Megalomania? Madness? Maggie shivered and eyed Stephanie Michaels warily. She was making death threats, but Maggie still hadn’t seen a weapon. Josh was already whispering into the phone, calling for backup. When he finished, he nodded toward the left and circled behind the trees. If he could get far enough, he’d be in position to protect LeMontaire and confront Michaels. Maggie moved in the opposite direction, inching closer to Michaels’s position, preparing for the takedown. She stole another peek, still checking for weapons.
“Who’s there?”
Maggie froze at Michaels’s sharp question. Had she made some tiny sound? She waited, barely breathing. Even the insects and normal night sounds seemed to pause.
“I saw your shadow,” Michaels snapped. “You, in the bushes behind Isabella, come out here.”
Damn. She’d spotted Josh.
Michaels took a few steps forward and changed angle enough that Maggie saw the small pistol in her right hand. It looked like a Beretta Pico .38. Six bullets. The barrel pointed toward Madame L, but Michaels was focused on the bushes where Josh had gone. “Do it now, or I shoot her,” Michaels warned.
Maggie reached for her SIG.
“There’s no need to shoot anyone.” Josh stepped into the diffuse light filtered through the trees from nearby pole lights. His full-size Beretta was aimed at Michaels’s torso. He was five feet south of Madame L. A good strategic move on his part to force Michaels to aim twice to shoot both of them. “Put the gun down,” he said quietly. “Let’s talk this over.”
“Seriously, Detective Brandt? Put yours down first.” Michaels craned her neck to look behind him. “Where’s your partner?”
“Finishing up at the crime scene.”
“I don’t believe you. Tell her to come out.” Michaels took a step closer to Madame L, raising the gun to aim at the priestess’s head.
“She isn’t here. It was only by chance that I saw you leaving the apartment building on my way home.” Josh continued to engage Michaels, buying time for Maggie to do something. But what?
She rested on her heels. Backup wouldn’t get there in time. But she couldn’t just shoot Michaels in the back without warning. Crap. Not unless she had to. There must be another way.
Maggie studied the scene, judging time and distance for possible intervention. Then she moved toward the area behind Michaels as rapidly as possible, avoiding pebbles or twigs that might betray her. She kept one ear tuned to the ongoing conversation.
“You should listen to him,” Madame L was saying. “Even if the police were not involved, this cannot continue. You must have known how it would end. But even now, it is not too late to cleanse your soul. Embrace your oath to the Sisterhood, and face what you have done.”
“Shut up.” Michaels waved the gun barrel at her. “I know what you’re trying to do, to work your spells, get inside my head.”
Surprised by the accusation, Maggie paused to watch Madame L’s reaction. She narrowed her eyes to focus on the clashing auras—Michaels’s wild, fluctuating bold colors and Madame L’s steady layers of gold and white. Strange lines of energy radiated outward from both women. What was that?
Maggie blinked, closing off the sight, and refocused on the dedication stone, swiftly closing the distance until she touched its hard surface. Michaels was less than ten feet away. A launch from on top should give her the necessary momentum. She tucked her gun in the small of her back, slipped out of her shoes, and pulled herself up to drape over the boulder. Both Josh and Madame L should be able to see her now.
Josh took a step toward Michaels, drawing her attention.
She turned the pistol on him. “Stop right there. Enough talk. This is your last chance. Drop the gun, or I shoot on the count of three. You first, then her. One…”
Maggie drew her feet under her, slipped, pulled her foot back. A slight scrape…but loud enough. Michaels’s head began to turn, and Maggie launched herself, off-balance but sufficient to slam her body into the woman’s gun arm. They hit the ground hard. Michaels’s pistol went off, the sound deafening in Maggie’s ear. Someone shrieked.
She rolled onto her knees, gasping as painful fingernails dug into her neck. Michaels yanked the back of her hair, screaming and clawing. Maggie twisted, and they rolled twice—a tangle of arms and legs. Maggie delivered two sound thumps to the ribs. Michaels jabbed at her face, trying to gouge her eyes, until Maggie landed a sharp blow to her opponent’s face. Michaels fell back, and then Josh was there, pulling the woman off and cuffing her.
“Holy crap, she’s a nutcase!” Maggie blurted, scrambling to her feet. “Is everyone OK? No one got hit?”
Madame L regarded her with solemn eyes. “You’re bleeding, detective.”
“So is she.” Maggie swiped at the bloody scratches on her neck and noted Michaels’s split lip with satisfaction. “Where’d the bullet go?”
Josh turned and looked at Madame L. “I thought…it must have gone through your robe.”
“I’ve taken no harm.” The priestess held out her arms and showed him the unblemished folds of her garment.
“I could have sworn… Well, I guess we can count ourselves lucky all the way around.” He gave Maggie a wry look. “I thought you disapproved of diving into danger. Why didn’t you just shoot her?”
“Yeah, right. Like you would have shot her in the back?” She knew he was thinking about another incident a few weeks ago and making a point. It was a cop’s job to leap into danger.
“You could have ordered her to drop her weapon.”
“I was afraid she’d start shooting if I did.”
“Yeah, I was a little worried about that myself.” Josh studied Michaels’s dark glare. “She does seem…um, a bit deranged.”
“I wouldn’t look into her eyes too long,” Madame L cautioned.
Maggie cocked her head, thinking about the auras, the radiating lines of energy, the eerie sensations hovering around this scene. “Why not?”
The priestess’s unblinking gaze met hers. “Evil may be looking back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ross and Barclay had heard Josh’s call for backup on their way home from the hospital after Gordon had been pronounced dead. They arrived in time to take on the task of running Michaels by the ER and booking her into the station on charges of first-degree murder and resisting arrest. A second two-man car secured the scene while waiting for the CS techs. That left Maggie and Josh free to “debrief” Madame L.
“We’ll need a formal statement,” Maggie said. “But if you’d rather wait until morning…”
Madame L folded her hands over her stomach. Her troubled eyes conveyed sadness. “I would not sleep anyway. I am responsible for part of this.”
“Why don’t we give you a ride to the station? We’ll get some tea and coffee and talk this through,” Josh suggested. “It’ll take a while before Michaels is ready to be interviewed.”
The priestess gave a brief nod. She seemed relieved at the idea of having something to do, and they regrouped shortly around a conference table at District 13.
Madame L took a sip of tea and eyed Maggie. “What will happen to her?”
“That’s not up to us, but it depends on a number of things,” Maggie said. “She’s killed four people, planned and plotted, which makes the murders premeditated. Her lawyer won’t have much to bargain with except insanity. And that’s a hard sell to a jury.”
“She’s not insane. Not in a clinical sense. She’s an addict of sorts, seduced by the powers of black magic.”
“That’ll be an even harder sell to the DA or a jury,” Maggie said dryly. “Most of them won’t believe black magic exists, and there’s no evidence it was used in any of the murders. Guns, snakes, drugs. Inventive methods maybe, but not inexplicable.”
“No? How did she get so close to her victims? Why were there no witnesses? Why did so many sisters blindly follow her?” Madame L’s voice held a quiet confidence that she knew the answers…and that Maggie should too.
Maggie stared at her. “Are you suggesting she bespelled these people? Is that why you warned Detective Brandt not to look in her eyes?”
The priestess’s gaze swung to Josh for a moment, her expression hard to read. “I advised him as I myself would have acted.”
Josh cleared his throat. “Can we go back to what happened at the park? What brought you there? Were you looking for Michaels?”
“By that time, yes, but I didn’t figure it out soon enough. The signs were there—her insider knowledge of how the Society works, especially our handling of the funds; even her past interest in black magic. She hadn’t mentioned it for years, but we used to have philosophical arguments about the dark arts. And I was aware of her ability to gather others to any cause she advocated. It was one of the reasons she became our spokesperson. She was a staunch activist for our Wiccan ideals and a personal friend for so long…” Madame L pulled her shoulders back. “I woke this morning knowing something was terribly wrong. The feeling grew unbearable at dark, and I finally realized Fiona was in danger. When my calls to her went unanswered, I set to find her. I felt…” she seemed to search for words, “such violence, and then I saw Stephanie leave the building. The black haze surrounding her revealed the truth, that it was too late for them both.” Madame L laced her fingers on the table. “I followed her, knowing I must put an end to it.”
By yourself? Maggie wanted to ask how, but that would probably take them into the supernatural again. Surely they could get through this statement without relying on explanations that couldn’t go in her report.
Josh wasn’t as reticent. “How did you expect to stop her? Why not call for help instead of going after her unarmed?”
Madame L didn’t hesitate. “I hoped to use our long association to make her see reason. To end this madness, stop the harm she was doing to herself, to others, to our craft. To convince her to turn herself in.”
So…the priestess didn’t want to talk about magic either. Fine by Maggie. She cut off that line of questioning. “OK. You caught up with her in the garden, and then what?”
“She was waiting for me with a gun.”
Not entirely unexpected. If LeMontaire had spotted Michaels, it was likely Michaels had seen her too. And the gun was probably how she’d controlled Gordon. “Go on,” Maggie urged.
“I don’t know how much you heard, but she told me she was taking over as the Society’s High Priestess, that she had already killed four people, and one more death—presumably mine—would make no difference.” The lines in her face deepened. “Murder is unforgivable, but harming those you are bound to by sisterhood is…unthinkable.”
“Did she mention accomplices?” Josh asked.
“Not specifically. She referred to the members of her secret coven as fools. I presume because they had been so easy to manipulate.” Madame L’s voice filled with regret. “I hold myself responsible for not recognizing the risks of giving our membership so much freedom without an equal amount of support and direction.”
“You said Michaels had a prior interest in black magic. Didn’t that worry you?” Maggie asked. “How were the two of you ever friends?”
“She grew up a dedicated Wiccan. When she became intrigued with voodoo and hoodoo, eventually black magic and Satanism, she assured me it was only an intellectual interest. She continued with her Wiccan craft just like before. We drifted apart, but I thought it was merely our diverse backgrounds and social interests asserting themselves.”
“Who within the Society shared her interests?”
“The other coven members, you mean?” Madame L firmed her jaw. “I didn’t lie to you, detective. I didn’t know who was involved. However…since Stephanie was the leader, her circle of friends must fall under suspicion. I will give you their names but would like to remain supportive to them.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem. Your assistance could be helpful—” Maggie broke off at a knock on the door.
Detective Barclay stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Michaels is in Interrogation One, whenever you’re ready.”
Maggie acknowledged with a nod. “Thanks. Did you have any trouble on the way here?”
Barclay frowned. “No, but she acts spooky. Kept staring at us, trying to catch my gaze or Ross’s. Just like Madame L said she would.”
Maggie’s gaze returned to the priestess. “Can she really compel someone’s actions? Even against their own judgment?”
LeMontaire spread her hands. “The Stephanie Michaels I’ve known for twenty years would not have murdered four people. I don’t know what this woman might do.”
Not exactly an answer.
“But is it possible? Could you do it?”
The priestess looked at her a long moment. “I would never make the attempt. Is there anything else? I’d like to go home now.”
Maggie sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to get an answer. She pushed a notepad and pen across the table and stood. “If you can give us those names, I’ll have someone drive you home when you’re finished. We’ll be in touch.”
After arranging her transportation, Maggie and Josh headed toward Interrogation. In spite of the long hours, now dragging into dawn, they shared an eagerness to put the final pieces together. Maggie stopped Josh to confer briefly in the hallway, and afterward he joined Ross and Barclay in the observation room. She entered Interrogation alone.
Michaels crossed her arms immediately. “I’d rather talk with someone else.”
“No problem. I can arrange that.” Maggie leaned over, checked to make sure the recorder and mic were off, and leaned against the table with her back toward the one-way mirror. “But you and I are going to get something straight first. Knock off the witchy stuff. I’m not buying that you’re certifiably insane or that you’re invested with enough psychic power to bespell anyone who’s alerted to your game. Whatever type of hypnosis or power of suggestion you’ve learned, you won’t be allowed to use it here. You can give your statement to another officer, but I’ll be behind that mirror,” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder, “watching you every second.”
Michaels stared at her intently. Maggie felt—or imagined—a flicker of something mentally tug at her, but it went away the moment she blinked. She leaned over the table again and inspected the suspect’s lip. “Nice stitch job. Should heal quickly…unless you keep up this nonsense.”
“Got it, Detective.” Michaels smirked at her. “I’m not stupid. Proving to them I’m a real witch wouldn’t go over well with the press or a jury. But you wouldn’t be warning me if you were sure it was nonsense.”
“I’m sure of this—if you start anything, I’ll finish it.”
Michaels leaned forward. “Does the NOPD know they have a witch working for them?”
Maggie laughed. “Good luck with that one. Next you’ll be saying I see ghosts. Try being more cooperative with the next person through that door. Oh, you should keep in mind that Louisiana has the death penalty.”
Josh met her in the hallway. “How’d it go?”
“She got the point. Any trouble with the guys in Observation?”
“They’re curious what was said. You might want to tell them something.”
“I’ll say I apologized for bloodying her lip.”
“Oh, nice choice. Something believable.” He chuckled, then put on his cop face and entered the Interrogation room. Maggie joined Ross and Barclay in Observation.
“Did you ask her out on a date?” Ross asked.
Maggie rolled her eyes for his benefit. “Something like that. Actually, I reminded her that Louisiana has the death penalty. The DA doesn’t like it when that sort of thing is on record.”
She didn’t look to see their reaction. If they had doubts, no one said anything. The intercom clicked as Josh turned on the mic and the Interrogation began.
While Josh went through all the legal requirements for the record, Maggie kept a sharp watch on Michaels’s behavior. Initially, she seemed to ignore, or more likely defy, Maggie’s
warning by locking an intense stare on Josh’s face. When he scowled at her a second time, Michaels crossed her legs and settled into a monotone yes or no routine. She didn’t offer any clarifications, and it was slow going the next fifteen minutes with Josh working hard for every detail.
Yes, she knew Valerie Preston. Yes, she knew Bernice Shayre. No, she didn’t know Duncan Brice.
Maggie noted Josh’s growing annoyance—his jaw tightened, his shoulders tensed—and wasn’t surprised when he set his pen down and leaned back.
“Am I boring you, Mrs. Michaels?”
“What am I doing wrong now? I’ve answered your questions.”
“So you have, but this process could go a lot more quickly with complete answers. At this rate, we’ll be here all day. Maybe longer.”
Maggie blinked. For a moment she thought she saw something, a flash of light. Probably her tired eyes seeing shadows. The late hour was getting to all of them. She leaned toward the mirror. Even Michaels. Was the woman’s hand trembling in her lap? Geez, she was nervous or even frightened.
“Do you see that?” Maggie pointed toward the mirror. “Look at her hand. She’s not half as cool as she pretends.” Maggie opened the door into the hall and knocked on Interrogation. When Josh answered with a frown at the interruption, she pulled him into the hallway and explained what she’d seen. “She’s on edge, maybe even scared. And she’s not an experienced criminal. Squeaky-clean rap sheet and a privileged life. I doubt if she’d ever been inside a police station before tonight. If you leave her alone, let her sit a while, she may realize just how bad her situation is.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Besides, you already need a break.”