sounded to be a scuffle.
“What the…” Ben exclaimed.
“Shit!” Detective Deckert shouted. “How the hell did he get in here?!”
My vision began returning to normal, and what had sounded like a scuffle was revealed to be just that. Two uniformed officers were on either side of a struggling young man holding a camera affixed with a powerful flash unit.
“Get him outta here!” Deckert ordered the two officers. “And tighten up the perimeter!” he shouted after them as they dragged the photographer away. “Sorry about that. Freakin’ media. Every damn one of ‘em’s got a police scanner. Sometimes they get to the scene before we do.”
“You were sayin’?” Ben prodded.
“Oh, yeah,” he continued. “Karen Barnes, twenty-eight years old. Lives about three blocks from here. Looks like she was out walking her dog. The son-of-a-bitch killed it too.”
“Family been notified?” Ben asked.
“Got a car waiting for the husband. Neighbor said he was out of town on business. She was expecting him back tonight.”
“Any kids?”
“No. Just her and the spouse.”
“Well at least there’s that.”
We had paused at the entrance of the women’s restroom on the side of the cinder block structure. Evidence technicians were exiting, carrying bulky cases containing the tools of their trade.
“Being a public restroom, there are prints everywhere,” Deckert pointed out. “We didn’t find anything real fresh except for some smudges. Looks like he was wearing gloves.” He pulled a pair of packets from the pocket of his trench coat and handed one to each of us. “Speaking of which, you better put these on just to be safe.”
I took the offered surgical gloves and with some work, managed to pull them over my damp hands as we entered the building.
I caught my breath and nearly stumbled as waves of ethereal pain washed over me. I quickly fought to disconnect myself from the supernatural plane associated with the scene and ground myself here in this reality. A sharp pain, followed by a frigid, tingling sensation consumed my body, then slowly subsided as I mentally slammed on the brakes, preventing my otherworldly senses from continuing down the path that beckoned them.
“You okay?” Ben whispered in my ear, grabbing my arm to steady me. “You aren’t getting ready to flip out or do that channeling thing are you?”
“I’ll be all right,” I answered in a hushed tone. “I caught it before it happened.”
“Good. Just try not to go all Twilight Zone on me with the rest of these guys around here.”
A white sheet was arranged in the center of the room covering a section of the smooth, grey concrete floor. Beneath the shroud laid the lifeless body of another young woman. Patches of deep crimson diffused slowly through the sheet at various points where it contacted portions of the torso. A cloying odor, both sweet and musty, intermingled with the stench of the restroom, tingling my nostrils. The pungent scent was all too familiar.
“Sage and rose oil,” I stated aloud.
“Come again?” Detective Deckert asked.
“That smell,” I told him as he started taking notes. “It’s sage and rose oil. Probably a little charcoal mixed in to help it burn. Did you find a pile of ash anywhere?”
“In the sink over there.” He pointed. “That mean something?”
“He burned it to cleanse the room,” I replied. “Sage is often used in incense for purification. You’ll probably find salt in the North, South, East, and West positions of the room as well.”
I stepped past him and peered in the sink at the pile of grey cinders. The floor in the area was littered with broken glass, silvered on the back. The mirror above the washbasin had been shattered.
“Evidence unit took the larger pieces of the mirror with them,” he offered. “We don’t know if the killer broke it or if vandals did it earlier.”
“My guess would be that he did it,” I told them, turning and finding Ben taking notes. “Probably before he performed the ritual.”
“Why do ya’ think that is?” Ben asked.
“If he was trying to invoke something…” I caught myself, remembering that Detective Deckert was in the room. “You know, if he thought he was attempting to conjure up a spirit,” I explained. “Some legends have it that if a spirit witnesses its own reflection in a mirror, it will become mesmerized and therefore, trapped. I would guess he probably subscribes to that belief.”
“So the wacko busted the mirror,” Deckert’s gruff voice interjected. “So his little ghost buddy wouldn’t see himself?”
“It’s one possibility,” I replied carefully.
The wall opposite me was inscribed with a familiar-looking Pentacle. The symbol was drawn on the painted, cinder block wall, once again in blood and shaded with pastels. At the base of the wall, slags of hardened black and white wax were obvious remnants of extinguished candles. Nestled next to the solidified remains stood a simple wine glass, partially filled with coagulating red liquid. Between the symbol and the floor was once again lettered, All Is Forgiven.
“So,” Deckert was asking Ben. “You think it’s the same guy?”
“Oh yeah,” I said as Ben turned to me. “It’s the same guy all right. Only this time, he might not have been practicing.”
“Whaddaya mean ‘practicing’?” Deckert looked from Ben’s face to mine and back with a puzzled expression.
Ben explained. “We’ve got reason to believe that the ritual this guy is performin’ was never actually completed at the first scene. He was doin’ like a dress rehearsal or somethin’.”
“Holy shit!” the detective exclaimed. “This prick committed murder to rehearse a murder? Holy shit!”
“Tell me about it,” Ben chimed.
“Well, if he did what he set out to do, then he probably won’t kill any more, right?”
“I don’t know for sure,” I answered as I squatted next to the covered corpse and examined the floor. “He might not be finished yet.”
“Finished doing what exactly?” Deckert questioned.
“Invoking whatever spirit he’s after. He’ll continue to perform the ritual until he has succeeded,” I explained. “Or, at least, perceives that he has.” I paused thoughtfully for a moment before speculating aloud, “He might kill again because maybe he wants to get caught.”
“What makes ya’ think that?” Ben asked.
“The Expiation spell.” I motioned at the wall behind them. “I originally thought that it was an aberration at the first scene. Possibly because whoever killed Ariel Tanner might have known her. But this…it might have been the real thing for him. The actual ritual played to its conclusion, yet, he’s still seeking atonement from himself. It doesn’t make sense to perform an atonement ritual at the site of a sacrificial ritual.
“You see an Expiation spell is a private thing, very much like going to confession. By performing it at the scene, essentially he exposes himself. He may be seeking atonement from society as well. In short, kind of a sick cry for help. So it leads me to believe that either he wants to get caught, or he’s not finished yet. Maybe even both.”
“Jesus,” Deckert said. “Where did you get all that from?”
“Trust me,” I heard Ben say. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Let’s just say I did a lot of research this afternoon,” I told him as I stood and walked over to the rune- covered wall. “Anyway, it’s just a theory.”
I pulled out the camera and fired up the flash unit. The thyristor began charging with a low hum and then grew quickly to a quiet whine. Status lights began glowing on the unit’s back, indicating its readiness.
“Crime Scene Unit already took pictures,” Deckert told me as I placed the PZ-1 to my eye and began tightly focusing on the Pentacle.
“I know,” I replied absently. “But I’d like to take some of my own if it’s okay.”
“Hey,” he answered. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“Who found the body?” Ben inquired.
