by Ani Gonzalez
She got up and walked him out the door, picking up the lampshade on the way. He kissed her goodbye and left. It was all extremely domestic and sweet, and not at all what she was accustomed to.
Or what she had been expecting tonight.
She walked back to the dining table and picked up the deck of cards. The swirling pattern on the back of the cards suddenly looked dark and ominous. She shuffled them three times, then made her picks. She set them in a star shape, a cartomancy spread she'd designed herself. It was based on a traditional cross spread, but with two additional vertices for more specificity.
Then she sat down and did what she never, ever did.
She read her own future.
This was the strangest part about her talent. It never worked for her. Oh, she could read the cards and get some insight as to her frame of mind, the obstacles she put in her own way, and a host of other things.
But she couldn't read her own future. She'd tried many times, but it always came out wrong. Her sight, so accurate when applied to strangers, invariably led her astray.
She turned over a card. Death, of course. The High Priestess card was also to be expected. She was a fortune teller, so she always got that one. The other four cards, however, were extremely troubling.
The Lovers and four cards with goblets in them. Four cards with cups. What were the odds?
The Lovers card was self-explanatory. The overflowing Ace of Cups meant extreme emotion. The Two of Cups meant partnership and fulfillment.
And the mourning figure in the Five of Cups meant loss. The card's background consisted of a shadowy waterfall, dark tendrils spilling onto the ground. The mournful image reminded her of Black River Falls Bridge and its deadly history.
She grabbed the unfinished bottle of wine and poured its remaining contents into her glass. She needed another drink.
Sean Stickley was not just a handsome man who'd cooked her dinner and then kissed her silly.
He was her soulmate.
And he would be dead in a couple of days.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AN APPLE orchard.
He was standing in an apple orchard, looking for aliens, no less.
The place looked positively idyllic, with healthy trees and newly painted signs announcing the various types of apples.
"We grow Red Delicious and Gala apples," explained the owner, Meredith Millsap, a gray-haired lady wearing a hand-crocheted sweater and sensible clogs. "But the Ginger Golds and Winesaps are our best crops. They grow well in Virginia."
Sean looked at the peaceful scene before him. The white farmhouse and red barn looked like something from a Norman Rockwell painting.
"We sell most of our apples to Haunted Orchard," Mrs. Millsap continued. "They like to buy local. We also get a lot of visitors in the fall, for apple-picking season, but this time of year is fairly peaceful. Just the occasional pruning now and then."
Sean nodded. "You may get some visitors in the next couple of days. Your place was identified as a possible UFO landing site."
He chose his words carefully, not wanting to alarm Mrs. Millsap, who seemed like a nice elderly lady with a flourishing down-to-earth business.
But Mrs. Millsap stared at him, aghast. "Again? We'll have to add some fencing then."
That was not the response he'd expected.
She shook her head. "It's because of the devil monkey incident, right? My husband told me that only the cryptologists would care about it, but I knew. As soon as I heard about the car parts and the moon, I got suspicious."
"Oh." The reassuring speech he'd planned on giving Mrs. Millsap didn't seem necessary.
She sighed. "It's been twelve years. I guess we are overdue."
"They've come here before?"
She nodded. "The aliens used to come every year, back when Joe and I were newlyweds. Our neighbor was supposedly abducted in the seventies and he wrote a book about it. This area was Little Green Men Central for a couple of years after that."
And it very well might be again, Sean thought, if the Alien Abduction Survivors Club had anything to say about it.
She gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. "Remember the Harmonic Convergence?"
"Not really," Sean confessed, adding the harmonicwhatsit to the list of things he was going to have to research. He'd ask Luanne about it. She would know.
"That was in nineteen eighty-seven. We had thousands of people." She shook her head disapprovingly. "They picked the trees clean."
"It isn't thousands this time. Maybe less than a hundred, if we're lucky."
"Thank heavens for small favors." She walked him out of the orchard. "The police will be around?"
"Yes, and Fire and Rescue will be on standby." He added 'talk to Gavin about the aliens' to his to-do list. He had to alert the firebugs that their help may be needed. Gavin, he was sure, would not be happy about the prospect of an ersatz alien landing in his territory.
"That's reassuring." They reached his car, which looked out of place next to the pick-up truck and the John Deere tractor. "Let me know if you need anything from us, Sheriff."
"I will. Thanks."
He got in the Mustang and drove off, dialing the fire chief with the touch of a button.
"Hey," Gavin answered. "What's up?"
"Alien landing day after tomorrow. Be there or be square."
"Again?" Gavin cursed under his breath. "I thought the UFO fad faded after X-files was cancelled."
Sean chuckled. Misery definitely loved company. "Apparently not."
"Great. Time to bring out my predecessor's Chris Carter voodoo doll. How many participants this time?"
"A couple of dozens. At least that's PRoVE's provisional estimate. Caine warned us that the number may rise if the rumored landing goes viral."
"That sounds manageable. Is the venue confirmed?"
"Not really." He was pretty sure that Luanne's coordinates were correct, but Madame Esmeralda wasn't a valid confirmation.
"They should get a permit. I'll have DeShawn contact them about it. He'll verify the location and find out more information about the event."
That was a great idea. No one evaded the Fire & Rescue permit process, not if they wanted to visit Banshee Creek again. "Excellent. Keep me posted."
"Will do. Any news on Black River Falls Bridge?"
The question surprised Sean. Why would the firebugs be interested in a self-termination. "Not so far. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Gavin replied in a studiously casual tone. "Just this new cordoning system they're trying out in our sister town in Japan. It's really helped them decrease their suicide rate. I'd love to get some funding for that."
Ah, the Fire & Rescue safety obsession raises its ugly head. "The guy didn't jump. He used a gun."
"So? Other people might."
"I'll let you know. I don't think we're going to get any copycats from this one."
"Oh." Was it his imagination or did the Fire Chief sound disappointed? "What makes you think that?"
"Just a feeling I have," Sean replied.
"Copy. Talk to you later."
Gavin hung up, and Sean drove back to the station, feeling satisfied. It wasn't even noon and he'd gotten most of his to-do list checked off.
Only one thing left to do.
He walked into the station and waved hello to Olivia. "Good morning."
"Morning to you too, Mulder. How was breakfast at Area fifty-one?"
"Educational."
Olivia laughed. "I ran those names you gave me through the corrections database. It took all morning, but I was able to confirm that everyone is where they're supposed to be."
"Really?" The answer surprised him. Luanne had been so certain, and yet...
"No paroles. No early releases. No deals."
That seemed pretty definite. Had Luanne been putting him on?
Or maybe she wasn't as infallible as she presumed to be.
"Can you flag the names and have them alert us if there's a change in status? Thanks."
/>
"Sure thing. Should I do anything about the UFO guys? Apparently, I have some free time."
"No, Fire and Rescue is going to handle them for now. They're sending someone to confirm the location."
"You don't say." A slight smile appeared on her face. "Who exactly are they sending?"
"Uh, someone named DeShawn."
She gave a low whistle. "Well, well, well. Mr. Hottie McHottie is going after the extraterrestrial loonies? I bet he could use some backup. I think I'll do some rounds around lunch, if it's okay with you?"
"Sure." Olivia was a good investigator. She would notice things that the firefighters might miss.
He left a smiling Olivia behind and walked to his office. He had a pile of paperwork to do, including evaluations. He should start going through those.
He sat down and stared at the documents on his desk. Olivia had left him a spreadsheet with the results of her correctional facilities search. All the names were neatly crossed off. She'd checked and doubled checked them on at least five databases.
She was right. Everyone involved in his last NYPD case was locked up or neutralized. No one was out on bail or early release. No relatives or fellow gang members were on the radar.
Where was the danger then? Luanne had been so certain, he'd almost believed her. Heck, he'd believed her enough to have Olivia search all his old enemies.
Luanne was wrong. She had to be.
But what if she wasn't?
He grabbed his phone and called Eric Mandell. Sean wasn't the only person who'd been working on that case. There'd been undercover agents, detectives, analysts, and prosecutors involved as well.
"Good to hear from you," his friend answered after a few rings. "How did the tea leaves work out?"
Sean smiled wryly. "Still to be seen. I have another favor to ask you. Do you remember my last case?"
"Yes, it was quite memorable. What with my best friend almost dying and such."
"I received a tip. Someone may be out for revenge."
Eric was silent. "How reliable is the tip?"
The tip was an all-too attractive fortuneteller with red hair and sparkly hoops, but he couldn't tell Eric that. His friend would think he'd lost his mind.
"Unclear," he replied. "It's probably a false alarm, but I don't want to take any chances. Can you spread the word? I want the guys to be extra careful for the next few days."
He heard Eric let out a shaky breath. "I will. It's probably nothing."
"Yes, probably." Sean glanced at the spreadsheet in front of him. "I checked and everyone is accounted for."
"Likely, a false alarm then."
"Yep."
"But we'll be careful anyway. Thanks for the heads-up. My wife has a passing fondness for me. A big insurance payout wouldn't be the same."
Sean chuckled. "You're a lucky man."
"I am. Keep in touch, okay?"
"Will do. You too."
Sean hung up and stared at the list. None of these people could hurt him or the members of his old team. Luanne had to be wrong.
But he had a feeling she wasn't.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
XENOASTROLOGY. IT had a nice ring to it.
Luanne practiced saying the word as she entered the Monster Hunter Motel. It was her cover story for hanging out at the meetings of the Alien Abduction Survivors Club, also known as AASC. She had a Martian sky map and rudimentary calculations worked out and everything. It wasn't a particularly good cover story, but it would have to do.
"Hey, Luanne." Lisa, the motel receptionist, waved at her in greeting. "Are you doing readings today? I'm doing a computer training during Mercury retrograde and I'm freaking out about it. I could use some help."
Luanne winced. "Oh, hon, you're a Scorpio. You should know better."
Lisa grimaced. "I know. I didn't check before registering. I can't cancel now because I'll lose my deposit. Plus management is really pushing me to get the certificate. My next pay raise depends on it."
"I'm not here for readings. I'm doing research."
Lisa's face fell. And no wonder. Her star chart was particularly vulnerable to Mercury. Working around it was going to be a pain.
"Don't worry," Luanne said. The last thing she needed today was a freaked out Scorpio. "We'll figure something out. Send me a copy of the training schedule and let me think about it."
Lisa smiled, looking relieved. "I'll do that. Thanks. So what are you here for?"
"I want to chat with some of the AASC members."
Lisa looked confused. "Why would you—?"
"I'm doing some research about xenoastrology," Luanne answered quickly.
"Xenowhat?" Lisa shook her head. "Never mind. You're not the only local who has dropped by today. Half the town has come in. Cassie's here and Laurie, and even that hot new firefighter came to ask them about their permits." She shrugged. "I guess there's more to these guys than meets the eye."
Cassie was Caine's deputy at PRoVE. She was a college professor of folklore and mythology and an avid researcher. She was probably working on an alien abduction academic paper. Laurie, however, was a romance novelist. Her erotic vampire romance series was a big hit. Why was she looking into aliens?
On the other hand, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.
"The AASC has the Van Helsing room. Down the hall to your right. They're setting up now."
"Thanks." Luanne hiked up her tote bag and headed down the hall, her heels click-clacking on the laminate floor.
The conference rooms were large and well-lit. The Van Helsing room had faux wood paneling and vampire movie posters—mostly vintage Hammer films—on the walls. The PRoVE guys had nicknamed it the "Christopher Lee Memorial Room" for a reason. It was the motel's most popular conference room. They'd had three town meetings in this room so far and the refreshments area was invariably set up under the "I don't drink...wine" sign.
The UFO enthusiasts had done the same thing. Two large tables sat on the corner laden with soda cartons, snack bags, and plastic tableware. Similar tables were set up around the room, but they held presentation materials, stacks of books, and other merchandise.
Luanne walked around, inspecting the materials. One of the tables held gold bar replicas surrounded by posters illustrating complicated calculations. The author seemed to be arguing that ancient astronauts crashed on Earth, colonized Peru, and forced the Incas to mine gold to power their spaceships so they could return home. The next exhibit dealt with post-abduction trauma. Another table addressed the 'are aliens really angels' issue. Apparently, Archangel Michael was from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse. The Virginia devil monkeys had a massive three-table exhibit with stuffed replicas, a diorama, and a mid-sized idol made from car parts. A circular table covered with a star-studded cloth announced "Hypnotic Regressions by Myrtle. Uncover the Truth for a Modest Fee." Luanne sneaked a peek at the price list. Yikes, Myrtle's rates were anything but modest. Maybe she should quit astrology and go into the hypnotic regression business. It seemed to be profitable.
Then there was the xenoastrology table.
Oh. Em. Gee. It was real.
She scanned the poster boards, fascinated. Forget her crappy little calculations done in a letter-sized notepad. Someone had gone all the way. There were charts. There was a full zodiac. There was triangulation and extrapolation. There were even sample horoscopes for humans born in Mars in the year 2075.
It was all very impressive.
But none of the displays discussed imminent alien landings, or pyramid schemes, or any of the things she was investigating. The AASC conference was quirky and eccentric, but it didn't seem to be dangerous or fraudulent.
"Isn't this amazing?" a voice said behind her.
She turned to greet Kat, who, it seemed, was attending the conference. She had on a bright blue dress in a Milky Way print and a vendor badge.
"I was about to call you about this," Kat said, gesturing toward the xenoastrology display. "I figured you'd be inte
rested."
"It's fascinating," Luanne replied. "So much work..."
Her voice trailed off. This had taken an insane amount of math. She was awed by the detail.
"What are you doing here?" she asked Kat.
"Mary, one of the organizers, asked if I could do a display of healing potions and spells." Kat looked around the room. "I'm not the only one here. Cassie has a table for her UFOs and Faeryland: One and the Same? project, and Laurie is selling her new alien abduction romance series." She pointed to a table near the back. "I'm over there. I mixed up a couple of space-themed creams and washes, and brought some books on Mayan and Incan magic. They've been really popular. I'm almost sold out and the conference hasn't started. I may have to restock."
"And we certainly hope you do." Mary McLure, the Xenoarcheaologist Luanne had met in the library, appeared out of nowhere. "We're so grateful for your participation. Myrtle told us that the town was very supportive of all its visitors, but we didn't expect this. Thank you very much."
Kat smiled. "We're happy to be here. Banshee Creek is mostly about ghosts and magic, but we can be flexible."
"From your mouth to the fire department's ears," Mary replied. "They heard about our nighttime meet-up and are hounding us for information. If you can advise us as to how to deal with them, we're all ears."
Kat and Luanne exchanged glances. No one messed with Fire & Rescue.
No one.
"They're usually fairly reasonable," Kat said while Luanne tried hard not to laugh.
Fire & Rescue wouldn't know reason if it came up and bit it in its collective fire-retardant-clad butt.
"I can't believe I have to deal with this on top of the police visit earlier."
"The police?" Luanne asked, suddenly interested.
Mary nodded. "There was a suicide near the bus stop," she whispered. "They're trying to keep it quiet, but they asked us if we knew who the poor man was. We didn't, of course, because we chartered a bus from Dulles airport. We didn't use public transportation." She raised a hand. "Nothing personal, of course, but some of our members distrust the government and we try to accommodate them."