Otherworld 11 - Waking the Witch (16 page)

“No, that was me.”

He laughed. “I don’t doubt it. Okay, then, speaking of embarrassing, let me take a stab in the dark and guess that you don’t want Jesse thinking I’ve swooped in to take over.”

I made a face. “Like I care what anyone—”

He stopped me with a look. “You do. Or your pride does, at least. Okay, I won’t give Jesse his walking papers. I’ll just tell him I’m bored and want to hang out with you guys.”

“Which is the truth.”

“Which makes it an even better excuse.” He grabbed half my sandwich from the table and pointed at the rest. “Eat or I’ll make you pay for it.”

“I’ll talk to Jesse.”

He paused. “You sure?”

I nodded.

“Take the sandwich then. And invite him along to the cookie cult.”

I
explained the situation to Jesse, then said, “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. It’s your investigation and he’s your coworker. I think you’re handling this case just fine, but when it comes down to it, you represent Lucas and Paige’s firm, and if they’re more comfortable thinking you’re doing legwork on a case for
him...”

“This has nothing to do with Lucas and Paige. Adam doesn’t have any cases, so he’s going to hang out and help me.”

He nodded, slowly, still not convinced. “It’s your call. If you aren’t worried about Adam trying to take over—”

I cut him short with a laugh. “Believe me, he knows better than to try. He’s made it clear that this is totally my case, and he’s ready to follow orders.” I grinned. “And I’m ready to give them.”

“All right then. So where do we start?”

“I want to take another run at the commune. Adam’s coming along and you’re welcome to join us.”

“Mmm, they might feel under siege. You two go. I have work I can do here. We’ll meet up later and compare notes.”

ON THE DRIVE to the commune, I asked Adam about the conference and he kept me amused with anecdotes. He had plenty of those. Even picturing him in a roomful of academics was enough to get me smiling.

Adam’s stepfather is the most respected supernatural researcher in the country. When he withdrew from his council delegate role and prodded Adam into his place, no one expected Adam to take over the research part, too. In fact, for years, friends would buy him textbooks and journals and reading glasses as a standing joke.

When Adam decided to try filling the research role, too, I remember overhearing Paige and Lucas worrying that Adam was setting himself up for disappointment. Paige and Adam had been friends since childhood, and she knew how tough it was for him to sit still long enough to read a newspaper.

He’d had a few false starts. I’d helped him research things on the side, as he tried to prove himself to the council, getting frustrated when he couldn’t find what he needed. But eventually he did prove himself. He’d never be his stepfather, staying on the sidelines lost in his books. But he’d set his mind to it and he’d done it, and I admired him for that.

Speaking of admiration ...

We’d been inside the commune for less than five minutes before every girl there had checked out the new arrival. Adam isn’t drop-dead gorgeous. He’s cute, though. Seriously cute. Short, wavy dark blond hair. Perpetual tan. Athletic build. He looks like someone a girl could talk to, who’d flirt and make her laugh and look her in the eye while he’s doing it. In other words, he looks like exactly the kind of guy he is, and girls love it.

As usual, Megan was giving us the runaround.

“Alastair is a very busy man,” Megan said. “You can’t just show up and demand to see him, or he probably won’t be around.”

“He isn’t,” Vee piped up from her vantage spot on the stairs. “She’s telling the truth. He went out an hour ago.”

The front door opened behind us. “But I’m back now.” Alastair greeted us with firm handshakes and a smile as warm as a July afternoon.

“They don’t have an appointment,” Megan said. “I asked her to make one.”

“That’s all right. I have some time for Ms. Levine and her associate.”

“Actually, I can handle the interview. Someone”—I nodded toward Adam—“has been trying to steal my cookies. I’m sure he can be talked into buying a box of his own.”

The girls swooped in. While Adam was surrounded, I slipped past to Alastair, who led me to his office. Megan followed. At the door, he motioned me inside, then murmured a few words to her. When he came in, she didn’t.

“Megan can be a bit ...” Alastair smiled, face creasing as he sat behind his desk. “Overprotective. If you need anything more from me after this, call my cell.” He handed me a card with the number. “Just don’t tell Megan.”

He winked and leaned back in his chair, and I got my first good look at him. From his picture, I knew he was a distinguished, handsome older man. But it wasn’t until I was sitting across the desk that I really understood why he had a houseful of girls lining up to share his bed.

Guys like Adam have charm. They know how to make a girl feel pretty and special. Alastair probably had that, too, at Adam’s age, but by forty-five, it had matured into that rarer variety every good cult leader needs. Charisma.

Two minutes with him and he was acting as if we were coconspirators, smiling in a way that said he already liked me and was looking forward to spending time with me. I bet that every person who entered Alastair’s world got that smile, and few realized he gave it to everyone. That was his gift.

“Don’t worry,” I said as I pocketed the card. “I won’t tell Megan. I don’t scare easy, but she does the trick.”

He laughed. “Yes, she is a very strong-willed young woman.”

“I was thinking more of the Santeria. They have some nasty curses.”

The smile froze, then twitched, as he tried to light it again. When it returned, the warmth was definitely more May than July. Early May, with a chance of frost.

“Taking an unguided tour of our property, Ms. Levine?” he said. “Trespassing is illegal. Break and enter even more so.”

“Huh. Really? Okay, then. Call Chief Bruyn and show him where you think I broke into. I’d love to see it. I figured it was just a rumor, but it seems not.”

His whole face froze now, dismay in his eyes.

“So Megan does practice Santeria.” I scribbled in my notebook. “Is she an
iyalorisha
or just a practitioner?”

“A practitioner,” he said slowly.

“Seems like an odd choice for someone like Megan, but maybe not. She’s here, so she obviously has some yearning for the spiritual. Santeria has a strong role for women, which she’d appreciate, but you should tell her that’s more true of the Americanized version. The true Santerian traditions coming from Cuba are definitely slanted toward the guys. If she wanted a more feminist version of voodoo, she would be better off with Candomblé.”

As he stared at me, his smooth veneer fell away, his gaze sliding to the door as if mentally willing Megan to barrel through and kick me out. A man with the charisma, but not the balls, to be a leader.

“Actually, I was the one who brought Megan to Santeria,” he said, picking his words carefully. “She came to a meeting with a friend of hers, a researcher. Megan and I went home together. And this”—he opened his hands, indicating the house—“was the result. The perfect blending of the spiritual and the commercial.”

Spiritual for him. Commercial for her. A fortuitous meeting all around. I doodled in my book as he explained. I already knew what attracted him to Santeria, and I wasn’t surprised to hear that despite what Vee said, Alastair was the true devotee, not Megan. As a religion, Santeria suited him. It was mystical and New Age, and slightly shocking. Exactly the image he wanted to project.

Megan would go along with it because Alastair was the Pied Piper who brought girls to her workhouse. It was in her best interests to not only keep him happy, but hold a blackmail-worthy secret over him. Ah, true love.

Time to change the subject. “I saw you gave DNA to the sheriff’s department?”

“Of course. If it eliminates me from the list of suspects, then that benefits everyone here. We have enough prejudice to combat without suspicions like that.”

“They took samples from the victims, too,” I said.

“Yes, I suppose they would, in order to eliminate them from any samples found at the scene.”

I nodded. “There wouldn’t be any need to compare them to the samples taken from the suspects.”

His shoulders tightened, then he forced himself to relax. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, Ms. Levine. Did they finally find DNA at the scene of Claire’s murder? I hope so, if it helps them solve it. She was a lovely girl.”

“And Ginny? Was she a lovely girl, too?”

“I’m sure she was. Brandi, too. If they found DNA at the scene, then I’m glad of it, and I hope they’ve compared it to mine already, because I know it’s not a match.”

“I have no idea if they have uncovered DNA at Claire’s scene. I’m talking about the earlier murder. Your DNA and the victims’. Like I said, no reason to compare them. Not unless you’re a private investigator, studying the files, searching for a connection, any connection ...”

His expression said he knew exactly what I was getting at, but he wasn’t about to admit it. Enough beating around the bush, then.

“Are you aware that you’re Genevieve Thompson’s father?” I asked.

He tried to look shocked, then struggled for surprised, and finally settled for uncomfortable. “I ... suspected I might be,” he finally said. “But Paula never confirmed it.”

“Did you ask her?”

“Well, no ...” He straightened, folding his hands on the desk. “Clearly she didn’t think I was a suitable father for her child or she would have told me herself. As much as that pains me, I decided it was best to abide by her wishes.”

“That’s very noble of you. And, for the record, you’re right. She’d like you to stay away from Kayla, too. I’m sure you have no interest in letting your girls here know you’re a granddaddy, but if you tell anyone, I’ll share your Santeria secret. You and I know it’s just a religion, but to folks in Columbus, it would mean you’re running a voodoo cult up here.”

He fixed me with a look that said he’d decided he didn’t like me after all. Didn’t like me one bit.

“Did you have any contact with Ginny?” I asked.

“No.”

“Brandi?”

“No.”

“To your knowledge, did either of them ever come up to the house?”

“No.”

“To your knowledge, did Claire have any contact with Cody Radu?”

He opened his mouth, then stopped himself, maybe realizing how unseemly it would be to tattle on the other guy vying for prime suspect spot.

“You may want to speak to Megan about that,” he said.

“I will.”

A
lastair was eager enough to get rid of me that he didn’t escort me to the door, which meant I could sneak over to the kitchen and check out the situation there.

If Adam was charming the girls, I didn’t want to interfere. So I slipped into the dining room with a blur spell, then exchanged it for a cover one when I could see the kitchen through the doorway. Adam was leaning against the counter, milk glass in one hand, cookie in the other, crumbs flying as he told a story about our last white-water rafting trip. I noticed he conveniently left out the part where he steered us under a waterfall, trying to get me soaked, and ended up getting drenched himself instead, courtesy of a fast knockback spell.

Planted right in front of him, staring up like a daisy at the sun, was Vee. While he glanced at the other girls as he talked, he kept most of his attention on her. I hadn’t thought to tell him that she’d approached me. He was just damned good at reading people. He’d even tailored the story to her, I realized, as she started asking questions about his gear and his favorite spots, and giving him suggestions.

As Adam talked, he glanced at the dining room doorway enough times for me to wonder whether my cover spell had failed. When I heard Megan’s footsteps in the hall, I stepped forward. Adam glanced up, eyes meeting mine, and he grinned broadly enough to earn me scowls from the girls.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “I’m all done. I’ll head outside. Whenever you’re ready—”

“Right behind you,” he said. Then to the girls, his voice filled with regret, “The boss calls, and I think yours is about to.”

On cue, Megan stepped into the kitchen.

Adam turned his grin on her. “Sorry about that. They’re all yours.”

He thanked them for the cookies. I thanked Megan for letting me speak to Alastair. Then we were off. When we reached the Jeep, I glanced back to see Vee on the porch, watching us go.

“Score,” I murmured.

Adam tossed me the keys, then jogged back across the yard, gaze on the ground, as if he didn’t see Vee there. Near the porch, he reached down, scooping up some imaginary item he’d dropped, then saw her and gave a start.

“Hey, there,” he said. “I was just thinking, I should have asked you about Gray River. Someone mentioned it was great rafting. Ever tried it?”

She came down off the porch to talk to him as I started the Jeep. I revved the engine, in case Vee was worried I’d overhear. They chatted for a while—long enough for me to get warm and put down the top.

“I feel so cheap,” Adam said as he climbed into the passenger side.

“You love it.” I put the Jeep in drive and rolled out of the yard. “That was probably the best reception you’ve had in years. Surprising, too. There’s some stiff competition in this town. Cookie Cult Al. Sleaze-ball Cody. And Pickup Dude.”

“Pickup Dude?”

I nodded toward the familiar pickup roaring toward us, muffler clattering. The driver waggled his tongue at me, yellow teeth flashing.

“It’s close,” I said. “But you get my vote.”

“So do you want to know what Vee said? Or would you rather keep insulting me?”

“Just keeping that ego of yours in check. It’s a full-time job.”

“I know what that’s like,” he said with an arch look my way.

I swerved over just as agarden sprinkler arced our way. Adam swore and ducked, but didn’t quite make it. As I veered back onto the road, he ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head, water flecking the dash.

“I’m sure there’s a brush in the glove box,” I said.

“Yeah,
yours.”
He settled for finger-combing his hair, then settled back in his seat.

“So what’d Vee say?” I asked.

He glanced over, brows lifting.

After a moment, I sighed. “Okay, I apologize. Now, please, what did she say?”

“Well, she was a little late to the party. Megan sent her looking for the new girl, who seems to be hiding out. Can’t blame her. That Alastair guy is seriously creepy.”

“Agreed. Now, about Vee ...”

“She was late joining the others, meaning she walked past the office when you were interviewing the old guy. She heard him tell you that Ginny and Brandi had never come to the house.”

“And she said they did.”

“Yep. Megan and Alastair caught them snooping around one night when they were out tending to the animals. Vee saw the whole thing. Megan wanted to call the cops. Alastair said he’d handle it. He took Ginny and Brandi aside, talked to them, then came into the house and told Megan they wouldn’t have any more problems. She still wanted to report it, but he was adamant. Said it would only cause trouble in the town. She backed down.”

“That’s not an encounter he’s likely to have forgotten,” I said.

“Nope. If Megan’s saying she never met the girls either, then he’s told her to keep her mouth shut.”

I PARKED NEAR the Radu place, and we got out to deal with Tiffany.

“If she recognized you, we should presume she knows who I am, too,” Adam said.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. The only reason she knows me is because of my parents. As usual.”

“And the only way she’d know me is because of my dad. As usual.” He shook his head. “Supernaturals overshadowed by their famous parents. We should start a support group.”

“I think we already have.”

We walked along the sidewalk. Both the officers were hanging around outside the police station. They saw me and peered at Adam, whispering between themselves, then went inside. A second later, Bruyn came out. I waved. He nodded, civil enough, which was all I could hope for at this point.

“Cody lives across from the police station?” Adam said. “That doesn’t seem too bright if he’s up to his eyeballs in something illegal.”

I shrugged. “Another way of pretending he has nothing to hide.”

A kid raced between us, nearly knocking Adam off the curb. I glanced over my shoulder to see the sidewalks filling with children.

“Shit!” I said. “What time is it?”

I checked my watch. Three-thirty. I swore again. “I told Tiffany I’d be there before her kids got home. She won’t talk to us if they’re there.”

I picked up the pace. As we approached the Radu house, I heard a baby crying. That wouldn’t make things any easier—fussy baby, kids getting home ...

The Radus’ neighbor was out on his porch. An old guy in a house-coat, baggy trousers, and slippers, he looked like he’d just woken up, and from the scowls he was sending next door, I could guess what woke him.

When we started up the walk, he yelled, “Tell that girl to shut her baby up or I swear I’ll do it for her.”

“I’m sure she’s trying to,” I said.

“Not very hard. The brat’s been wailing for an hour now.” He strode to the sidewalk and yelled across the road at Bruyn. “Can’t you do something about that? She’s disturbing the peace.”

Bruyn waved, like he couldn’t hear what the old man was saying, then turned and went back inside.

“It’s a baby,” I said. “It cries. And right now you’re making a helluva lot more racket, so how about
you
shut it.”

He gaped at me, then glowered at Adam, as if it was his fault for not keeping me in line. Adam rang the bell. The neighbor turned to head inside, then noticed a towheaded girl in pigtails coming along, holding the hand of a smaller pigtailed blonde.

“You there,” the old man said. “Tell your mother—”

“Zip it, old man,” I said. “Go back inside and get dressed before you get arrested for flashing little girls.”

Adam chuckled and stepped aside to let the girls get to the door.

“We were just ringing for your mom,” he said. “I think she can’t hear with the baby crying.”

The older girl nodded shyly, eyes down. She tugged on the screen door. Adam held it open for her. The girl turned the knob, but the inside door didn’t budge.

“It’s locked,” she said.

“Mommy must be having her nap,” the younger one said as her sister rang the bell. “She takes a nap when Taylor does and she always locks the door. She usually sets her alarm, but if she’s really tired, she forgets.”

“Do you have a key?” Adam asked.

Both girls shook their heads. “Mom’s always home,” the older one said.

“Can I try it?” I asked.

The girl nodded. I cast an unlock spell under my breath and turned the knob.

“Huh,” I said. “Must have just been stuck. Go on in. Tell your mom we’re here.”

The older one glanced back to make sure we weren’t going to follow them. I let the screen door close. Inside, the baby’s howls turned to whimpers as she heard her sisters.

“Mommy!” the younger one said, racing past her sister as she dropped her backpack. “We’re home! Did you make the cupcakes? My teacher said I need two dozen for the bake sale and—Mommy? Come on, Mommy. Wake up!” Giggles erupted, punctuated by squeaking springs.

“Don’t jump on the bed,” her sister said. “Mom?”

There was a pause, a long one, and my heart started thumping. Adam gripped my elbow, reassuring.

The older girl ran into the hall. She saw us and started, like she’d forgotten we were there.

“Is everything okay?” I called through the screen.

“It’s Mom. She won’t wake up.”