Waking the Witch
Page 43

“You won’t,” I said. “But I’m not leaving town anytime soon. I still have a case to solve.”
 
AS WE GOT into Jesse’s truck, I said, “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“No, really. Thank you. You didn’t need to do all that, and I appreciate it.”
He fussed with his seat belt, clearly uncomfortable with gratitude, then put on a grin and flashed it my way. “Now you owe me. You realize that, right? If I ever get locked up in a small town, you’ve gotta come from wherever you are, whatever the hour, and investigate on my behalf.”
“And the chances you’ll be able to call in that chit someday are pretty good, aren’t they?”
His grin widened. “Very good. Why else do you think I got you out of there?”
“Good call.” I cracked the window and inhaled the night air, hoping it would settle my stomach. Then I glanced at Jesse. “Speaking of calls, I need to make one when we get to the motel.”
“Lucas?”
“No, Adam. I need to keep him in the loop.”
He frowned. “Lucas has him supervising you on this?”
“Not really.”
“Good, because you clearly don’t need it.”
He was right. I didn’t. And Adam really didn’t need a 4 A.M. update. I just ... I’d just wanted to speak to him, I guess. It could wait, though.
 
THERE WAS NO chance of me sleeping, and Jesse seemed to realize that. He dropped me off at the motel and said he’d be back. I went in and sat on the bed. Just sat. Nothing else, unless you count thinking. Did a lot of that, as the world got too quiet again.
I thought of calling Adam. Bruyn had given me my phone back. I’m sure that wasn’t standard procedure, but I hadn’t been about to argue.
I won’t say how many times I picked up the phone, finger poised over Adam’s speed dial. I wanted to talk to him. More than that, I wanted to see him, and I knew that if I told him what had happened, he’d be on the road within the hour, no matter how much I argued.
He’d come, and I wanted that. God, how I wanted that. I wanted someone to hug me and tell me it was okay. Then I wanted to be distracted, to hear a story that would take my mind off Michael’s death. Then, when I was ready, I wanted to be cheered up. Sympathy, comfort, support, and laughter. It was a lot to ask of any one person. But Adam could do it. He always did.
Which is why, every time I picked up that phone, I put it back down. If I was going to be the mature investigator Jesse thought I was, then I had to get through this on my own.
Forty-five minutes later, Jesse came back with beer and snacks. I told him I was convinced Michael’s death had been murder after stumbling on a ritual in progress. The ritual going on that night might not have been a deadly one, but it had turned out that way.
Bruyn said Michael’s cell phone hadn’t been found with his body. While it was possible that he’d sent the message—Jesse said that the preliminary report on time of death didn’t rule that out—I was betting that the killer sent it right after killing him. Then, when I’d arrived, he—or she—had called Chief Bruyn to report a disturbance at the warehouse. That to me was the most damning piece of evidence. Someone had brought the cops there just in time to catch me with the body.
Jesse absently twisted his beer can, still looking doubtful. “As someone who got arrested twice courtesy of a citizen who reported seeing me break into a place, I gotta say that I’m not convinced it wasn’t coincidental. People notice, especially in a small town. But while I think Michael Kennedy’s death was an accident, I’ll consider the possibility that it wasn’t. That possibility, though, means that you’re in danger. We need to get this figured out ASAP. I’d like to stay and help. I know you didn’t want that, but—”
“No, you’re right. When Michael was here I was worried about the three of us tripping over each other, but now ...”
I trailed off and pulled my legs up, tucking them under me.
Jesse leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “How’re you holding up? I know you liked the guy.”
“I did.” I took a deep breath. “Right now, though, I need to solve this case and catch his killer. So please don’t suggest I go home.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good. Okay, next—”
A hard knock at the door.
“Ms. Levine?” a deep voice called.
It was the sheriff’s department.
 
 
twenty-three
 

The lab techs had confirmed what Jesse said. One set of stairs. One set of prints going all that up. One set of prints at the top. Michael’s death was being ruled an accident, though they took all my contact information, just in case. After they left, I kicked Jesse out. If he was working this case, he needed to go home, pack a bag, cancel appointments, whatever. He was reluctant to leave me alone, but I said I was fine. I wasn’t, but he didn’t know me well enough to tell.
By the time he left, it was after seven, which I figured was late enough to call a few of my shadier supernatural contacts out east. None had heard of either Cody or Tiffany. Never heard of Columbus, Washington. Never heard of Alastair Koppel and his commune. The only one who was any help was the last call I made, to a local witch, Molly Crane, who was up early getting her girls off to school.
Four years ago Molly had tried to kill Jaime Vegas. I’d intervened and left Molly tied up in a swamp. In the underbelly of the supernatural world, that marked the beginning of a working relationship based on mutual respect. A temporary gift of zombies a couple of years ago hadn’t hurt matters. Molly liked me. Can’t say I felt the same about her, but she was useful.
“If there’s a witch living so close to me, then I should know about her,” Molly said. “If I don’t, she’s not just flying under the radar, she’s crawling under it. You said her magic looks old?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I was going to run it past Paige but ...”
Molly snorted. “Like Paige would recognize magic that wasn’t pure as the driven snow.”
Not true, but part of cozying up to Molly meant letting her disparage Paige and Lucas.
“That’s kind of what I thought,” I said. “And Paige hates me getting involved in anything dark ...”