practices, but that’s where the similarity ends. It’s like it’s being misinterpreted to fit a sick agenda.”
“Yeah, well we’ve seen that kinda shit happen before, haven’t we?”
I knew the rhetorical question was a reference to the first case I’d ever worked with him. WitchCraft had been the focus that time, but like now, it had been twisted into something it wasn’t to fulfill the killer’s psychopathic fantasy.
“Don’t remind me.”
“So, even knowin’ all that, you still think…”
“That Felicity is acting under a spirit possession?” I replied, finishing the thought for him. “Absolutely. I refuse to believe she’s a killer, Ben. I just can’t. Can you?”
“As a friend, I sure as hell don’t want to. As a cop…”
I interrupted him again. “Just don’t…”
“I’m just tryin’ ta’ say…”
“No, Ben. Don’t say anything else. At least let me pretend you’re on my side.”
“I am, Row. Believe it or not.”
“There’s something else I read,” I told him, not exactly changing the subject but shunting it into a different direction. “Possessions are known to spontaneously end.”
“So this could just all of a sudden stop?”
“Yes. In fact, more than likely it will do exactly that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So if it’s gonna do that, then you’re sayin’ maybe we just wait it out?”
“I doubt it. The problem is that it usually happens after the spirit has accomplished what it set out to do when it took over the body to begin with.”
“Fuckin’ wunnerful,” he grumbled then stood up. “Okay. Nothin’ over here either. Let’s check the back.”
I backed out and closed the passenger door then stepped around the Jeep, meeting my friend behind it. I reached in and unlatched the spare tire frame, swung it to the side, then unlocked the back window on the hard shell top. Ben pointed the flashlight through the tinted glass, moving it back and forth for a moment, and then carefully lifted the hatch open.
I followed the beam of the Mag-lite to where it pooled in the back of the vehicle. There, partially draped across Felicity’s gym bag was the pinstripe business suit she’d been wearing earlier in the day. At first I thought it might simply have been the blazer, but upon closer inspection I saw what appeared to be the waistband of the slacks, as well as the strap of her bra.
“That looks like what she was wearin’ this afternoon,” Ben said aloud.
“It is.”
“Well, unless she left outta here naked, she musta changed clothes or somethin’.”
The ensemble was haphazardly strewn across the rear cargo space, and positioned on top of it was one of her smaller, hard-sided camera cases with the hinged lid propped open. A pair of empty holes gaped back at us from the foam insert.
“It looks like there’s a camera and a flash unit missing,” I announced.
“Jeezus fuckin’ Christ,” Ben muttered. “Don’t tell me she’s gonna take pictures.”
He continued to play the beam of the flashlight around the interior of the back of the Jeep, pausing here and there as something would catch his eye. After a moment he reached in and carefully moved the camera case then started lifting the pile of clothing to check beneath.
That was when my heart somersaulted in my chest.
“Whoa! Wait!” I insisted, reaching for his arm, but he had already stopped because he had seen the same thing that caught my eye.
Felicity’s white blouse, which had been sandwiched between the blazer and slacks, was now revealed. However, it was no longer stark white, as across the left breast a bright crimson spatter stained the otherwise pristine silk.
“Gods!” I exclaimed.
“Calm down, Row,” Ben urged. “That probably came from Constance when she hit ‘er. She was bleedin’ pretty good.”
“What if it’s not?!” I appealed.
“Whether it is or not, panicking ain’t gonna help,” he returned.
My panic ramped upward suddenly, but for a completely different reason as a voice hissed from behind us, “Hey.”
At the same moment the word struck my ears, out of the corner of my eye I saw shadowy movement, followed by a hand reaching between us toward my friend’s arm. I immediately jumped, startled by the intrusion, and succeeded in banging my head against the hatch strut.
Ben’s reflexes, however, kicked into high gear, and he clamped his own hand onto the person’s wrist then whipped around in a blur of motion. Before I knew it, he had the owner of the voice pressed face first against the side of the Jeep. In retrospect I suppose the action was overkill, but at that particular moment, our level of tension was already approaching the red zone. The truth is, he had probably showed great restraint by simply subduing the individual.
I rubbed the side of my head where it had impacted the support then stepped around to see what was happening. The voice, and hand, apparently were the property of a buzz cut young man we had seen in the club. He was decked out in leather bondage gear, including a wide dog collar complete with a silver ID tag that glinted in the dim shower of luminance from the overhead lights.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” Ben almost screamed as he held him in place against the vehicle, keeping one arm twisted up behind his back.
“I just wanted to talk to you!” the young man said frantically.
“You don’t sneak up on a cop unless you wanna get hurt, you goddammed moron!”
“Whoa! Hold on! I wasn’t sneaking up on you. I’m trying to help!”
“Help what?” Ben barked.
The young man did his best to look in my direction, and I stared back at him wordlessly.
“Did she do that to you?” he asked.
“Did who do what to me?” I asked with a mix of confusion and annoyance in my voice.
“Your cheek. Did Mistress Miranda do that to you?”
“That’s not her name,” I spat.
“Look, that’s all I know her as.”
“Okay, fine,” I replied. I wasn’t about to tell him her real name. “Yes, she did this to me.”
“Man, she’s a vicious bitch.”
“Is that all you came out here for?” Ben asked, pressing him harder against the Jeep.
“No, Mistress Gwen sent me out.”
“What the hell for?” my friend demanded.
The young man tried to look at me again. “Are you really her husband?”
“Yeah.” I gave him a short nod. “I’m her husband, why?”
“Mistress Gwen thinks she’s dangerous.”
“Right now, she is,” I agreed. “We tried to tell everyone that inside.”
“Mistress Gwen wants to know if you think she might really hurt Mat.”
“I thought that’s what you freaks were all about,” Ben interjected with a mix of disdain and sarcasm.
“No, she means really injure him. Like something serious or permanent.”
“Yeah, she might,” I told him.
Ben pulled the young man away from the Jeep and shoved him in the direction of the building. The kid stumbled but caught himself and turned around to face us.
“Look, asshole, if that’s all you wanted, then go tell your playmate what she wanted to hear and leave us alone. We’re tryin’ ta’ do police work here.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“How?”
