The uniformed man simply nodded as if his voice had left him and continued mechanically about the task of cordoning off the area.
Our end-on angle of approach to the south leg of the metal half-parabola had obscured our view when we arrived. Now, as we ventured past the young officer and toward the active portion of the scene, the sickening charred odor grew thicker with each step. The lighter tang of kerosene slipped through the heaviness to layer itself with the fetid stench and lift it higher on the moist night air, making it inescapable.
“Look, I know you’ve been havin’ some kind of problem with the hocus-pocus stuff, Row,” Ben stated as we walked, “so if ya’ don’t think ya’ can handle this…”
“I have to handle it,” I answered matter-of-factly as his voice trailed off even though I desperately wanted to grab his offer of escape and run as far away as it would let me.
That very thought brought another blinding stab of pain to bear on my forearm. I could feel the warmth of the blood soaking through the bandages and trickling along my skin.
“No ya’ don’t.” He stopped in his tracks and turned to me. “You’ve been way too weirded out on this whole thing, Row. I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but ya’ ain’t right, white man. Especially here lately.”
“Aye, Ben is right, Rowan,” Felicity added with more than a hint of personal fear in her voice. “You aren’t balanced, and you know it. Maybe we should wait at the van.”
“You can wait there if you want,” I offered. “But I don’t have any choice in this.”
“The hell you don’t!” my friend admonished. “I just gave ya’ a choice, and I’m damn near ready to make it an order. I should cuff your ass and park ya’ in a squad!”
“Do it now then because that’s the only way you’re going to stop me.”
“What the fuck? Stop you?” he appealed angrily. “Just what the hell has gotten into you, Rowan?”
“I was summoned here, Ben,” I told him with absolute conviction. “Just as I was summoned to all of the other scenes.”
“You were what?”
I thrust my arm out for them both to see. Though the fabric of my shirt and jacket covered it, I knew all they would need to see was my bare hand. In the wildly choreographed splash of lights, the crimson rivulets of fresh blood streaking it were plain to see. I winced as yet another stab of pain twisted through the hot flesh.
Felicity closed her eyes and sighed.
Ben merely shook his head and muttered, “Jeezus, white man.”
“Do you think I WANT to be here?” I asked. “Do you think I actually WANT to see what this sick bastard is doing to innocent people? Trust me, I’ve let the thought of running from this investigation cross my mind more than a few times tonight. I didn’t invite these marks to appear on my arm. Someone on the other side who is trying to tell me something is putting them there, and if I can believe the last dream I had, that someone is Kendra Miller.”
“But what is she trying to tell you?” Felicity pleaded.
“I still don’t know. But I can tell you this-every single time I’ve thought about turning and running from this, the pain has intensified. Judging from the bleeding, my guess is that this wound has gotten worse, not better. The last time I didn’t pay attention to one of these marks, I ended up with pool water in my lungs.”
“And Christine Webster had been drowned…” my friend admitted quietly.
“This time he killed with fire again. I really don’t want getting my attention to progress to that step if you know what I mean.” I fell silent and allowed my arm to drop back to my side. Ben and Felicity simply stared at me. After a moment I let out a long sigh. “I’m here for a reason. I was summoned. I don’t have a choice until I figure out what that reason is.”
“You still aren’t grounding very well,” Felicity softly intoned with a razor sharp edge of seriousness in her voice.
“I know,” I answered simply.
“So what about all the Twilight Zone stuff?” Ben questioned. “You mentioned somethin’ about not bein’ grounded the other day when you had that backlash thing. Isn’t it dangerous?”
“It can be,” I assented.
“Aye, it can, so I suppose you leave me no choice either then.” Felicity shook her head. “Someone has to be there to keep you from going too far.”
As we rounded the base of the Arch, the picture of the horror was revealed to us at first in small, disorganized sections. It took several moments of pondering the scene before the pieces began to interlock into a meaningful panorama.
Disheveled detectives in various modes of dress, most looking as though they were just dragged kicking and screaming from the warmth of their beds, were milling about in a loose group. One of the throng was interviewing a pair of uniformed officers, and another was talking to a park ranger who looked to be just this side of hysterics.
CSU technicians focused their attentions on a lamppost at the landing of the stairs that led down from the park grounds above. Flash units added their intense brilliance to the dancing lightshow as techs took pictures of the metal pole as well as the marred concrete surrounding it. White residue caked itself to sections of the post and spread out across the walkway to partially obscure a spray painted rendering of the ever familiar Monogram of Christ. A few feet away, a tented marker inscribed with the number two rested on the ground next to a carelessly abandoned and recently used fire extinguisher.
Other members of the CSU were closely scanning the stairs with powerful lights, searching for anything out of place. Every now and then one of them would pause, stare intently, and then with an almost dejected fall of the shoulders, continue on.
Near this tightly contained work envelope, a white sheet covered something roughly the size and shape of an average human being. Plastic IV tubes snaked beneath the fabric, and the detritus of various emergency medical supplies littered the ground. Two chalky looking paramedics were carefully and systematically returning the tools of their trade back to their respective cases.
My temples were already beginning to throb.
A trim figure clad in blue jeans and a leather bomber’s jacket stood apart from the center of the activity. I instantly recognized her as a city homicide detective who had pulled several shifts watching over Felicity and me.
Detective Charlene “Charlee” McLaughlin stood almost motionless, her right arm across her chest, palm cupping her left elbow as the appendage angled upward to rest her loose fist against her chin. She stared quietly at the shrouded body, her eyes wide and glazed. She hazarded only a brief, lethargic glance at us as we drew closer.
We stood wordlessly for a long measure before Ben finally broke the silence in a solemn voice, “Fill me in, Charlee.”
“Caucasian, female. Tied to the lamppost and torched,” she said in a thick monotone. “She was still alive when I got here, Ben.”
My friend allowed the comment to rest for a beat before continuing, “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Charlee nodded her head under a thick shag of ash blonde hair. “Yeah, I’ll be all right.”
“They work on ‘er long?”
“Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. She arrested pretty soon after they got here,” she detailed with a deep sigh. “Probably for the best. From what the paramedics said, she most likely wouldn’t have lived through the night anyway. Just would have been that much more suffering for her.”
“Yeah, well she shouldn’t’ve had ta’ suffer at all,” my friend expressed dully. “Any witnesses?”
“Not that we’ve found yet, but I’ve got some uniforms out looking. I’m not expecting much, I mean, look where we are.” She tossed her hands out palms upward and glanced around. “Not much activity around here in the middle of the night.”
“Yeah, but we can always hope. What about the ranger?”
“He’s giving a statement to Ackman right now. He told me she was already on fire when he pulled up. Says he didn’t even realize she was a person until he started on her with the extinguisher. Called nine-one-one as soon
