“What does any of that have to do with the devil?” Devin asked, clearly irritated.
“Nothing, but headlines sell papers,” Rocky said.
“Freedom of the press,” Jack said. “Don’t let it frighten you, Devin.”
She turned to look at Jack. “I’m not frightened, I’m angry. It’s almost as if someone is starting a war against anyone who’s Wiccan.”
“But you’re not Wiccan,” Jack said.
“My aunt was,” she said. “And she was the most giving person I ever knew. She never did one nasty thing to anyone. I just feel she’s being maligned.”
Jack looked over at Rocky. “These attacks on Devin—if they actually are attacks and not just sick pranks of some sort—may have nothing at all to do with the murders.”
“How can that be?” Devin demanded. “I thought no one knew about the pentagrams the killer leaves on the victims’ bodies?”
“It’s not as simple as that, Devin,” Jack said. “For one thing, we don’t know that the killer works alone, For another, leaks happen. Someone could have heard about the pentagrams, someone with a grudge against you for whatever reason, and now he’s using that knowledge to freak you out.”
“But—” She started to protest, but he cut her off.
“But that said, I’m inclined—for a number of reasons—to think your friend Brent isn’t our guy, even if I can’t rule him out entirely.”
“So...what?” Rocky asked. “Do we cut him loose and just keep an eye on him?”
Jack was thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “Yeah. We cut him loose.”
Rocky nodded, but he couldn’t help asking himself, what if Brent was guilty but working with someone else?
“Task force meeting,” he suggested quietly. “I want all the crime scene techs, forensic people, everyone involved—my people, your people, everyone. There has to be something out there that we’ve missed.”
Jack nodded. “I’m heading over to Corbin’s shop now to see what the crime scene techs have found—if anything. We went over his home earlier—figured if there was anything at all, I’d wake you.”
“Thanks. And?”
“Nothing.” Jack looked at his watch. “I’ll have everyone convene in an hour at the station. Because we’ve damn well got to come up with something.” He turned to Devin. “It may not be your friend, but someone is out there killing, and I want him stopped.”
“An hour,” Rocky agreed.
* * *
Devin was grateful that Rocky had pulled strings to get her into the meeting. She sat and listened, impressed by the collected expertise gathered in one room. As a group, they were carefully analyzing every piece of information on the three recent murders in an attempt to create a trail of evidence leading to one specific person. Rocky reported on Barbara Benton’s movements on the day of her murder. Angela did the same for Carly Henderson, who had closed the salon for the day and then done some shopping on her way home. She’d purchased candles at two different Wiccan shops, and soda and cheese at a deli. But she’d never retrieved her car and never made it home. Her roommate had been out late with friends and hadn’t noticed her disappearance until the following morning.
“What all the named victims have in common, going back to Melissa Wilson,” Rocky pointed out, “is that the women were all attractive, all young—only Carly was over thirty―and had been, at some time during the day, at one of the shops in Salem that sold Wiccan supplies.
“None of the victims was sexually molested. According to the M.E., the killer was of medium to tall height, and he came up behind the women and took them by surprise. I believe they all knew or trusted their killer, which is why they had their backs to him. The throats were slit left to right, indicating a right-handed killer. After death they were placed on their backs, their arms and legs arranged, and the silver pentagrams placed on their chests.”
He paused and looked across the room at Devin. “As you know, a fire was lit in Miss Lyle’s yard last night, with accelerant poured in the shape of a pentacle. At some point after five this morning and before 1:00 p.m., someone slipped into her hotel room and placed a similar medallion on her table. Whether these were the separate actions of someone with a grudge against Miss Lyle or are related to the case, we have yet to find out. However, this person was able to hack into and erase the hotel’s video surveillance system.”
When Rocky finished, one of Jack’s men reported on the medallions that had been found on the victims. They were all similar, but the composition of the silver and artistic techniques suggested different artisans.
Jack spoke next. He stood before the group and said, “We executed search warrants on Mr. Corbin’s place of work and home this morning, but we found nothing to tie him to the murders, and the cell phone found in the pocket of his jacket had been wiped clean of prints, making it impossible to confirm or disprove his contention that it was placed in his pocket without his knowledge in an attempt to frame him. In the absence of any new evidence, Mr. Corbin will be released later today. At this point, we have to assume we still have a killer on the streets.”
Then the lab technicians got up and began reporting on facts and figures, and Devin zoned out. She did notice when a young officer came in and approached Rocky, who listened to him gravely and nodded.
The officer left, and Devin felt Rocky’s eyes on her. She looked at him questioningly. The meeting was finishing up, and he motioned to her to join him, and then he and the rest of the Krewe adjourned to the room Jack had set aside for their use.
“They have a fingerprint,” Rocky said.
“From where?” Sam asked.
“Devin’s back door. Whoever set the fire wasn’t wearing gloves,” Rocky told them.
“Did they find a match?” Angela asked.
“No, whoever’s print it is, he’s not in the system,” Rocky said.
“So no career criminal?” Devin asked.
“No, and no one in the legal system, no one who has ever been printed for work purposes,” Rocky said.
“So...we’re nowhere,” Devin said.
“No, we’re somewhere. We just have to start collecting prints,” Rocky said.
“Is that legal?”
“It is if we do it legally,” Sam said.
“How do we do that?” Devin asked.
“We buy everyone drinks,” Angela told her. “And then we hang on to the glasses.”
“I think it’s time to host a get-together,” Rocky said.
“Where?” Devin asked.
“Your house.” Rocky looked at his watch. “Brent will be free by then. I’m going to ask Jack to expedite his release. Because he needs to be there.”
“And you think he’ll come to any party you’re at after being jailed and grilled?” Devin asked.
As if on cue, there was a tap at the door. Jack.
“Rocky, Brent’s lawyered up, but we still have a few hours left if you want us to hold on to him,” Jack said, “but I think we’re still agreed on releasing him, yes?”
Rocky nodded. “Let him go, but, of course—”
“Yes, I’ll put a tail on him,” Jack said.
“Jack, you doing anything tonight?” Rocky asked him.
Jack’s brows arched with surprise. “I was hoping to have dinner with my wife and kid, because this case is driving me crazy, but I gather you have something in mind?”
“I was thinking about a small get-together,” Rocky said. “That will take care of dinner and hopefully avoid some of the going crazy.”
Jack’s expression turned to a frown. “A get-together? Tonight? Hell, Rocky, this isn’t the time for a party.”
“Devin’s place,” Rocky said. “Just friends.”
“Friends like...?” Jack said, waiting for some kind of an explanation.
“I’m asking Vince and Renee, too. And Beth Fullway, Theo Hastings, Gayle Alden and, of course, Brent Corbin.”
“Corbin?” Jack said, stunned. “The same Brent Corbin we’re
holding in a cell right now?”
“Yep.”
“I already told him Brent won’t come,” Devin said.
“A party. Oh, yeah. I can just see it. He’s going to want to party with us, for sure,” Jack said.
“Trust me, he’s going to want to speak his mind and get sympathy from his friends,” Rocky said. He smiled. “Devin, just make sure he feels it’s our way of saying we’re sorry. He’ll come.”
14
The one thing the warrants had produced was Brent’s athame. It was in a leather case nestled on a fabric bed; the covered elastic bands that secured it in place hadn’t even been broken.
“The guy could be a pro at getting rid of evidence,” Jack began, “or―”
“Or he’s innocent,” Rocky finished.
Jack looked at his watch. It was going on four, time to shut things down for the day. “You sure you don’t want to cancel this party tonight?”
“No way. It’s not a big party. Just dinner and conversation with friends,” Rocky said. “I’m going to take off and pick up Devin. She’s with Jane and Angela at the hotel. On the way back to her place, I want to stop by the bar where Barbara and her friends were drinking. If Corbin is innocent, then someone who was there that night slipped that phone into his pocket.”
“I had men question everyone who was working there that night. None of them could contribute anything useful. They remember Corbin and the women, but no one saw them together,” Jack told him. “And no one remembers seeing anyone messing around with Corbin’s jacket, either.”
“Sometimes a second go-round helps,” Rocky said. “People keep thinking and end up remembering something else, maybe something small, but sometimes that’s all it takes.”
* * *
“It was a busy night. I already talked to the police. I’m sure you have the report.”
The bartender seemed weary, Rocky thought—not uncooperative, simply weary. His name was Judah Baker; he seemed to be about thirty and, unusually for “wicked” Massachusetts, he had a rich Southern accent.
Rocky was glad he’d decided to do more of the interviews himself. Not that he didn’t have faith in Jack’s cops, they just weren’t...
They just weren’t as invested, because they hadn’t had a vision the night Melissa died, and they didn’t speak to the dead. They might never know when a clue appeared right in front of them.
“I know you’ve been over this already,” Rocky said. “But three young women have been brutally murdered, and more women’s lives depend on what you can remember. We really need your help.”
Judah looked past Rocky to Devin. “Hey,” he said, frowning, “you’ve been in here with Brent. Aren’t the two of you friends?”
“Yes,” Devin said. “Good friends.”
“But he was arrested, huh?” Judah said.
“He wasn’t arrested, he was questioned,” Rocky corrected. “Are you sure you can’t remember anything else from that night?”
Judah shook his head. “I wish I could say, yeah, there was a creepy guy hanging around all night—musta been him. But if there was, I didn’t notice him. I was moving a mile a minute.”
“Did Brent stay at the bar the whole time he was in here?” Rocky asked.
“I can’t swear to it, but I never saw him get up,” Judah said. “We talked a little. He’d just finished his tour and wanted a beer before heading home, like he usually does. He seemed pleased, said he’d had a good tour. I told the cops all this yesterday,” Judah said.
“I know,” Rocky said.
He was surprised when Devin added, “Sometimes, once you take a little time and think about things again, you see more.”
Judah paused, running his fingers over his clean-shaven head. “I barely even glanced at the tables. But if you’re asking me who was hanging around the bar...people I know...let’s see. Molly from the wax museum, Darryl who works at the playhouse down the way...” He paused, studying Devin again. “You’re that author, right? You do the kids’ storybooks.”
Devin nodded. Judah picked up a glass and idly started drying it while he concentrated. “Another friend of yours was in here. Cute little thing. I’ve seen you all in here together before. I meant to mention it to Brent—I don’t think he saw her. I’m trying to think of her name....”
“The young woman who owns a shop farther down on Essex?” Rocky asked sharply.
“Beth Fullway?” Devin suggested.
“Yeah! Her shop’s pretty cool. This Wicca stuff is all kind of new to me. I’m from Arkansas, not a local,” Judah told them.
Rocky nodded and refrained from telling him that it was pretty obvious. He liked the guy’s accent; he didn’t want to say something that would make it sound as if he didn’t.
“Was Beth alone?” Rocky asked.
“No, she was with the two other people from the store. An older woman and a guy.”
“And Brent never saw them?” Rocky asked.
Judah let out a deep sigh. “I told you—it was really busy. All the tables were taken, people were three-deep at the bar. The three of them weren’t here very long.” He called to one of the women working the floor. “Gina, can you help these people?” He looked back at Rocky and Devin. “Gina was handling the tables that night—she might be able to tell you if anyone was trying to hook up with the women or anything like that.”
Gina came over carrying her cocktail tray. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that advertised the bar. “Hey, you more cops?”
Rocky produced ID again.
“The local cops were crawling all over the place yesterday,” she said.
Rocky nodded. “Do you remember the dead woman and her friends being in here?”
“I do— They were at that corner table.” She pointed. “Nice kids. I couldn’t believe it when I heard about what happened. They weren’t blotto or anything. They didn’t get carried away. They were very polite, kept to themselves all night, and they tipped well,” Gina said. “I shake when I think about it. How horrible.”
“You don’t go home alone when you finish here, do you?” Devin asked, concerned.
Gina shook her head. “Not after what happened.”
“No one will be leaving alone,” Judah assured them.
“Barbara never came back in to ask about her phone?” Rocky asked.
Gina shook her head. “When the three of them left, that’s the last time I saw them. There were other customers leaving at the same time, but...I don’t know who they were. We get plenty of locals, but like most of Salem and certainly this area of town, we get a lot of tourists, too.”
“I sent over the receipts from that night,” Judah told them. “The cops have them, if that will help you any.”
“We’ll go through them,” Rocky said.
And they would, but...
“A lot of people pay cash in a bar. Some don’t want it on record how much they’ve spent, some are only buying a drink or two―not worth putting on a card,” Judah said.
“Yeah,” Rocky said. “Well, thank you.”
Gina said, “Holly and Brenda were on last night. I’ll send them over. But if you’ll excuse me, the couple in the corner are looking at me like I’m the worst waitress known to man.”
Holly and Brenda came over to talk with them.
Brenda was older, a slim, harried woman, but she only stared at them blankly. “Faces just blur together. They’re one big cocktail order. I wish I could help you.”
Holly was just as unhelpful. “I’m new— I just moved from Cape Cod. I wouldn’t know a regular from the man in the moon.”
Right before they left, Rocky went back to the bar and told Judah, “I’m going to bring you some pictures. You remember faces, right?”
Gina was back at the bar, giving him an order. “Pictures are a great idea. I’d know faces if I saw them.”
“Me, too,” Judah assured him.
“Thanks,” Rocky said. Devin echoed him, and they left the bar.
“What now?”
she asked.
“Back to the house. It’s almost party time.”
“As you wish,” she murmured, pausing and stopping him, a hand on his arm. “Do you think this will get us anywhere? I still can’t believe that anyone either of us knows—someone we grew up with!—could have done this.”
Rocky wished he could say the same.
He’d been an agent too long; he knew better.
“Look at it this way. If we can eliminate them, that will help,” he told her.
“And what about when the party is over?” she asked. “The hotel...someone was in my room.”
“Jack has had the best video people over there all day—trust me, the cameras will be back up. And besides,” he said, allowing himself a smile, “I won’t be leaving you in a room alone. I mean, if that’s all right with you. You did run off this morning.”
She flushed. “It seemed...prudent.”
“Prudent?” He laughed. “You really are a New Englander, Miss Lyle. But seriously, you’ll be with me. And my Glock. And I’m a very light sleeper.”
“Nothing like feeling...secure,” she said.
“Come on, then. For now, we have to get to a cottage in the woods.”
* * *
It was, Devin thought, amazing just how easy it had been to set up the get-together Rocky wanted. When she’d called Beth, Theo and Gayle, not one of them had refused.
Vince, Renee, Jack and Haley had easily agreed, as well.
But when it came to one thing, it looked as though she was right. Brent Corbin hadn’t called her back.
Maybe he would never call her back.
They were alone at her house; the other agents were out purchasing food and beverages for the party. Auntie Mina was on the sofa, half listening to one of her TV shows.
Aunt Mina was deeply upset that Devin had been in such danger the night before and she hadn’t been there to help in whatever way she could. At the very least, she’d said, she could have been another set of eyes.