Carnal Sin

Nina leaned forward in her chair, her hands clasped on the table, her knuckles white with the pressure. She spoke slowly as if he were a child. “Grant. George’s marriage was only open on one side.”

Grant frowned. “Excuse me?”

“George let Pam fool around because that’s what Pam wanted. I swear, he was under a spell when he married her. I’ve known George for years, since I interned in his offices while I was in law school. We were friends for a long time-he’s ten years older, I never thought we’d get involved-but about a year ago I ran into him at a political fund-raiser. He was upset. He explained their arrangement and how he didn’t know why he’d ever agreed to it, because it wasn’t how he was raised. He said he loved Pam … but when he said it, somehow he didn’t mean it. I think he knew he didn’t mean it.

“We started talking, and I was going to help him divorce her. One thing led to another and we fell in love. It was an affair of the heart long before it became sexual. Pam found out and had a meltdown. George was not allowed to cheat on her, but she could screw any number of men. That’s when I hired the private investigator.”

She reached below the table into her briefcase and pulled out a half-inch manila folder. “He found some very interesting things about Pamela Levin Erickson.”

The folder was standard P.I. issue. Photographs of the subject, timed and dated notes, detailed observations. He flipped through the folder more to humor Nina than because he expected to find anything. He stopped when he came to a photo of an orgy. Two women and one man who couldn’t be identified in the picture, his face blocked by one of the women. Pam Erickson was naked and very much an active participant.

“Interesting, hmm?” Nina said.

“This doesn’t prove anything.”

“Turn to the next one.”

This picture was of the same scene but a wider shot. The three participants were in the middle of some sort of odd circle with candles surrounding them. Several partially clothed women were observing the orgy.

Grant recognized Wendy Donovan, the manager of Velocity. She stood inside the circle wearing a sheer gown, watching. She held something in her hands, but Grant couldn’t tell what it was. It seemed to reflect the light of the candles.

He swallowed uneasily, then cleared his throat.

“She’s a witch,” Nina said.

He straightened. “You mean a witch? I thought you meant something else.”

“I generally mean what I say, Grant. She’s a witch. A real witch. I know it’s hard to believe, and if I hadn’t seen these pictures and followed up with my own research I’d never have paid the P.I. I hired, Carson Felix.”

“Felix?” Carson Felix had been one of the most respected private investigators in the city. The city had often hired him for contract work, and he’d often been retained by the rich and famous. He’d investigated everything from cheating spouses to kidnappings to embezzlement.

And he was dead.

“Well, you know what happened to him,” Nina said.

“He committed suicide two months ago.”

“Bullshit. He supposedly committed suicide-”

“There were multiple witnesses. He’d been acting depressed for weeks and left his office desolate. A dozen people saw him take a nosedive off the San Pedro Bridge.”

“He was driven to do it. I don’t know how she did it, but Pam had to have found out he’d taken pictures of their sick rituals.”

“It might not be our thing, but-”

“Don’t feed me a line about privacy in the bedroom. I was having an affair with a married man, I’m no saint, but dammit, it wasn’t just the orgies. Even Felix was scared. He gave me that report and said he was through, that they were evil. Felix, who helped you guys with some badass killers and never batted an eye? Calling a group of naked women evil? Quitting an assignment? Felix was freaked out. There’s something going on!”

“I’ll look into it,” he said. He hadn’t planned on following up on anything Nina said, but that there was yet another connection to Velocity disturbed him.

“Be careful, Grant. These people are crazy, but they’re smart. And they obviously know how to get people to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do.”

“Nina, why aren’t you worried about your own safety?”

“Because Pam didn’t know who George was sleeping with, just that he was having an affair. We were extremely discreet.”

“And she couldn’t have hired a P.I.?”

“If she knew who I was, there’s no doubt I’d be dead, too. Unless-” She hesitated.

“Unless what? I’m losing my patience.”

“Read Felix’s file. He suggests that Pam belongs to a female coven of witches. Maybe they have some sort of principle that they don’t go after other women.”

“Coven,” he said flatly.

“Don’t look at me like I’m a crazy scorned woman. I didn’t believe any of this crap for a long time. I have my guard up; make sure you do, too.”

Grant didn’t know what to believe. He wouldn’t have even considered any of it, except Nina was someone he knew and respected. After she left, he took Carson Felix’s file to Jeff’s desk, where his partner was updating reports.

“I don’t know if Nina is smoking crack or onto something,” Grant said, “but even if her theory is wrong, Pamela Erickson needs to stay on our list.” He handed Jeff the file. “Do not let this out of your sight. I want every person in that file identified. Name, last known address, place of employment, criminal records. And, verify Nina’s alibi. I doubt she’s lying, but we have to check.”

Grant retrieved the one clear picture of Wendy Donovan, Velocity’s manager, and put it in his own file folder. In this case, it would be better to just ask. In person.

Skye sat on a bench one hundred feet outside the main doors leading to the morgue. It reeked of cigarettes, the ashtray overflowing. But it was the only place to sit outside.

She didn’t want to sit, so she stood and paced.

She missed Anthony so much it hurt. Especially now. Somehow, when he was at her side, she felt as if she could do anything. That with all the crap hitting the fan, they’d make it through. Without him, she saw the mess she called her life. The lies and deception to her staff. The manipulation. Breaking the law. Her career was in jeopardy, and with it her reputation and very likely her freedom.

“Skye, what’s wrong?”

She hadn’t heard Rod Fielding approach. Rod had heard all this before; he was one of the few people she could confide in because he was one of only two members of her staff who knew exactly what was going on. She didn’t want to dump on him again. Instead, she asked, “What’d you learn?”

“Don Takasugi, the supervising pathologist, knows his stuff. I’ve left the two brains with him and he’s going to dissect them himself. He normally has a neuroscientist come in, but he’s personally curious.”

“Rod, I don’t have to tell you that-”

He put his hand up. “I understand that we could be run out as laughingstocks, lose our jobs and pensions if we talk about what really happened to those victims, but we might not have a choice. The micro exam on Rucker showed an enlarged amygdala-the memory and emotional center of the brain. The cerebral cortex is extremely complicated, but if this is how the demon”-he whispered the word-“is affecting people I might be able to come up with an antidote, or at least a way to slow the growth of the affected cells. But I can’t do it on my own. I don’t have the skills.”

“And just who would you bring in?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it all day. I was hoping Anthony might know someone.”

“He just boarded his connecting flight out of New York. I’ll talk to him when he lands.”

“Learn anything at the autopsy? Want me to go back in and talk to Takasugi?” Rod asked.

“There’s nothing we don’t already know.”