Much like the silver pentagram she herself had just purchased.
But that seemed like nothing.
Because...
Around her throat...
There was a ribbon of blood.
2
The road was dark. The day had been long, but when it had finally ended the night had gone almost stygian. There was a moon, but it was hidden behind billowing clouds that promised summer rain for the northeast.
Rocky nearly hit the woman who ran out into the middle of the road.
His lights caught her, and for a moment he thought hed entered some kind of nightmare region in his mind. She stood like an ancient icon in the glare, but was she goddess or demon? No matter what, she was beautiful, like an elemental force emerging from the darkness. She wielded something in her hands as she forced him to stop. A scepter?
No. A hockey stick.
Rocky quickly turned the car off, leaving the lights on, and stepped out. He was never unarmed, but he didnt pull his Glock from the holster at his side. He lifted his hands to show her he meant no harm.
She was tall, and the dress swirling around her in the rain-scented breeze made her appear especially regal and elegant. She had long black hair that whipped around her face. It was almost like seeing the perfectly fashioned heroine of a video game come to life. There was no way any healthy male could ignore her presence. She aroused every fantasy his mind had ever come up with, and she drew on every ounce of lust that coursed through his body.
He quashed the wanderings of his mind, reminding himself that she was clearly in trouble. This was no fantasy. They were standing in the middle of the road in the dark, with a storm on the way.
Are you all right? he demanded.
Im fine, but...phone. Do you have a phone? Call 9-1-1, please!
Whats your emergency? I can help you if youll just tell
Dammit, are you stupid? I dont need help! Dial 9-1-1theres a dead woman in the woods!
He dialed. Then, slowly and precisely, he identified himself and their locationand the situation.
Did you discover the body, sir? the operator asked.
NoI was stopped on the road by the woman who did. He looked at Devin. Who are you? he asked.
What?
Your name. They need to know who discovered the body.
Devin. Devin Lyle.
Devin Lyle found her, he said into the phone. Please send someone. He knew the operator would keep him talking while the police were dispatched and he needed to find out what was going on, so he hung up.
Where? he asked Devin Lyle.
She pointed toward the woods. But...but dont go in there. The cops...theyll want the crime scene intact, right?
Maam, Im an FBI agent. Are you sure shes dead?
Yes.
Did you try CPR or just take her pulse?
Sir, shes dead.
Agent, Rocky said by rote. Agent Rockwell. Do you have any kind of medical training? Are you certain that shes dead?
No, she said. And yes, Im sure.
Where is she?
Devin Lyles finger rose, and she pointed.
Rocky hurried through the trees.
And found the victim.
She wasnt far from the road; there was a break in the trees, and there she was.
For a moment he forgot his years of training and fieldwork. He simply froze. Body...and soul.
It was déjà vu.
She was lying just like Melissa had lain, limbs and head creating the five points of a star.
And on her breast lay...
A silver medallion. A pentagram.
Around her throat...
A red ribbon of blood.
He didnt move to her side, only stood rigidly and stared.
Devin Lyle came up behind him. He suspected she thought he was being respectful of the dead woman.
That wasnt it, though. He was simply frozen by his memories.
Are you going to try to revive her? she asked quietly, only a small note of irony in her tone.
He could hear sirens; the police were on the way.
He turned to face the dark-haired woman who had stopped him. When did you find her?
Seconds before I stopped you.
How did you find her?
She pointed. My home is just thereon the other side of the trees.
How did you know to look for her here in the dark? Did you hear something? Did she cry out?
Yes, II dont know what exactly. I heard something. Sobbinga cry. Something.
He broke his paralysis and moved forward carefully, hunkering down to set two fingers on the flesh of the womans wrist. She was cold. Shed been here awhile.
No attempt at resuscitation would have helped.
Her eyes had been green, her hair a soft brunette. She was clad in a simple halter dress and light sweater. At least the dress was pulled down decently, almost tucked between her outstretched legs.
He heard car doors slamming. The cops had arrived.
Hey! he said loudly, so he could be heard. In here!
A moment later two uniformed officers came through the trees and into the little clearing. They were competent and compassionate at the same time, the first checking the victim and securing the scene, the second speaking with Rocky and Devin Lyle. It was while they were in the midst of the conversation that more sirens sounded, and Rocky was surprised to look up and see that a third officer, this one in plain clothes, was coming his way.
He was even more surprised to realize that he knew the man.
Hell, Rockyyoure back in town? the newcomer demanded.
Jack Grail, Rocky said, shaking Jacks hand. And youre still here. He grinned; it had been a good ten years since hed seen Jack.
Come on, I moved a bit. This is Salem, not Peabody.
Right. You working these murders? Rocky asked.
This one, anyway, Jack said. They looked at each other for a long moment, both of them remembering a long ago day.
When theyd stared at the same scene that was before them now.
Rocky arched a brow. Just like Swampscott, right?
Dont go talking that way, Rocky. People will think we have a serial killer on our hands, and the last thing we need is mass panic. Kind of suspicious, though, isnt it? You leave town not long after Melissa Wilson dies, and now youre back and weve got two more dead women.
Rocky stared at him and realized Jack wasnt seriousnot about that, anyway. He was serious that he didnt want anyone yelling serial killer right now.
No, he didnt seriously suspect Rocky.
But they knew. They both knew. They had been there. They had seen Melissas body, and they couldnt deny the eerie similarity of the newest murders.
So you grew up to be a detective with the county? Rocky asked Jack. Good going.
Forget the past. They both had to shake off this feeling of déjà vu. Theyd been boys back then. Now they were menand the men assigned to work these newest killings.
Jack nodded. And you just happened to discover this body, too?
Rocky shook his head. I just got back into town. Jack Grail, this is Devin Lyle. He nodded toward her. She found the body. She flagged me down in the road.
My house is over there, Devin said, pointing through the trees. I heard a noise and ran out without my phone, and when I...when I saw her, I ran for the road to get help. I guess I should have gone back in and called, but...I just ran for the road, she finished lamely.
Jack turned his attention to Devin. As he spoke to her, the crime scene techs got to work and the night seemed to come alive with flashes as pictures were taken.
Rocky waited while Jack talked to Devin and let his mind wander.
Jack looked good. Funny, Rocky had always thought that hed wind up flipping burgers by day and smoking pot by night.
Finally Devins interview was finished and an officer escorted her back through the woods to her house.
So I heard youre a fed, like you planned, Jack said.
Yeah. And its good to see you, Jack. Bad circumstances, but it really is good to see you.
Jack grinned. You, too, Rocky. Last I heard, though, you were working the mean streets of L.A.
I just transferred to a new unit.
We have a unit here? Jack said, frowning.
Rocky smiled. There were field offices all over the country, with the one in New York City being the largest. I was assigned to a behavioral unit out of Boston, but we go all over.
And you were sent here? Jack asked him. To work this case?
Rocky wasnt sure the assignment was official yetwhether Adam Harrison had cleared the way for FBI involvementbut he decided to be honest.
I read about the woman in Swampscott, he said.
Jack looked grave as he lowered his head and nodded. Yeah. Freaked me out, he admitted quietly. He looked at Rocky again. None of us ever got closure, did we? he asked.
Not me, thats for sure, Rocky said. He studied Jack. That why you became a cop?
Jack nodded. Yeahworked my way up from the streets to make detective. He hesitated. I study the old case sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time.
He looked at Rocky with an odd mixture of emotions, shrugged and started toward the crime scene. He turned back. You coming?
Rocky followed him. They hunkered down by the body and the medical examiner.
Dead about four hoursgive or take thirty minutes. Not too cold tonight, but not hot, either, so I think were looking at just about five oclock, the M.E. said.
Broad daylight, Jack muttered. Sexual assault?
No. Probably pretty quickmerciful, under the circumstances. Looks as if she was standing here when her killer came from behind and slashed right across her throat. See the pattern of the blood sprayalmost a straightforward gush. Then he just laid her down and arranged the body.
Jack looked at Rocky. Neither of them spoke. Everyone knew how Melissa had died. Shed had her throat slashed. That much had leaked out; though, as far as he knew, only he, Jack and Vince, along with the cops and medical personnel who had worked the case, ever knew the details of the killing. With law enforcement and the powers that be afraid of both repercussions on the Wiccan community and that the investigation could be compromised, all the specifics had been kept quiet by the police, rather than let out for any would-be copycats to act on.
At the time, theyd all been so stunned and devastated, theyd never even spoken of it among themselves. Theyd prayed and theyd waited for the murderer to be found....
And waited.
The killer eluded all efforts by the police to discover hisor heridentity.
Back then, the cops had talked about cults. Maybe theyd do the same now.
Within the hour, the body was on the way to the morgue. The crime scene unit continued to comb the woods, and Rocky stood with Jack by the side of the road.
Shit, Jack muttered, looking at Rocky. I dont study this kind of stuffyou know, the psychology of a killer. I guess you do. But my wife watches those shows all the time. He paused and looked at Rocky a little sheepishly. My wifeHaley.
Rocky smiled. Congratulations. Im sorry I missed it. I guess I should have come home more.
We sent you an invitation to the wedding.
I never saw it. I was probably working out west and it never reached me.
Yeah, well, anyway, Haley is hooked on all the crime shows. Shes relentlesstrying to tell me how to be a better cop all the time. I guess it doesnt hurt. But how could this be the same guy? Melissa was killed, what? Almost thirteen years ago? I thought serial killers escalated, getting more violent and killing more frequently.
Usually. But there have been cases where a killer starts, stops, then picks up years later. Sometimes it turns out he was in prison for something else, but sometimes he just loses the urge until something happens to trigger it again. No one has ever really cracked the puzzle of the human mind. We can look for patterns, we can base our investigations on what weve learned, but were surprised all the time. This looks like the same killer, but we dont know yet that it is.
Copycat?
Possibly. Are you lead on the case in Swampscott? Rocky asked him.
Jack nodded. Theyve taken everything else off my plate. They want this one solved. He shook his head. Nothing to do with Melissa. Its just my job.
So, Rocky said, tell me about her.
Carly Henderson, Jack said. She was a redhead. We found her in the same kind of situation, small patch of woods in a semiurban area. She was a local. I dont know who this woman was, but Im willing to bet shell prove to be local, too.
Like Melissa, Rocky said.
Like Melissa, Jack agreed.
* * *
I definitely need a dog, Devin said, leaning back against the door. It was locked and bolted. Shed checked the back door and the windows, too. She still felt on edge. A giant dog. Or maybe an attack catlike a tiger.
I just found a woman with her throat slashed!
She suddenly wondered at her own courageor stupidityin running into the road. She might have flagged down the killer instead of an FBI agent. A normal person would have run back to the cottage, locked the door and called the police.
But what if the killer had hidden in her house?
At least she knew the killer wasnt inside with her now. The young officer who had walked her back had made a thorough search. Hed gone into her closets and looked under the beds. And the cops would be nearby, searching the scene, for a while, she knew.
Poe squawked.
Her hands, she realized, were still shaking.
She could still see the woman all too clearly in her minds eyes. Lying there. Dead.
Poe let out another cry.
Im sorry. Youre a great bird. You just dont have fangs and claws, she told him.
It was all right. She was locked in, and she wasnt opening her door to anyone.
Devin walked to the entertainment centerartfully hidden behind lattice doorsand turned on the television, wanting company.
She sat down at her computer, thinking that if she went back to work she would concentrate on the wonderful magic of her auntboth her real aunt and her fictional Auntie Pimand get lost in the joy of writing.
Except she didnt.
Work? Was she kidding herself? She wasnt going to get any work done now.
She looked up the murder in Swampscott.
The first site she opened, the local paper, gave her as much information as was available to the public.