A memory of the monster flashed behind her eyes. Maybe there were more of them out there than she knew.
“The coroner is still working on it, but he puts her death at sometime around four in the morning,” Dougie finished.
Cass processed the information. A psychic. Was it possible that it wasn’t a coincidence? “Did you know Lauren was a witch?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “We saw the ‘woowoo’ stuff all over her apartment. Our first thought was that it might be some kind of ritual killing.”
“‘Woowoo stuff,’” she repeated. “People who practice Wicca aren’t by definition ‘woowoo’ or ritual killers. Open your mind, Dougie.”
“It’s about as open as it can be when it comes to you. All I’m saying is we saw the stuff and know what she’s about. Has it escaped our notice that the two victims were both into practices considered outside the norm? No. Has it escaped
But Cass shook her head. “The only reason I’m connected to Lauren is because you brought me in to consult.”
“I was talking about the fact that you also live on Addison, relatively close to both victims, you are also a woman, and that you are also…”
“Outside of the norm.”
“Yeah.”
The waitress served them their wings with extra plates and lots of wet wipes and put two pints down in front of them. Forgetting the case for a moment, they concentrated on the food and beer in front of them, using one to quench the fire of the other. With a final swig, Dougie pushed his empty glass aside.
“I’m officially worried about you, Cass. I want to know what the hell you were doing at the crime scene this morning. Don’t put me off. If for no other reason, any other possible connection you might have with these women could be important.”
“I don’t have a connection with the women.” She had it with a monster. A monster that was trying to connect to someone. She reasoned if the killer was close enough-Silvia Biagi lived only a block and a half away-that could have triggered the incident. She’d never connected over such a distance before, but if the killer had at some point passed by her door…
“Another beer?”
Disrupted from her thoughts, Cass looked at the nearly empty glass in front of her; she ran a finger up and down the smooth, cold surface of the glass. She still needed to get home and, besides that, she wasn’t sure she had enough cash to cover her half of what they’d already had. If she let him pay, what should have been basically a working dinner would definitely become a date.
“I’ll pass.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll have some fun?”
She raised her chin defiantly. “Detective, are you encouraging someone who is at the legal limit to go beyond that and still drive her motorbike home?”
“No,” he said irritably. “I saw you doing the math in your head, and I know you’re thinking about your half of the bill. I’m picking up the tab and I’m putting your bike in my truck. Then I’m dropping you off at home. Now do you want another beer or not?”
His normally easygoing countenance had shifted. She’d annoyed him, but she didn’t care. “Dougie…you can’t do this. You can’t take care of me.”
“What if I want to take care of you?” he returned. He leaned forward across the table with purpose. “What is it, Cass? Why do you keep running away from what happened that night? Was it not good for you? What?”
She pulled away from him, pressing herself against the back of the wooden booth.
“Dougie, don’t go there,” she pleaded.
It wasn’t that the sex hadn’t been good; it was that everything else about that night had been wrong. She’d been distraught when he’d come over. Alone like she’d never been before, not even during her days of confinement in the asylum. He’d still been struggling with Claire’s death, probably had felt equally alone in the world, and so he had offered her a deal. They could make each other feel good for a time. No strings, just sex and relief.
It had started out easy, but then his touch had triggered a wave of pain, and before Cass could block her out, Claire was beyond the door. She had looked on as her husband had made love to another woman. Cass had felt caught between them, but by the time she tried to pull away it had been too late-Dougie was inside her, and Cass could only ride out the storm.
When it was over, guilt had mingled with shame even though she’d tried to tell herself she’d done nothing wrong. Cass had fled to the shower, and when she’d come out he was gone. Since then, she’d done everything she could to distance herself from him. She hadn’t counted on his persistence.
Calls, unexpected visits. He’d bombarded her with platonic companionship and he’d never pressed her again to resume the physical aspect of their relationship. He just insisted he wasn’t losing her as a friend.
Which made sense. How else could she pass along messages from Claire occasionally?
Cass hated the skepticism that was so much a part of her makeup now, and for a time she’d been able to shelve it where Dougie was concerned. Mostly because she needed a friend and he was a good one. But there was no way she could ever have any kind of intimate relationship with him. Not knowing Claire was watching.
“I want to go there. I want to know why you won’t let me back in.”
“You know why not. Your wife.”
“My wife is dead,” he stated as coldly as he possibly could. “She’s not coming back. I’m moving on.”
“I think that’s good. I would be truly happy for you if you could do that, but the last person in this world you can ‘move on’ with is me. Ask me. Go ahead. You’ve wanted to since the second I sat down. Ask me.”
“No,” he refused, looking away from her. “I’m done with that.”
“But you’re not. You’re certainly not done with her and maybe you never will be, but at least with someone else, you might have a chance to move forward. With me, it would always be about the past. Because of what I do, what I am, she’ll always be with us.”
“I care about you, Cass.
His words were sincere-she didn’t doubt them-but the resignation in his voice was telling. Feeling safer, she reached for his hand and when he pulled back, she stretched farther to take it. Holding it tightly, she met his gaze directly. “I know you do. And your friendship means the world to me. You have to know that. You’re all I have.”
“That’s all you want?”
“That’s all I can have.” Cass’s eyes dropped to the hands that were linked on the table. She saw their fingers intertwined.
Skin to skin. She felt nothing. But she also wasn’t connected to Claire. A year ago she had been.
“What? Is she saying something? Are you listening to her now?”
Cass refocused her attention on that night a year ago. She’d been drinking, but wasn’t drunk or else Dougie wouldn’t have touched her. Her senses definitely had been dulled, though. Then there had been the pure grief over the death of her grandfather and the guilt about what she hadn’t done. It had all been raging inside of her ready to spill over.
All she’d wanted was some kind of relief from it, a temporary cessation from the pain, and Dougie had given it to her. Cataloging each moment of the experience hadn’t been a priority. But now a vague memory came back. A memory she knew she had intentionally kept at bay.
It was the way he had held her. Not like a man held a woman in comfort, and certainly not like a man engaged in a meaningless one-night stand. Claire had been gone for only a few months. Dougie was still fighting to cope with her death. They were supposed to be two people looking for some comfort in a world full of pain.
But the way he’d held her…almost as if she had been his dead wife come back from the grave.
In the here and now, Cass watched his eyes focus intently on the point of contact between them. Almost like he was willing something to happen. When he glanced up and discovered she was studying him, his face flushed with what could only be guilt. Slowly, she pulled her hands back and crossed them over her body.
“Oh, my God. You can feel her through me. Can’t you? Oh, my God.”
“What? Cass? Don’t be crazy.”
