Chapter 14

I looked at Jakob, sleeping in the way that wasn’t dead, a state that wouldn’t last much longer. In another hour, the sun would rise and it would be impossible for me to wake him without magic. And what was the rule? We didn’t use magic on each other. I took a deep breath, looked at him and wondered. Should I share what happened with him?

I knew how much he hated Pagan gods, Raya in particular. His stories of watching E grow up tormented by the goddess were always filled with revulsion. Jakob had no use for gods that toyed with their followers. I wasn’t a follower though, I was…well…She’d made me an offer…maybe? I didn’t really understand the dream. I knew some of it was real.

Shaken, and still too confused to talk about it, I headed for my personal place of solace: the shower. From the minute the water started beating on my skin things got better. The fire goddess liked me, I’d known that but I hadn’t realized She liked me enough to come find me. Except, I caught myself, it wasn’t really about me, was it? It was about what I could do. It was about that guy, the one from the end, the one She wanted me to kill. I finished my shower, kicking myself for having gotten into it because now I wanted to go running with E so I could find out more, and I hated running with wet hair.

****

I knocked on E’s door remembering the magic and music coming through my walls on Saturday night. We’d left the party early, but not too early. I wondered who stayed behind, how it all played out. None of them had come to my Superbowl party yesterday. E opened the door wrapped in a bathrobe, her eyes only half open.

“We’re running before work on a Monday?” she grunted.

“If you’re up for it.”

“Hell, I’m up, might as well.”

We started outside our front door. “Three?” she asked.

“Sure.” Our feet started to fall into a good rhythm. “What’s it like being thirty?”

“Same as twenty-nine pretty much.”

“Huh. What’d I miss at the party?”

“The crazy sex part.” She grinned widely and though I was curious she picked up the pace until I didn’t have the breath left to ask.

She kept the fast pace up for the rest of the run. I hadn’t eaten. My twisted dreams didn’t do much for sleep, and I’d woken up earlier than usual. My body was running on empty and with the magic I’d done the night before I should have been miserable. I wasn’t though and it pissed me off; Raya had given me power. Power I didn’t want and should have turned down. Still grappling with the dream that wasn’t a dream I stopped at the water fountain for a long drink. When I finished E stepped in after me.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

She nodded, panting.

“Know any fire witches who’ve been horribly burned lately?” It was a long shot but there was a chance E knew the guy from my dream.

“Gillian, but don’t ask me about it. It pissed me off.”

“I sort of need to know.”

“He served us well for years but then She asked him to do something and he said no. Son of bitch made a nice living off our gifts but then, just no.”

I hated the way she mixed up her pronouns when she talked about Raya. I liked to think I was talking my friend E and not the vessel of the goddess. I sure as hell didn’t want to talk to the vessel of the goddess this morning. “Don’t you get a choice when She tells you to do something?”

“No. Gillian knew the rules, She says burn, you burn. Your mother, your house, it doesn’t matter. And then the bastard has the arrogance to call in healers and take Her scars off his skin.” E shook her head, clearly furious.

“How did he survive?” I couldn’t understand how Raya let him go. Why not burn him to death?

“He had a house full of water; he was waiting for Her to come after him. Then the ER did the rest, stabilizing him, keeping him alive when we wanted him dead.”

“You’re scaring me,” I said.

She looked at me with red glowing eyes and I realized the conversation had changed. “I didn’t last night.” E’s voice but not her words.

“Gillian didn’t want to die, you lied to me.” It was the truth, pretty meaningless in the face of a god, but the truth.

“He will,” She said and her eyes faded back. The next time she spoke it was E. “Sorry, Mallory, Gillian really pissed Her off.”

****

I got an extra box of donuts for the break room. Half were conciliatory, we-lost-the-game donuts and the other half were me reaching out for comfort. Terrible though it was, I wanted something that came from a part of my life with absolutely no magic. Donuts worked.

When I was a kid my upstairs neighbor, a wonderful old woman, had made them for me as a treat. Biting into freshly fried dough brought me back to her apartment, the phantom smell of sugar and moth balls, and the feeling of complete safety rushed over me.

I offered Danny a donut and he accepted while he offered his condolences on the game. We ate and talked for a bit before deciding we’d go to Christine’s favorite store first. I tried Anna first to see if I could get a line on the personal shopper.

“Hello?” Anna sounded like she wasn’t sure about anything, but then eight o’clock was pretty early for a fashion model.

“Hey Anna, it’s me, Mal.”

“Oh, hey, sorry about missing your party. I didn’t get back until late and then Nancy and I had a fight.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, not wanting her to recount the details. “Can I ask you a work question?”

“Uh, yeah, go ahead.” She sounded so off I felt guilty for waking her.

“Does the mall have personal shoppers?”

“Sure, all the big box stores do, nationwide, it’s a service they offer.”

“Right, but locally?”

“Well, one does and they only have one shopper so sort of.”

“That’s what I thought. Can I get her number?”

“Not if you’re going to buy clothes from a mall,” she warned.

“It’s for a case,” I said, amazed she could worry about fashion when she was so obviously half asleep. She gave me the number. I said thanks and let her go back to bed, shaking my head at how anyone could be sleepy at half past eight in the morning.

****

Tina, the personal shopper, started her appointments at ten which meant she could only see us before her first client arrived. We drove slightly faster than was legal to meet her at the back door of the mall. She looked put together and efficient, which is how I guessed a personal shopper should look, but something about her navy pencil skirt and ruffled white blouse reminded me of an old movie. I had a fleeting thought to take a picture and ask Mark which movie; he had a thing for vintage cinema. I pushed it aside to concentrate on the case.

Tina’s small desk was in the center of the ladies suiting section, and she surprised me by pulling out a folder exactly like the ones we used at the squad room.

“Christine Sweeny, pants size eight, shirt size ten, liked solid colors, especially green, and always shopped alone.” The efficient Tina closed the folder and looked up at us eagerly. “What else do you need to know?”

Danny blinked twice, his silence showing how stunned he was at her ability to rattle off details. I swallowed, a little surprised myself, and started asking questions.

“How long had you been shopping for her?”

“Five years?” The folder flipped back open. “Five years in May.”

“And her habits stayed the same?”

This time she didn’t bother to flip through pages. “Classic pattern, in the beginning she bought a few high quality classic pieces a month. She’d try stuff on, take it home, return it a month later unworn, like she was afraid she couldn’t afford it.

“Then she got more money and started buying more pieces, no more returns, but it was still wardrobe building stuff, silk sweater sets, black pants, that sort of thing. In the last couple of years she branched out, accents and accessories, handbags, makeup, the works.”

“So she had money to spend?” Danny asked.

“These last few years she did, but not always. Then again…” She hesitated. “Look personal shoppers are free but the clothes we offer aren’t on sale and they aren’t cheap. I mean she was smart about it, but she was never frugal; she bought quality. Quality comes with a price tag.”

I wasn’t sure that was always true, but instead of arguing I went back to the questions.

“Tell me about her routine. She saw you on Saturdays, right?”

“Every Saturday until about a month ago.” She shook her head. “It blows me away that she died. She was so alive, so young and healthy. You don’t expect people her age to die. I mean, she was like, five years older than me? Scary stuff.”

I agreed with her, but before I could say it out loud in an effort to make her comfortable and get her to open up, Danny interrupted, stealing my trick.

“Terrifying, that she could leave the mall and never make it home.” He shook his head, mirroring her actions. “What time did she leave?”

“Around eleven, she took an eleven thirty Pilates class so she always got out of here right on time. It made her a good first appointment of the day.”

Tina looked up at the clock pointedly and then back at us, making it clear Danny’s attempt at a rapport hadn’t worked so well.

“I spent an hour with her every Saturday morning for the last five years, and I had to read in the paper that she was dead. Did you talk to her parents? Her boyfriend?”

I nodded not sure what tactic to take.

Her smile faded. “And none of them mentioned me?”

I waited for Danny but when he didn’t say anything, I shook my head.

“Yeah. I thought so. Look, the clothes in her closet are worth something. Tell them they should go to consignment.” Her game face, the one that said everything could be wonderful if you bought the right pair of shoes, fell completely. “Screw this, I need a cigarette. You don’t smoke, do you?”

We followed her out the back door, weaving our way through a group of smokers where she bummed a cigarette, telling us she quit, really quit, it was only one. It seemed cruel to remind her she hadn’t mattered in Christine’s world and that she hadn’t really quit in the same morning, so neither of us did.

****

When we got back to the squad room Simon cornered me about the construction site photos. I promised him I didn’t get a vibe off anyone in the photo. I grabbed Christine’s credit card bills and got the name of her Pilates studio. We were ready to head to out again when a call stopped us. It turned out to be a false alarm, but we didn’t know until it was after five.

I pulled out the forms I needed to close the call disappointed I couldn’t stay late and follow up on more from Christine’s case. It occurred to me a phone call wouldn’t take that long, and a minute later I dialed my FBI liaison.

“Zollern,” Mark said, sounding official.

“Mors,” I responded, wondering when I’d get a chance to gossip with him about E’s party. Mark wasn’t usually the talkative type so I was curious about whatever conversation he’d had and how he’d gotten Puss to cuddle.

“Glad you called. Is it after sunset yet?”

“Just about.” I looked outside our long windows. The rain had stopped before my run this morning, leaving the day fair and clear, but it was still winter and the sun was fading fast despite the early hour.

“Good I need to drop something off for you on the way. See you soon.” He hung up before I could ask him on the way to where. I stared at the phone for a good long minute before hanging up.

“Problem?” Danny asked.

“That’s the first time Mark’s ever hustled me off the phone,” I replied, a bit perplexed.

I was even more perplexed when he arrived looking better than he had for the party with his dark brown hair curling around his jaw line the way it did when he paid attention to it.

“A gift for you.” He held out a folder.

“What is it?” I asked, opening it up to find out.

“Christine Sweeny’s movements on the morning she died, down to the minute. The cloak and dagger guys followed her until around one that day.”

“What happened at one?” Danny asked, suddenly eager to join the conversation.

“Sorry, they got called somewhere else. But up until one on the day she died will help.”

“It’ll help a lot. I could kiss you.” Tomorrow I was going to try to track something down at the Pilates studio. Now I didn’t have to track anything; it was all laid out for me. God bless the FBI.

“Don’t. I’d like to keep my head attached.”

“Is the stiff that jealous?” Danny asked me, but Mark answered.

“Worse.” He started explaining, but I had already tuned him out, devouring every line of carefully recorded movement in Christine’s last day. Danny came over to my side of the desk to read with me.

“This abbreviation, UWF, what does it mean?” I asked but there wasn’t a reply. “Mark?” He didn’t respond and when I looked up he was watching his watch with an anxious expression on his face.

“What are you thinking about over there?”

“How warm the skin on her back was when I put my arm around her,” he said. “And how much I don’t want to be late.”

“What?” He wasn’t making a damn bit of sense.

“I’m sorry. I met someone. I’ve got a date. I don’t want to be late,” he said, his voice contrite. It melted my anger.

“Then don’t be, I can ask you tomorrow. Go have fun.”

“I’ll do my best.” He left without wasting another second. After nearly four hundred years of self-imposed celibacy Mark had a date. I wished I could be there to watch.

****

I’d taken a copy of the FBI file with me but then a call from Phoebe distracted me. She needed someone to hear her out about a work thing. I did my best to make sympathetic noises in the right places when really, I was itching to get to the information Mark had given us. When I finally got off the phone it was too late, but I woke up ready to scratch that itch. I left Danny a voice mail saying I’d be in the office late and headed to Sunshine’s.

A minute later I pushed open the glass door, grateful for all the bright yellow suns cheerfully adorning the walls. At seven-thirty the real sun still slept, but between the imposters and the smell of fresh coffee I tricked myself into waking up. Mel got me my coffee, smiling but not talking in the way all good baristas do in the morning.

I passed a handful of imps and some people who would fall into the category “assorted supernatural, other” on the SIU forms on my way to a small table in the back. Tucked away from the chime of the cash register and the hiss of steam for espressos I opened the folder to indulge. I spent ten joyful minutes engrossed before someone interrupted me.

“So you’re the one who doesn’t like girls.”

“Excuse me?” I hastily closed the folder of Christine’s movements. The man standing in front of me was cute, with brown eyes, tan skin, and hair past his collar, but that didn’t explain the comment.

“We’ve got a friend in common.” A small bit of fire danced between the fingers of his hand. “May I?”

I nodded and he sat down across from me, balancing a wide cup of coffee on his knee.

“We’re not actually friends,” I said, thinking of the way Raya tried to trick me into killing someone for Her.

“But you could be. You could be friends and more; you could even belong to Her.”

“I’m a death witch, not fire,” I corrected.

“You could be both.” He smiled, a genuine smile, the kind a girl could trust. I half-smiled back before I realized what I was doing.

“I didn’t know that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about fire witches. Why not find out?”

“Well, because She lied to me and was going to use me to kill someone for Her. How’s that for a reason?”

“Pretty good, but not great. Think about what you’re passing up. I’m sure people have lied to you before, maybe even people you love. You forgave them, right? Maybe Raya deserves a second chance.”

“Maybe.” I wasn’t willing to let it go.

“Well you ought to think about it,” he cajoled. “I’m not the smartest guy around, but even I know better than to turn down an offer like that without a second thought.”

He finished with a big dopey grin before stopping to sip his coffee. I knew it was my turn to talk, that’s how a conversation worked, but what the hell could I say?

“Okay tell me about it.”

“Well, we have a great church. Not just the building, although that’s cool too with a gym and classrooms, but the people. We care about each other, we’re like family. Closer than family actually, it’s not a Sunday services kind of thing, you know?”

“No.” I shook my head. “No Sunday services, no family, so I really don’t have any clue what you mean.”

“Wow. You don’t have any family?”

“Nope. Mom and Dad are dead.”

“Cousins?”

“Nope. None. Is that what She’s offering? A ready-made family, just add water and mix?”

“Not water.” He shook his head so violently, his long hair bounced. “Never water, fire. Just add fire and you’ve got a whole family waiting for you.”

“It sounds like a really nice idea but I’m not sure I need a family.”

“Really? Why not? Everyone needs a family.” He was so sweet and clueless, cute in a dopey puppy kind of way.

“I’m not everyone. Thanks for the chat—”

“Reilly,” he supplied. “I’m Reilly, and I’m sure She’ll give us a chance to talk again.”

“Right,” was all I managed as I walked out, happy to head to work.

****

I drove into work thinking about the deeply religious and how they differed from zealots. Anna was deeply religious, so was Jakob. I wouldn’t call either of them zealots. They believed strongly in their faith and trusted their god guided every step of their life. I could admire that faith but somehow taking it a step further, a step toward Reilly’s comment that “She” would give us a chance to talk again bothered me.

I still wasn’t convinced Raya actually existed. I’d worked with plenty of schizophrenics in my last job as a social worker. The idea of a shared social delusion came to mind all too quickly. E could be suffering from a dissociative identity disorder with Anna and Reilly suffering to a lesser extent. My dream called that into question. Was the house fire real? I suspected it had been, and while I could explain that away with death magic, how could I have known about Gillian? It felt real but I could be getting sucked into the shared delusion.

It wasn’t unlike the pro-anorexia community: a group of people who professed beliefs the rest of us didn’t agree with that changed (and often threatened) their lives. The church to the fire goddess had been accepted, while everyone agreed the pro-anorexia people were nuts. But wasn’t that just marketing?

And what about me? I didn’t believe in Raya, not really, not enough to pray to Her. Supposedly, She’d shown up to save my life once, but again, that could have been Anna deluding herself. I could rationalize away every conversation that had come from E or Anna but the dream, I couldn’t categorize so neatly.

I looked up the family from the farm house fire. It took all of three seconds to find them on my phone’s browser. The details of the fire were the same from my dream, even though it happened miles away in Iowa. I wasn’t psychic, and death witch magic didn’t let me gather details like the look in the little girl’s eyes.

I walked out of the elevator pondering the difference between a cult and a church, all the while chiding myself for feeling okay with accompanying Jakob to a Catholic mass but not being all right with the idea of a pagan god.

I greeted my desk, and the stack of reports waiting to be completed, with more than my usual enthusiasm, delighted to get lost in a problem that had nothing to do with my personal life. I worked steadily until after nine, when Danny and I headed out to catch our window of opportunity at Balance Body and Mind studio.

****

The charge on the credit card prepared me for someplace nice, but I hadn’t expected the glass and chrome interior to look so space age. A smiling young woman with high Latin cheekbones and a tight ponytail asked us to wait. A few minutes later the owner, a woman who looked about thirty, came out to greet us.

“Ximena,” she introduced herself as we walked through a corridor made of white Japanese-style paper screens. We ended at a wide-open room where one glass wall faced a small Zen-style garden and the other wall held equipment that reminded me of medieval torture devices. “I’ve owned the studio for twenty years and we’ve never had a murder before. It’s terrible.”

“Twenty years? Were you a child prodigy?” Danny said, and while I didn’t feel him use any magic, he was still charming her.

“I’m sixty-two,” she said softly. She paused giving us a minute to think about how good she looked. “That’s what working out can do for someone. That’s why people like Christine come here, to invest in themselves.”

Somehow we’d gotten a sales speech. Should I stop her? Interviews could go either way; memorized speeches helped you get people comfortable, but they didn’t tell you more than the person wanted you to hear. I decided to stop this one before it went any longer.

“Christine took a class every Saturday?”

Ximena nodded. “With the reformer.” She pointed to something like a padded bench with springs and hooks hanging from it. “It was a small group class. With Christine gone we’ve had to cancel.”

“Why’s that?” Danny asked, looking closely at the machine.

“We hold small group classes with three or four people. When Christine stopped coming, Rina stopped coming. That left only two people. It’s not surprising or anything; Rina had a thing for Christine but it’s still sad.”

“Sad?” I hoped she’d give me more about Rina and Christine. Most murders were committed by someone the victim knew. My victim had two boyfriends, but they both had alibis. A girlfriend would be a strong suspect.

“Well the other women didn’t do anything wrong and now their class is canceled. I’d call it sad, wouldn’t you? Consistency is the key to any exercise program and here at—”

“You said Rina had a thing for Christine. Could you tell us a little more about that?” Danny broke into her speech. She crossed her arms over her chest, unknowingly putting herself into a defensive posture.

“Oh it’s only gossip, stupid gossip. Rina wasn’t, I mean she didn’t…she didn’t really fit in. Everyone here starts off with two private lessons, more if they don’t understand the equipment. Rina rushed through her privates, desperate to join the Saturday class. I’m sure it was the cost; private lessons cost a bit more than a group class or the timing, but gossip around the studio started, and you know how it is.”

“So Rina and Christine were friends?” I fished for something more in her very polite summary.

“No, not friends.” Her eyes darted around the room, making sure there was no one to hear her. “Rina liked Christine, sort of like a crush. We were all taking bets on how it would end. Christine didn’t suffer fools. Everyone expected there to be a big fight but…”

She stopped, moving her hand to her mouth as if she had an itch on her upper lip. I’d seen it before; Ximena was either about to lie or tell us something she wasn’t comfortable with at all.

“We have private changing rooms but a shared jacuzzi. I found the two of them in there once. It’s clothing optional so I can’t be positive something was going on but the way it looked…”

“You think they were lovers?”

“No.” She shook her head empathic. “I think Rina wanted them to be and Christine didn’t say no that time. She apologized to me later, said she let Rina’s compliments go to her head and she should have known better. She made it sound like Rina said things or you know, offered a lot but things never happened before that day and they wouldn’t happen again.”

“Christine wasn’t into women?” I asked.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that.” Her hand practically covered her mouth completely now. Whatever came next she really didn’t want to say. “It’s…Christine already had a boyfriend…and…well, I mean…she never said anything but…I got the impression starting something with Rina would be trouble for her, a hassle, even if it was a little fun.”

“A little fun?” Danny asked casually.

“If you saw the two of them kissing…yeah, fun.” Ximena turned away, then looked back at me starting the sales speech again. “Have you ever considered working out?”

****

“Possibilities,” I said, as we got our lunch back at the squad room. “Boyfriend one, the one who could be part of organized crime, finds out about boyfriend two and kills her.”

“Or has her killed,” Danny said.

“Possibility two: Boyfriend two finds out about boyfriend one, goes nuts, kills her by mistake. Possibility three: would-be girlfriend gets angry and kills her in a fit of rage.”

“And don’t forget option four: none of them matter, and she was the victim of random violence.”

“I don’t like that option.”

“Neither do I. It’s the hardest to solve, but it’s out there, so we have to consider it.”

“Fine,” I groused. “The FBI files stop after her Pilates class, so we’re on our own after twelve-thirty that day. We can see if she went to the usual places or we can backtrack and see if there’s something in the FBI report we missed.”

I knew which chore I wanted; going back over old ground didn’t appeal to me at all. Giving Danny a choice was a way to be polite.

“I’ll call the restaurant she usually had lunch at and see if anyone remembers anything from that day. You talk to our friendly FBI agent.”

I stifled a groan. In the future I wouldn’t be so polite.

****

I checked the clock and called Mark. Even if his date went extraordinarily well he should be up and moving around in his basement bedroom. I half hoped a woman would answer the phone but it was just him, my thoughts of romance dying an early death.

“You awake yet?” I said instead of hello. If the only way to make this task any better was to taunt Mark, I was willing to do that.

“I’m talking, aren’t I?” he growled.

“Oh good, so what does UWF mean?”

“Unidentified white female.” He sighed loudly in my ear, clearly feeling put upon.

“And the notation that she stopped en route, how much time does that imply?” Christine stopped “en route” for gas that morning. In my head she’d run into someone long enough to make a connection, the kind of connection that got a woman killed.

“En route means she didn’t get out of the car, like going through a drive through.”

“Or having someone pump your gas for you,” I groused. So much for chance encounters at the gas station saving the day.

“Anything else?”

“Why did they stop at twelve thirty?”

“I don’t know.”

“Guess for me, please?” Sure, I was being annoying, but annoying Mark was fun.

“I’ll bet there’s only two teams assigned to the senator. They followed her in case she was dropping something off for him or meeting someone about him or whatever. When the primary target starts moving though, they’re needed back on him.”

“Primary target? Like in a spy movie?”

“Did you call for anything specific or can I go back to sleep?”

“You know it’s after one; you should be awake and seizing the day,” I pointed out. “I’ll bet you have plenty of work catch up on after you stayed out all night.”

“I—” he started but then he stopped and I knew I’d hit pay dirt.

“You didn’t stay out all night? You took her home right away? Now aren’t you glad I forced you to buy furniture?”

“No, that’s not it—”

“Crash and burn, bad date? Too bad Phoebe’s seeing someone new. You two were cute together.”

“The date went fine, okay not fine but good enough, and Phoebe and I are still friends, which is all we ever were—”

I interrupted him with a snort. Phoebe told me some of the juicier details of her time with Mark. If that was what it meant to be friends I couldn’t fathom what it took to get you to dating.

“Do you need anything more about the file?” he asked, exasperated.

A grin spread out over my face. I didn’t usually get the best of Mark. “Not really, there’s a woman at her gym that might be a suspect, but it’s pretty thin. If your file had someone else we’d follow up on that.”

“Look in the back, attached to the folder; if they knew someone or described someone there’s an index in the back.”

I grabbed at the folder on my desk, sending at least half a dozen other folders flying. I knew Mark could hear the noise but he didn’t call me on it.

“Hey, you know something Abby said last night might help—”

“Who’s Abby?” I interrupted, trying to balance the phone in the crook of my ear while I squatted pulling in papers from everywhere.

“My date, from last night.”

“Abby? Sounds a bit young for you, don’t you think?”

“You’re all young for me,” he said, dryly. “She said sometimes women like to take risks, to feel danger. Maybe that’s what your victim did. She took a little risk and it turned out bad.”

“Maybe.” I leaned back on my heels, my fingertips hitting the edge of a folder. I got it only to watch everything inside fall out onto the floor. “But she wanted me to stop someone and that feels like more than a quick fling.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed. “But maybe what she wanted you to do has nothing to do with her death.”

“Can you look into the other surveillance reports for me? See if there’s anything else there? A nice easy-to-track drug habit, gang membership, anything.”

“I’ll check but I think you’re on your own with this one. Have fun.”

I thanked him for his help with as much sarcasm as I could muster and went back to my stack of papers. Danny was still on the phone with the restaurant so I didn’t have to admit the report held an entire page of descriptions I hadn’t seen.

I cursed Reilly, Raya, and everything else in my personal life for distracting me while I sifted through forms. Teasing Mark over his date was one thing, childish and silly, but it didn’t take away my concentration. I sighed, looking at the autopsy report in front of me, suddenly realizing something else I’d missed.

“Trevor,” I whispered, reading the sentence “cellular dehydration inconsistent with cause of death: drowning.” What he said at the party, about how witches killed people came back to me, choking on their own water, their own fluid? It was something like that.

I called E at work, then texted her. Danny got off the phone and I tried to explain it to him but didn’t have much success. The comment bugged me, it was important. If Christine had been killed by a witch we’d have a much better chance of finding her killer. If. It was a pretty big if.

“Mohahan didn’t call it a witch,” Danny said. “And he would have, he’s done that before.”

“I know, but what if he’d never seen this kind of death? What if this isn’t something most witches do, only witches who are fighting a war or—” The phone rang interrupting me but before I answered Danny looked at me.

“There aren’t any wars going on.”

I nodded to tell him I knew and then turned my attention to the phone.

“Mal, what’s the emergency?” E sounded brusque, like I’d caught her in the middle of something.

“I need to get in touch with Trevor about a case. Do you have his number?”

“Yeah, hold on, let me play with my cell phone.” The line went quiet and then there was a series of beeps. I could hear E cursing in the background. Finally, she came back on, read me the first three numbers, paused checking the phone, and read the next three, another pause and I had the whole number.

I thanked her and she didn’t ask for any other details, just told me I was welcome and said goodbye. Sure, she was a fire marshal now but that military structure hadn’t left her. How many other witches were out there right now who had the same training, the same experiences? Really, I swallowed hard at the thought, how many were out there with the same ability to kill with a thought?

I got Trevor on the third ring. It took him a second to recognize me but when he did I could tell he smiled.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”

“I need your help on a case. Any chance you’re by a computer?”

He laughed. “The broken-down-old-soldiers home doesn’t have one, at least one for residents if you catch my drift.”

“We have…a…one of those?” I gulped.

“No, baby, I’m back in DC at good old Walter Reed. I was only down for the party. So maybe there’s a computer here but I can’t use it.”

“Right, okay I’m going to read something to you. Can you tell me what it sounds like?”

“I can try,” he said, eagerly.

“It’s an autopsy report.”

“What kind of death?”

“Murder.”

“Oh good, those are the best kind.”

“Right, sure they are.” I took a deep breath and started reading. He stopped me after the second sentence.

“Water elemental.”

“What’s that?” I asked completely clueless.

“A guardian of the water, a spirit that protects waterways and rivers. Maybe a naiad, or I guess the water is salty enough there it could’ve been an oceanid.”

“That’s it? Those are my only options?”

“Nope, those are the ones that come to mind. Could’ve been a fosse-grim or a nixie but those are pretty rare.”

More than rare, I’d never heard of them. “What about a water witch?”

“Oh sure, yeah, Daniel could do that if you got him mad enough. If your victim made Dani mad enough any water witch could do it.”

I thought about what Christine had done with the samples. Would that be enough to make the water goddess angry?

“Hey wait, it wasn’t him, right? Daniel’s not a suspect, is he?”

“I hope not.”

****

I got Danny on the phone with Trevor, who agreed to let Dr. Mohahan call him about the results. We really didn’t need the coroner to proclaim it a death by witchcraft to move forward but it would help when things got to court. We had the two of them talking, Trevor clearly more excited than the good doctor, and then started making calls. The afternoon slipped by and our big break started to feel like a big bust. No one, not in Christine’s family, not among her coworkers, or even her boyfriends, was a water witch. None of them were witches of any kind.

We closed the day sure we’d start tomorrow by knocking on the doors of all the supernatural hangouts in town looking for the other possibilities, nixies and naiads, a whole list of obscure mythological and supernatural creatures. I hoped I’d have time to read up on them tonight in case I met one in the morning.