Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Franklin
“What’s the matter?” Captain Cicely asked as she walked by my desk. I had my head tilted back and was staring at the ceiling.
“Harvest Day,” I lamented. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I groaned.
“It’s a wonderful day,” Captain Cicely defended. “We’ll be down to skeleton staff tomorrow and rotating people through so everyone gets a chance to spend time with their loved ones and give thanks for all the blessings in our lives.”
I knew enough to realize Harvest Day wasn’t the most sacred Wiccan holiday, but it was right up there.
“No, I know. And I like Harvest Day. It’s just…” I was one of the people working tomorrow, but as Captain Cicely said, she was rotating us through so everyone got time off. I’d have more than enough opportunity to make it to Boone’s. Originally, we were supposed to go to Momma Boone’s house, but her stove was acting up and while nearly everything was being purchased pre-made, it did require reheating. Boone had offered up his house and oven. He’d even invited his neighbor, Calista Hart.
Mrs. Hart didn’t have any children, but she did have friends. Lots of friends, and already had plans. Erasmus offered to go over and let Miss Pattycakes out while Mrs. Hart was gone and she jumped all over that offer. I silently hoped Boone would ask his pops to go over and take care of the dog. Then again, Miss Pattycakes might not survive the encounter and I’d hate to do that to poor Mrs. Hart.
“You spending your time off with Boone?” Captain Cicely asked.
“Yeah, and if it was just him and his momma, then all would be well.”
Captain Cicely laughed, drawing Becks’s attention. She came sauntering over, a curious grin lighting her face.
“What’s up?” Becks asked.
Captain Cicely hooked a thumb my direction. “I’m not certain, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess Warlock Holland is coming to town.”
“Jesus, you make it sound like he’s Santa Clause,” Becks said. I shivered at the thought.
“No. I mean, yes, Holland is coming. Boone’s momma is picking him up at the airport today.”
“That sucks, man.” Becks walked over and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder while setting a folder down on my desk. “That’s what I could find on Leander Dun and his human mother, Roberta.” With a squeeze to my shoulder, Becks walked away while mumbling, “And I thought my in-laws were scary.”
“It’ll be fine,” Captain Cicely offered. “Boone loves you. It’s like surrounding you in a protective shield where Holland is concerned.”
I huffed while picturing the imagery. Scooting away from my desk, I peeked around Captain Cicely, making certain we were truly alone. Keeping my voice low, I said, “It’s not just Holland. Lydia Boone invited Aurelia too.”
Captain Cicely’s complexation turned instantly ashen. “The dj—”
“The one and only. That we know of. Hopefully,” I added.
“Gaia,” the captain wheezed. “I don’t even know what to say about that or even think. All I can say for sure is that I’m glad I’m not you. I don’t think I could sit in the same room, let alone share a meal with…”
Considering Captain Cicely was a witch and encompassed all things Aurelia hated, I thought the feeling was most likely mutual.
“Do you think she’ll show?” Captain Cicely asked.
I shrugged. “With Aurelia you never know. You also never know when she’s going to leave or what she’ll do.” I ran a hand over my chin as I remembered what Boone told me about her last visit. “Or who’ll she’ll bring.”
Captain Cicely’s eyebrow shot skyward. “I doubt it’s what you’re thinking. Aurelia’s current master is convinced having a pet to care for is good for her. From what I understand, currently, that pet is a hamster.”
With a slow blink, Captain Cicely stared into a far-off corner before she simply turned and walked away. I could relate. Sometimes, there simply were no words.
Pushing Harvest Day out of my thoughts, I reached for the file Becks left on my desk. Considering Leander should be in his late twenties, the file was sparse. Then again, I was used to looking into people who broke the law on the regular and had a larger digital presence. It didn’t appear that Leander fit that profile.
Skimming through the information didn’t take long. Leander Dun graduated from high school and went to a trade school for computer training. It looked like he earned his degree and then…nothing. It was like the man simply dropped off the face of the earth. As for his mother, Roberta, there was plenty more. The woman took to social media like a fish to water. But, just as we’d earlier surmised, there was absolutely no mention of her son, Leander. There were mentions of other children—three daughters and one other son. Their pictures peppered Roberta’s social media sites. The youngest was still in high school. It also looked like Roberta had married and her last name was now Trafalgar. Boone hadn’t told me that. I wasn’t sure if he was aware or if it simply slipped his mind. Finding Roberta’s marriage records wouldn’t have been difficult.
The last address listed for Leander was when he was going to trade school. He’d rented an apartment outside Montgomery, Alabama. I wasn’t certain if he was still in the area or not. It was going to take a little more digging to find out.
Closing the file, I tapped my pen on the edge and considered my options. Becks had already run down the Dun name. What about Trafalgar?
Wheeling closer to my desk, I woke up my sleeping computer and got busy. There was no one going by the name of Leander Trafalgar, so that was a bust. I checked the database for land or homes owned by Roberta or her husband, Davis Trafalgar and hit possible pay dirt. The Trafalgars owned three properties. One appeared to be their current residence; the second was a condo in Panama City, Florida; and the third was the odd one. Twenty-three acres of wooded property in West Central Alabama. The surrounding towns were sparse. A river ran through a portion of the property, and it abutted the edge of a lake. No structures were listed on the property, but twenty-three acres was a lot of land and state officials didn’t get out and monitor areas like they intended.
“You plan on spending the night?” Becks asked as she walked by. Becks had her computer shut down, her coat on, and her laptop stowed and across her shoulder before I could answer.
I checked the time and noted that it had gone past seven. With a groan, I followed Becks’s example. “Hadn’t planned on it.” I was still working on the domestic homicide case. The autopsy was due back any day now. I didn’t expect too many surprises. I was awaiting a warrant to give me access to Mrs. DeVane’s medical records. If there was a history of abuse that had been bad enough to seek medical attention, those records would go a long way to reducing her sentence. If she’d gone to several different hospitals for treatment, that would indicate a familiar pattern victims of domestic abuse often favored. Again, that would help Mrs. DeVane’s case. If there was nothing, then the DeVane case would get a lot more interesting.
Standing, I cracked my back, sighing at the relief and followed Becks’s pathway to the door. I sent Boone a quick text letting him know I was on my way home. There was no question where I’d spend the night. It was stranger for me to go back to my condo. Boone had only slept over at my place a handful of times. His home was…well…homier. It was also protected better than Fort Knox. Warlock Holland made certain of that. It just made more sense staying at Boone’s place.
The air was damp when I walked out of the station. A fine mist hung heavy in the dark air, reminding me of days spent in Chicago. The dampness made it feel colder than it truly was. Not near enough to turn the mist into sleet or snow, but bone chilling all on its own.
Traffic was low and it took me less than fifteen minutes to make it to Boone’s house. I felt the power of Holland’s protective charms roll over me as I pulled into the driveway. They were far more welcoming than the man himself.
I released a heavy sigh while walking up the steps. Boone and I had another night together before his father arrived. Holland would either stay with Lydia tonight or get his own place. Past experience told me he’d stay with Boone’s momma. While Holland and Boone’s momma might not be romantically involved, they retained a congenial relationship and were still friendly. They did a far better job of co-parenting than most parents I knew.
Boone greeted me at the door, the scent of chicken noodle soup heating on the stove adding a layer of warmth to the dreary evening. I sank into his embrace as I dropped my laptop case on the floor.
“I’ve got dinner warming on the stove,” Boone said after peppering my cheek with kisses.
“Chicken noodle,” I said. “Smells delicious.” I didn’t ask Boone if he made it. I knew my necromancer and cooking wasn’t in his wheelhouse. It wasn’t in mine either so I could hardly judge.
“I stopped by the grocery on the way home,” Boone said as he walked into the kitchen, picked up a wooden spoon, and stirred the soup. “I picked up a loaf of French bread also. Could you get the butter out of the fridge and get the table set up?”
I moved around Boone’s home as if it were my own. Given how many days and nights I’d spent here, I had the kitchen layout memorized and it didn’t take me long to get the plates, soup bowls, and glasses. I poured Boone a glass of sweet tea and a glass of water for myself. Boone dished out the soup, cut up the bread, and we both sat down.
The soup wasn’t as good as my nana’s, but not much was. It still tasted fantastic. “This is great,” I said between spoonfuls.
“I thought it would be a nice change from pizza and burgers. Also, the weather made me think of the soup.”
I nodded while lifting another spoonful to my lips. Cold was a matter of opinion. While Northerners wouldn’t think it was cold outside, for the area, it was chilly.
Boone and I demolished the French bread and each of us drank another glass of our given beverage. When my appetite was sated, I leaned back and told Boone what I’d found out regarding Leander Dun.
“I think the acreage listed under Trafalgar’s name might be a place to start,” I said. “What do you think?”
Leaning into his chair, Boone’s hands rested on his belly. His hair really was getting too long to probably be comfortable. He kept pushing it off his forehead, but it had a mind of its own and fell back over his eyes.
“I think I agree with you. If history is anything to go by, necromancers who survive into adulthood generally find someplace to hunker down and hide from the world. Twenty-three acres of untouched forest in a sparsely populated area would be a good place to do that.”
“It would,” I agreed. “Assuming Leander is on that land, I’m not sure how we’ll find him. It’s a lot of area to cover.”
“True, but there has to be a road or something leading into the area.”
I thought back to the map I’d briefly examined and shook my head. “Maybe. I didn’t study the area close enough. Maybe we can do that tonight or tomorrow.”
Boone’s grin lit up his face. “I’m not sure how much time we’ll have tomorrow, what with it being Harvest Day and all.”
I worked hard to keep my face neutral. “I have to go into the precinct in the morning. Barring any major catastrophes, I should be back in time for a late lunch.” While I never wanted anyone to be murdered, I wouldn’t lie and say I’d be upset if I couldn’t make it back for lunch.
Boone’s knowing chuckle filled the room and warmed my heart. Reaching across the table, Boone gave me his hand and I easily linked my fingers with his. “Oh baby, you don’t have to pretend with me. I love Pops and I love you for trying to make nice with him. That doesn’t mean I’m blind to how he is or how difficult spending time with him can be for you. Have I told you recently how much I appreciate you?” Boone cocked his head to the side, his grin promising a whole lot of appreciation headed my way.
Clearing my throat, my cheeks flushed with warm anticipation. “You tell me all the time, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”
Slowly getting up, Boone stood and sauntered toward me. Going down on his knees, Boone worked his way between my spread legs, his hands moving up and down my thighs. My breath caught. Boone was beautiful. In every way someone could be beautiful, Boone was absolutely stunning.
Boone peeked up at me through a curtain of lush, dark hair. “Oh, baby, talking is so overrated. Sometimes, actions really do speak louder than words.”
And just like that, all my words escaped me as Boone reached for my zipper, freeing my heavy, thick cock. The look on his face before he engulfed me was something I knew I’d mentally relive time and time again.