Something Wicked

  Savannah couldn’t take it in. Kristina was on-site when the Donatellas were murdered? She hadn’t fully believed Owen DeWitt. She’d ignored Nadine Gretz’s comments about Kristina, as well. But something had gone on between Kristina and another man. Something that maybe was connected to the Donatella murders? Who was this mysterious other man?

  Declan Jr.

  “I’m sorry about your sister. She was very pretty. I saw her on the television.”

  “Thank you,” Savvy said distractedly.

  “Where’s your baby? What happened to your baby!”

  “I had the baby. The baby’s fine. He’s at his father’s house, doing just fine.”

  “Keep baby Jesus safe,” he advised.

  Steeling herself, Savvy asked, “What were they doing, my sister and the devil?”

  “Fucking.”

  Mickey’s matter-of-fact tone felt like a hard slap. “Does the devil look like a man? Someone you might recognize?”

  “It’s a disguise.”

  “But if you could describe him, what would you say? Look behind the disguise.”

  “Oh, the devil is her husband. That’s who he is. He took her to his mansion and made her his. . . .”

  CHAPTER 25

  Savvy ran through the rain to her rented SUV and scrolled through the list of numbers on her cell phone, looking for Owen DeWitt’s. She didn’t have it, she realized. Damn. She had the list she’d been given of all the Bancroft employees and former employees, and she had almost all their contact numbers, but she hadn’t gotten DeWitt’s when she met him Saturday at the Rib-I. She’d only given him hers.

  But she had Clark Russo’s, so she quickly phoned him. He answered just before the call went to voice mail, and she quickly told him what she needed.

  “Let’s see,” he said, taking a moment to look up the number on his own phone. “I’m really sorry about your sister, Detective Dunbar. I always liked her.”

  “Thank you.”

  Savvy visualized the handsome project manager, remembering that Sylvie Strahan from Hale’s office had recommended him for the job when Paulie Williamson, whom both Russo and Vledich had jumped in and denigrated, quit and moved to Tucson. She’d been interrupted before calling Williamson by Geena Cho, and then everything had gotten crazy. She sure as hell wasn’t going to wait for Lang to call DeWitt, not after what Mickey had said.

  “I talked to Hale,” he added. “He sounds pretty broken up.”

  She sensed he was fishing for information, but she wasn’t going to go there. Mickey’s screwed-up but scary report on Kristina and her trysts—plural, apparently—filled her head. She absolutely didn’t believe he was right about Hale. But she needed to nail down who Charlie was. “Beelzebub,” DeWitt had said. On that he and Mickey agreed. Both of them thought Kristina’s lover was the devil.

  Russo gave her DeWitt’s cell number and said casually, “Thought Woodworth steered you toward the Rib-I to find DeWitt. He wasn’t there?”

  “I just need to talk to him again.”

  “So you did see him.”

  “I’ve really got to get going, Mr. Russo. Thank you.”

  “Okay. Good luck with that new baby,” he said as he rang off.

  Savvy quickly placed a call to DeWitt, but his phone went straight to voice mail. She hung up and called right back, in case he’d just missed the call, but again she heard his voice telling the caller to leave a message, and she did, identifying herself and leaving him her number. She suspected Lang had left his callback number, too. When DeWitt heard the messages, he’d wonder what had put a fire under the TCSD.

  She drove north with controlled concentration, feeling time ticking by, as if she had a clock inside her head. She was tired, too, and her breasts felt like heavy bricks. She would have called Hale, too, but she was driving without Bluetooth, and frankly, she just wanted to get there.

  Hale waited for his grandfather as Declan worked his way out of Hale’s SUV and through Hale’s garage, leaning heavily on his cane. Hale hit the button to lower the garage door as a whipping wind sent a rush of rain their way. Already the driving rain had melted half the snow. A few more hours, and the snow would be a memory on the coast, though what that meant for the mountains was another story.

  “I got it. I got it.” Declan waved him inside as Hale held the door for him. Ignoring him, Hale stayed where he was as Declan navigated the few steps to the kitchen.

  Victoria Phelan was standing just inside, and baby Declan was in full squall behind her in his car seat, which was sitting on the counter. “I tried giving him a bottle, but he’s not taking it. I don’t know what to do.”

  Declan gave her the once-over as he found one of the kitchen table chairs, his eyes taking in her thin T-shirt, which hugged her breasts, and her skinny jeans. She’d taken off her shoes and socks, and her bare toenails were painted black, the black on both big toes painted with a gold peace sign.

  The look on his grandfather’s face as his gaze took in the design made Hale want to laugh out loud. But baby Declan’s wailing cries took his attention, and he went to the baby and gathered him up. He kept crying, but it wasn’t quite as loud as before as Hale, rocking him gently, walked him into the living room. “Do you have a bottle ready?” he called to the nanny as he kept moving.

  “Umm . . . yeah,” she called back. “He did take some formula earlier,” she yelled a bit defensively.

  At that moment a wash of headlights lit the room, and Hale looked up to see Savvy’s rental SUV pull into the driveway. His relief was mixed with pleasure, and when Victoria came with the bottle, he handed over the baby and headed for the door. He walked outside into the pouring rain as Savannah stepped from her car, her face half covered by the large hood of her raincoat.

  Hurrying to meet her, he simply wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. “Thank God,” he said. “The baby needs you. Or maybe I need you. . . . I’m just so glad you’re here.”

  Savannah looked up, the golden living room light shining on her blue eyes, making them glow. It struck him how beautiful she was, and for a moment they just stared at each other. Everything slowed down for Hale, and he felt his blood moving heavy in his veins. Heightened emotions over these past days. Strange events. Incredible highs. Devastating lows. For one crazy second he stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders, gazing down at her with a kind of wild desire that was reflected in her expressive eyes. Dangerous . . .

  And then the wind blew her hood back, and her dark auburn hair flew in front of her face, and Hale dropped his hold on her and grabbed her hand instead, tugging her toward the front door. Once inside, he slammed it shut behind them, but not before another heavy slap of rain followed them in.

  “Wow,” he said, running his hands through his own wet hair. Declan’s cries greeted them both.

  Savvy asked, “What’s going on?”

  “He’s hungry. Doesn’t seem to be taking to the formula that well.”

  She moved past him into the other room, shedding her coat as she went, folding it over her arm. Hale took the coat from her and felt moved by the way she beelined for Victoria, reaching for the baby. For a moment Victoria looked like she might resist, and Hale told her, “Savannah gave birth to Declan,” so Victoria turned the baby over, albeit reluctantly. Hopeless, Hale thought. He was going to have to do something about replacing her, despite her one-year contract.

  “Is there somewhere I can feed him?” Savannah looked to Hale, who led the way into the master bedroom. The lamps were on, and the room was bathed in soft light. Hale could see the vacuum cleaner tracks in the carpet and could smell the faintly citrus scent from the cluster of candles sitting on a silver tray on the dresser.

  “Magda cleaned today,” Hale said as Savvy sat down on the cream-colored occasional chair in the corner. “There’s a rocker in the nursery,” he added, remembering it.

  “This is fine.”

  She sounded weary, and he nodded and left her in the room, closing the door softly be
hind them. He thought about his earlier reaction to her and decided he might need a drink.

  His wipers rhythmically slapped at the driving rain as he drove south from the St. Cloud house. He’d seen them. He’d seen her. He’d been waiting for her up around a bend, with binoculars on the drive that led to the house. He’d been lying in wait for the old man, aware that his grandson had brought him to the house, and then because he was lucky, she’d shown up, the lovely, ripe detective with her swollen breasts and earthiness that dug right into his loins.

  Seeing her, his dick had jumped right up, so while he’d stroked himself, he’d sent her another message, sweet and irresistible. Lover. Soon. We’ll be together soon. He’d waited for her to respond, but something had gone wrong. He’d opened his eyes to see what it was, and she’d been looking up at goddamn Hale St. Cloud like he was some kind of fucking god! That wasn’t the way it worked. That wasn’t right. Had she been feeling this all along, this transference to the wrong man?

  Charlie’s blood boiled with frustration and rage. He watched them enter the house together, and he knew they were all over each other. He could feel it.

  He’d netted her, and somehow she’d slipped away!

  No!

  A car drove by him, and he had to put his truck in gear and ease back onto the road and drive past the house. He couldn’t be remembered. Had to stay under the radar.

  In his dark mood, he was surprised when a message suddenly blasted across his mind, the first time his secret lover had contacted him first. I have something for you.

  Charlie’s attention snapped back. What? Where are you? he asked her.

  Close. I’ll see you soon. Wait for my call.

  Fuck that, Charlie thought. He was going to find her. And then he was going to kill them all: her, the luscious detective, all the sisters at Siren Song, and, of course, Pops, the creaky old bastard who’d climbed atop that bitch Mary Beeman and sired him.

  She was asleep in the chair when Hale returned to his bedroom. Baby Declan was lying in the center of the king bed, wrapped up in a blanket, sound asleep, but Savannah had curled into the chair, her head lying against the back of it. Hale gazed down at her, noticing the sweep of her lashes against her cheek. He debated about finding her a blanket, but instead he half woke her and guided her to the bed while she protested that she wasn’t going to sleep in his bed. Ignoring her, he pulled back the covers and tucked her in. For a moment, he thought she was going to wake completely; she looked tense and ready. But then she gave up with a deep sigh, and when she was lying quietly, he scooped up baby Declan and took him to his bassinet in the nursery. Victoria was in her room, but she heard him and came into the hall, standing in the doorway and watching him settle the baby. He cracked the door open and joined her in the hall.

  “I’ll keep an ear open for him all night,” she promised, heading back to her room.

  Hale just nodded and then rejoined his grandfather in the kitchen. Before he could say a word, his cell phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was his mother. He almost didn’t answer it.

  Savvy woke up with a start, confused for a moment. Where am I? And then her memory came back in snapshots, the most memorable being standing outside Hale’s house and staring up at him, sensing that he was feeling something of what she was.

  And then baby Declan’s cries. It was as if she’d been scripted to take him from the young woman’s arms and into the safe haven of Hale’s bedroom.

  Hale’s bedroom. Kristina’s bedroom . . .

  Savvy tossed back the covers and got to her feet. She was fully clothed except for her shoes and socks. Vaguely she remembered being helped to the bed from the chair, and she realized, a dark pink flush climbing up her neck, that it had been Hale, his strong arms around her, who’d pulled back the covers and tucked her in.

  Guilt flared inside her. He was still Kristina’s husband, and it didn’t matter that she was gone. It didn’t matter what she did, or didn’t do, with Beelzebub before her death. It didn’t matter that she might, or might not, have been on-site when the Donatellas were killed . . . not when it came to Hale. Savannah had always prided herself on being the sane sister, the discriminating one, while Kristina had been flighty and impressionable.

  So what the hell was this all about?

  Hating herself a little, she stumbled into the master bath and took a look at herself in the mirror. She groaned upon seeing her tangled hair and dark-circled eyes.

  And then she heard the baby crying again and wondered if that had woken her up. What time was it? She glanced back into the bedroom and realized it was 9:00 p.m. Quickly, she finger-combed her hair, found some toothpaste and rubbed it on her teeth with her index finger—wasn’t going to poach either her sister’s or Hale’s toothbrush—and then hurried out to see where Hale was and to find the baby.

  Hale had heard baby Declan’s cries and was just coming down the hall when Savannah appeared from the master bedroom. Victoria’s door was shut, and she was nowhere to be seen.

  “I think he’s hungry again,” Savannah said.

  “Looks that way,” Hale said.

  “I’ll get him and take him back to your room . . . if that’s okay.”

  “Absolutely. Thank you.”

  He stood outside the nursery door and watched her pick up the baby and carry him back to the bedroom, giving him a quick smile as she closed the door. Hale stayed where he was for a moment, then headed back to the den off the kitchen, where his grandfather was ensconced in a chair and the television was turned on to a sports channel, the volume on low.

  “When did Janet last call?” Declan asked him.

  “An hour ago.”

  “Maybe she shouldn’t be crossing the mountains,” Declan said fretfully. “Could be a lot of snow.”

  Hale didn’t remind him that he’d had exactly the opposite opinion just hours earlier. Both of them were worried, though Hale had channel surfed around for an updated local weather report an hour before and had learned it was mostly raining in the Coast Range. He just hoped it stayed that way.

  In truth, his attention was fractured; his mind’s eye pictured Savannah in the chair in his bedroom, breast-feeding his son. He yearned to be in the room with her, yet that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

  “What’re you gonna do with that bimbo who calls herself a nanny?” Declan asked in a whisper.

  “Shhh.”

  “She doesn’t know a damn thing about being a mother.”

  “She’s the nanny Kristina hired.”

  “Ack. Kristina wasn’t a good decision maker. Don’t want to speak ill of the dead,” he added quickly, when he could see Hale was about to object. “But I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. She wasn’t for you, son.”

  Hale stared at his empty wineglass. He’d moved from bourbon, which he’d been drinking much too quickly, to cabernet. He and Declan had eaten some of the casserole that Magda had brought from the office, one of many, apparently, that were showing up from business associates, Hale and Kristina’s only real friends. Neither he nor his grandfather had much of an appetite.

  Half an hour later Savannah joined them. “I put him back down. He’s asleep.”

  “How’re you going to do this, girl?” Declan asked. “With your job.”

  “Declan . . . ,” Hale warned.

  “I don’t know,” Savvy answered. “Things are . . . confusing at the moment.”

  “Clear as glass to me,” Declan said, ignoring Hale’s glare. “Quit that job. Become a full-time mother. Most important job in the universe.”

  Savannah broke into a wide smile, unnerving Declan a bit, apparently, as he demanded, “What are you grinning at?”

  “I’m not going to argue with you. You’re . . .” She seemed to bite off what she was going to say. “I like my job, and I need to support myself, and no, I’m not going to live off Bancroft/St. Cloud money, so you can just forget that before you even get started.”

  Declan had opened his mouth
, and now he snapped it shut into a thin line of disapproval.

  “I’ll feed Declan as much as I can. I want to. But I can’t be with him all the time.”

  “Maternity leave,” Declan said flatly.

  “We’re all figuring this out,” Hale said. “We’ll take it an hour at a time.”

  Savannah shot him a grateful look, then asked, “Could I talk to you alone for a minute?”

  They returned to the master bedroom, and Hale closed the door behind him while Savvy walked back toward her chair but didn’t sit down. “You know I’ve been following up on some leads at work, on the Donatella case.”

  “I thought you were going to tell me something about Kristina,” he said.

  “That too. This is going to sound strange, but the two cases may be dovetailing. Several sources told me that Kristina was having an affair, and that she was . . . She’d been seen with a man at the Donatella house, apparently after Marcus and Chandra moved out or weren’t there.”

  Hale thought about his wife, her strange behavior the last weeks and months of her life. “She and I were friends with the Donatellas. . . .”

  “I know it doesn’t sound like her,” Savvy said, picking up his train of thought. “I’m having trouble believing it myself. But it gets stranger, and more . . . and more . . . terrible.”

  Hale felt himself go still. “What is it?”

  Savannah took a breath and launched in. “Last Thursday, before I came here to see Kristina, I stopped by Siren Song and met with Catherine Rutledge. . . .”

  Savannah didn’t know how much to tell Hale, whether she should go through every detail or hit the highlights. In the end, she settled for somewhere in between, telling him about Catherine’s worry that Mary’s son, who’d been adopted out when he was still a baby, apparently, had been lured to Echo Island, where Mary was exiled, and had ultimately killed her there, stabbing her to death with a knife, which was currently being tested for DNA evidence from the blood residue on its blade. She then added that Mary had named the boy Declan as a means to get back at Catherine, who’d apparently had a relationship with Hale’s own grandfather at one time. Catherine believed that Declan Jr., as they were calling him, was as mentally unstable as his mother had been, or worse; that he was the one who had had an affair with Kristina and had killed her; and that he was now setting his sights on his half sisters, the women of Siren Song, on his father—or the man he assumed was his father, Declan Bancroft—and maybe even on those who were delving into his life in some way or investigating the Donatella homicides, a crime that might ultimately end up being laid at his feet, as well.