Chapter 9
Rex slid a look at his companion as he eased his seat back and dropped the baseball cap farther over his eyes. He’d parked in the shade of a Madrone tree a block over from the Cochrans’ drive and had told himself he wasn’t completely out of his mind by allowing Ravinia to come. She was right about the fact that his surveillance would be more camouflaged by having her in the car. He’d been outside the Cochran home enough times to be remarked on, and that “pull date” when someone finally noticed the man loitering in the car and the alarm went out was always a possibility.
Surveillance was a tricky thing and he had to be cautious. Having Ravinia in the car with him could be good or bad. God knew she could certainly blow the whole thing if she wanted to, though he suspected that wasn’t how she was made. He considered himself a pretty good judge of character, most of the time, and apart from a few epic fails in his personal life, he usually knew about people, their habits and their motivations. In that, he’d been a pretty decent policeman throughout his twenties, but deep into his thirties, his skills worked best in private investigation.
Ravinia turned her head, feeling his perusal. She was sensitive that way, though her personality was anything but. She was prickly, confrontational, suspicious, and determined, so when she came out with, “I’d be good at your job,” he gave a bark of laughter.
“What?” she demanded.
“We’ve been here all of ten minutes.”
“You just have to wait around and watch people.”
“There’s a little more to it than that,” he remarked drily as a slow-moving truck, its cab scraping the branches overhead, rumbled by.
“And ask questions and gather information and chase people down. If I had a car and Internet access—a smartphone would really do it—I’d be ready to go.”
“You also need a license,” he pointed out.
“If I had my license, I could be driving my own car, and I could maybe have already found my cousin.”
“A private investigator’s license,” he corrected.
She frowned at him. “You have to go to school for that?”
“Take some classes, sure.”
Casting him a leery glance, she said, “I have my GED.”
“Did you go to high school?”
“I was home-schooled by my aunt.”
“Aunt Catherine?” He was looking through the windshield, his binoculars in his lap, his gaze on the door of the Cochran home.
Kimberley had a fairly specific routine. To the gym in the mornings, coffee with friends—a lot of air kissing went on among them—and then back to the house. Tennis on Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Dorell Cochran had moved out and so her time was her own, but she hadn’t met any paramour as yet.
He could feel Ravinia’s attention sharpen on him. “Yes, Aunt Catherine.”
He kept his gaze centered on the end of the long drive, which curved up the hill to the Cochran home. They were in Sherman Oaks. A number of expensive homes perched on the ridge above him. Parking was prohibited on the four-lane road that led past the drive, but he’d found a few places on a side street that offered an unobstructed view. He’d been pretty lucky so far in finding an observation point, but Dorell Cochran was impatient to learn whom his wife was seeing and was making noise about cutting off funding. If he did, so be it. Rex couldn’t manufacture results. A lot of PI work was a waiting game.
“Who are you waiting for?” Ravinia asked.
“A woman whose husband thinks she’s having an affair.”
“Is she?”
Rex shrugged, shifting in the driver’s seat. “Maybe. He thinks so. I haven’t seen any evidence of it yet.”
“How long are we going to be here?”
“Told you it’d be boring.” He glanced her way. She’d pinched her lips together and was glaring through the windshield. “What’s your story?” he asked her again.
“I told you. I just want to find my cousin.”
“So, tell me something about yourself.”
She raked him with a sideways glance from suspicious blue-green eyes. “I’m from Oregon.”
“You already told me that. You lived around a town called Deception Bay on the Oregon coast. What else?”
She thought that over. “Okay,” she said as if she’d decided something. “If I tell you something about myself, you have to tell me something about yourself.”
Rex raised the binoculars to his eyes and swept them across the front of the Cochran house. “Fair enough.”
“All right. Well then, I guess I’ll tell you that . . . my aunt is worried about her daughter, my cousin. My aunt gave her away at birth but feels that she might be in danger.”
When she stopped abruptly, Rex put down the binoculars. “From what?”
“Oh . . . you know . . . forces of evil.”
“Like in a video game?”
Frowning again, Ravinia shook her head. “No, Aunt Catherine thinks it’s one of my brothers.”
“One of your brothers?” he repeated.
“Yeah. There’s the good one and the bad one, and well, he’s the bad one.”
It was starting to sound a little far-fetched. Well, a lot far-fetched. And it must’ve registered on his face.
She said, “I told you it was a long story. Anyway, it’s my turn. Are you married?”
He hesitated, not wanting to give insight into his personal life, then said, “No.”
“Ever been married?”
“Yeah . . . once,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Doesn’t sound like it was good.”
“It was for a while.” Rex had no interest in continuing this line of questioning. He’d been married to Allison for six years before her infidelity came to light, and it was after he’d learned the truth that he left the LAPD. He’d been itching for a change for a while, but it took the impetus of Allison’s betrayal to finally get him to act. That and the fact that she’d taken up with one of his fellow officers whom she’d married almost before the ink was dry on the divorce decree. That was nine years ago, and Allison and Kurt had popped out two daughters in quick succession. He hadn’t even come close to marriage since the divorce and he kind of regretted the fact that he had no children, but life was full of twists and turns. He might not have much of a family life himself, but he’d become the go-to man for sorting through other people’s domestic chaos—cheating spouses, runaway kids, missing kin. Good ol’ Rex was your guy when it came to dysfunctional families.
“What happened?” Ravinia asked.
“We grew apart,” he said brusquely, cracking the window a little farther, allowing more of the late afternoon breeze to filter through the car. “So, tell me, why do you think your evil brother is after your cousin?”
“I don’t. My aunt does. It’s because he’s threatened us and he killed my mother.”
“He killed your mother? Truly?”
“That’s what Aunt Catherine thinks.”
“And he got away with it?” Rex confirmed, realizing that Bonnie was right. This girl was certifiable.
“It’s true!” she said as if reading his thoughts.
“So now he’s on the loose and after your cousin?”
“He’s after all of us. It’s the nature of who we are.” She slid down in the seat, her voice growing softer. “My turn.”
“No, wait. All of you? Your . . . family?”
“My sisters and I live with our aunt in a lodge. We’re kind of well known around Deception Bay. They all think we’re crazy.”
“Yeah?” Rex half-smiled. This was bizarre. “I assume the police know all this. That if this is true—”
“It is!”
“There’s a warrant out for this guy’s arrest. By the way, does he have a name? And the other one, the good brother. What’s his name? How does he figure into all of this?” Even as he asked the questions, Rex realized it was all for naught. She was spinning fantasies.
“My turn,” she insisted, her eyes narrowing as if she expected him to lie. “How many cases have you solved?”
“Wait a sec. We were talking about the bad brother who killed—”
“How many?” she demanded.
“Oh, for the love of God.” He shrugged. “I don’t know and I’m not sure I’d even call them cases.” He stared through the binoculars again, adjusting the focus. “Sometimes I’m just searching for kids who’ve run away from their parents and it ends up that they were really just away for the weekend, staying with a friend, not bothering to tell their folks. Sometimes it’s a lot more and takes some time. Like what we’re doing now.” He pulled the glasses away for a sec. “So how many sisters and brothers do you have?”
Ravinia shrugged.
“You don’t know?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “Some I know of, some I don’t.”
“But one brother’s threatening the rest of you?” His skeptical tone had obviously reached her.
“My family’s not normal.”
“I’ll buy that.”
She threw him a look. “But you don’t believe that my brother is evil?”
“I don’t know enough to make that call.”
Ravinia said flatly, “I’m telling you the truth. I can’t make you believe it.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Go on. Explain about your family.”
She drew a breath. “My mother must have been pregnant most of her adult life, but I just have vague memories of her. I’ve heard stories, though. She had a lot of lovers and a lot of children from those lovers. I have a couple sisters who were adopted out as soon as they were born. Two, I think. No, three . . .” She shook her head and then started ticking off her fingers. “I just learned I had a couple brothers who were also adopted out as babies. We just got information on their adoptive parents and Ophelia’s helping Aunt Catherine find out more about them. Ophelia’s one of my sisters still at the lodge—Siren Song. That’s where most of us live. Anyway, after Natasha ran away Aunt Catherine really put us in lockdown.”
“Natasha is your sister.”
“Yeah.” Ravinia looked out the passenger window. “I thought Aunt Catherine was crazy and, you know, kind of a warden. It seemed unfair and I just couldn’t handle being locked up like that.”
“This Siren Song was a prison?”
“No, no. More like a fortress if you have to label it. But it didn’t matter to me. I had to escape, so I kept sneaking out, climbing over the wall and leaving.”
“But you said she sent you to find your cousin.”
“She did . . . after she realized the danger and knew that I had the best chance of finding Elizabeth as I’d been out enough to understand what I had to do. Some of my sisters . . . well, they’re kind of naive, I guess you’d say. They wouldn’t know what to do and Aunt Catherine had to stay and take care of them.”
“So you were elected.”
Ravinia shook her head. “I wanted to find Elizabeth. So that’s why I’m here. I don’t agree with Aunt Catherine on everything, but I get where she’s coming from now. She’s not half as crazy as some of the rest of my family. It’s just that she was always so secretive. She thought she was protecting us, but she would never tell us anything, so I gave her a hard time and just wanted out. Now . . . it’s just all kind of murky. The past. She tells it in bits and pieces, kind of on a need to know basis.”
Ravinia turned her attention away from the window and leaned against it so she could look straight at him. “Anyway, I also know one of my brothers, Nathaniel, died as a baby. He was kind of mentally slow, I think. His grave’s at Siren Song, like my mother’s. I don’t know exactly what happened to him. There’s some mystery about his death, and Aunt Catherine isn’t talking.”
Fun group, Rex thought, but held his tongue. Her countenance had become pensive, so he asked, “Something else?”
Her gaze lifted, finding his. “One of my cousins was a homicidal maniac.” She said it in that Oh, I almost forgot kind of voice.
“Another cousin?” Rex questioned and thought she was really off the rails. Her story got more fantastical by the second.
“Like a second cousin.” Ravinia seemed to think it over as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to go into it, then said, “His name was Justice. He breached the wall, climbing over to get at us, once.”
“And?”
“I stabbed him.” She held his gaze, nearly daring him to ask.
“You stabbed him?” He found it hard to believe she was violent.
“Yeah.”
Rex couldn’t help but ask, “What happened?”
“He survived. But not for long. He’s dead now, too.”
“Because of the wounds you inflicted?”
Shaking her head, she said, “No.”
Rex had to drag his gaze away from her and turn his attention back to the Cochran mansion. He couldn’t tell if she was a tall tale teller, a mental case, or if some truth was buried in what she was saying. He felt it might be the latter, but he couldn’t say why. All the talk of stabbing and death and murderous intent was stretching his ability to believe her. “So, your aunt’s worried that your brother is coming after you and your family.”
“My half brother,” she clarified.
“And she sent you out to find her daughter, your cousin, because she’s worried about her.”
“Aunt Catherine thinks we’re safe at Siren Song but nowhere else. She’s a little bit of a control freak. Well, a lot of one.”
“But she let you leave the . . . fortress where your sisters and brothers are and head south.”
“She didn’t think she had much of a choice. She wanted me to find Elizabeth. And it’s just my sisters at Siren Song with Aunt Catherine—Isadora, Ophelia, Cassandra, and Lillibeth.” Ravinia shot him a look as if she didn’t think he’d been paying attention. “I told you my brothers were adopted out.”
“Except Nathaniel,” he reminded her.
“He wasn’t right somehow. He was a lot older than the other boys, and that was before they all really knew about the gifts.” She pushed some wayward strands of hair into her braid.
“Gifts?” Rex asked dubiously.
“You’re not going to believe me so I’m not going to tell you.” She let her braid fall and stared at him with those intense eyes again. “My turn for a question.”
“No, wait. You can’t stop there. You’re dying to tell me. What gifts?”
“Psychic gifts,” she said after a long moment.
Rex looked at her hard and laughed out loud. “You sure you’re not from LA?”
She let out a disgusted breath. “I know how it sounds, believe me. Next thing, you’ll want me to prove it to you.”
“Well, that would be the natural next step.”
“The thing is, my gift isn’t one you can really assess.”
Rex had to force himself not to goad her further. He’d heard a lot of stories in his business. Some pretty outlandish. But this one was right up there. “All right, I’ll bite. What’s your gift?”
“I can look into someone’s heart and know what kind of person they are, good or evil.”
The smile died on Rex’s lips as he remembered the heat he’d felt in his chest when her gaze had first landed on him. “And have you looked into mine?”
“Of course.” She nodded, holding his gaze.
“Did I pass?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” she countered. “Ever read mythology, Mr. Kingston?”
“Rex. Call me Rex, and no, I can’t say that I have.”
“Well, you should. Anyway, in myth, Cassandra could predict the future, but she angered the gods and therefore was cursed. From then on, it didn’t matter that she could tell the future, the curse made it so no one would ever believe her. I have a sister named Cassandra. She used to be Margaret, but when my mother realized she had the gift of prophecy, she changed her name.”
“Your sister has the gift of prophecy?”
“Yep. Except we believe her.”
He shook his head, trying not to smile though it was a losing battle.
She, however, was dead serious. “How come you grew apart?”
“What?”
“You and your wife. How come you grew apart?”
She’d woven such an unbelievable tale that he’d forgotten for a moment where his story had left off. His marriage. “She wanted more than a cop’s life.”
“You’re not a cop anymore.”
“Close enough.” He picked up his binoculars and once again focused them on the Cochrans’ house.
“You weren’t that sorry when the marriage failed.”
She’d got that right. But maybe it wasn’t that much of a stretch. “I thought you said your sister was the seer.”
“You don’t have to be psychic to read people.”
That was probably true enough. He slowly scanned the perimeter of the Cochrans’ estate, but so far no action. He dropped the glasses again. “What about your other sisters and brothers?”
“I don’t really know what they all can do. We don’t talk about it much because it’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous? How is it—?”
“Is that the woman you’re waiting for?”
Rex swung the binoculars to his eyes again to see that the gates of the Cochran estate were sliding open and Kimberley Cochran’s silver-blue Mercedes was idling. She was behind the wheel waiting to enter the road.
Finally. Showtime.
Tossing the field glasses into the backseat, he clicked on his seat belt and twisted the ignition. “Buckle up,” he ordered as he started the engine.
“Why? Are you going to drive fast?”
“It’s the law and I don’t want a ticket.”
“Do you believe what I told you?” she asked, reaching for the shoulder harness, “Or do you think I’m a complete wacko, like everybody else?”
He slid her a quick glance, then eased into traffic. “I’m leaning toward complete wacko.” He turned his attention to the Mercedes slowing for a stop sign at the cross street and felt that little tingle of anticipation he always did when he was on the move and following his quarry.