The Soul Summoner (The Soul Summoner Saga Book 1) (11 page)

I laughed. "Now who's being inappropriate?"

Nathan walked out of the room. "Do you want something to drink?"

I got up and followed him to the kitchen. "You're completely blowing me off."

"Yep," he replied as he opened the refrigerator. "I've got beer and water."

I hoisted myself up onto his kitchen counter and tapped my fingers quizzically against my lips. "So, you say you're not using her, but you won't say you love her either." 

He turned around and offered me a bottle of beer and a bottle of water. I took the water. He opened the beer and tipped it up to his lips. "Ready to get back to work?"

I kicked him lightly in the thigh. "Come on," I said. "You have forced me to get super personal with you in the past few weeks. I've told you stuff I haven't even told my mother."

"I didn't force you," he argued.

I cocked my head to the side. "Really?"

He shrugged. "I persuaded you."

"How did you meet her? How long have you been together?" I asked.

He groaned. "I met Shannon about six months ago when I was here researching the murder of Leslie Bryson," he said. "Some of the guys from the department here took me out for drinks, and I met her at the bar. We've been dating long distance ever since. Are you satisfied?" He turned and walked back down the hall toward the office.

I jumped off the counter and followed him. "No. It's Shannon Green," I grumbled.

"She's not that bad," he said.

"She's high maintenance, spoiled, and has absolutely no loyalty," I said. 

He rounded on me and he wasn't laughing. "Let it go, Sloan." 

I rolled my eyes and sat down in the chair. "Fine." I huffed and looked back up at the board. "Tell me about Leslie Bryson." 

Nathan cleared his throat. "Leslie worked at Chili's as a bartender. About twenty minutes after she clocked out at 10pm, she sent a text message to her roommate saying she was going to be late and to not wait up for her. She never came home."

"No other numbers on her phone?"

He shook his head. "None that were suspect."

"What about camera footage from the parking lot?" I asked. "Maybe she ran into the killer outside before she left."

He shrugged. "Maybe so, but there were no cameras."

"That's frustrating," I said. "What about GPS tracking on her phone?"

"Her purse and phone were found in her car which was abandoned at the Texaco gas station off of Tunnel Road," he answered.

I thought for a moment. "And no one saw anything? That's a really crowded area."

He shook his head. "No witnesses." 

I looked back up at the photos of the women on the board and shook my head. "I still don't understand why there isn't some sort of public service announcement about this," I said. "It seems like the public should be made aware that there is a serial killer on the loose."

He sat down on the corner of the desk in front of me. "Well, I just found out a few days ago that all of these girls are dead. No bodies, remember? And, there has been a lot of news coverage on all the kidnappings, just not all lumped together."

"I don't watch the news," I told him.

"You're a publicist," he said, surprised.

"The last thing I want to do at the end of my workday is come home and watch news stories about murders, missing people, and violence." I tapped my finger on the desk. "You know, all the stuff you've been throwing at me since we first met."

His smile was genuine and apologetic. "I really do appreciate your help."

"I know," I mumbled. I looked around the room at all of the work he had done, practically all on his own. "How are you going to convince the FBI that there is a serial killer involved? I don't think 'my publicist friend told me they're dead' is going to cut it with the Feds."

He chuckled. "They've been exploring it as a possibility for a while now. We've also considered it might be linked to human trafficking. Now I just know which direction to focus on. It would really help if I could find the bodies."

I shook my head. "I'm not a cadaver dog."

He laughed. "I know." 

"So, what do we do now? Just wait for someone else to go missing?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it helps now that I know that all of the victims are actually dead. Maybe you and I can find something that will help connect the dots." He kicked the side of the desk with his heel. "You know, even without your supernatural abilities, you're actually really good at this. Have you ever considered being a cop?"

I doubled over. "Me? Around criminals all the time? Seriously?"

He laughed and nodded his head. "Yeah, I didn't think about it that way."

"Supernatural, huh?" I asked. 

"What do you call it?" he replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Lately, thanks to you, I call it a pain in my ass."

7.

IT WAS BUSINESS as usual when I returned to work on Monday. The entire week was extraordinarily boring in comparison to the weekend as I hammered out the county newsletter; warned the citizens of West Asheville of a sewage backup off of Haywood Avenue; and reminded the city to not drink and drive during the upcoming Brewgrass Festival at Memorial Stadium. Most of the city would turn out for the festival, including Adrianne and myself. It was my favorite event around the city all year.

I spent my downtime in the office and most of my evenings at home reading through some files Nathan had sent home with me.  I found it difficult to believe that all of the women simply vanished without a trace of evidence and their bodies never surfaced, even by accident. I called Nathan at home on Thursday night to tell him as much, but he didn't answer. I hung up when the call went to his voicemail.

I got a text message from him a moment later.
On a call. What's up?

I responded.
Nothing that can't wait, just brainstorming. 

I think I'm almost done here. Can I swing by on my way home?
 

The clock on the wall said it was almost 10 pm and I wasn't feeling sleepy yet. I tapped out a reply.
Yep.

On my coffee table, I spread out each of the victims' summary sheets in the order in which they disappeared. Though I was sure that Nathan had already done the same thing, I searched for even the smallest similarities between the girls. After about a half hour of reading, the dates seemed to come together: all of the girls had been abducted during the fall and winter months. There weren't any that occurred in the spring or the summer. I jotted a list down in my notebook of the dates chronologically. They spanned from September 22nd to December 28th. 

There was a knock at my door. When I opened it, Nathan was pulling off a pair of muddy boots. He was splattered in dried mud all the way up to his belly button. I looked at him sideways. "Have you been spelunking?"

He braced himself against my doorframe as he fought to free his foot from his left steel-toed boot. "Practically. I responded to a burglary call and ended up chasing a guy through a storm culvert."

I looked at the mud and then inside at my white furniture. "Why didn't you go home and take a shower?"

"Because I'm tired, and if I had gone home, I wouldn't come back out," he explained. 

 I thought about offering him a shower at my house, but I was pretty sure that I wouldn't get any work done after knowing he had been naked in my bathroom. "Let's just talk out here," I suggested.

He looked down at his ruined pants. "That's probably a good idea."

"One sec." I jogged back to the living room to grab my notebook and tooth-mangled pen.

When I returned, he was sitting on the top of the steps, so I sat down beside him.

"What's up?" he asked.

I showed him my list. "Have you noticed the dates?" 

"Yeah," he answered. "September through December."

"Don't you find that strange?" I asked. "Why just the cold months?"

"I've asked that question a lot. He could live seasonally in this area," he said.
I scowled and shook my head. "People live seasonally around here in the summer. They go to Florida for the winter."

"Older people go to Florida," he pointed out. 

"Why would anyone live seasonally here when it's cold?" I asked.

"The leaves?" he suggested. "Tourist season starts here around what? September?"

I nodded. "Here, yes. But not in Raleigh. And it certainly doesn't last till December. Besides, do you really think anyone could be impressed by dying leaves so much that they would make a life change out of it? Particularly a guy in his twenties?"

"Good point," he said.

"Retail jobs are very seasonal," I said. "That's the same time that businesses start hiring for holiday help."

He thought about it. "Maybe. It could be how he finds his victims too."

I frowned and put a hand on my hip. "Are you suggesting that all women are shoppers?"

He laughed. "Yes."

I elbowed him in the side. "We're not all like Shannon." 

He smiled. "It has to be more specific than retail though. You can do that anywhere in the country. Why here?"

"Because he's native to the area?" I offered.

"Perhaps, but a retail clerk moonlighting as a serial killer still seems pretty unlikely. It's too public. Someone would have suspected something," he said. "You got anything else?"

"Why were the bodies never found? It seems like it would be pretty hard to hide a body and get away with it," I said. "Where would you hide a body?"

He laughed. "I'm not sure I like where you're going with this."

"I'm serious. How do you make one disappear?" I asked.

He considered it. "I would incinerate it," he said. "Burn it to dust, then scatter and cover the evidence."

My nose wrinkled. "The smell would be suspicious."

He shrugged. "Not necessarily in this area. Moonshiners hide their smoke pretty well." 

"How's a serial killer gonna tote an incinerator all over the state?" I shook my head. "You're not much help."

He laughed. "Probably because I'm tired. Let's continue this over the weekend."

"I'm going to the Brewgrass Festival this weekend at Memorial Stadium," I said.

"Oh, yeah. I've heard a lot about it. It's a good time, huh?" he asked.

I smiled. "If you like beer."

He stood up. "You know I do."

"So I'll see you there?" I asked.

"Maybe." He reached out his hand and pulled me to my feet. "I'm going to go home and pass out before I have to do this crap all over again tomorrow. I'm exhausted."

He picked up his boots and carried them down the stairs. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, the sound of rustling leaves between my house and the house next door caught both of our attention. Nathan grabbed a flashlight off his belt and I closed my eyes. 

"There's no one there. Must be a cat or something." I leaned against the front handrail of my porch.

He panned the flashlight around the side of the house and then looked back up at me. "How do you know?" 

I smiled. "Maybe I'm a witch." 

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. He yanked his driver's side door open and grumbled as he climbed inside. "I'm never going to get used to this. Goodnight, Sloan."

I waved to him. "Goodnight, Nathan."

* * *

When Saturday finally rolled around, I drove to Adrianne's townhouse to pick her up. She had on sunglasses that were bigger than her face. "You look ridiculous," I said as she got into my car. 

She scowled over the top of her glasses at my black "This Girl Needs a Beer" tee and blue jeans. "Oh, you're the fashion expert now?" She noticed the angel pin on my shirt. "What's this?"

As I drove, I told her all about Kayleigh surprising me at home. When I finished, she slapped my leg. "See? Doesn't that feel good?" she asked.

I smiled. "Better than any feeling I've ever had before."

"And I've always thought you were a witch. Maybe you are an angel instead," she said.

 I smirked. "You're so funny."

"How are things with the hot detective?" she asked.

I shrugged and turned toward the stadium. "Well, I agreed to help him with the serial killer case. We spent almost all day Saturday working on it." I looked over at her. "I want you to promise me you'll be careful, Adrianne."

She nodded. "No serial killers for me," she said. "I'm going to run every guy I talk to by you first."

"You have done that for the past several years and you
never
listen to me," I said.

"Well, you're a little overprotective. You need to tell me, 'that guy's a serial killer, Adrianne' and I won't go out with him," she assured me.

"They don't come with references and a background check," I said. "If I tell you I'm getting bad vibes, that should be enough."

She floated her hand through the air signaling she was bored with the conversation. "You've got our tickets?" she asked.

"They are in the bag next to the chairs," I said.

Memorial Stadium was already overflowing with people when we pulled into the grassy parking lot. "I hope you don't mind," Adrianne said as we got out and began unloading my trunk, "but I told Mark that we were going to be here today, and he said that he and Colin might come by."

"Who?" I pulled out a camping chair and slung it over my shoulder.

She retrieved the other chair. "Colin and Mark, the guys from the bar last weekend."

I groaned and leaned against my bumper. "Seriously, Adrianne? Case in point of you not listening to me. Please tell me that you're joking."

She shrugged. "They were cute and they paid our tabs."

"They were obnoxious. Especially Mark. And Colin was so full of himself I wanted to hit him over the head with my beer." I draped my backpack over my other shoulder.

We started toward the stadium. "You just didn't like them because you're so hung up on that detective."

I adjusted my sunglasses against the mid-morning sun. "I didn't like them because they were jerks."

She looked over at me. "Is your boy coming today?"