was the second time too! In my book that’s worth more than just a little fear.”
“I let you know right from the very beginning that this one was going to be worse than the last case,” I told him quietly.
“Yeah…” Ben nodded. “But I thought you were just talkin’ about the body count.”
“Unfortunately, so did I.”
I was feeling much more at ease now, though it was a sensation that was most certainly only temporary. I had successfully wrestled the demon known as terror back into its cage for the time being, and the thick supernatural armor I had erected around myself would protect me from the outside influences of the scene. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay hidden behind it the entire time, for if I did my particular talents would be useless. However, what I would do was try to keep myself safe for a little while. At least until I was fully grounded and ready to face whatever horrific image was waiting for me on the other side.
“Okay,” my friend eventually huffed. “Short of bannin’ ya’ from the scene, I know I’m gonna play hell tryin’ ta’ keep ya’ out, so I might as well give up. But,” he added sharply and thrust a stiff index finger at me, “first sign of you bein’ in some kinda spooky ass trouble, you’re outta here. No arguments. Understood?”
“Understood,” I agreed.
“Better yet, no hocus-pocus without warnin’ me first.”
“I can’t always control it, Ben. You know that.”
“Yeah, but sometimes ya’ do shit without tellin’ anyone and ya’ get yourself in trouble. That’s the kinda thing I’m talkin’ about.”
“Okay, okay. If I try to do anything, I promise I’ll tell you first.”
“Like I said, don’t try anything. If it just happens ain’t much I can do about it, but don’t be makin’ it happen.”
“Yeah. Okay. I won’t.”
“I’m serious, Row.”
“I know you are.”
After he finally gave his reluctant, negotiated blessing, Ben and I climbed out of the beat up Chevy and started across the small parking lot toward the crux of the activity. Since we were on the opposite side of the street, we had to stop for a moment and wait as a large, black panel van rolled past. A patina of grey and white from salt and road grime dusted its dark exterior, blending it in with every other vehicle in the city that had yet to see time in a car wash. A multi-pitched mechanical groan emitted from beneath the van, audibly announcing improperly meshed gears as the driver shifted and slowed. The van coasted for a second while the occupant stared at the spectacle, or so I assumed. A fraction of a minute later the engine gunned and roared its protest in an off key duet with the transmission as it was up-shifted again.
“Take a picture, asshole,” Ben called after the pair of dusky red taillights. “It’ll last longer.”
As we crossed the narrow lane immediately behind the passing vehicle, a cold tingle danced up my spine. My scalp tightened painfully, and the hair on the back of my neck tilted upward, sending a prickling sensation throughout. I caught myself as I tripped across the low curb and stifled a small gasp. Fortunately, Ben didn’t know the real reason behind my stumbling, and I was able to mask the event as a random attack of clumsiness.
I was more than a little surprised and took a moment to bolster my defenses even more. I shouldn’t have felt anything yet, and if something was getting through to me already, then this was going to be worse than I originally thought.
In that moment, I became even less pleased by the prospect that I would soon need to cast away these ethereal shields in order to view the scene with senses other than the physical. I tried not to think about it as we continued walking. Needless to say, I met with only limited success.
The street immediately in front of the pool enclosure was alive with light bars atop emergency vehicles flashing in and out of sync. Each revolution temporarily stained the snow with harsh, multi-colored blotches of brilliance. The wildly flickering show was almost enough to mesmerize.
Powerful halogen lamps were mounted high on strategically placed standards around the pool area, and they now flooded it with severe blue-white illumination. Originally meant to extend the hours of swimming enjoyment deep into summer nights, they cast eerie shadows across the frozen tableau. The hard edges of obscurity served only to underscore the horror and misery that had forced its way into this place intended for happiness and pleasure.
Ben slipped his badge onto a thick cord as we walked and then hung it around his neck in plain view before we signed ourselves in on the crime scene log. The officer tending the entrance to the pool area was from the local municipality that encompassed the subdivision of condominiums and was unfamiliar with my part in the investigation. Since I lacked a badge, it took a terse and abbreviated explanation of my role by Ben in order to overcome the patrolman’s unwillingness to allow me entry. Finally, we continued past the yellow tape barrier without further challenge.
“Ben, Rowan.” Carl Deckert addressed us grimly as we skirted around taut stretches of bright, canary-colored plastic labeled with simple black letters-CRIME SCENE – DO NOT CROSS.
“Carl,” I returned with equal bleakness in my voice.
Ben just nodded and silently inspected the surroundings, all the while casting an occasional watchful eye in my direction.
“I thought Connie was comin’ with you,” Deckert remarked, cocking his head and glancing past us for the absent federal agent. He was the only person I’d ever met who could get away with calling her by the clipped version of Constance. I guess it had something to do with his grandfatherly demeanor.
“She should be here in a bit,” Ben replied. “She doesn’t live too far away, and she wanted to stop and change clothes.”
“Change clothes? What for?”
My friend just shook his head. “She was dressed a little on the formal side tonight. Somethin’ to do with an assignment.”
“Ahhh. Okay.”
A deep, recessed basin in the mantle of snow outlined the swimming pool, in and of itself. It was fairly common as private pools go-roughly kidney-shaped and not huge by any means but not the smallest I’d ever seen either. A path had been carefully cleared through the snow around the perimeter on one side. The opposite border was marred by a single row of foot traffic and appeared to be the path the killer had taken. Therefore, it had been left intact to preserve any possible evidence. Small spots of red were scattered here and there along the trail up to a small depression where they blossomed into several garish blotches. The victim had been bleeding.
We were standing in the shoveled area opposite the low brick building that housed the pumps, filters, and changing rooms. Here, the pale, crystalline blanket of snow came nearly even with the concrete deck. If the pool had been properly winterized, which considering the neighborhood I was certain it had, somewhere around two feet below the pristine white cover would be a sheet of ice. Beneath that would be murky, chemical-laden water, along with leaves and anything else that had blown or fallen in since its closure just after the Labor Day holiday.
All in all, it was a normal swimming pool that had been shut down for the winter months, with one glaring exception-tonight someone had deliberately beaten a hole through the thick crust of ice and placed another human being into the water’s chilled depths.
“Looks like he used something to chip away at the ice,” Deckert announced with a frosty sigh as he pointed across the depression to a gaping hole in the snow on the other side. “Not sure what, but he broke it up pretty good. Enough to get a body through anyway.”
“Don’t they normally put covers on pools when they close them up?” I asked.
“Most of the time, yeah,” Carl answered. “But not always. Obviously they didn’t on this one.”
“Anybody besides the security guard notice anything?” Ben asked.
“Not that we’ve heard yet, but we’re doin’ a door to door,” Deckert replied.
“Prob’ly give us a big fuckin’ zero,” my friend mused aloud.
“Yeah,” Carl agreed, “probably. But maybe we’ll get lucky. I’m guessin’ this wacko’s been here before.”
“Why is that?” I inquired.
Deckert pointed across the pool and traced the cordoned off route through the air with his finger, starting at the gate and ending at the hole in the ice.
“The whole cover thing for one, but more importantly, look at the path. We’ve isolated the rent-a-cop’s
