The Law Of Three argi-4

by M. R. Sellars

  I turned my gaze to him but continued to hold Felicity’s hand tightly. “The page is most likely from a book by Wilhelm Pressel,” I recited. “It’s pretty obscure, but most anyone who’s studied the Witch Trials of the Burning Times is familiar with it. It didn’t dawn on me at first, but the minute you said Prossneck, Germany, well, that’s a bit of a giveaway. Anyway, if it is in fact a page from Hexen und Hexenmeister, then the text is an actual accounting of the first day of torture inflicted upon an accused Witch in the year sixteen twenty-nine.”

  “Okay. That’s the kinda thing that would fit with this wingnut’s profile. But, what’s with the comment about Felicity’s hair?”

  “The first thing the hangman did to this woman,” I explained, “was to bind her hands, attach her to a torture ladder, and cut her hair off.” I swallowed hard before continuing. “He then doused her head with alcohol and set it on fire to burn the rest of her hair off down to the roots.”

  “Aye,” Felicity muttered quietly as she regained her voice. “And that was only the beginning.”

  “He’s taunting me,” I stated as anger began to creep into my voice. “The sonofabitch is telling me what he plans to do to my wife.”

  “Jeezus… Goddamnit…” Ben whispered. “And I thought I was takin’ the easy out. So much for breakin’ it to you gently.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” I offered with a shrug.

  “No,” he returned. “But the note is only half of it.”

  “What else,” I asked with a grimace.

  “Aww man, Jeez…” He rested an elbow on the table then dropped his head into his hand and closed his eyes. “They ID’d the victim…”

  The portent in his voice was unmistakable, and it struck both Felicity and me with no less force than a physical slap across the face. I could almost guess what was coming, and I am certain Felicity could as well.

  The ache inside my skull took on the properties of root canal sans anesthetic. I braced myself for the news, not truly wanting to hear it but unable to escape its reality.

  “Oh, Gods…” Felicity murmured into the silence between us, audibly broadcasting her dread.

  “Yeah,” Ben returned. “Randy Harper. He took out a member of your Coven.”

  “Dammit,” I spat the curse. “Isn’t this how I got involved in all this shit to begin with?”

  My reference wasn’t lost on him. The first investigation I’d helped Ben with had been the murder of Ariel Tanner. She had been one of my students in The Craft as well as a good friend. Moreover, she had been the priestess of the Coven Felicity and I had since adopted.

  “Yeah. Deja vu and all that crap,” Ben returned.

  “Gods…” Felicity moaned, and her eyes grew wide. “What about everyone else? If he knew about Randy…”

  “That was the second call,” Ben said as he nodded. “I’ve kept a list in my desk since this all started. Ackman is going to contact them, and we’ll go from there.”

  “What about Nancy?” my wife appealed. “Someone should be with her. Unless…”

  She caught her breath as the thought struck. She didn’t have to voice it for us to know what it was.

  “Don’t panic,” Ben told her. “Ackman is making the calls. We don’t know anything yet, so let’s just assume that she’s okay.”

  Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she nodded affirmation. I gave her hand a squeeze but wasn’t certain how reassuring it would be. I knew she could easily sense that I was just as worried as she was. I dropped my chin to my chest and stared at the table as a solemn hush blanketed our little corner of the diner. Even the radio behind the counter was spewing only dead air.

  “I’ve had enough nightmares this decade,” I finally muttered. “Will someone please wake me up.”

  *****

  “Here she comes.” Ben canted his head toward me and whispered, “Play nice and keep the Twilight Zone stuff to yourself.”

  It was obvious that we had not only been expected but that our arrival on scene had been announced. We had just barely topped the metal stairs leading to the roof access of the warehouse a few seconds prior to his comment. Before we could get our bearings, we were greeted by the sight of a woman wearing a heavy trench coat walking purposefully toward us from several yards away.

  The assortment of circumstances combined with the raging pain in my skull had centered my mood somewhere between foul and just plain pissed off. “What if I don’t?”

  “I’m not kidding here, white man. She’ll kick your sorry ass outta here,” he snarled under his breath. “And I’m damn liable to help her. Got me?”

  “Listen to him, Rowan,” Felicity demanded as she squeezed my arm. “This isn’t the time. Not now.”

  “When will it be the time?” I asked, my voice flat. “Tell me that.”

  “I don’t know. But not now. Please.”

  She was still frightened, and I couldn’t blame her. The written threat was enough by itself, but backing it up by torturing and killing a member of our own Coven drove the point past home. It fueled the horror and urged it across the line that separated intimidation from violence. Omen from action.

  While I still felt some of the same fear that enveloped my wife, mine was rapidly turning to calculating anger. Still, they were both correct. I needed to keep myself on an even keel, or I wasn’t going to get anywhere.

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Okay.”

  “I’m friggin’ serious here, Row,” Ben said.

  “I know. I know.”

  Lieutenant Barbara Albright reminded me of someone’s mother. She didn’t resemble anyone in particular, actually. She just fit the appearance of a generic, prim and proper, sixties sitcom mom who had been strategically updated to fit the style of the decade-but only where absolutely necessary. She was slight of figure and wore her white hair in a shoulder-length coif that was just traditional enough not to be out of vogue but wasn’t exactly riding the cutting edge either. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, but that, in and of itself, could have been an illusion. She was very simply just that nondescript.

  The one thing that stood out about her appearance was the thin-lipped expression she now wore. According to Ben, it was how she always looked. At any rate, it was the kind of mask a card player would kill for, and I was betting she knew exactly how to use it.

  “Mister Gant, we need to get some things straight right now.” She started talking three steps before she reached us. “I am not exactly sure what went on during my predecessor’s time in charge, but I know for a fact that I do not like the things that I have read.”

  She came to a halt directly before us and took a firm stance before thrusting her gloved hands into her pockets. She stared at me with glacier blue eyes, unblinking and unwavering, never taking a moments attention away from my face nor acknowledging the presence of Ben or Felicity. At the V where the lapels of her dark grey trench coat overlapped, a yellow-gold, cross pendant stood out against her sweater in a blatant display.

  “I also do not like you or what you represent,” she continued her speech. “Your involvements in previous investigations were a travesty and an embarrassment to the Major Case Squad. It is only by the grace of God Almighty that no officers were injured or killed because of your antics. You should also know that I am of the opinion that had you stayed out of it and allowed us to do our jobs, there would have been far fewer victims. Not to mention that Eldon Porter would now be incarcerated.”

  “Exc…” I started to make an objection, but the first word was cut off by Felicity’s instantly tightening grip on my arm. Even in the midst of her apprehension, she was remaining logical and level headed, something at which she was very practiced, until you pressed the correct button, of course. If that occurred, well, let’s just say that your only hope would be if your deity of choice happened to be listening.

  “Yes, Mister Gant?” Lieutenant Albright cocked her head and frowned even more, which is something I hadn’t thought possible.

&
nbsp; “Nothing,” I answered flatly.

  “Now then,” she started again. “You need to understand that you are here only because Porter left a message specifically for you. Otherwise, I would have you arrested if you came within a mile of a crime scene. The truth is that I want you to see what you have caused through your interference, and I am not the only one who sincerely hopes that it haunts you for the rest of your days.”

  “Lieutenant, you don’t even begin to know,” I returned with a cold edge in my voice.

  She ignored my comment. “Be aware that any further involvement you have in this case will be at my discretion, and you can rest assured that I will exercise it to the fullest extent. I intend to keep you on a very short leash, Mister Gant. VERY short. Am I making myself clear?”

  I stared back at her for a long moment, remaining mute. The temperature atop the building seemed even colder than it had down on the street, but that was most likely an effect of the company rather than the climate. The expectant lull was filled with forlorn sighing noises as the wind weaved its way through broken windows on the floor below us then gushed up the stairwell and out through the open door.

  In my head, I flipped through several responses for her question, but unfortunately, not one of them was particularly appropriate, given the circumstances. They would have made me feel better, most definitely, but would have served only to get me cuffed and processed just for good measure. I finally decided on a one-word answer. I took a deep breath and fought to ground my ire, or at the very least, keep the brunt of it out of my voice.

  “Perfectly,” came my response.

  “Good,” she returned. “I am glad to know that we understand one another. Now if you will kindly go back downstairs, I am going to have Detective Storm here escort you to the medical examiner’s office. I will meet you there in due course.”

  “Wait a minute.” I shook my head and blinked as I felt my forehead automatically crease from the sudden feeling of confusion. “Aren’t we going to look at this crime scene?”

  “We have been looking at it, Mister Gant,” she told me as she turned on her heel. “You, however, are not.”

  I started toward her as she began walking away, and felt not only Felicity’s grip tighten, but also Ben’s barrier-like forearm thud across my chest as I ran into it.

  “Then what the hell did you call me up here for?” I shouted after her.

  She stopped in her tracks and stood with her back to us for a measured handful of seconds before twisting slightly and looking back over her shoulder at me.

  “I thought we had already established who is in charge here, Mister Gant” was all she said before turning and continuing on her way.

  CHAPTER 5:

  “I can’t believe she did that!” I punctuated the angry comment by slapping my open palm hard against the side of Ben’s van. The force of the impact joined with the frigid sheet metal to send a loud thump in one direction and a jarring sting up my arm in the other. I instantly regretted the action but did it again anyway. In fact, I did it twice more and would have continued had my friend not circled his hand about my wrist and stopped me mid-swing.

  “Calm down,” he barked. “My friggin’ van didn’t do anything to ya’.”

  I turned to face him, my infuriation seething outward in hot waves. “Dammit, Ben, she called us up there just so she could try to intimidate me.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s her style. Whaddaya want me to tell ya’? Now shut up and quit makin’ a scene.”

  I took quick notice that my outburst had, in fact, attracted attention from some nearby uniformed officers and crime scene technicians, but I didn’t really care.

  “Who the hell does she think she is?!” I demanded as my voice rose well above any necessary volume.

  A sudden swath of blue-white light fell across us, struggling to fend off the darkness and expose us to the world. It slashed drunkenly back and forth, growing brighter with each pass. The varied sounds of interested commotion blended with frenzied footsteps at an ever-increasing volume.

  Ben shot a startled look over his shoulder and declared a staccato string of expletives that ended with “I really don’t need this shit.”

  With a quick jerk, he yanked the passenger door of the vehicle open and shoved me at the opening as he ordered, “Get in.”

  “Hell no!” I exclaimed. “They want a story, I’ll give them a story!”

  I shuffled back and sidestepped him as he reached for me again. I don’t know how I pulled it off, but I somehow feigned a quick shift in position that left my friend grasping at air and me skirting quickly around him and the open door. The television reporters were almost upon us, and I was aiming myself toward them with fire in my throat and a vitriolic commentary on my tongue.

  Before I managed to take a second step, however, the front of my coat laminated itself to my chest and forced the air from my lungs. I could no longer feel the ground beneath my feet, and my stomach fluttered with the butterflies of momentary weightlessness as I literally arced backward in flight. I stumbled once more to the ground, remaining upright only by the grace of the large hand that was twisted into the back of my coat.

  I was stiffly swung in a shallow half circle, and after that I didn’t see much of anything other than the seat of the van rushing headlong toward me. I twisted and fought to step upward into the vehicle as I was propelled at it and in the process raked my shoulder hard against the frame. The door was already being slammed behind me as I fell in a twisted heap with my torso lying across the engine cover. Toward the rear, I heard the side door groan in a discordant harmony with my own as it was quickly forced open. The rush of activity was instantly followed by Felicity climbing in and slamming the opening shut.

  I pushed myself up from the shadows and into a sitting position, twisting in the seat as I rose. The stark lights now filled the interior of the Chevy from the front and sides as video cameras were brought to bear on it. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and twisted my head, throwing up my hands to shield my face, but I still saw spots from the brief glance into the man-made suns.

  We were parked outside the cordoned area of the crime scene proper, and therefore, fair game. Now that I had called down their unrelenting attentions upon us, we had become the main course.

  The muffled exterior noise jumped in amplification as the driver’s side door of the van opened, and a chaotic mix of voices began ricocheting around us.

  “I said, NO COMMENT!” I heard my friend shout over the unintelligible questions as he folded his large frame in through the opening and levered the door shut.

  The intensity of the clamor was once again suppressed, but the beams of garish light still sliced through the shadows. If they were to be denied a sound byte then they were intent on fighting like a pack of wild dogs for the best clip of video.

  “Thanks, Rowan,” Ben snarled at me with thick sarcasm in his voice as he thrust his keys into the ignition and started the van. “Thanks a whole hell of a lot. Just what the fuck did you think you were doing?!”

  “Giving them what they want!” I barked in return.

  “Have you lost your goddamned mind?! Where the hell do ya’ think that’s gonna get ya’?!”

  “Someone has to tell them what’s going on.”

  “That’s for the public relations officer to handle, not you.”

  “I’m talking about that bitch upstairs! Someone’s got to tell them what she’s doing!”

  “Don’t you get it?!” he declared, thumping his fingertips against his forehead and gesturing angrily. “Have you suddenly gone stupid on me or somethin’? You run off at the mouth about Albright, and you’re screwed! Like it or not, in this situation, you’re the odd man out. They’ll spin the whole fuckin’ thing to make you look like a freak, and the way you’re actin’ right now it wouldn’t be hard!”

  It took a moment for what he said to sink in, but I knew he was correct. I was as out of control as I had ever been.

  “I’m sorry,
” I exclaimed. “But there was no call for what she did. It was a power play, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, it was,” he admitted as he pulled the gearshift down into drive and pounded his fist twice on the horn before letting off the brake. “I told ya’ how she was…” He took a moment to direct an exclamation toward the windshield. “Get outta my way you friggin’ asshole, or you’re gonna get run over! Jeezus!”

  My friend twisted the steering wheel and nudged the vehicle slowly forward through the group of reporters and camera operators as they began parting. As he brought the van around and rotated the wheel back toward center, he shot me a quick glance.

  “Listen, Kemosabe, I had no idea that was what she had planned, but it doesn’t surprise me. I told you what she thought of ya’.”

  “But that whole exercise was done for no other reason than to get under my skin.” I asserted.

  “Uh-huh,” my friend grunted. “That’s how she plays the game.”

  “Well, her rules suck.”

  “Aye, but that doesn’t matter,” Felicity said from behind me. “She succeeded in exactly what she set out to do. Look at yourself, then. I’ve never seen you lose your temper like this.”

  “Yes you have,” I shot back as I turned in my seat to face her. “You just don’t remember it because a sick sonofabitch had you drugged up on Rophynol.”

  “Aye,” she answered with an uncharacteristic hardness in her voice. “He did at that, but I remember more than you know, Rowan Linden Gant. More than you know.”

  As she slumped back in her seat, she continued to stare at me with a cold fire in her jade green eyes. I knew at that moment that I had flipped the wrong switch.

  I hoped my chosen deities were listening.

  *****

  In keeping with the theme set forth by Lieutenant Albright, the security guard at the Saint Louis City Medical Examiner’s office had been phoned about our impending arrival. He let us in while on his way out the door to grab a smoke. He had been instructed to tell us to wait in the lobby until she arrived. Another tactic on her part, obviously, but there was nothing we could do. The door that led farther into the building was locked. I knew, because I succeeded in raising Ben’s anger a notch by ignoring his vehement instructions not to check it.