Crone's Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation (30 page)

“No, you don’t,” he replied. “There’s more
goin’ on here than ya’ know.”

“I know another woman is dead, Ben, and it’s
my fault!” I appealed.

“No, it ain’t. Now do you wanna shut up and
listen to me for a sec?” he barked.

I started to form a comeback, then decided
against it. Ben had a look on his face that told me he was starting
to lose his patience, and I knew that if he did, it wouldn’t be
pretty. So, instead of a trite objection, I simply said, “Fine.
Tell me what’s going on.”

“Okay,” he replied. “First off, we’ve got a
bit of a misunderstanding here. What was found today was skeletal
remains. Not a fresh body.”

“So this happened some time ago then?”
Felicity interjected.

He nodded. “Yeah. Matter of fact, the medical
examiner is estimating somethin’ like two years, but that’s not a
definite until they run some tests. However, the skull is missing,
and there are saw marks on the vertebrae. So, add it all up, and
it’s a good bet we’re dealin’ with the same asshole.”

I still wasn’t finished being angry with
myself, so I spat, “Well, then I should have picked up on it two
years ago then.”

“Give yourself a fuckin’ break, Row,”
Ben offered with an impatient shake of his head. “Who knows? You
were prob’ly all
Twilight Zoned
‘bout somethin’ else when this one happened.”

“That’s no excuse,” I grumbled.

“Yeah, well deal with it,” he replied. “I
need ya’ focused right now.”

“What for? I snipped. “She’s already
dead.”

“Listen, drop the attitude before I kick your
sorry ass around the block,” Ben said. “I already told ya’ you
don’t have the whole story yet, and your not givin’ me a chance to
tell it.”

I wanted to fire off a retort, however, he
was dead on the mark; so I kept my mouth shut and sat stewing in my
own self-loathing.

“Gods,” Felicity said. “Don’t tell me there’s
more.”

“Sorry, but there is,” he continued. “And,
the way I got it figured the remains they found ain’t why you’re
goin’ la-la all of a sudden, Row.”

“What then?” my wife asked.

He sighed and then gave his neck a quick rub.
“This has been all over the news today, so I’m surprised you
haven’t heard about it. At around seven forty-five this morning,
one of the security cameras on the parking lot at Northwoods Mall
caught somethin’. A young woman was abducted while she was on her
way in to work. Went down pretty much the same way we witnessed it
happen with Larson, white man. And, from what I saw on the tape, it
was probably the same shithead doin’ it.”

“Oh Gods,” Felicity moaned.

I knew exactly how she felt. I was just too
busy trying to ward off a sudden wave of nausea to be able to
speak.

“Yeah, well,” he continued. “The security
guard who monitors the cameras was just comin’ outta the crapper,
so he only caught the tail end of it happenin’. He called
nine-one-one, but by then it was too late.”

“Great,” I muttered sarcastically.

“Yeah,” he returned and then paused for a
moment. “The tape wasn’t the best. Got a make and model on the car
but no tags. Doesn’t matter though ‘cause it’s prob’ly hot like
last time. Nothin’ real clear on the bad guy either. Just average
height, dark hair, and stocky build; again, pretty much the same as
with Larson.”

“So, who was the woman?” I asked. “Do you
know?”

I’m not sure what made me ask the question.
It may have simply been the desire to hang an identity on the
abductee. Perhaps it was a need to make her into something more
than a nondescript entity, especially since I was apparently
feeling her pain. Still, judging from the tickle in my brain, there
seemed to be something more driving me when I spoke the words.

He gave a nod. “Yeah. One of the other
security officers managed to ID her as the manager of the Kathy’s
Closet store there in the mall. Her car was…”

“Wait a minute,” Felicity cut him off, a
deeply concerned look washing over her face. “Kimberly was
abducted?”

Ben gave her a slightly confused glance while
reaching into his pocket and pulling out his small notebook. He
quickly flipped it open and glanced down. “Yeah. Kimberly Forest.
You know ‘er?”

“Aye, Kathy’s Closet is one of my big
accounts,” Felicity replied. “I shoot all of their catalogs, and
Kimberly has done some of the fill-in modeling. We got to know one
another the past couple of years.”

“Fuck me,” Ben muttered. “I’m sorry,
Felicity. I didn’t know she was a friend.”

“No,” I announced on the heels of his
comment.

“No, what?” he asked.

“No,” I repeated, looking over at Felicity.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you aren’t going to do
this.”

“Aye, and you’re going to stop me?” she
asserted.

“If I have to.”

“Try it,” she challenged, her voice taking on
a hard edge.

“Jeezus H. Christ, will you two stop it!” Ben
interrupted sharply. “I ain’t got time for this crap. Look, we got
a missin’ woman and no real leads except for your freaky-ass
hocus-pocus shit.”

We both looked back at him as he paused.
There was a mix of pain and anger in his face, and even though his
voice was harsh, it was underscored with a faint pleading tone. He
was looking for help, not conflict.

He cleared his throat then lowered his voice
and continued. “Now, if this sick fuck follows the same time frame
as he did with Larson, Kimberly Forest is gonna be dead inside of
twenty-four hours. That doesn’t leave us much time.”

“You’re right, sorry,” I apologized.

“Listen,” he said. “I wasn’t even gonna call
you. I know what you two have been through, and I hate the thought
of draggin’ ya’ through it again. But… But, since you called me…”
He allowed his voice to trail off, staring back at me with an
apologetic look.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “We all knew I’d end
up in the middle again. It was only a matter of time.”

“So, do ya’ think you can help?” he asked.
“Or is this just gonna put ya’ through hell for nothin’?”

“I don’t know. This seizure was just like
before, Ben,” I explained. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Shit. Not what I wanted to hear.”

“I know, but I’m not going to give up
yet.”

“Row, after what happened a few months ago…”
he began.

“The hell is going to happen anyway, Ben,” I
told him. “Look at what just occurred. Why Felicity called you.
There’s nothing I can do to stop it, so I might as well try to use
it to our advantage.”

“How you gonna do that if you don’t remember
anything?”

“We’ll just have to try it again,” I
offered.

“Try what? You mean the hypnosis?” Felicity
asked. “Like last time.”

“Maybe,” I replied. “Or maybe something more
direct.”

“Rowan, what are you thinking?” Felicity
asked. I could tell she was already preparing her own veto for my
yet to be announced course of action.

“Psychometry” was my single word
response.

“What the hell’s that?” Ben asked with a
harrumph. “Math for Witches?”

“Psychic impressions from physical contact,”
Felicity explained.

He nodded. “So you mean like when you go all
la-la from touching a victim’s body?”

“Exactly,” I replied. “But it’s also like
when I ‘see’ things at crime scenes just by being there.”

“Okay, so that’s what ya’ call it.” He raised
an eyebrow and gave his head a quick, sideways cant. “So you wanna
go to the site of the abduction?”

“For starters.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Let’s cross that bridge if we get to
it.”

“S
o whaddaya need to do,
Row?” Ben asked as he nosed his van into a parking space, levered
it into park, and then turned in his seat to look back at
me.

Felicity was sitting directly behind him in
the back seat, and I was on the passenger side near the door. Agent
Mandalay was in the front with him, riding shotgun. She had
returned Felicity’s call just as we were getting ready to leave, so
we had waited for her arrival before making the trek to the
Northwoods Shopping Mall.

“Where did the abduction actually take
place?” I asked.

“Let me see,” he murmured, then began
counting to himself as he lazily gestured out the window with his
finger. “…Four… Five…. Six… That one. That should be it, right over
there.” He pointed through the passenger side of the windshield.
“See that light standard? That should be the one she was next to
when she was grabbed.”

I followed the line of his arm to the large
concrete footing and towering light post some thirty to forty yards
away in the opposite row.

“You don’t know for sure?” Felicity
asked.

“I’m not actually workin’ this case,” he
reminded her, then pointed out the passenger side window. “I know
for sure it was on this lot. There’s the Kathy’s Closet store, over
there, and that is the row Ackman said she was parked in. Right now
I’m just goin’ by what I was told and the tape they showed me when
I was asked to ID the shithead.”

“If you aren’t on this case then what are you
really supposed to be working on, Storm?” Mandalay asked.

“Last week’s gang shooting,” he replied
absently. “And about five more unresolved gang shootings. What
about you?”

He leaned forward and sent his eyes
searching.

“Miscellaneous bureaucratic paperwork,”
Mandalay admitted, then continued her own line of questions. “So
where does your lieutenant think you are right now?”

“Day off,” he explained, his attention still
directed elsewhere. “Had ta’ go see my lawyer. But, they called me
in to look at the tape so I asked a few questions, and now I’m
here.”

“Unofficially, of course?” she half-asked,
half-stated.

“Well sure.”

My friend stopped scanning and cocked his
head, then pointed again, this time to a different post. “If I’m
rememberin’ the angle right, that should be the security camera
over there. It’s an older system, so like I said, the picture
wasn’t the best.”

I panned my gaze across the muted tableau. It
looked dull and flat. Even the more brightly colored vehicles
congesting the parking lot seemed subdued under a dusky grey film.
Sunset was less than two hours away, and with the overcast skies
already blocking a good percentage of the light, perceived
nightfall would be coming even sooner than usual.

I don’t suppose it made any difference one
way or the other, whether it was day or night, with maybe one
exception: We knew Brittany Larson’s body had been buried under the
cover of darkness, and you can bet the others were as well. Since
Kimberly Forest had been in the hands of the very same sadistic
bastard for a little better than eight hours, I had to wonder if
she was even still alive and if we should be staking out wooded
areas near the Missouri River instead.

The harsh reality was that we really had no
way to know how much time she had left. With the exception of what
had happened with Brittany Larson, we had no actual evidence of the
lag time between abduction and disposal of the body. It was all
guesswork on our part.

In the back of my head— only because I didn’t
have the stomach to voice it— I was hoping that the amount of
torture Kimberly Forest could endure before her body finally shut
down would be a deciding factor in her fate. As much as it sickened
me to consider what was probably being done to her, even as we sat
here looking across the parking lot from which she’d been taken, I
was hoping she had a strong constitution.

And, more importantly, an even stronger will
to live.

“Okay, I need to go over there,” I finally
said, reaching for the door handle. “Just wait here.”

“I’m going with you, then,” Felicity
said.

“That’s really not necessary,” I
objected.

“Aye, don’t start with me, Rowan,” she
returned.

“Don’t either one of ya’ start,” Ben
announced. “We’re all goin’.”

I didn’t argue. It wouldn’t have done me any
good. Instead, I just continued lifting the lever and unlatched the
side door, then slid it back on groaning tracks. Once we had all
climbed out of the vehicle, and Ben had locked it up, we began
wandering in the direction of the light standard.

“Just so I know, are ya’ gonna go all
Tee-Zone on us, Row?” Ben asked.

“If we’re lucky, yes,” I replied.

“Fuckin’ lovely,” he muttered. “What about
you, Felicity?”

“We’ll see,” she said, the tone of her voice
offering no assurances whatsoever.

“So whadda we do if ya both start floppin’
around like a coupl’a fish?”

“If we say anything then take notes,” I
offered.

“Yeah, great,” he replied. “What else?”

“Try not to let us hit the asphalt too hard,”
Felicity returned.

“Yeah,” Ben muttered. “Coupl’a fuckin’
comedians aren’t ya’.”

We stopped talking but all smiled and nodded
as we met a young couple heading in the opposite direction. They
gave friendly nods in return, continuing along their way as they
passed us by. A moment later, to our backs, we heard the clipped
‘whoop’ feedback of a car’s locks being unlatched by a remote key
fob.

“Jeez,” Ben exclaimed as he looked around the
busy parking lot. “It’s five freakin’ P.M. on a Thursday. What’s
with the crowd?”

“You don’t shop much, do you Storm?”
Constance asked.

“Why would I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied in a sardonic
tone. “Clothes. Shoes. Underwear without holes in them.”

“My undershorts are just fine, thank you,” he
returned.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard the
driving thrum of heavy metal music blaring, or at least that is
what I thought I was hearing. I glanced around, looking for the
source, all the while having a sudden attack of déjà vu.