“I noticed that he was a little distant,” she agreed. “What did you overhear?”
“Well,” he explained, “I only heard one side of the conversation, but I got the gist of it.”
“He and Allison are having problems because of the hours he’s been putting in, right?” I volunteered.
“They’ve got a problem all right,” he told us. “But his work schedule isn’t it. Near as I can figure, Ben’s wife blames him for Felicity’s miscarriage.”
“She what?!” I exclaimed.
“Why would Allison do that?!” Felicity appealed.
“Hey,” Deckert held up his hands defensively, “from what I overheard, he agrees with her.”
CHAPTER 16
It’s not his fault,” Felicity voiced adamantly. “I’m the one that made the choice to walk through that door. He had nothing to do with it.”
“You know that, and I know that,” Deckert nodded, “but he still feels responsible. He seems to think that if he never got you two involved in this investigation, you never would have gotten hurt.”
“That’s just plain ridiculous,” I stated. “All he did was ask me the difference between a Pentacle and a Pentagram because he’d seen this hanging around my neck.” I hooked a finger beneath the silver chain and lifted the small pendant from behind my shirt. “Other than that, I volunteered. Hell, he was against the idea of me getting involved in the first place. I had to talk him into it.”
Deckert shrugged and echoed my sentiments, “I know, I know, but he’s your friend, and he feels responsible for you.” He let out a long sigh. “Shit, it’s part of being a cop. You feel responsible for everyone.”
At that moment, Detective Carl Deckert looked far older than his years. It was clear that he and Benjamin Storm had been cut from the same cloth when it came to loyalty to their friends and loved ones-when it came to loyalty to their careers as well. In a way, I felt I was seeing my best friend’s future being played out before me by the man seated at my kitchen table.
“We need to have a talk with those two,” Felicity ventured. “We’ve got to get this straightened out.”
I had finished preparing the mint tea and placed the full pitcher along with glasses on the table then slid in next to my wife. “Any ideas on how we should do that?”
“We need to speak to them when they’re together, for one,” she posed.
“Sure, but that’s going to be a little hard to accomplish with this investigation going on. Ben’s hours are a little unpredictable right now.”
Detective Deckert cleared his throat, and we both turned our attention to him. “I doubt that’ll be a problem. He should be home at a decent hour tonight.”
“Why’s that?” I queried.
“That’s another piece of news I need to give you.” He looked distantly out the window of the atrium then back at us. The deep furrow in his brow revealed the fact that he was struggling with exactly how to go about it.
“R.J. is being charged with the murders, isn’t he?” Felicity intoned flatly.
“Not yet, but don’t be surprised if it happens within the next day or so,” he echoed. “For the murder of Ellen Gray at least. We got the warrant and searched his place early this morning.”
“What did you find?” I wasn’t sure I wanted him to answer the question.
“Black and white candles. A lot of ‘em,” he detailed. “And a set of artists pastels among other things.”
“There has to be some kind of logical explanation.” I shook my head. “What about the dirk, Ariel’s athame. Did you find that?”
“The knife?” he echoed, shaking his head. “No. Not yet, but we’re still looking.”
“You’ve got the wrong person, Carl,” Felicity implored. “I can’t give you tangible proof, but I just know R.J. isn’t guilty.”
“I know you two think he’s innocent, but so far, the evidence points to the opposite. I think you might be backing the wrong horse.”
“The candles don’t mean a thing,” I declared. “If you searched our house, you’d find a ton of candles. Witches use them for everything, so we have a tendency to buy them in bulk.”
“Especially if you find them on sale,” Felicity added. “And as far as the pastels go, maybe he’s an artist.”
“Since you mention it,” Deckert returned, “he did take a few art classes at the community college, and guess who his instructor was…one Karen Lewis, better known to us by her married name, Karen Barnes.”
“He knows all three victims,” I muttered to myself.
“Looks that way,” he continued. “So if you add that in with the candles, the pastels, and his familiarity with your religion…”
Neither of us had a convincing argument to offer. We sat glumly, firm in our belief that the young man was innocent of the crimes but completely unable to prove it.
“Well, what did HE have to say?” Felicity almost demanded.
“We haven’t talked to him about it yet.”
“Well then, he might have a logical explanation for some of the things you found,” I expressed. “You won’t know until you ask.”
“Look,” Deckert intoned after a long pause. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you all this, but to be honest, I don’t understand why you two are so sure this kid’s innocent. Hell, from what I understand, you just met him a few days ago.”
“That’s true, but at the risk of sounding cliche,” I explained, “it’s a Witch thing. It’s just a gut feeling.”
“What about Devon Johnston?” My wife was on a mission, and she wasn’t about to give up. “We haven’t heard anything yet. Isn’t he still a suspect?”
“He pulled through, but he’s gonna be laid up for a good long time,” he answered. “We talked to him this morning, and Ben checked out his alibi. Except for killing a dog, the assault on you, and a couple of trespassing charges, he’s in the clear.” Once again he stared past the small jungle of potted plants and out through the atrium window. After a short pause, he let out a sigh of resignation and then continued in a fatherly tone, “Trust me, I’d like to believe you guys, but like I said, there’s a lot of evidence, even if it is circumstantial. It’s the fingerprint you found on the candle that really clinches it.”
“I wish I’d never seen it,” Felicity muttered in a dejected tone.
“And if R.J. really is guilty?” Deckert asked her rhetorically. “How would you feel then? Look, I don’t want to see an innocent kid go down either, but I’m not so sure that’s what’s happening here. The shrink says it looks like the kid got himself a crush on these women and then got rejected. It just kept building, and he finally snapped and carved ‘em up. Got himself a vicious circle going. Kill a woman then feel guilty. Fix it, in his mind anyway, with that expulsion thing of yours and then do it all over again.”
“Expiation spell,” I corrected. “And as pat and logical as that all sounds, it doesn’t feel right.” The hair rose on the back of my neck, and a tingle ran down my spine as I voiced my next thought, “R.J. being unjustly accused isn’t our biggest worry right now though.”
“What is then?” he questioned.
“If we ARE right, and he IS innocent,” I expressed grimly, “then the real killer is still out there, and that means another young woman is going to die.”
The waxing moon was creeping steadily toward fullness and had just begun its trek across the cloudless, early evening sky as we parked in front of Ben and Allison’s home. Nestled snugly within the confines of the historic district of the city, the stone structure rose upward two stories from the well-kept lot to a steeply pitched, slate tile roof. The two of them had spent the first few years of their marriage restoring this house, and Felicity and I had been there to help them put it all together. Now, the two of us felt as if we were, in a figurative sense, responsible for tearing it apart. We weren’t about to let that happen.
After Detective Deckert left earlier in the day, I called Ben at the MCS command post. He had remained
