Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Franklin
I reached a familial dead end in 1977. That was when the last known descendent of Telane Winston had died. The damnable part of the puzzle was that I wasn’t certain that truly was the end of the line. Boone and I’d searched the records until our fingers were numb and our eyes had crossed. We’d never found reference to more than the twins. That didn’t mean there weren’t other children, only that we had no proof. Those records could have easily been lost, or perhaps never kept. Not all of Leo and Catlin’s children stayed in the Ocean Spring area, but I’d been able to track them down through the years. The closer we got to modern times, the easier it became.
Unfortunately, all known roads dwindled down to a single male who’d unexpectedly died in a traffic accident on the icy roads of Michigan.
Tossing my pen onto my desk, it skirted a couple of files before banking off my computer screen and settling behind the keyboard.
Rubbing my dry eyes, I leaned back into my chair and tried concentrating on the case. It should have been easy. It wasn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Boone’s shimmering green ones. I knew what Boone was, but that wasn’t the same as understanding who he was. We lived in an age where an individual’s species immediately defined them. The word pixie brought up a stereotypical image. The same could be said for all the species. Not all of those images were favorable, and I knew all too well what the other species thought of humanity.
“O’Hare!” Captain Cicely’s voice sliced through my silent musings.
My head whipped around so quickly that it would have flown across the room had it not been physically attached.
I started to rise, but the captain’s drawn face and tight posture kept me rooted in my chair. Instinctively, I knew whatever she had to say wouldn’t be good. Unfortunately, the captain didn’t prove me wrong.
“Detective Harrison just contacted me. She’s got a new victim and thinks it might be related to your shredded soul case. Call Harrison and get over to the drop site. While you’re at it, reach out to Boone and see if he can meet you there. We need verification.”
Captain Cicely was halfway back to her office when I asked, “What makes Harrison believe this is related?”
The captain twisted enough for me to see a narrowed eye. “It’s a shifter.”
My finger hovered over Boone’s contact information, ready to hit send when Captain Cicely’s words registered. “We’ve had shifter deaths before. What makes this one different?”
“I’ll let Harrison explain but honestly, once you see the body, I think you’ll understand.” Captain Cicely walked back to her office, shutting the door forcefully.
A few seconds later, my finger descended. Boone answered on the fourth ring.
H eavy clouds loomed overhead. Thunderstorms rolled through the area off and on, leaving rainwater-filled potholes and heavy, damp air in their wake. The scent of rain-soaked urine assaulted my nose when I stepped out of the car. Clogged rain sewers slowly drained the stench, or at least tried to.
Abandoned homes lined the dilapidated street. Overgrown weeds and unattended lawns filled the street’s edges, and cracked and crumbling sidewalks warned bikes away, waiting to trip those who either weren’t paying attention or who were physically impaired. Broken glass bottles and drug paraphernalia completed the neglectful scene, along with a stray cat or two and a barking dog in the distance.
Police cars parked haphazardly along the street. It was doubtful anyone lived here who needed road access. Yellow hazard tape cordoned off one particular house. The house didn’t look any worse or better than those around it.
“Johns,” I greeted as I walked toward the crumbling porch. “Looks like you can’t catch a break either.” I attempted a little levity even though the situation already appeared grim.
“Nope,” he agreed quickly with a congenial grin and a hook of his thumb in the house’s direction. “Harrison’s inside. She told me to usher you in that direction when you showed up.”
I stared at the questionable porch and asked, “Is that thing safe? I’m a little bit bigger than Detective Harrison.”
Officer Johns gave a deep chuckle. “No guarantees but it held me. Just be careful where you step, and fair warning, inside’s not a hell of a lot better. Looks like the roof’s been leaking for ten to fifteen years. There’s a lot of rot and stink. Might want to breathe through your mouth.”
I frowned. It already stank outside, and yet Johns obviously believed it was better than inside. That did not bode well. Then again, finding a body in the middle of a Mississippi summer didn’t indicate sunshine and roses.
“Thanks for the warning,” I answered before carefully climbing the front porch steps. They creaked and groaned but somehow held on. Thankfully, so did the porch.
“Veer right,” Harrison’s voice came from deeper inside the house. “The floor’s more stable there.”
Considering I didn’t want to wind up in the basement or crawlspace, I followed her advice.
“The stairs seem solid but I’d still be careful.” Harrison offered more advice, and this time I could parse she was upstairs.
I followed her drifting tone, passing another officer on her way down the stairs. Her skin was pale and she had a hand held over her nose. I couldn’t really blame her when the scent of decomposition slammed into me, finally overriding the heavy odor of mold and decay.
“Fuck,” I murmured into my coat sleeve. My stomach roiled and only by the grace of many years in homicide did I manage to keep lunch down.
“You sort of get nose blind after a bit,” Harrison said, her voice much stronger now that I was standing inside the doorframe, looking into the room with our latest victim.
“You sure about that?” I asked, moving into the room carefully. I would have asked Harrison to open a window, but considering every window was already broken, I didn’t think that would help a whole hell of a lot.
Despite her words, I noticed Harrison was standing beside one of those broken windows. Considering there wasn’t much of a breeze outside, I wasn’t sure how much it helped. but followed her lead.
“Sorry to haul you out here, O’Hare.” Harrison did sound oddly contrite. “I’ll apologize in advance for subjecting you to this if I’m wrong.”
Funny thing was that Harrison didn’t sound like she expected to offer up more apologies.
“Captain Cicely didn’t tell me much other than that you’ve got a shifter body. What makes you think it might relate to my case?”
Harrison shrugged, her eyes trained on the deceased victim I’d yet to carefully analyze. “Mostly my gut.” She pointed a finger in the victim’s direction. “You ever see one die like that?”
I took a closer look, and what I’d originally chalked up to decomposition took on a different shape. Taking two steps closer to the body only improved my mental image slightly while making the odor ten times worse.
“What am I looking—” Suddenly, the image made sense. Sort of. “Is that a partial shift?” That was the only way the angled limbs, pointed muzzle, and fur mixed with human skin made sense.
“I think so.” Harrison sounded as unsure as her words indicated. “That’s the only thing I can make out is that our victim is some type of mammalian shifter if the fur is anything to go by. The long canines and shape of the snout make me think canine or feline shifter.”
“Shit.”
“Shit indeed,” Harrison backed up my sentiment. “I’m not a shifter expert, but interspecies relations 101 taught me that”—she pointed at the body—“should be impossible.” When shifters die—”
“They revert back to their humanoid shape,” I finished.
“Exactly. So, what the hell caused that?”
I wasn’t certain and remained silent.
“I want to find out what kind of shifter he is before reaching out to anyone. I don’t know if this will cause a panic in the shifter community or not. Right now, I’m not willing to take that bet and thought keeping it on the down-low as long as possible would be best.”
I couldn’t fault Harrison’s logic, but still wasn’t certain if this death connected to my current case. Given the anemic autopsy reports on Mosely and Noland, I asked, “Any obvious cause of death?”
“Hell if I know,” Harrison answered. “But if you’re asking about blood, obvious wounds, and the like, then no, there isn’t. This appears to be a dump site, so no blood doesn’t really rule anything in or out. I’m still waiting on the coroner to get here.”
“Who’s on duty?” I’d never before hoped it wouldn’t be McCallister. I did now, though, and was even more disappointed when Harrison told me that’s who it would be.
“How long ago was he contacted?”
Harrison glanced at her watch and frowned. “Long enough that he should have been here by now.”
Dr. McCallister wasn’t the only one we were waiting on, and soon I heard Boone’s disgruntled voice wafting from downstairs. “Gaia, it smells nauseating in here. Franklin? Where are you? Don’t you dare make me walk through this Gaia-forsaken house to find you. Shit! Did you know there are rats in here?” Despite inquiring about our location, Boone’s voice strengthened as he climbed the stairs. “I don’t mind rats on principle, just when they scare the shit out of me by popping up where I don’t expect them. And here I was feeling sorry for those stray cats I saw outside. They’ve got a veritable feast in here if they’d just put in a little effort. Maybe they’re just lazy,” Boone finished with a grumble.
“Ah, there you are.” Despite the horrid scent, Boone’s face lit up when his gaze landed on me. The sheer relief reflected in his green eyes made my chest puff out and my heart hammer. Boone was happy to see me, but it was more than that. He was relaxed and eased by my presence. I don’t know why, but that meant more to me than just about anything.
“Thanks for coming, Necromancer Boone,” Harrison said, remaining where she was and not offering her hand to shake. At that moment, it struck me as odd that others referred to Boone as Necromancer Boone. No one called me Human O’Hare. Then again, warlocks seemed to like being referred to that way. Witches too. Maybe their species was too intertwined with their work life.
“You okay in there?” Boone tapped my temple. “You seem lost in thought.”
I gently swatted his hand away. “Sorry, just ruminating.”
Boone’s grin relaxed his face and made him look softer. “I understand.” That smile quickly faded as his mouth slipped into a straight line. “I hate to say it, but I think Detective Harrison called this one correctly.” Boone flinched and pulled away. When I reached for him, he waved me off. “I’m fine, just… This one’s lingering energy is loud and just as screwed up as the last two. I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?” I asked.
“Beyond getting a name, I doubt I’ll be much help.”
Harrison answered, “A name will at least give us a start. A name will enable me to figure out what kind of shifter he is and contact his relatives.”
I stepped back from the body, placing more distance between us and heading to the broken window Harrison claimed. “If he’s like the other two, chances are there won’t be too many to notify.”
“Or none,” Boone added.
“Maybe, but at least it will give me a subspecies to track down and ask about the state of the body,” Harrison said.
I think it might have been the first time, but Boone truly stared at the body. I knew the second he figured it out and before he could ask, I said, “That’s what we think too.”
“I didn’t know that was possible.” Boone sounded one part awed and two parts confused. “A partial shift…after they died?”
“That’s our conundrum,” Harrison agreed. “That’s why getting a name and subspecies will be helpful, even if you can’t give us anything else.
Boone inhaled, realized his mistake, and coughed while his skin turned an unhealthy shade of green. “Fuck, that was stupid.”
I didn’t disagree but thought it was more instinct than anything, and instinct was a damnable thing to go against.
“You sure you’re up to this?” I asked. My hand automatically sought Boone out, landing between his shoulder blades and rubbing gentle circles—instinct. “No one will think less of you if you tell us all to go to hell and walk out the door.”
His gentle, grateful smile warmed my chest more than the Mississippi heat. “I think I can handle this. If he really is like all the others, I won’t hold onto his soul long. That should help but at this rate, I don’t think I’ll ever get all my necromancer juice back. We need to stop finding bodies or, at least bodies like this.”
“No argument here.”
He didn’t ask me to, but I followed Boone as he inched closer to the body. My hand stayed where it was, and Boone didn’t try and shake it off.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Crouching, Boone’s eyelids slipped closed. A low hum rattled through his throat before he quietly said, “Gotcha. Linus Remington, it’s time for you to return.” I didn’t remove my hand to write the name down. Harrison would have already noted it and if I didn’t remember, Boone would tell me later.
“Fuck it’s—”
Linus Remington’s jaw cracked and his mouth opened wide, releasing an earsplitting scream into the air. His body convulsed, flopping on the floor. Fur sprouted and receded until Boone yelled, “Release!”
Remington’s body went silent as his flopping limbs dropped back to the rotting floor with an unceremonious thump . Head contorted and mouth still wide open, Remington’s elongated canines were on full display.
Now on his hands and knees, Boone heavily panted. With his head bent and shaggy hair covering his features, I couldn’t see his eyes.
“Boone? Erasmus, are you okay? Do you need me to track down some candy, or—”
“B-back pocket,” Boone managed.
I didn’t think twice and rooted around in Boone’s back pocket until I found a couple of pieces of hard candy. Unwrapping it, I shoved the first piece in front of his downturned face and said, “Here.”
“Thanks.” Boone’s voice was raw, as if he’d been the one screaming.
“Do you want to sit or are you more comfortable like that?” He was still on hands and knees. “I can help you get farther away too. Closer to the window.” I glanced toward the window and got an eyeful of Detective Harrison. The woman was typically made of steel. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her this spooked.
I felt torn but knew where my loyalties lay, and it was with the man kneeling beside me. “Harrison, you okay?” I asked.
“No,” she quickly answered. “No, I’m not, O’Hare. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again. Fucking shit, what the hell was that?” She pointed a finger in the victim’s direction. “Is that what the others have been like?”
I’d already discussed the case with Detective Harrison, but seeing truly was different than hearing it second hand.
“It is,” Boone answered before I could. “It’s exactly like the others, only…he’s a shifter, Franklin.”
Boone’s neck twisted until he could look me in the eyes. “That’s why he’s like that—caught between forms. His soul’s shredded just like the others. The best I can explain, his body is the physical representation of what was done to his essence. The killer ripped him apart on the inside, and since he’s a shifter, his physical form reflects that horror.”
“Christ,” Harrison swore. “This is worse than awful. Who would do something like that?”
Boone moved and made to stand. My hands immediately went to his waist, helping him up. Boone leaned heavily on me as we made our way back to the window. I helped him settle on the windowsill and held out the second piece of unwrapped candy.
“Thanks, Franklin,” Boone said before popping the sweet into his mouth. He sucked on it in silence for a bit until he finally said, “We’re assuming whoever’s doing this is doing it on purpose.”
Harrison and I exchanged a questioning glance before she said gruffly, “Explain.”
Boone didn’t act offended by the harsh tone. “I’m not exactly certain, only… The killer has to be getting something out of this.” Boone waved his hand in the victim’s general direction. “This isn’t something one typically does for shits and giggles.”
“Not everyone has your moral code,” Harrison said, and I reluctantly agreed. The world would be a much better place if Erasmus Boone’s moral compass led the way.
“No, I know that. All I’m saying is that the killer’s gone through a lot of effort. They buried the first body in someone else’s grave, dumped the second into a lake, and hauled this one into an abandoned house in a crime-riddled neighborhood. That’s a lot of effort to go to if they aren’t getting something out of it.”
“Something beyond sick emotional gratification,” I pondered.
“Exactly,” Boone agreed. “I said their souls feel shredded and I hold to that, but you could describe it other ways, like the fabric analogy I gave you the other day.”
“The fabric analogy?” Harrison asked. Boone quickly gave her the rundown. Her eyes slowly widened with understanding. “So, what you’re saying is that the killer is taking something from the victims?”
Boone shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just throwing a theory out there. I think we’d have to know who the killer is and what they’re after to know that for certain. What I can tell you is that who we are, who everyone is, is tightly intertwined with our souls. The physical, emotional, magical—all of it’s connected. If you take one part away, then—”
“You take other parts too,” I finished, and Boone nodded.
Silence filled the room as Harrison and I contemplated Boone’s idea. It made sense, and yet I wasn’t sure how that helped us find our killer.
“Careful, doc. The floor’s falling apart.” Johns’s warning indicated Dr. McCallister had finally arrived.
“Thank you, but I believe I’ll be fine,” McCallister argued back. His footfalls sounded heavier than I’d expect for a man his size as he climbed the stairs. He’d just reached the doorway when a loud crack echoed through the space.
Instinct made me lunge for the door even though I didn’t have a prayer of reaching it before McCallister fell through.
With surprising agility and speed, McCallister hopped to the side, avoiding injury. He stared at the hole and the piece of flooring now lying on the level below.
“Are you okay, Doc?” Harrison asked, pushing past me and hurrying to the doctor’s side. “The whole place is rotten. We’ve all walked over that spot. It must have been weaker than we thought and all our activity stressed it further.” Harrison grinned and released a tension-laced laugh. “Excellent reflexes though, Doc. I’m not sure I would have been that quick.”
McCallister blinked before his finger tried to push up a nonexistent pair of glasses. Clearing his throat, McCallister said, “Yes, well, I’ve been taking some classes, and…” His chin raised and his nose twitched before the color drained from his face.
Harrison’s eyes flew wide, the signs clear. Quickly pushing the coroner back into the hall, Harrison managed to avoid the new hole while getting McCallister as far from the crime scene as possible. Boone and I cringed when we heard the sound of McCallister’s retching.
“Puking is the worst,” Boone said, voice hushed.
I didn’t disagree, but I was unsettled. I’d been to dozens of crime scenes with McCallister, several fouler smelling than this, and I’d never seen him toss his cookies. Maybe he’d contracted a stomach bug.
I couldn’t make out Harrison’s comforting words, only their soft cadence. I was staring at the doorway when Boone jumped and said, “Gaia, I need to put a bell on you.”
My head whipped around and my lips parted while my hand automatically went to my service weapon. In one swift move I reached around Boone and shoved his body behind me. I had the business end of my gun levered on the strange creature with glowing, Caribbean-blue eyes before she could blink. I didn’t know who or what this was, but they weren’t getting near Boone.