Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation (35 page)

The atmosphere around Cally and R.J. had
grown tight with bristling energy. I could almost feel an
electrical surge flowing from the two of them as they relaxed and
attuned themselves with their surroundings. Even with the weight of
the current situation, I was hard pressed not to feel a sense of
pride in how well Ariel had taught them about The Craft. It was
obvious to me that they truly wanted to help.

“You mean you think Ariel might be directing
your visions?” Cally posed.

“I’m sure of it.”

“Whoa, that’s pretty intense, man,” R.J.
exclaimed.

I glanced over at Ben who was quietly
observing the scene before him with professional detachment. Even
though he had recently come to accept my visions as true precursors
to future events, what we Witches were now viewing as a normal
conversation certainly had to appear outlandish to him. His
exposure to our way of life over the past week appeared to have
opened his eyes however, as he seemed to be taking it all in
stride.

“What kinds of things has she been throwing
at you?” Cally prodded.

“A good example would be the Seven of
Pentacles showing up all over the place.”

“The suit of coins,” she recited
mechanically. “The money card.”

“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.”

T
ell
‘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 leavin’ his little shindig. If he doesn’t screw around, then
we should have it within the hour.”

“What’ll you do once you get it?” I queried,
though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

“Check his work schedule against the presumed
time of the abduction,” he detailed. “Plus, see if anything matches
up with the info from the Seattle PD. If he’s got half a brain
though, I’m sure he’s usin’ an alias.”

“And if it looks like he’s the one?” I
pressed.

“Then we get the warrant and go kick his
fuckin’ door down.”

“I’m going with you,” I declared flatly.

“Wait a minute, I don’t know about
that...”

Coming quickly up from the couch, Felicity
joined his protest, “What do you mean you’re going with him?”

“I mean exactly what I said. I’m going
along.”

Our two guests fidgeted nervously in their
seats but remained silent. If either of them had an opinion on the
subject, it appeared that it wasn’t going to be voiced in the
immediate future. Having anticipated the objection, I steadfastly
held Ben’s gaze and allowed myself to relax. I knew it was going to
take more than just words to convince him.

“Listen, Row,” Ben put on his best
sympathetic cop voice and began his explanation. “I realize you’ve
been involved in this thing almost from the beginning, and without
you, I don’t know if we’d have gotten as far as we have—at least
not this fast—but, servin’ a warrant is a lot different than goin’
over a crime scene. Besides, I still hafta figure out how I’m gonna
explain you to the Feebs.”

“Listen to Ben, Rowan,” Felicity agreed.
“It’s too dangerous.”

“She’s right man,” he added. “What if this
asshole has a gun or somethin’? I don’t need to worry about you
gettin’ hurt.”

While the two of them were pleading their
case, I was focusing my internal energies. My unwavering stare
never left Ben’s own, and as they remained locked, I set mystical
wheels into motion.

“I don’t need to worry about you either,” I
told him in a tranquil, even voice.

“Whaddaya mean?” Ben blinked and looked over
at my wife with a questioning glance. “What’s he talkin’ about,
Felicity?” His gaze almost immediately returned to mine, drawn back
by an unseen force. “It’s my job. I’m trained for it, you
ain’t.”

“You’re trained to deal with normal
criminals,” I maintained in the same even tone. “This one
definitely isn’t normal. We still don’t know what he’s capable
of.”

“We know he’s capable of torturin’ and
killin’ four women—maybe five if you count Seattle. Plus
kidnapping.” He shot back, but his eyes stayed locked with mine.
“So I think we pretty much have the bases covered there.”

“That’s not what I mean, Ben. I’m talking
about The Craft, or even more likely, ritual magick. He hasn’t
played any of those cards yet. Not for real.”

I felt Felicity ease away from me as she
realized what I was doing. To her, and anyone in the room other
than Ben Storm for that matter, my speech probably sounded like a
dull monotone. To my protesting friend, nothing would have changed.
In his mind, we were simply carrying on a conversation through
which he would explain to me the reasons I wouldn’t be joining him.
He had no idea that in a way, he was being hypnotized. He was
experiencing the true meaning of being bewitched.

“That stuff again?” he asked. “Look, you’ve
made a believer outta me with some of this... You know, like the
dreams and all that, but gimme a break. What’s he gonna do? Shoot
fire out of his eyes or somethin’?” He chuckled lightly. “Even
better, turn us all into frogs and make his getaway? Come on Rowan,
get serious...”

“I never said anything like that,” I
returned. “And I am serious.”

“What then?” he demanded. “What’s he gonna
do?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I know there are
any number of things that he might be able to do. I doubt you’d
believe me if I told you what they were.”

We had been down this path before. I knew for
a fact he wouldn’t believe me. The only way I was going to prove my
point was with a demonstration, and as much as I hated to do so,
that was exactly what I had been preparing. Through the practiced
use of both my voice and my eyes, in the past few moments I had set
the stage. I had transfixed him on an ethereal level. Within the
next few seconds, I would use the power of suggestion coupled with
just a dash of the supernatural to put on the show.