Root work. 'This might reveal our victim's identity,' Elise said.
Somebody handed her a pair of latex gloves. She snapped them on, then stepped closer. Others stepped back.
Elise removed the root from the rusty nail, then unrolled the paper to reveal a name written over and over in black ink.
Seven times seven. The root worker knew his or her stuff.
'Jordan Kemp,' Elise said. 'Somebody call that in.'
Two minutes later, they had a report. 'Jordan Harold Kemp,' Officer Salazar reported. 'White male. Age twenty-one.'
'Any record?' Elise asked.
'Arrested twice for prostitution.'
'Should have a print on file, then.'
Officer Salazar shot a worried look from Elise to the root she cradled in her palm. 'I don't like the looks of that,' she said nervously.
'It won't hurt you,' Elise assured her. 'It has nothing to do with you.'
People often got curses, spells, and root work confused. 'See this?' Elise pointed to a leaf that had been glued to the body of the root. 'It's acacia. Ancient Egyptians made funeral wreaths out of acacia leaves.'
'So it's a tribute,' Gould said.
It was amazing how quickly Elise's years of study came rushing back. As if the knowledge had always been there. As if she hadn't spent over a decade trying to forget everything she'd ever learned.
'A single herb can be used for a lot of different things, in a lot of different ways,' Elise said. 'It all depends on how it's handled and what it's with.'
'And acacia with nightshade… or mandrake root…?' Gould prodded.
With a rotting corpse just yards away and an ancient spell in the palm of her hand, Elise suddenly felt bathed in certainty. 'That particular combination,' she explained, 'is used to resurrect the dead.'
Chapter 9
Audrey gripped the metal bat and dug her cleats into the loose soil. Behind her, the catcher kept up a stream of chatter that was supposed to make her miss the ball.
It was the bottom of the eighth inning, and the catcher had been taunting everybody throughout the game. Audrey's coach didn't let them use negative chatter, so it was really hard to take when the team they were playing could say anything they wanted.
Not fair!
'Aren't those your mommies on the bleachers?' the catcher teased in a baby voice. 'Your two mommies?'
Audrey glanced over to where Elise and her stepmother, Vivian, sat with Audrey's baby brothers. Each woman held a baby. The twins were wearing the matching blue hats Audrey had gotten at the mall.
Audrey loved her little brothers. They got a kick out of her too. She could act goofy and make them laugh in stereo until tears streamed down their fat little cheeks.
Audrey kept her eye on the pitcher and moved out of the batter's box. She took a few practice swings, then stepped back up to the plate.
In the outfield, the opposing team chanted, 'Batter, batter, batter…'
'Swing.'
Audrey swung.
'Strike!'
Once you missed a ball, the pitcher liked to keep the balls coming, one after the other, so you didn't have time to pull yourself together. Right now she was standing sideways, concentrating on her next release.
'Choke up on that bat,' Audrey's coach instructed.
The catcher kept up her taunts in a high-pitched singsong. From the outfield came, 'Batter, batter, batter…'
'Swing!'
The bat connected solidly.
Audrey didn't wait to see where the ball was heading. She dropped the bat and ran for first, her cleats digging into the ground.
The ball moved with rocket speed-a line drive between third base and shortstop, about a foot above the ground. The outfielder made a dive and missed.
Elise didn't know much about softball, but she knew a good hit when she saw one. She started to jump to her feet, then remembered the baby. She clung to Tyler with one arm, while cupping her free hand and shouting as Audrey rounded first, then second.
Home run? Was it going to be a home run?
Two outfielders scrambled for the ball, one of them finally sending it infield to the pitcher just as Audrey tagged third.
Stop! Stay there! Elise thought.
Audrey didn't hesitate. Didn't even think about playing it safe. She flew for home. The pitcher shot the ball to the catcher.
Beside Elise, Vivian shouted, 'Slide! Slide!'
Audrey slid. Riding into home on her hip and thigh, crashing into the plate just as the ball smacked the catcher's mitt, enveloping the players in a cloud of dust.
Had the catcher fumbled?
Had she dropped the ball?
Elise stared at the umpire, her heart in her throat.
After what seemed the longest pause in softball history, he shouted and gestured wildly. 'Safe!'
The winning run.
Game over.
Elise cheered madly. Beside her, Vivian joined in.
The noise frightened the twins; they began to bawl, their little mouths wide, faces red.
Elise bounced her knee. 'Don't cry, sweetie.'
That didn't help, because Tyler was afraid of her.
'Have you ever seen anybody slide like that?' Elise asked over his head.
'Not a girl.'
Both women laughed.
The ball teams lined up for the traditional high-five and 'Good game' pass.
On the bleachers, people gathered up their belongings and climbed down until it was just Elise, Vivian, and the crying babies.
'She hates me,' Elise said, watching her daughter move through the line of girls.
Vivian dug into her blue diaper bag and produced two teething crackers, which she handed to the boys. Like a flipped switch, they both quit sobbing and took the treat. 'Who?'
'Audrey.'
Vivian twisted around to stare at Elise. 'What are you talking about?'
'She doesn't want to visit anymore. Not that she ever wanted to visit much anyway.'
'It's not you,' Vivian reassured her. 'She's at that age when friends are so important. She wants to be near them.'
'She's slipping away.'
So many songs had been written about how quickly kids grew up, and how parents had to be there or miss out. Those songs may have been cliches, but they were true.
It had all started gradually.
When Audrey was a baby and Thomas had remarried, it seemed logical for Audrey to spend her days with
