Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Franklin
I crouched by the body. The victim was a barely twenty-year-old male. Track marks littered what I could see of his arms. I’d bet a year’s worth of salary there were needle marks on other parts of his body also. The ME would let me know in the autopsy report. Regardless of the obvious drug use, an overdose wasn’t what killed him. That would be the hole in the side of his head.
“Who’s our victim?” I asked Johns.
“Currently a John Doe. No ID on him. Human by his looks, although I suppose he could be a were of some kind,” Johns answered.
Weres reverted to their humanoid shape when deceased. There were, however, telltale signs on the autopsy. If they guy was anything but human, then we’d contact the representative of his were community for guidance. Most other species wanted to at least consult with the human police department involved. Many times they took the case over outright. Human law enforcement rarely raised a stink if that happened.
Standing, my knees popped. I wasn’t as young and agile as I used to be. “Any witnesses?”
“None that I can find. Or more to the point, none that are willing to talk.” Johns was more resigned than irritated. We were in a shitty part of town, and the local community wasn’t overly trusting of the boys and girls in blue.
Hands on my hips, I pushed my jacket back. We’d had peeks of sun today, driving away the misty fog that had been hanging on for the past week. The break wasn’t expected to last long, but I’d take it and the warmer temps while they lasted.
With Harvest Day over, the human Christmas season was in full swing. Looking around the dilapidated neighborhood our John Doe had died in, you’d never be able to tell. Christmas had taken a hop, skip, and jump right over the broken windows and fractured homes.
“You think it’s drug related?” Johns asked. Pointing a pen toward the body, he added, “Pretty clear he was a junkie.”
I agreed. I’d seen enough overdoses during my years in homicide and before as a beat cop that I easily recognized the signs. It was also obvious that a lot of the marks were fresh. This wasn’t some guy who’d died clean.
“Could be, but we can’t automatically make that assumption,” I answered.
The crime scene techs arrived about ten minutes before the ME, Dr. Evelyn Stowe.
“Good morning, Detective O’Hare,” Dr. Stowe happily greeted. Dr. Stowe nearly always had a smile and pleasant word. I found it amazing given her chosen profession. I didn’t think she especially enjoyed finding a murdered human, but what I did think was that Dr. Stowe was an optimistic person at heart.
“Good morning, Dr. Stowe.” I absolutely refused to call her Evelyn like she’d told me I could on numerous occasions. We discussed the scene. It didn’t take long, and I left Dr. Stowe to her job. “Let me know if you get an ID.”
“You know it,” Dr. Stowe congenially replied with an odd little two finger salute.
I always had an ace up my sleeve if we couldn’t ID the victim. Having Boone as my boyfriend had its perks. Thinking of Boone, my phone dinged with his distinctive text message sound.
Pulling out my phone, I checked the message. Heard from the Warlock Council. They just e-mailed me the list of names.
I inhaled, trying to still my unease. I wasn’t sure why I felt that way. This was what Boone wanted, what we needed. Still, it was the start of something big. Something I wasn’t sure about. It wasn’t that I disagreed with Boone or that I didn’t think something should be done. I simply wasn’t sure what this mission would do to Boone. It would take a toll, of that I was certain. I simply didn’t know how big of a chunk of his soul it would consume.
Typing back, I asked, The Director of the Warlock Council?
Boone sent an exasperated emoji and wrote, Of course not. No idea who the warlock is that sent it. Pops might know them.
I considered that and sent back, Might be a good idea to ask. Make sure it’s legit.
On it, Boone quickly replied.
If I felt more comfortable about Huxley, I would have told Boone to contact him. The slight was obvious. The damn director of the Warlock Council should have been the one to initiate contact. Fuckers were beginning to really piss me off.
Remembering my latest victim, I texted, Might have a body I need ID on.
No problem. You want me to come to the precinct?
Not yet. Let’s see what the ME can tell us. Depending on the soul, bringing one back from beyond the veil could be taxing on Boone. He’d told me multiple times that it wasn’t bad and bringing one back here and there was nothing for him. Still, I didn’t want to take advantage, not that Boone would see it that way.
Just let me know. Love you. Boone added three heart emojis. I typed back, Five , and added an x plus the number two.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I headed to my vehicle. There wasn’t a lot more I could do here. If the local population didn’t want to speak with Johns, then they sure as shit weren’t about to speak with me. Work smarter, not harder. It was a lesson Tompkins had instilled into me. It was also a lesson I’d had to learn on my own. Sometimes the hardest thing to do was just stand there, doing nothing. That was something Captain Tompkins used to say— Don’t just do something, stand there . I’d been confused as hell the first time he’d said those words to me. Now I understood them perfectly.
My brain whirled and spun as I drove back to the precinct. I’d heard from the prosecution regarding the DeVane domestic case. To no one’s great surprise, Cecilia DeVane’s lawyer put in a plea of self-defense. So far, the prosecution wasn’t fighting it. I easily agreed with their decision, not that it was my business. My job was investigation, not prosecution. I considered that a small mercy. I had never aspired to be a lawyer.
My brain spun back to my previous captain, Shane Tompkins. I’d kept in touch or, at least, was trying to keep in touch. Sometimes it was a one-way communication street. I got it. His niece’s actions destroyed something inside Tompkins’s soul. That type of betrayal wasn’t something you simply placed in your rearview mirror and kept about your merry way. It hurt and it would continue hurting until the day Tompkins died. According to Boone, maybe longer. While it was true that you couldn’t take your wealth with you, evidently you could take your pain, anger, and whatever other emotions were weighing you down or lifting you up.
The older I got, the more I tried looking at situations with more perspective. I used to be more reactive. Depending on the situation, I still was. It was a rare human who wasn’t. What I was slowly learning was letting things go. I wasn’t a fairy and couldn’t solve the world’s problems like their queen. What I could do was try and take care of my backyard. While my sister, Lynn, didn’t live near me and technically didn’t fit into that category, she was family. While I’d spoken with Nana numerous times since our trip to Chicago, I’d avoided calling my sister. My older brother, Erik, and my younger one, Evan, told me not to worry about Lynn, that she’d come around and realize her idiocy regarding Boone. I wasn’t so certain. Lynn’s husband Glen was a toxic piece of shit. I hated to think what kind of poison he was planting in my nieces’ heads.
Leaning my head against the backrest, I reached up and massaged the growing kink in my neck. Life was too damn short to be at odds with those you cared about. Prejudiced hate was a stupid waste of time.
I made a mental note to try and reach out to Lynn. My efforts probably wouldn’t bear fruit, but I’d be angrier at myself for not trying than whatever nonsense Lynn said about Boone.
I pulled into the precinct as I made that decision. Calling Lynn would need to wait until after work. I waved and nodded at a few officers and office workers as they drifted in and out of the building. Becks was busy at her computer when I walked by. She looked engrossed in whatever she was tracking down, so I kept my greeting to myself and kept going until I reached Captain Cicely’s cracked open door.
Leaning against the door frame, I asked, “Have you got a minute?”
“Gaia yes. I’ve been staring at this damn screen far too long. What’s on your mind, O’Hare?”
Captain Loretta Cicely was a petite woman. Her chair and desk swamped her body, but not her spirit or personality. Like every other witch I knew, Captain Cicely’s fingers were covered in rings while charm-laden necklaces hung from her neck. Charmed bracelets encircled her dark skin and glinted in the overhead lighting. The tinkling sound of metal and crystalline gemstones always preceded Captain Cicely. It was a sound I found musical and soothing.
A deep sigh escaped me when I heavily sat on the wooden chair across from her desk.
“That bad?” she questioned, a single eyebrow lifting.
“I’m not sure.”
“Is it about the homicide you just came from?” Captain Cicely rested her forearms on her desk, her fingers interlaced and rings clinking.
“No. At least not yet. Not enough information. As of this point, we don’t even have an ID. I don’t need the coroner’s report to tell you it’s most likely a homicide. Our John Doe didn’t die from an overdose. Gunshot wound to the head. No gun found near the body so doesn’t look like suicide, although given the neighborhood, someone could have snatched the gun. The angle of entry, GSR, and burn around the entry wound should give us more information. Dr. Stowe was already on scene when I left.”
Captain Cicely relaxed and leaned back into her chair. “Sounds like the typical hurry-up-and-wait scenario.”
I couldn’t disagree and nodded.
“So, if it’s not about the case, then what brings you to my little corner of the building?”
“Boone.”
“Ah. What has our favorite necromancer gotten himself into this time?”
A grin tilted my lips. It was like saying your only child was your favorite offspring. “I got a text from him earlier. He heard from the Warlock Council. They’re sending the list of necromancer mothers’ names.”
This time, both of Captain Cicely’s eyebrows rose. “Are they now? That’s surprising. What changed their minds?”
I started to tell Captain Cicely about Tenzen Huxley, but something stopped me. It wasn’t lack of trust because I trusted the witch in front of me with my life and Boone’s. It was something else I couldn’t identify and yet couldn’t ignore. Call it a gut feeling but I figured the fewer individuals who know of Huxley’s involvement, the better. Possibly better for them.
“It’s a long story.” The captain gave me a look that clearly called bullshit, but I ignored it. “I’m worried.”
“About?”
“Boone. More specifically, what this will do to him. We only looked through the names in the surrounding states and three out of four necromancers were already dead. That doesn’t bode well for the rest of the country or…” I let my voice trail off, unwilling to consider all the necromancers around the world.
“I see.” Captain Cicely’s fingers tapped along the armrests of her chair. “It will certainly be emotionally taxing.”
“To say the least.” I slouched within the uncomfortable chair, absently staring at a spot on Captain Cicely’s desk.
“Well then, I’d say it’s a good thing he has a handsome, loving man to hold him through the tough times.” The captain smirked when my head snapped up, my eyes wide. “Don’t look so surprised, O’Hare. I know you love that man, and the feeling is obviously mutual. You work in homicide. You know better than anyone that life is sometimes shit. You have horrid days just like I do. We learn to bottle that shit up and pressure inevitably builds until the cork flies off the bottle and we drench everyone in our rotting, stinking vitriol.” Leaning forward again, the captain’s gaze was laser focused on me. “That’s what the ones who love and care for us are there for.”
“To take our shit?” I choked on a grunt.
“Sometimes.” The captain nodded. “They’re there because they want to be, because they know that’s not who we want to be, because they know that we don’t mean to hurt them and they’re willing to take the hit because they love us. In spite of our flaws, in spite of the hurt we cause them, because we also know how to love and care for them in return. It’s a two-way street, and thank Gaia for that small mercy. I don’t know what I’d do without my coven. My sisters are there to help celebrate my victories and hold me up through the failures. That’s life,” she said with a shrug. “We navigate it the best we can, and sailing through rough seas is so much easier with multiple hands on the oars.”
“So you’re saying I need to get busy rowing?”
“You’ve got strong shoulders, O’Hare. I knew that the day I hired you. Boone’s lucky to have you, and if I’m not mistaken, he has others as well. His momma and, Gaia help us, his father.” Captain Cicely’s nose scrunched at the mention of Warlock Holland. There wasn’t a lot of love lost between warlocks and witches.
I considered the captain’s words and said, “He’s got more than that.” I thought of his neighbor, Calista Hart and her dog, Miss Pattycakes. Many of my co-workers also had Boone’s back as well. I still wasn’t certain about the hodgepodge of individuals living on the East Coast. Peaches seemed friendly and, in his own way, so did King Moony. There were others Boone spoke fondly of as well.
And then there was Aurelia. God help us, I had no idea where she figured into things.
“And there you have it. You’re not alone in this. Boone has a good support network and most likely, he’s going to need it. You’ll be there for him and if you need extra help from me, then all you need to do is ask. What Boone’s trying to do is important. You’ve got the support of the precinct. Obviously, we’ll need to focus on current cases and I won’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to. It will be on a volunteer basis, but I’ll put the word out and if anyone wants to help weed through the list, then they are welcome to do so.”
My mouth slipped open, words absent. I was at a loss.
“Good thing it’s not summer or you’d catch a lot of flies with that open mouth, O’Hare.” Captain Cicely smirked before waving a hand toward the door. “Go on. Thank you for allowing me to rest my eyes from this damn monitor.” The captain looked at her computer with a lot of loathing.
Standing, I finally answered, “Thank you, Captain. I don’t know—”
“Save it, O’Hare. No thanks needed.”
I started to leave, but the captain stopped me by saying, “If you really want to help me out, get a ring on Boone’s finger by Valentine’s Day. That’s my date in the office pool.”
I choked on a gasp. “There’s a pool about when… I haven’t even decided if I’m going to propose yet. I don’t know if Boone would—”
“Oh, please. You’re smarter than that. Boone will jump your bones when you propose. Notice I said when not if . Get your head out of your ass and buy a damn ring or whatever the hell necromancers want when they get hitched. Now, close the door on your way out.”
I don’t remember actually closing the door or the walk to my desk. My face alternated between complete shock and a grin so broad it hurt my cheeks. The next thing I knew I was at my desk, staring at a blank computer screen with thoughts of what type of ring Boone might like running through my mind.