“You read?” Felicity inquired.
“Yeah. I learned from Ariel,” she acknowledged. “She was really into tarot.”
“Unfortunately, we aren’t,” I outlined. “So I had to do a little research on the meanings. Even so, it still didn’t make any sense until today.”
“I almost forgot to ask,” Felicity expressed. “Was your idea about that right?”
“He was on the nose,” Ben spoke up. “All of the victims had accounts at the same bank except the Radcliffe woman. So Svengali here says, ‘What about her roommate?’ And bingo! There it is. Her roommate’s bank account matched up with the other three.”
“More than likely she was the intended victim,” I finished the story. “But they were both flight attendants, and they just happened to trade flights that day.”
“Talk about bad luck,” R.J. whistled. “But what about the little girl?”
“Her name’s Ariel, believe it or not, but I don’t think that’s her connection. They’re checking, but the guess is that she has a trustee account or something at the same bank.”
“Well, that would make sense,” Cally mused. “Money, bank accounts, and all that.” She shifted slightly in her seat. “But you’re right. It’s pretty obscure.”
“So you figure that the killer works at the bank they all used or something?” R.J. ventured thoughtfully.
“Capitol Bank to be exact,” Ben responded. “And yeah, that’s the theory right now.”
“Capitol Bank?” Cally echoed. “Wow, that’s weird.”
Ben shifted his gaze over to her. “Whaddaya mean?”
“Roger.” She turned to me. “You know, the guy we told you about that was just a poser? Well, he works at Capitol Bank. That’s where he met Ariel.” She gave a visible shudder. “To think he might be working with this sicko. It gives me the creeps.”
“By any chance,” Ben reached into his jacket and pulled out the familiar, worn black notebook that never seemed to leave his side. “Would either of you know if he happened to move here recently, like say, within the past year?”
“Yeah, I think he did,” R.J. nodded thoughtfully. “He was from somewhere out West or someplace like that.”
“I seem to remember him saying something about Washington state,” Cally added. “Why?”
“Because another one of the clues in the dream was constant rain,” I explained. “When I finally managed to connect that with Seattle, we found out that a murder just like these happened out there about a year ago.”
“Do you really think it could be Roger?” Cally’s eyes had widened almost instantly.
“I don’t know,” Ben announced, “but I plan ta’ find out.”
“What does Roger look like?” I queried.
“Oh, late twenties, early thirties,” Cally described. “Kind of stocky, about five-eight with sandy hair.”
“What color are his eyes?” I pressed.
“Bright blue.”
“No they aren’t,” R.J. interjected. “Those are contacts. Remember, he lost one at a coven meeting once, and he looked like one of those malamutes or something. He’s got grey eyes.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I forgot about that,” she agreed and then turned to me. “Is that important?”
I didn’t answer her directly. I looked over at my friend who was now holding his pen frozen in space inches from his notebook, staring back in amazement. “I saw grey eyes when I channeled Karen Barnes. The killer has grey eyes.”
We all stared around the room at one another silently for a moment. The pieces of the puzzle had fallen completely into place, making a fully formed image-the image of a young man with light hair and light eyes.
Ben was the first to break the stunned hush. “I’m gonna use your phone.”
CHAPTER 21
Tell ‘im that’s not my problem, and yes we do have a warrant,” Ben roared into the telephone. “Now I want the employee file on Roger Henderson yesterday!” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and glanced over at me. “President of the bank is throwin’ some kinda black tie thing at his house tonight. He seems ta’ think that it’s more important than… Hell No!” Someone apparently spoke at the other end as he abruptly ended his comment and returned his attention to the handset. “Why don’t ya’ ask ‘im how he’d feel about havin’ a sobriety checkpoint right outside his front door?” The pause was brief while the person at the other end assumedly relayed Ben’s intimidating rhetoric. “Yeah, I thought so. Have a patrol in the area pick it up and tell ‘em to ignore the stop signs… Yeah, Uh- huh. Thanks… Yeah, is Deckert still there? Yeah, put ‘im on…”
Cally, R.J., Felicity, and I watched wordlessly as Ben continued directing the efforts of the Major Case Squad via the telephone. The device had been cradled between his ear and shoulder for over fifteen minutes while he relentlessly barked questions and orders into it. He stopped only momentarily to quickly shift the handset to the other shoulder and turn to a fresh page in his notebook.
The atmosphere in the room had stiffened with morbid tension the moment Roger’s name became associated with the murders. The original response had been one of sympathetic horror at the prospect of him working side by side with the killer. That feeling was almost instantly replaced by disbelief, followed by disgust the moment the light of suspicion fell directly upon him. Stunned as I was by the revelation that a member of Ariel’s coven, poser or not, might in fact be the killer, I could only imagine how Cally and R.J. were feeling. They had stood in circle with him, and if I were either of them, it would be making me sick.
“…Tell me we actually do have a warrant, Deck,” Ben was continuing his conversation with Detective Deckert now. His query didn’t surprise me, as there had been no such document when we left the MCS Command Post, and this was the first contact he had had with them since. “Good, good. Better get the prosecutor on the phone, and have Benson tell the judge not ta’ get too comfortable, ‘cause I’m bettin’ we’re gonna need another one.”
Ben proceeded to outline the events of the last hour that had caused the few remaining pieces of the puzzle to slip easily into their respective places. The picture was becoming clearer every moment, and I had the distinct feeling that my friend was preparing to frame it and hang it on the wall.
“…Okay, so you get everyone back in. Let’s see…” Ben glanced at his watch. “It’s seven-ten now, so I should be back no later than seven-thirty… Yeah, I know. Yeah. Yeah. Just tell ‘em ya’ can’t find me or somethin’… Yeah, see ya’ in a few.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” I queried as he settled the handset back onto its cradle, “what was that last bit about not being able to find you?”
He looked around the room letting his gaze flicker uneasily past Cally and R.J. before once again locking with mine. “I guess it doesn’t matter who knows. The media’ll be all over it soon enough. Seems that since there’s an abduction involved, the Feds are all over this thing.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Don’t know yet, but I can tell ya’ one thing for certain…” He let out a frustrated sigh and directed his index finger at me. “They ain’t gonna be real excited about you.”
“Have they taken over the investigation or something?”
“Not yet, but they’ve apparently been callin’ every ten minutes lookin’ for me. Hell, I’ve been expectin’ it since the beginning. I’m surprised they waited this long.”
“How do you plan on handling it?”
“Right now?” Ben reached up to smooth his hair in his distant manner that bespoke of intense thought. “Right now I need ta’ get back and help Carl take care of all this shit with warrants. As for the FBI, I’ll just hafta cross that bridge when I get to it.”
“What do you want us to do?” Felicity interjected.
“At the moment, I doubt there’s anything that ya’ CAN do,” he answered. “Since no one here knows where this guy lives, and accordin’ to the DMV, he never got a license in the state of Missouri, we hafta wait until we get that employee file.”
“How soon do you think that’ll be?” R.J. posed.
“All depends on El Presidente,” he sarcastically referred to the bank official. “He wasn’t too excited about
