Chapter 14
The three of them sat around Malcolm’s kitchen table. Since his house was the closest and most private place to talk, they had gone there to discuss the issue of the woman found in Cass’s old apartment. Dougie had sent Steve back to headquarters and had ridden with Malcolm and Cass to the upscale Gladwyne residence. Dougie’s eyes grew big when he spotted the flat-screen TV in the great room, but other than that, he made no comment about the place.
They had just sat down, when-as if to mock her-one of Malcolm’s neighbors rang the doorbell. He came back into the kitchen and presented them with a massive casserole dish filled to the brim with macaroni and cheese.
“It’s a casserole,” he said, his eyes pinned on Cass’s.
“I see that.”
“Mrs. Norris. Next door. She dropped it off.”
“That was very nice of her.”
“You want some?”
“I’m not really hungry,” Cass replied to his near smirk.
“I am.” Unabashedly, Dougie raised his hand.
Malcolm served himself and Dougie, and for a moment Cass considered tossing her pride aside. It smelled delicious, and macaroni and cheese was one of her favorites. Then Dougie reminded them why they were all sitting around Malcolm’s kitchen table in the first place, and she quickly lost her appetite.
“I don’t get it,” she said as the two men went back for seconds. “Why me? It’s not like I advertise in the paper. Who would know where to find me?”
“Somebody did,” Dougie pointed out grimly.
“You’re sure it’s not a coincidence?”
The two men exchanged a look, which let Cass know her question was borderline ridiculous. “It’s not a coincidence, Cass. But before we get to that, let’s talk more about this monster.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you. The first time I was alone in my apartment, I might have thought it was a dream if the contact hadn’t been so strong. When I woke, I sensed trouble. That’s why I went outside. I knew there was something wrong. I needed to find out what. The next time was down near Penn’s Landing. I left you and started walking, and it just hit me like a ton of bricks. The person in the sweatshirt was there and at the train station when it hit again.”
“She’s not kidding when she says a ton of bricks, either,” Malcolm interjected. “Do you know what happens to her when the dead make contact? It hurts her. This thing messed her up. Almost cracked her ribs and broke her nose. The bruises are faded now but they were there last night.”
“Last night?”
“Yes. I kept her here with me. You didn’t think I was going to leave her alone.”
“No, of course not,” Dougie said slowly. “You’re a real conscientious fellow, aren’t you?”
“Dougie, stop,” Cass warned.
“What’s the matter, Detective?” Malcolm said. “Am I back on your suspect list? Maybe I killed my sister as part of a more sinister plot to get to Cass. Or are you worried about something else?”
“Should I be worried about something else?”
“Yes, I think you should be.”
A silent message passed between them, and Cass figured it was done on a wavelength that only uber-macho men and dogs could hear. “Can we please get back on topic? You know…the part about somebody wanting to kill me and cut out my tongue?”
They instantly broke off their staring contest and refocused on Cass.
“It sort of makes sense,” Dougie finally said. “Think about it. There are people who have heard about you. The guy at the coffeehouse heard about you and knew where you worked. Hell, he said he got your name from the postman, who had gotten your name from someone else. Let’s say this person wants to make contact with whoever this monster is that died. Maybe he wants a final chance to say ‘Fuck you’-who knows. Anyway, he hears about you. He gets your name. Tracks down where you live. Only, you moved a couple of months ago, so he’s got the wrong address. He shows up at your apartment, but you’re not you. He goes into a rage and kills Carol. Maybe she tells him that she knows you moved only a couple of blocks away. Or maybe he’s just got it in his head that you should be on Addison. So he starts to target likely candidates that might be you. A witch, a psychic. When they can’t help him, he offs them, too.”
Malcolm flinched at Dougie’s plain speech but said nothing.
“He’s got to be twisted. Whoever the monster is…was…was connected to him in life. That’s how it works. Right?” Dougie asked.
Cass nodded. The monster was different than any spirit she’d ever encountered. That was true. The contact was stronger than any she had felt before. So strong she couldn’t block it out. In the past, she’d always noted that the stronger the connection in life, the stronger the connection in death. If that theory held in this case, then yes, whoever the person in the hooded sweatshirt was, he or she had been intimately connected to the monster in her head. If the beast had been as evil in life as he was in death then that could make for one very twisted and angry person.
“That’s how it works.”
“Then what do we do to find him or her?” Malcolm wanted to know.
Dougie shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “
“Good Lord,” Cass exclaimed. “You’re saying that the same person…”
“No,” Dougie stopped her. “One was a gang-related thing. One was a domestic dispute. A wife whacked her husband then cut out his tongue, and the other is an unsolved out of New York. We’re checking with detectives who worked it to see if we can find any links.”
“The wife who killed her husband. What happened to her?” Malcolm asked.
Cass looked at Malcolm and knew he was considering the feminine features he thought he spotted under the hood.
Dougie shook his head. “She did herself in a couple of months later. Couldn’t handle the guilt, I guess. Our best shot is the lead in New York.”
“But what about the train ticket?” Cass reminded him. “It was from Baltimore.”
“Yeah, I thought of that. I don’t have any answers yet. Maybe the person had to get out of New York in a hurry. I’ll know more as soon as we talk to the detective on the case.”
“I was raised in Baltimore. It’s been years since I’ve been there. I can’t imagine anyone would go looking for me there but…”
“I’ll add it to the list. In the meantime, watch your back.”
Watch her back. That seemed like the understatement of the year.
Dougie stood up. “I’ve got to go. I want to check in at headquarters and see if I can’t put a rush on the DNA matching.”
“I’ll drive you,” Malcolm offered.
“Uh. Yeah. Thanks.”
Cass stood as well. “Let me just get my clothes from upstairs, and you can drop me off, too.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Malcolm reached out and caught her arm before she could leave the room. “You’re staying here until this person is caught.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Cass,” Dougie interjected with somewhat of a pained expression on his face. “He’s right. You can’t stay in your
