Chapter 28
“Remember I told you that some believe King Lycaon became a malicious spirit? Well, others believe the wolf spirit is a demonic force that can be summoned with a sacrifice and an incantation. Three sacrifices, to be specific. All under the full moon and all must be carried out by hand. Living flesh must be consumed. When the incantation is made, and the sacrifices complete, the wolf spirit will enter the person, conveying the power of transformation and immortality.”
My skeptical gaze persisted.
“I didn’t say I believed in that kind of stuff. I’m just telling you the legend.”
“Let me guess, you have the incantation?”
Taryn nodded. “A colleague sent me the ancient scroll for safekeeping. I think that’s what they are after. I think this is all related. Whoever is doing this is trying to become a werewolf.”
That hung there for a moment.
Jack’s face wrinkled. “Why would anyone in their right mind want something like that?”
“Key word is right mind,” I muttered.
“The person doing this believes they will inherit incredible power,” Taryn said.
“It’s intoxicating. Some people who live ordinary lives crave what they will never have—power.
Whoever is doing this obviously has deep-seated psychological issues.
You’re looking for an outcast. Someone who doesn’t fit in.
Someone who has likely always been picked on.
Someone who is trying to assert themselves now. ”
“Gee, do you know anybody like that?” I asked, my voice drenched in sarcasm.
She shrank sheepishly. “Look, my friend who sent this died shortly thereafter. This scroll and incantation is highly sought after in certain circles.”
Taryn was still in denial.
“Who fits the profile? Who knows you have the incantation? Which one of your students?”
“It’s against the law for me to give you information about students,” she said, tormented with inner conflict.
“I’m going to make you ride along with us when we have to make another death notification to a grieving family.”
Taryn cringed.
“Write the names of likely students down and leave it on your desk. Then go down the hall to the bathroom.”
She hesitated a moment, then did as I asked. When she was finished, she stood up from her messy desk, walked around, and moved to the door. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to go powder my nose.”
Taryn slipped out of the door. Her heels clattered against the tile as she walked away.
JD and I shared a triumphant look before I snatched the paper from her desk. We looked it over, then I folded it and stuffed it into my pocket.
Taryn returned a few moments later.
I smiled innocently.
“So what happens now?”
"I'll get the forensic team out here to dust for prints.”
"Oh, so now you’ll have the team come out,” she snarked.
I gave her a flat look. "Is there anyone else that has a key to this office?"
"No.”
"The janitor? Building management? Administration?"
"Sure, I guess.”
"My guess is somebody picked the lock," JD said.
"We'll check with the building staff," I said.
"How are you going to handle the students?"
I feigned ignorance. "What students?” I followed with a wink.
I told her we’d be in touch, then contacted the administration building, got the names of the custodial staff, and interviewed them.
Rodney was a 62-year-old guy with a bushy gray mustache and balding hair. Skinny and frail, he didn't look like the type of guy attacking young girls on the beach in a werewolf suit. But stranger things had been known to happen.
After we wrapped up on campus, we hurried back to the Founder’s Court, getting soaked in the process. The rain came down heavily, and the storm rumbled. We hopped into the Porsche and drove back to Diver Down.
Back at the Avventura, I changed into some dry clothes, mixed a cocktail, and chilled out for the rest of the evening. It rained all through the night, lightning flashing, thunder booming.
I slept in the next morning to the soothing patter of rain. I grabbed the remote from the nightstand and clicked on the TV. The weather report said Tilda had stalled, and we’d likely get dumped on for the next day or so.
After a shower, I headed down to the galley to start breakfast.
Daniels called as coffee percolated. "Expedited DNA came back. The blood found in Carolyn's car is a match for her sister Hannah.”
"Good luck finding her at this point.”
"I put out an international warrant," Daniels said.
"Harbor patrol said she was headed into the gulf.
My guess is she's going to try to make it to Mexico.
I've notified the authorities at some of the harbor towns.
She might try to slip in somewhere that's less regulated. But you know how it is. A little money goes a long way down there.”
"I'll get my people on it," I said.
"Coast Guard is not going to pursue this until the weather clears.
"If she's out there, she's in the thick of it and on her own.
If you ask me, she's a first-class asshole, putting the life of her unborn child at risk. Then again, someone who’s willing to stab her sister doesn't have a whole lot of scruples.”
I chatted with the sheriff for a bit, then rousted JD out of bed for breakfast. We chowed down at the breakfast nook, then pulled ourselves together for the day. I grabbed an umbrella, and we hustled down the dock to the Porsche and set out to interview some of Taryn’s students.
First on the list was Rafe Wexler. He lived just off campus in the Laguna Vista apartments. The wipers swished back and forth, clearing sheets of rain. Headlights reflected on the slick asphalt. The tapping of rain pattered the roof.
The traffic had thinned for the moment. I'm sure the storm had put a damper on the party last night, but as soon as the weather cleared, the island would be back to full steam ahead.
We parked at the curb and hustled to a pedestrian gate. A wrought iron fence surrounded the property. The complex was a hive of three-story units with stucco siding and red tile roofs. On a sunny weekend, there were always parties to be found around the pool.
From the call box, I buzzed a few people until somebody let us in.
JD and I hurried down the walkway through the maze of buildings to building C.
We climbed the switchback staircase to the third floor and banged on unit #301.
At this hour of the morning, I'm sure Rafe was home unless he spent the night out.
That set off a barking dog. It growled and snarled.
I banged another heavy fist.
After several minutes of doing that, footsteps stomped across the living room.
The door jerked open.
Rafe glared at us with sleepy eyes and a face still marked from the pillow. He held a beautiful Siberian Husky by the collar, keeping it from pouncing. The animal had mesmerizing ice-blue eyes. "What the fuck do you want?"
At 6 foot two and well built, Rafe had the physical qualities to pull off the murders.
I flashed my badge and made introductions.
His nervous eyes flicked between the two of us. "What's this about?”