Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Franklin
I felt like the walking dead. Not that I knew what that really felt like, nor was I itching to find out.
The sidelong glances I got from the officers I passed when I walked into the precinct spoke volumes.
The wide eyes and pinched expression pulling at Captain Cicely’s face let me know she didn’t think any more highly of my lacking self-care routine than the rest of the police force.
“Sit down before you fall down, O’Hare.” Captain Cicely pointed to the chair across from her desk. When we were both seated, the captain magically opened one of her desk drawers and pulled out a charmed potion. “Put this in your coffee.”
When I hesitated, she reached across the desk, grabbed my cup, activated the charm, and poured it into my cup before sliding it back to me.
“It’s not a miracle, but it will help with the fatigue.
” Pointing a finger at my chest, the captain became serious.
“This is only a temporary pick-me-up. You need proper sleep, O’Hare.
There’s not a charm in the world that can compensate for a good night’s rest. Do you hear me? ”
I nodded before picking up my mug and downing half in one go.
The potion was tasteless and immediately took effect.
I could feel my brain clearing. The headache I’d been nursing eased and the tension in my shoulders subsided.
“Are you sure it’s not a wonder drug?” I rolled my shoulders, reveling in the ease with which they moved.
“Positive. Now, tell me what’s going on. Becks was beating down my door first thing this morning asking if you were in yet.”
I took a deep breath before regurgitating what happened last night. I included the events of earlier this morning—including Leander Dunn’s phone call.
Captain Cicely’s expression ran the gamut. She was shocked and confused by the possible connection between the female and male dump sites. Those emotions quickly switched to alarmed dismay by the possibility that Huxley was keeping tabs on Leander.
Quiet filled the small office as Captain Cicely took in the information dump I’d just thrown her way.
Leaning back into her too-large chair, Captain Cicely’s eyes took on a faraway look.
I let her stew, knowing my captain would speak when she’d gathered her thoughts.
Captain Cicely didn’t disappoint. She never did.
“Okay. Let’s break this down. First of all, of course you have my permission to bring Necromancer Boone in to interview the male victims. We need to find out if they’re truly murderers themselves or if they are as much a victim as the women who’ve accused them.
Tell Boone not to push himself. Don’t think I didn’t notice how fatigued he was after bringing back the six women’s souls.
” Captain Cicely shook her head. “Boone makes it look so effortless that it’s easy to forget he’s the exception, not the rule, where necromancers are concerned.
“As for the second bit, witches, as a whole, aren’t clairvoyant.
There is precedence. It’s been tried and hasn’t gone well.
” Captain Cicely cringed. “Seeing the future isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
The witches who tried did not remain psychologically stable.
Understandably, that type of magic was outlawed.
I can’t guarantee someone isn’t dabbling, but given past experience, I don’t think they’d remain sane enough to act upon what they see. ”
“Sounds like what happens with oracles.”
“In a way. The difference is that oracles are born that way and don’t have a choice.
Witches know better, and if they fall into that trap, it’s their own doing, and they don’t deserve an ounce of sympathy.
The point is, I can’t see a witch or warlock being responsible.
With that said, I’ll put out some feelers and see if anyone else in my community has any other ideas.
I suggest you speak with Warlock Holland as well. ”
While that wasn’t as daunting of a prospect as it once was, it also wasn’t something I looked forward to. “I’ll try and reach out today.”
“Better you than me.” Captain Cicely spread her hands, her rings flashing in the overhead light. “As for the third issue… I’m afraid I wish I was more useful. Huxley is…”
“I know,” I agreed even though Captain Cicely hadn’t said anything definitive.
Pushing out of my chair, I said, “I’ll contact Boone.
He finally fell asleep about five a.m. I’d like to give him a little more time.
In the meantime, I’ll see if I can start working on getting the dental records of the four names we do have.
You and I both know that the system will want evidence backing up whatever Boone finds out.
” He could bring their souls back and give me the names that matched the bones currently sitting in the morgue, but we’d need to verify those identifications with cold hard facts.
“Let me know what you find. And, O’Hare, I meant what I said about getting some quality rest. You’re no good to anyone when you’re running on fumes. You hear me?” The last was more threat than true question.
“I’ll try.” It was the best I could currently offer.
“Ugh.” I probably shouldn’t find Boone’s scrunched nose as cute as I did.
“This is a very loud and unhappy bunch.” Boone shifted from foot to foot.
I’d finally convinced him to stop wearing his flip-flops into the morgue.
Not that I found his comfy-casual way of dressing truly unprofessional, but the morgue was cold, and Boone chilled easily.
He needed better coverage on his feet. The tattered tennis shoes covering his feet at least hid a pair of warm socks.
I watched Boone reach into his pocket, and the instant easing around his eyes let me know he’d activated one of his pops’s pain charms.
“Thank you for coming in today, Necromancer Boone,” Dr. Stowe politely said.
“Erasmus,” Boone corrected, making Dr. Stowe smile.
“You’d think I’d do a better job dropping the formality considering all the times I tell Detective O’Hare to call me Evelyn.”
Boone released a soft chuckle. “Yeah, don’t hold your breath on that one.”
Dr. Stowe’s answering laughter lightened the mood. “Noted. That would be a terrible reason for another ME to have to write up on my death certificate.” Dr. Stowe’s smile dissipated as she walked toward the tables holding the male victim’s bones. “Dealer’s choice. Where would you like to start?”
Boone looked to me, a single eyebrow raised. “Do you have a preference?”
I started to shake my head in the negative but thought better of it. I pointed toward the remains we thought were Clinton Baxter’s. “How about this one.”
Boone shifted closer. His green eyes lit from within as he tapped into his necromancer powers. Eyes briefly slipping closed, Boone’s head tilted from side to side before he said, “Gotcha. Clinton Timothy Baxter, I call your soul back to your body.”
It was the name I expected so why did Boone’s confirmation make my heart sink like lead?
Baxter’s bones rattled, vibrating as if the earth were shifting. They settled right before his voice became clear. Dr. Stowe and I were both recording.
“What the fuck’s goin’ on? Where the hell am I?” Just a few words and I could already peg Clinton Baxter as an arrogant ass.
Boone cringed. I’d worked enough cases with him, been around when he’d brought souls back, to know that some of them left more than a bad taste.
Boone said the bad ones coated his insides like tenacious tar.
I hated that I was the one inflicting this kind of discomfort on him.
Boone wouldn’t be doing this if not for me.
“Clinton Timothy Baxter, Detective Franklin O’Hare has some questions for you. You will answer honestly.” I felt the push of Boone’s necromancer power when he gave that command.
“And just who are you?” Baxter asked, that same cocky, conceited tone coloring his voice.
Boone smirked. “I’m the necromancer currently holding the future of your soul in his hands. Now, if you’d be so kind, please pay attention and answer Detective O’Hare’s questions.” Boone glanced my way, giving me the go-ahead nod.
I wasn’t certain if I was surprised or not by Baxter’s silence. A lot of bullies folded when confronted with true power.
“Mr. Baxter.” I started off polite and respectful.
“Do you remember what happened to you prior to your death?” Considering Boone had introduced himself as a necromancer, I figured if there were any lingering questions as to the state of his body, Clinton Baxter now understood his earthly existence was over.
The silence continued, and I was concerned Boone would need to push Baxter a little more. Considering that would only deplete Boone’s energy levels faster, I truly hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Thankfully, it wasn’t.
“So I’m really dead?”
Much of Baxter’s earlier bravado vanished. “I’m afraid that’s the case.”
“Fuck.” That word was a little breathless. There was another pause before he asked, “What about Clarissa?”
Everyone in the room perked up. “What do you mean?”
Baxter huffed. “She’s my girl. Does she know? Is she upset?”
Dr. Stowe, Boone, and myself shared a collective look. I considered my next words carefully and decided to push Baxter a little. “I was under the impression that Clarissa broke things off.”
Boone winced and mouthed, “He’s pissed.”
“She’ll come around,” Baxter said. Tension laced those few words, but he carefully concealed the level of rage my question had obviously invoked. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Hmm, that was interesting. Baxter spoke of Clarissa like she was still alive. He also spoke like he was still alive, so I wasn’t certain if it truly meant anything or not.
If Baxter truly didn’t know Clarissa was dead, I didn’t want to risk upsetting him. Doing so would only harm Boone. Instead I asked, “When was the last time you saw Clarissa?”