The Hexed

  Too late!

  He moved. The figure lurking in the green shadows of the trees moved closer.

  Coming toward her.

  A scream rose in her throat.

  8

  The beautifully wrought silver pentagrams had to be a crucial clue, Rocky thought.

  But it hardly took a brilliant mind to know that. The trick was in figuring out what they meant. Were they a straightforward indication that witchcraft was involved, or were they a cold-blooded attempt to cast suspicion on the innocent Wiccan community?

  Jenna had looked at him with narrowed eyes when he’d asked her to cross-reference purchases of similar pentagrams with the remaining names on the suspect shortlist, then amended it to the entire list of dark-SUV owners, “Just in case.”

  “Do you know how hard it was to discover which of the people on that list had purchased athames?” she’d asked him. “First you have to do the credit search and get their card numbers. Then you have to search for places where athames are sold and break down their sales records item by item. And now you want pentagrams,” she’d said, rolling her eyes. “Half the people who come to Salem buy a pentagram.”

  “But we’re only looking for people who are already on our radar,” Rocky told her. “Not every tourist who’s come through in the past thirteen years.”

  Sam laughed and told Jenna, “Hey, I’ll help.” He looked at Rocky. “I understand what you’re doing, but remember that some of the facts and figures we get may not mean anything.”

  Rocky nodded. He liked Sam, just as he really liked every one of the agents in Jackson Crow’s Krewes. He liked the way they worked. They all had one another on speed dial and felt comfortable calling any time of day or night if a clue appeared, and when they were on an active case they got together at least once every twenty-four hours to discuss where they were so far and where to go next.

  “In the end,” Sam said, “sometimes it all comes down to instinct. And we’re already running these searches based on your instinct, aren’t we?”

  They were. But they weren’t relying just on instinct. They’d talked things through, and tomorrow Sam, Jenna and Angela were going back to the two recent crime scenes, while he and Jane revisited the place where Melissa had been killed, though that killing had been thirteen years ago and the odds of finding anything helpful were remote.

  “But about tonight...why don’t you fill us in on your friends?” Sam had asked him, before he and Jenna lost themselves in the data. “Tell us what to expect.” Because of his legal career, he tended to approach things in a linear and straightforward way.

  Now, as he drove toward Devin’s house, Rocky reflected on the plans for tomorrow. They would look for physical evidence. But more than that, they would search for clues that might not be physical.

  Does it come down to me to solve this? he wondered. Was that really why he was back, all these years later?

  It occurred to him that he should probably be grateful that he was still in California working a set of drug-related murders when Carly Henderson was killed. If he hadn’t been, he might be his own prime suspect.

  Did this case really go back that far? Did it have something to do with events from thirteen years ago?

  But how and why? It was unusual for a potential serial killer to just stop at one murder and not pick back up until years later.

  Unless Melissa Wilson had been a separate case and whoever was killing now was simply taking his or her guidelines from the details of her murder to throw them off the track.

  Not likely, he told himself. There were just too many unreleased details that had been exactly the same in all three murders. So if they were dealing with a copycat...

  Then it was someone who had seen Melissa Wilson dead.

  And that included his old friends, no matter how much he didn’t want to believe that one of them could be guilty. Even Haley—she hadn’t been with them, but they had all talked about it immediately after, probably describing far too graphically what they had seen.

  He stopped trying to fathom the possible association between his own past and the recent murders, because he’d reached Devin’s house.

  Her door stood wide-open.

  As he jerked the car into Park and jumped out, he heard a terrible, high-pitched scream rip through the air.

  It didn’t sound human!

  “Devin!” he shouted, and ran to the front door. “Devin!”

  He saw Mina, hovering just inside, her eyes enormous with fear.

  He didn’t waste time asking questions she probably couldn’t answer, anyway; he just raced into the woods that bordered the house.

  * * *

  Devin never had the chance to scream, because a chilling sound tore through the air before a sound could burst from her lips.

  It was a terrible shriek—as if some ancient god had let out a horrible cry.

  For a split second she was stunned, unable to move or even to think.

  Then she recognized the sound. She knew what it was.

  The scream of a crow.

  Suddenly she heard a man screaming. “Stop it! What the hell?”

  She knew the voice—just as she had recognized the crow.

  Devin stepped back onto the path. Just as she had suspected, the man standing in the green shadows of the path was Brent Corbin.

  “Devin!” he cried. “Get him off me!”

  “Brent!” she shouted. “What on earth—”

  “Your raven! That stupid bird attacked me!”

  Poe was about to dive-bomb Brent again. “Hey, mister—come here,” Devin called.

  “Sweet Jesus!” Brent cried. “He’s a monster.”

  “Well, what the hell did you expect, sneaking around the woods?” she demanded.

  “Sneaking? I was coming to see you, and then I saw you out here and followed you.”

  She looked and saw that he was holding a cardboard poster tube, and in her fear she had seen a knife. Okay, maybe she was getting just a little paranoid.

  But a woman had recently died here....

  Just as Poe settled on her shoulder, Rocky came rushing through the trees. He had a gun out, ready to shoot.

  “What the hell?” Brent demanded. “You people are crazy! Put that thing away, and get that wretched bird out of here, too.”

  “Brent, he’s fine now,” Devin said. “He’s on my shoulder.”

  “What’s going on here?” Rocky demanded harshly.

  Poe cawed loudly, and Brent flinched. He didn’t seem to know where to turn. He didn’t want to take his eyes off Poe or Rocky.

  Rocky looked at Devin. She widened her eyes and lifted her shoulder in a shrug. Poe squawked again.

  “Get that monster away from me!” Brent said.

  “Calm down,” Devin said. “He only went after you because he was protecting me.”

  She almost smiled; she might not have a big dog, but she did have an attack bird.

  “From me?” Brent demanded. “Rocky, please. Lower that gun.”

  “Tell me what the hell is going on here,” Rocky snapped. “Why are you two out here in the woods?” He looked from one of them to the other. “Well?”

  “I saw the— I thought I saw something, so I came out to investigate,” Devin said. Rocky’s eyes darkened, and he opened his mouth to speak. She quickly explained. “I know, I know, but I wasn’t thinking. So anyway, I came out here, and everything was fine, but then I heard...I heard Brent.” She turned to face him. “You should have said it was you instead of scaring me like that. Poe was just protecting me.”

  “From what?” Brent demanded.

  “You. I thought you were coming after me.”

  “Coming after you? I came out to see you, so I was just following you,” Brent said. “And now your boyfriend is here—and he’s still aiming a gun at me.”

  “Why?” Rocky’s question sounded like a gunshot. “Why did you come to see Devin?”

  “I brought her a copy of a map she asked me about. A map of Sal
em with the location of the real Gallows Hill according to Sydney Perley.”

  At last Rocky put away his gun. She noticed that beneath his casual denim jacket he had a shoulder holster.

  At the moment she was glad that Agent Rockwell was armed.

  This is a good thing, she told herself. When homicidal maniacs with knives were running around in the local woods, a fed with a gun was a good thing.

  But Brent still looked terrified.

  “Rocky?” she murmured.

  “Your front door is wide-open,” he told her.

  She winced. “Let’s go back so I can close it, then.”

  “I think I’d rather just go home,” Brent said. “I know people are afraid because of the murders, but...” He looked at Rocky. “You’ve been away. We have pretty strict gun laws.”

  “I’m an FBI agent,” Rocky informed him.

  Brent looked stunned. “Agent?” he asked, and turned to Devin.

  “Hey, everybody has to make a living,” she said lightly. It didn’t work. Brent still looked ready to collapse.

  She set a hand on his arm. “It’s all right. You just scared the hell out of me. Poe saw me come out here, and he followed me to protect me,” Devin said.

  “He scratched my cheek—practically gouged it,” Brent said.

  “It’s not that bad. Come on—I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

  “I might get rabies,” Brent said.

  “Birds don’t get rabies,” Rocky assured him. He was speaking to Brent, but he was staring at Devin.

  His expression was filled with words he didn’t speak.

  What the hell were you doing out here? Are you mad?

  “Let’s go in,” she repeated.

  They walked back to the house. Rocky was on the alert, aware of everything—the perfect agent, Devin thought. He told them to wait at the door while he checked the house, but Devin could see Auntie Mina there and knew she would have told them about any intruder.

  But Rocky went through the motions, anyway, because Brent would have been suspicious if he didn’t. Devin set Poe back on his perch and ran to the kitchen for the first-aid kit, then dabbed antiseptic on Brent’s scratches.

  He grumbled through the whole procedure that the bird was a devil and should be put down.

  “Stop being such a baby. Your scratches aren’t even that bad,” she said.

  “It’s going to be a long time before I come see you again,” Brent said.

  Devin saw Auntie Mina by the mantel and could tell she was amused by Brent’s carrying on.

  Devin glared at the ghost. It’s not that funny!

  Aunt Mina’s smiled faded, and she nodded in acknowledgment that the situation was genuinely serious.

  After going through the entire house, Rocky joined them in the parlor where Devin was just finishing up.

  “He could have put my eye out,” Brent said.

  “But he didn’t,” Devin pointed out.

  Rocky was silent; Devin was certain he was waiting for Brent to leave before exploding and telling her that she had taken a stupid and dangerous chance.

  “Good as new,” she told Brent, stepping back. His scratches hadn’t even bled.

  Not much, at least, she thought, wincing inwardly.

  “Where’s the map?” she asked Brent.

  He picked up the cardboard tube and produced a rolled-up map. “Obviously, this isn’t original, but there’s been an upswing of interest in Perley’s theories. Larson Jones, who owns the shop next to me, ordered a bunch of these, so I ran over to get you one, and then I drove out here so your bird could attack me.” He glared at her reproachfully.

  It was going to be a long time before Brent forgave her—and Poe.

  “That’s so thoughtful of you. I wish you had called, though. I’m truly sorry about Poe, Brent,” she said.

  He grunted.

  “What do I owe you?” she asked him.

  He waved a hand in the air. “Nothing. You took over on the tour for me. But next time you’re looking for something, you can come in and get it.”

  “And here I was thinking of having a lovely Halloween party,” she murmured.

  He smiled. “By Halloween I’ll be all right. And I’ll get Beth or someone to stand in front of me and shield me from the monster.”

  “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” she asked.

  “No, I’m heading home. Going to gargle salt water and try to get my voice back before my tour tonight.”

  “Well, thank you again.”

  Brent nodded and headed for the door.

  Devin followed him, feeling Rocky right behind her. He made her uneasy. She felt his heat, breathed his scent. She was almost painfully aware of him as...

  The opposite sex.

  She closed the door and returned to the parlor, steeling herself for the anger she knew was coming.

  But he didn’t yell. She realized that he was breathing deeply. Finally he looked at her and simply asked, “Why?”

  “Because I saw her.”

  He took that in, staring at her. At last he spoke. “The woman Mina saw at the window—the night you found our Jane Doe?”

  “Yes. I saw her. You said that she was trying to talk to me, so I ran out after her.”

  Then he asked her, “Do you have any self-control at all? You couldn’t stop yourself?”

  “Hey!” she snapped.

  But he had a point. She knew how stupidly she had acted.

  Which, of course, was emphasized by the way he stood quietly.

  Mina was still by the mantel, standing there quietly.

  Rocky spun on her suddenly.

  “And you just let her go?” he asked Mina.

  “I couldn’t stop her,” Mina said. Now, of course, she was staring at Devin, too.

  “She might have listened to you,” Rocky said. “She obviously has no idea just what danger is out there.”

  “Hey! She’s standing right here. And yes, I made a tremendous mistake, but you will recall that you were the one to tell me that she might be the key,” Devin said.

  “I never told you to run out into the woods after her!” he said. “And come on—you know it.”

  “I can’t stay locked up forever,” Devin said.

  He shook his head. “It won’t be forever.”

  “It’s been thirteen years since the murder of Melissa Wilson,” Devin said.

  She wished she could take it back. She knew that fact had been like a thorn in his side—something that had haunted him terribly throughout the years.

  “This time, it won’t take so long,” he said.

  There was truth, conviction, and dead-set determination in his voice. And she felt something warm shoot through her.

  He wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t give up. They’d have to drag him away before he left here without finding the killer.

  “What I did wasn’t smart,” she said. “But I won’t do it again. I promise. I was just so eager to talk to her that I forgot everything else. I won’t let it happen again.”

  “You could have followed her,” Rocky said to Aunt Mina.

  Aunt Mina was silent a minute. “No, I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I...can’t seem to leave the house.”

  “But other ghosts—” Rocky began.

  “I don’t know about other ghosts. I only know I can’t do it. I try to leave and I disappear in my own mind...or soul, or whatever it is that remains. I—I can’t leave the house.”

  That puzzled Rocky, and Devin was glad. It took his mind off her idiotic behavior in the woods.

  “It’s all right,” Rocky reassured Aunt Mina. “It’s not as if— Well, I don’t have answers. I don’t understand life and death any better than any man.” He smiled. “You’re here with Devin, and that’s a good thing.”

  He was incredibly gentle with Aunt Mina, but when he turned to Devin again it was with a frown so fierce she was surprised she didn’t incinerate on the spot.

  “
Look, Devin, I know I’m just the fed you flagged down in the road, but—”

  “I understand. I really do,” she said, exasperation growing in her voice. “I won’t let it happen again.”

  “You had better not.”

  Apparently he was going to drop it there. He turned and stared quietly into the fireplace for a moment. She saw his hands and realized that he was shaking slightly.

  Because he’d been afraid.

  For her.

  Well, of course. He’d arrived to screams and shrieking in the woods and...

  He knew what it was like to find the dead.

  There was nothing personal in his concern.

  He turned suddenly, his entire demeanor changed. “Why did you want that particular map?”

  “Oh, I had a strange dream, that’s all,” she said. “I dreamed I was on Gallows Hill. I was watching the executions and listening to people talk—afraid to protest, afraid to say anything. If they protested, they’d wind up accused, too.”

  “And the map?”

  She laughed. “Well, no one knows the actual location of the historic Gallows Hill, but there’s a growing belief that a historian named Sydney Perley, back around 1921, came up with a pretty good idea of where the real hill was. Everyone knows the sheriff had been ordered to ensure that the executions were carried out beyond the boundaries of the town proper. And there are documents that tell us Benjamin Nurse rowed a boat to secretly retrieve his mother’s body after she had been hanged, so we know the real hill was near the water―and though it’s been filled in, there was a pond at the base of what Perley identified as Gallows Hill. Anyway, after the dream I started reading and I got curious. I wanted to see the Sydney Perley map.”

  “May I see it?” Rocky asked her.

  She unrolled the map.

  “This is where he says it was. It’s actually a residential section now. This street here—Proctor Street—was just a cart path at one time. A cart path. They took the victims to be hanged by cart.”

  “I’ve always thought Perley had it right,” Aunt Mina said. “In fact, I’ve been there. It’s just a little hill covered with a little patch of forest land, rather like the one that borders this house, and it has never been developed.”

  “You’ve really been there?” Devin asked her.