serious… Yeah… Uh-huh… Yeah…” He looked over at me and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s me… Thanks, I think…” He let out a forced chuckle. “Yeah… Well I appreciate it… Sure, if it pans out we’ll be sure to let ya’ know… Yeah… Thanks… Bye.”

  He pulled the handset away and pressed his thumb against the off-hook switch.

  “Well?” Agent Mandalay asked.

  “Park attendant found the gate unlatched when she arrived Saturday morning,” he answered. “Chain had been snapped. Prob’ly with a bolt cutter, but there was no other vandalism they could find. Apparently, this happens every now and then. According to the Sergeant, they’ve caught a coupl’a drunk good ol’ boys in the past who thought it’d be a good idea to go fishin’ in the middle of the night and broke in so they could use the boat ramp.”

  “But not this time?” I asked.

  “Nope.” He shook his head. “But since there was no other damage, they just wrote it off and filed a vandalism report.”

  He offered me the handset and I took it.

  “So what was the eye roll about?” I asked as I started backing slowly toward the kitchen doorway.

  “She asked if I was the same Detective Storm that’s been on TV with ‘that Witch’,” he replied flatly.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “You’re my freakin’ claim to fame apparently.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he sighed. “It’s not the first time I’ve been asked, won’t be the last I’m sure.”

  I turned then continued through the doorway and dropped the phone back into its wall base. My mouth was already open to speak to my wife when I looked up and saw that the room was empty. I had been fairly intent on Ben’s side of the phone conversation, but I couldn’t imagine having missed Felicity coming into the room. Still, it wasn’t something I could rule out either.

  I glanced around and then turned and called back into the dining room, “Felicity?”

  I waited a few seconds but heard no reply. I called out again, “Is Felicity in there?”

  “I thought she was in there,” Constance called back to me.

  I felt my mouth curl downward into a frown as the hair on the back of my neck began to prickle in a wave of gooseflesh. The frightening hollowness that tended to visit the pit of my stomach from time to time announced its arrival, and I knew instantly that something was amiss.

  I walked through the kitchen without a word and continued out the back door, through the atrium sun porch, and exited onto the deck. The security floods were still lit, casting illumination across the raised expanse but eventually dissipating as they lost their battle against the darkness a few feet beyond the railing. My wife was still nowhere to be seen.

  I frowned harder and advanced across the deck, peering into the night toward the back of the yard. It wasn’t unheard of for her to sit on the bench along the side of her potting shed when she wanted some solitude. I strained to see if I could pick out her form amid the faint silhouette of the outbuilding but saw nothing resembling a person at all.

  “Felicity?” I called out.

  Hearing no reply, I pressed forward and down the shallow flight of stairs to the concrete apron of the driveway leading to the garage.

  “Felicity?” I called into the darkness again.

  Still, I received no reply.

  The hollowness was beginning to gnaw a hole in my stomach, and every sense in my body started advancing toward overload. I turned to my right and walked across the driveway/patio area until I cleared the corner of the house and gazed down toward the street.

  Ben’s van was off to the side of the drive, having been straightened by RJ earlier after the cop’s drunken parking attempt. Past that, I could see the tail end of Constance’s sedan where she had parked on the street in front of our house. What was conspicuously missing from the scene was my wife’s Jeep.

  I spun in place and began a fast walk back across the concrete to the deck then back into the house. As I entered the back door, I looked up at the note board on the side of the refrigerator. Next to it was a line of hooks for extra keys, and the spot reserved for Felicity’s spares was empty.

  Ben was just pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee as I came in, and he looked up. It didn’t take any of his training for him to see that I was distressed. He immediately asked, “What’s wrong, white man?”

  “Felicity’s gone,” I told him quickly. “So is her Jeep. I think she’s gone out there by herself.”

  CHAPTER 23:

  “Goddammit!” my friend exclaimed. “Hasn’t she ever heard of a chain of evidence? If there’s a crime scene out there, and she fucks it up, it’s not gonna do us any good at all.”

  “She’s not thinking straight right now, Ben,” I replied sharply.

  Constance apparently heard the commotion and came through the doorway with a puzzled expression on her face. “What’s going on?”

  “Felicity’s gone,” I told her quickly.

  “Are you sure? I didn’t even hear her leave.”

  “Apparently neither did the dogs because they didn’t bark or anything, which is unheard of.” I shook my head. “But her Jeep is definitely gone.”

  “You don’t think she…” she began.

  “That’s exactly what I think,” I replied before she could finish the question. “And, we have to stop her.”

  “Jeezus!” Ben spat. “She’s worse than you, white man. At least you wait until I’m not around before pullin’ some kinda stunt.”

  “She doesn’t deal well with people being victimized,” I told him, impatience growing in my voice. “Especially women.”

  “Yeah, that’s kinda obvious,” he shot back, starting toward the phone. “But what the hell does she think she’s gonna do out there?”

  “Probably the same thing we’ve been trying to do here. Figure out who is doing this,” I explained, growing more agitated with each passing second. “Can we save the why’s for later? We’ve got to stop her.”

  “What the fuck are you so worked up about, Row?” Ben asked as he snatched the telephone receiver from the wall. “Worst thing that can happen is she screws over the crime scene. I’m the one that needs to be pissed, not you.”

  “No it isn’t!” I snapped. “You saw what happened here tonight. What do you think is going to happen if she manages to connect directly with Brittany Larson’s corpse?”

  “What? You’ve done that kinda stuff before,” he replied. “I’ve seen you do it at the morgue.”

  “Yes, you have,” I shot back. “And think about it. Remember what happened? If Felicity hadn’t been there to bring me back, I would have ended up being their latest customer.”

  His eyes widened as the realization hit him. “Jeezus.”

  “Not my choice of deities,” I spat. “But, yeah. Exactly. We have to stop her before she finds the body and tries something stupid.”

  “Surely she knows what could happen,” Constance offered.

  “Probably, but like I said, she’s not thinking straight,” I reiterated. “The way she’s been shifting in and out of trances, I’m not even sure she’s fully in this world right now.”

  “Yeah, Detective Storm again.” Ben was s
peaking into the phone. “I need to speak with Sergeant Marshall again… Thanks…” He twisted the phone down and looked over to Constance. “Yo, Mandalay. See if you can figure out the most likely route she would take from here.”

  Agent Mandalay gave him a quick nod and ducked back into the dining room to check the maps.

  “Yeah, Sergeant Marshall,” Ben said as he suddenly twisted the phone back up to his mouth. “Listen, I got a situation… Yeah, I wish… So listen, you got someone headed for Woodcrest Park right now and she’s intent on gettin’ in… No, no, she’s a civilian consultant… No, she’s just a little overzealous right now… Yeah, I just need you to stop her if we don’t get to her first. Yeah, her name is Felicity O’Brien. About five-two, one-ten or so, long red hair. She’s drivin’ a black Jeep Wrangler, license plates…” Ben looked at me questioningly and motioned for me to give up the information.

  I quickly searched my memory but was too preoccupied with worry to form a complete mental picture, so I shook my head and gave him what I could. “V-X-N something.”

  “Yeah,” he continued speaking into the phone. “Partial Missouri plates, V-X-N. That’s Victor, X-Ray, November. Got that?”

  “Bumper stickers,” I blurted as the thought struck. “She’s got a Pentacle on the spare tire cover, and on the bumper she has one that says ‘Magick Happens’.”

  Ben repeated the description to the Sergeant. “Yeah… Yeah, she’s a Witch too… Yeah… Funny… Uh-huh… Yeah… Okay… Yeah, I’d rather not get into that right now… Yeah, I know… Yeah, but like I said before it’s just a theory I’m workin’… Yeah, could be nothin’… Yeah, she’s just a little impatient… Yeah, do me a favor; let your officers know she’s with us. I don’t want her gettin’ hurt ‘cause of a gung ho rookie. Yeah… Let me give you my cell number…”