Door Mat please come forward.
Just as she had said would happen, the only data coming our way was in the form of blank stares.
Ben and I both went so far as to appeal to the crowd ourselves, reviving the multiple personality disorder and skipped meds story he had concocted earlier. However, even after telling them that Mistress Miranda may very well seriously hurt their friend because of her current psychosis, not a single person was willing to help.
Whether it was because they weren’t about to talk to a cop because Lady Vee had some sort of control over them, or simply that they truly didn’t know anything, I couldn’t say for sure. Still, it seemed odd, even to me, that not one individual in the entire club knew his real name, especially if he had been a regular.
After a smug and very public “I told you so” from Lady Vee, we were summarily escorted to the door and asked to leave post haste, though not in such polite terms. Since there wasn’t really anything we could do to force the information out of them, we complied. Well, partially anyway. Felicity’s Jeep was still here, and Ben wanted to search it. Fortunately for us, I had had the presence of mind to bring my set of keys for the Wrangler along with me. I didn’t normally carry them, but for some reason, this time I had stuffed them into my pocket.
We had only been at the task a little more than five minutes when my growing impatience with the situation got the better of me.
“Shouldn’t we be out looking for Felicity?” I asked with an almost angry edge to my voice.
“Where?” Ben called across to me without looking up and continued rifling through the front half of the vehicle.
He was kneeling on the driver’s side with his head cocked over as he carefully played the beam of a flashlight beneath the seat. I was on the passenger side, doing much the same but without the aid of additional light and with much less fervor. I seriously doubted that we would find anything that would point us to where my wife had gone, and I had already said as much several times. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t think my friend was expecting to either. His focus at the moment actually seemed directed more toward recovering Agent Mandalay’s sidearm.
“I don’t know, wherever,” I spat.
“‘Zactly.”
“Exactly what?”
“Exactly you don’t have any friggin’ idea where to start, and neither do I.”
“Maybe so, but we aren’t getting anywhere by staying here.”
“Uh-huh, just keep lookin’,” he grunted absently then spoke up. “So, I hate ta’ even ask this, but, how long?”
“How long what?” I replied as I gave up trying to see anything and simply slid my arm beneath the passenger seat. After feeling about, I wrapped my hand around something hard and withdrew it, only to find myself holding a collapsible umbrella. Waving it in the air, I added, “Nothing here.”
“Be careful!” he barked, having noticed how blindly I had groped about. “Why don’t you just back off and let me do this.”
“Fine,” I returned, standing and taking a half-step back then holding my hands up in plain sight. “Suit yourself. I don’t know why finding the damn gun is so important right this minute anyway.”
He glanced up at me without a word. There was more than enough overhead light for me to see the look on his face, and it told me I had just said something incredibly stupid. At least, that was obviously his take on my comment.
“I’ve already been through the console,” he said, not bothering to explain his motivation. “Why don’t you check to see if I missed anything that’ll help us know where ta’ start lookin’.”
“Yeah, okay. Fine.”
I puffed my cheeks as I blew a frustrated breath out in a frosty stream then leaned inside the vehicle and began going through the clutter in the center console.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t want anyone gettin’ shot. Me, you, her, or another copper. If she ditched the gun, then I know we’re probably safe, from that at least.”
“Okay, I get it,” I replied without conviction.
“Good.”
“So, how long what?” I asked after searching in silence for another minute or two.
He continued his quest without interruption but spoke again in an almost apologetic tone. “So anyway, what I was askin’ is how long do ya’ think we have before she kills this guy?”
The query struck me in the chest with no less emotional intensity than if he had simply doubled up his fist and physically thrown the punch. I stopped moving and simply allowed my head to hang.
I couldn’t blame him for asking. It was a valid question, and I would be lying if I said it hadn’t already crossed my mind more than once. I had just been making it a point to try not to think about it.
When I didn’t answer him right away, he called my name, “Row?”
The beam from the flashlight flickered in front of me, and I slowly raised my head. I’m certain the harsh light didn’t help what was most likely a horribly pained expression on my face.
“Shit… Sorry, white man…” my friend mumbled. “Didn’t think… I’m just kinda in cop mode right now. And, I’m not used ta’ one of my friends bein’…”
“It’s okay,” I replied then swallowed hard as his question continued to bounce around inside my skull. I finally said, “I honestly don’t know. It was pretty obvious at the other crime scenes that the killer apparently likes to torture the victims for a while. Given the nature of the abuse, I suspect it probably starts out as a consensual fetish game. How quickly it escalates from there, I have no idea.”
“What about the Voodoo stuff? Think she’ll do that?”
“Maybe.”
“So that could buy some time.”
I shook my head uncertainly. “Again, maybe. I don’t know enough to be able to say how long the ritual would take.”
“Okay. So, any chance Felicity could… I dunno… Win?”
“Win?”
“You know, like… I dunno… Stop herself.”
“You mean her spirit?”
“Yeah, whatever… I mean like could she be fighting against this thing right now. Groundin’ or whatever hocus-pocus it is you two are always doin’. You know, maybe tryin’ ta’ make herself snap out of it before it’s too late?”
“Right now, I suspect Felicity isn’t even aware that she needs to snap out of it, so she’s probably not able to do anything at all. Her body has become what the Lwa refer to as a ‘horse’. It’s literally being used to take the departed spirit from one place to another and allow it to do things in the physical world.”
“I thought you just said you didn’t know that much about this shit?”
“I don’t, really. Just a handful of relatively useless facts,” I said with a shrug. “While you were making some calls back at the house, I skimmed through a couple of books we had on the shelf, but I didn’t get much more than I already knew.” I stopped and harrumphed thoughtfully. “I guess that’s probably because I got what I knew from those books to begin with. Either way, basically, this is pretty unfamiliar ground for me. I know enough to know that I don’t really have a clue.”
“That doesn’t inspire confidence, Row.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, I don’t suppose there was a chapter in one of those books on how to make the spirit go away, was there?”
“No. Apparently, it’s actually an honor to be a horse for a Lwa, so a follower really wouldn’t want the spirit to go away.”
“Prob’ly cause they haven’t hung out with this one.”
“I can agree with that because there’s something more to this spirit, Ben. The descriptions of possessions in the books seemed adamant about Lwa not inflicting intentional harm.”
“Maybe they need ta’ write a new book.”
“All I can say is that this Lwa, if that’s what it really is, isn’t normal.”
“Normal ain’t a word I’d use for any of this, Row,” he huffed.
“Yeah, I know. Believe me, based on what I read, the spirituality here seems rooted in traditional Voodoo
