Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Franklin
While I understood Captain Cicely’s decision, I didn’t have to like it. What I did need to do was not be a complete and total asshole. Determined to act like an adult, I stopped by a local café, filled up on caffeine, and headed to work. I’d gotten a full night’s sleep too. Harrison was right—being exhausted wouldn’t do anyone any good. I needed my A game, and that wasn’t going to happen if I was depriving myself of sleep.
I’d swung by Boone’s late last night before heading home. All his lights had been off. I’d sent a text he hadn’t responded to until about seven this morning. Boone was safe, and according to him, had slept like the dead. He’d apologized for not answering sooner, but he’d been so out of it he hadn’t heard the text alert. I’d figured as much. That hadn’t stopped me from worrying. It also planted the idea in my head that maybe I needed to ask Boone for a key to his place. You know, for safety reasons.
My coffee was three-fourths gone by the time I arrived at my desk. Harrison walked over before I pulled my laptop free.
“You’re here early,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was a little before eight a.m. I was no slouch and was in before most everyone else. I would have arrived sooner except for my café run.
“Only about ten minutes before you,” Harrison said. “The captain’s already in her office. She wants a list of local necromancers.”
My fingers skimmed my coffee cup before I dropped them to my side. “How does she expect us to get that?” It wasn’t that it was a poor idea—far from it. From what we now understood, a necromancer was most likely behind this. It had been Boone’s first thought. Mine too, after learning what he could do. The sticking point was always the same issue—were there even any other necromancers about? And if so, who were they? And even if we knew that, could they do what we were accusing them of? I’d held out hope that it might be another species, but that option looked slim. I still wouldn’t put it past a warlock to be in on the game. We might be looking for a team, not a single offender.
“No idea.” Harrison yanked a nearby chair over and plopped down. As often as she’d been at my desk, I was beginning to think the chair needed to be a permanent resident. “I’ve been racking my brain all night. You got any ideas?”
Following Harrison’s lead, I sat down and unbuttoned my suit jacket. It was already too hot for long sleeves. I just couldn’t seem to break the habit.
I tossed my phone on my desk and stared at the darkened screen. Did I have an idea? I did. Sort of. I wasn’t sure it would pan out and hated to pose the question. That didn’t mean I could be a chickenshit either. Lives were at stake. Boone’s reputation was now at stake too.
“Let me make a phone call.” Before I could think better of it, or consider the time zone differences, I pulled up Nikodemus Holland’s number and hit the call button. The phone rang and rang. I figured it would go to voicemail but at the very last ring, a sleepy voice growled, “What happened to my son?”
Chills raced down my spine. Warlock Holland was still several states and three time zones away. He couldn’t physically harm me from that location. That didn’t stop my heart racing and my blood pounding. Fear is instinctual and mine was fully engaged.
“Boone is fine,” I answered, wondering how true that was and what Holland knew. Had Boone called him last night? Did his father know just how worn-down Boone was, what he’d been accused of, and that the captain had kicked him off the case?
“Then why are you calling me at this Gaia-forsaken hour?”
I cringed. “Apologies. I’m afraid the case is getting to me, and I didn’t consider the time difference.” I shot Harrison a worried glance and she returned it full force. She also mouthed, “Idiot,” and I didn’t have it in me to disagree.
“Fuck,” Holland cursed. “If I truly cared, I would weep for humanity’s endless faults.”
“I can call back later,” I offered, ignoring the dig on my species.
“You have already awakened me. I see no need to repeat the interruption later. What is it you need, detective?”
This definitely wasn’t getting off on the right foot. Clearing the cobwebs and uncertainty from my throat, I said, “You told me that a record of necromancer children isn’t kept in the warlock archives.”
Holland’s sigh was long, low, and full of disdain. “Yes. We have already discussed this.”
I hastened on. “But their mothers are.”
“Yes, yes. Again, we have already discussed this, and I have provided you with the names you required.”
“And I’m very grateful for that.” I swallowed hard, unsure how difficult my next request might be. “Would it be possible to get the names of recent mothers within a specific mile radius of my current location?” This time when I glanced Harrison’s way, she was leaning on the edge of her seat, eyebrows raised and hopeful.
Silence was my answer. I didn’t think the call had been dropped. Holland might have hung up on me, or he might be wrangling every ounce of patience he could muster for a lowly human .
“How large of a radius?”
I hadn’t been expecting that question and did a quick guess, “The state of Mississippi and all surrounding states.” I wasn’t sure how large a number that might be.
Holland’s words were like ground glass. “Timeframe?”
Again, I did some quick math. “I’m not sure how old this necromancer might be. Is there an age when they come into their abilities?”
“That would depend on the necromancer. All show signs when young, but typically they must be in their early teenage years to understand their full potential. Although, I am basing this knowledge solely on my own son.”
A sampling of one wasn’t very large, but it was all I had to go on. “Then anyone who might be that age up to…let’s say ninety.” I didn’t think we had an elderly serial killer, but stranger things had happened.
“And you need this information by…?”
I hunched in on myself. “As soon as possible would be helpful.”
“Of course. Is there anything else, Detective O’Hare?”
I shook my head, even though Holland couldn’t see it. “No. I don’t believe so. Thank you.”
“I would say it is not a problem, but that would be untruthful. I look forward to meeting you in person, Detective.”
The call ended and I was left staring at my fading screen. I was proud to say my fingers only shook slightly as I gently laid my phone down on my desk, staring at it as if it had contracted a deadly disease.
I was still staring at my phone when Harrison asked, “Was that who I think it was?”
“If who you think it was was a scary-ass warlock who’ll probably turn me into the most basic form of life when he meets me, then yeah. That was Nikodemus Holland, Boone’s father.”
“Well, shit.” Harrison leaned back in her chair, arms flopped out beside her and bottom lip hanging open. “Somehow saying, ‘Way to take one for the team’ doesn’t seem adequate.”
I barked out a laugh. “No, but I’ll take it regardless.”
Having only heard one side of the conversation, Harrison asked, “So, they keep an account of the mothers?”
“Apparently.” I cringed thinking of why. “They don’t want another warlock breeding with a human who produced a necromancer child, so they keep an accounting of them.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Not even a little.”
“That’s…I don’t even know what that is.” Harrison dragged a hand through her hair, eyes distant. “I suppose it’s not for me to judge.”
“No, although it’s hard not to. I’ve battled with the knowledge enough. In Holland’s defense, he registered Boone in the warlock archives, claiming him as his son.”
Harrison absently nodded. “Well, I suppose that’s something.” Shaking off her inner thoughts and opinions, Harrison said, “You think Mississippi and surrounding states will be enough? There’s nothing prohibiting travel. Hell, you’re from Illinois.”
“I know, but I couldn’t think of a better option. At least it’s a starting point.”
“A damn broad one, but more than we had a minute ago. Good work, O’Hare.” Harrison rose and slapped me on the shoulder as she walked by.
I continued staring at my phone, wondering if I was incredibly brave, stupid, or desperate. Thinking of myself as brave was far too gracious. Stupid and desperate it was, then.
This time when I picked up my phone, my hands were steady. I shot off a quick text to Boone asking when he expected his father. Morbidly, I wanted to know just how much time I had left before Nikodemus Holland changed my biological makeup. Maybe I should even give Captain Cicely a heads-up. It wasn’t nearly as good as giving six weeks’s notice, but I didn’t want her to wonder why I didn’t show up for work.
Boone texted back, His plane is supposed to land at seven. I expect him at my house by eight . Three little dots showed up before a follow up text arrived. Do you want to have a late dinner with us? The words were followed by a pleading face emoji.
I sagged and texted my doom. Text me when he arrives. I’ll stop by.
Boone gave my text a thumbs-up emoji followed by one blowing a kiss. It was ridiculous how happy that stupid emoji made me.
Shaking my head, I laid my phone to the side and got back to work. Becks was still working on Linus Remington’s computer. I wasn’t certain when she’d have something for me. In the meantime, I pulled up the information Gladys Campion e-mailed regarding the previously unknown branch of Telane Winston’s family. Gladys had done the heavy lifting, sifting through old, dusty, and moldy archives. It was up to me to follow the more recent trail.
I typed in the last known descendant Mrs. Campion came across and hit paydirt straightaway. There might not have been a lot of children, but they’d lived and reproduced. Not all were married, especially recently. Like so many narrow-branched family trees, this one grew thinner and wispier as the decades passed.
Weeding through the family tree—following each branch until they dwindled or until no male children were produced—took most of the day and into the early afternoon. Lunch came and went. I purchased a questionable sandwich from the vending machine, a bag of chips and a soda rounding out my less-than-stellar meal.
My eyes burned. I wasn’t sure how Becks stared at a computer screen all day. Maybe she had some of those special glasses that filtered the light. Not that I’d seen her in glasses—ever. That still didn’t mean she didn’t have them. It wasn’t like I had a camera watching Becks’s every move.
I marked off another name when that particular branch ended with two daughters who were currently far too young to reproduce. I tracked back and followed what appeared to be the remaining branch. This one was tricky. For reasons unknown, two generations back, the son had chosen to change his last name. I was no longer chasing Winstons, but…
McCallisters.
I sat up, staring at the screen. I rubbed my dry eyes and winced instantly. I either needed to blink more often or I needed to beg someone in the office for rewetting drops.
Tapping my pen, I glared at the name. McCallister wasn’t that unusual. Chances were on the side of this particular line having absolutely nothing to do with the doctor darkening our morgue’s doorstep.
Clicking through names, I followed the lineages until…
“Well, I’ll be damned.” It was right there, staring me in the face: Morgan McCallister.
My heart raced and I jumped a mile when Becks dropped a vaguely familiar laptop on the edge of my desk, scooting it forward and pushing my papers aside.
“What are—”
“I need you to look at this. Now.” Becks swung the laptop around so the screen was open and visible.
“Now’s not the best time, Becks,” I said, still reeling from what I’d just figured out. It didn’t have to mean anything. Chances were still heavy that Dr. McCallister had no idea he was distantly related to the young warlock still lying in his morgue. My mind needed time to process. I needed to investigate further. It was probably too early to bring Captain Cicely in on what I’d discovered, but I wasn’t sure. My brain said one thing, but my gut screamed bloody fucking murder.
“Make time,” Becks demanded, pushing the laptop closer and pointing at the screen.
Blinking my eyes against another electronic screen, I asked, “What am I looking at?” It seemed like a shit tone of gibberish with symbols, letters, and strings of words mixed in.
“Text message chat,” Becks answered. “It probably looks weird to you because it’s not in the neat little pop-up bubbles you’re used to. I had to decode some things and get in through a back door. I’ve got the meat of the program, but not the fancied-up, user-friendly version. Ignore the symbols and read the words.”
Becks leaned back, foot tapping while her head swiveled from side to side, looking over her shoulder as if she expected someone nefarious to walk through any second.
“Becks? What’s wrong?” I started to rise. Becks was never this jumpy. She placed her hand on my shoulder and pushed me back in my seat.
“Shut up and read.” She pointed at the screen again.
I held up my hands and said, “Okay. I’m reading.” The screen was blurry. I’d spent way too much time in front of my computer today. Despite the struggle, I focused and with each passing word, my attention zeroed in. There it was, laid out in digital.
“It can’t be,” I whispered.
“That’s what I thought.” When I glanced up, Becks was frantically shaking her head. She leaned in closer, voice low and barely audible. “It’s not crystal clear. I mean, Linus Remington mentions the name Doc and later Morgan . That doesn’t have to be our Dr. Morgan McCallister. I mean, what’s the likelihood? Morgan’s a common name and there are probably a lot of doctors out there with that name.” She swallowed, her the pace of her speech slowing. “Tell me this is just a coincidence, O’Hare.”
Becks’s eyes were large and pleading. I wanted to tell her that’s probably all it was. Most likely that’s exactly what I would have said, except…I had that exact same name written down on a piece of paper Becks had unceremoniously pushed to the side.
My mind tumbled, thoughts passing through too quickly to catch without using a wide net. I was used to thinking quickly, making snap decisions, and going with my gut. While this situation was more volatile than most, I needed to treat it just like any other lead, with one major exception.
“Becks, have you shown this to anyone else?”
She shook her head. “No. Just you.”
“Good.” I bent the laptop, hiding the screen but not turning it off. “I need to speak with Captain Cicely. I don’t want to start any rumors, especially when we don’t know what’s going on. There’s still a good chance that our doc has nothing to do with this.” Yeah, I didn’t believe that for a minute.
“Okay.” Becks looked slightly relieved. “I’m probably jumping to conclusions anyway.”
I reached out and squeezed her wrist. “Trust me, you’re not. You’re being a good police officer. You’ve done your job. Now it’s time for me to do mine. Why don’t you take off for the day?” When Becks started to protest, I held up a hand and said, “I’ll clear it with the captain. She’ll understand.” I didn’t ignore my gut and right now it told me to get Becks out of the line of fire. Currently, we were a knowing party of two, soon to be three. I wanted to keep the numbers small—if Dr. McCallister really was responsible for what had happened to our victims, he was one dangerous asshole.
“I can keep working,” Becks argued. “I—”
“Go home, Becks.” I softened my harsh tone with a smile. “Trust me on this one. If I need anything, you’re just a phone call away.” I grabbed my phone and waggled it her direction for emphasis.
With a loud sigh and sagging shoulders, Becks said, “Okay. But if the captain gets pissed, I’m telling her it was your idea.”
“She won’t get mad and if I’m wrong, I’ll take full responsibility.” It was an easy promise to make and one that finally got Becks moving. She took the laptop with her to lock up in evidence. I didn’t think I’d need it and I didn’t want to take the chance of printing out a hard copy that might wind up in the wind.
When Becks was gone, I headed for Captain Cicely’s office and knocked on the door. I barely waited for her to tell me I could come in. Head down, the captain was skimming through a report.
“What is it, O’Hare? I’ve got a lot of… What’s wrong? You’re as pale as ghost.” Captain Cicely pushed up from her chair, standing and leaning over her desk, the report she’d been intently reading already forgotten.
“We need to talk.”
“Obviously. Have a seat.” She waved toward the chair.
I didn’t move. Maybe I couldn’t move. Either way, I remained standing as I laid my cards on the table. It wasn’t a winning hand. If McCallister really was involved, the jackpot was already forfeit.
Captain Cicely listened and by the time I was finished, her typically dark skin was ashen. That pale tint dissipated when anger seeped in.
“Tell me I’m barking up the wrong tree here,” I practically begged.
She rounded her desk and waved me to follow. “If you are, then I’m about to piss all over that tree.”
Captain Cicely’s office door flew open, no touch necessary. I might be merely human, but even I could feel the power radiating off her in waves. Witches could be like that, but only when they weren’t in control of their emotions or when they were righteously pissed. I’d only seen the captain like this one other time, and the department had wound up having to pay reparations to a couple of surrounding businesses when she went nuclear.
I followed the captain. She might be a lot shorter than me, but her ire quickened her stride and I practically had to run to keep up.
“You might want to tone it down,” I said, taking a chance but knowing we couldn’t go into McCallister’s space with magical guns blazing. “He might not even be involved.”
The captain sent me an annoyed glare, never once breaking stride. “You don’t believe your own bullshit, O’Hare.”
No, I didn’t, but that didn’t change the facts. Risking a trip to the hospital, I grabbed Captain Cicely’s arm and physically pulled her back. She whipped around, hand raised and eyes glowing with power.
I quickstepped back, both hands held aloft. “Let’s say it is him. Neither one of us knows how he’s killing his victims, why he’s killing them, and what he’s doing that damages their souls. We’ve got a dead witch, warlock, and shifter. Maybe a human lowlife too. I’m not thrilled with our chances if he feels cornered, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my soul winding up like the others.”
Captain Cicely blinked and the fire faded from her eyes. Her aura dropped a notch or twelve, down to the level I couldn’t detect. I wasn’t certain about another magic user.
Eyelids slipping closed, she inhaled deeply, several times. When Captain Cicely opened her eyes again, she apologized. “Forgive me. You’re right, O’Hare. Don’t let that fact go to your head, but thanks for reining me in.” Turning her head, Captain Cicely stared down the hall. The morgue was still a distance away.
“Okay. You ready?” she asked.
“As ready as I can be.”
As we continued down the hall, I wondered if I should have called Boone first. It was a morbid thought. It was also telling that if these were my last few minutes within the realm of the living, Boone was my first and last thought. He was the one I wanted to speak to one final time. I wasn’t certain if Nana would be happy about that fact or not.
My palms were sweaty by the time we reached the door to the morgue. I didn’t wait for the captain. I reached forward and pulled it open, entering with the knowledge that we had absolutely no plan. I dutifully followed my captain into the possible lion’s den. Christ, I was an idiot.
“Dr. McCallister?” Captain Cicely called. “Do you have a moment?” Her voice was amazingly calm, cool, and without a hint of accusation.
Silence met Captain Cicely’s query. I walked further into the space and tried, “You in here, Doc?”
Again, there was nothing but the cold comfort of air-conditioning and chemicals.
We shared a look, wordlessly deciding to venture further inside. Together we checked each and every room. Dr. McCallister wasn’t present.
“Is he out on a case?” I asked, wondering if he’d been called to the scene of a crime.
“Not that I’m aware of.” Captain Cicely’s hands fisted on her hips as she took a sweeping look around the space. “He’s gone.” She said those two words with a finality I didn’t like.
Gone , my mind echoed. But gone where? Had McCallister innocently taken off a little early? Was he off doing research somewhere? Had he taken a really late lunch or maybe an early dinner? I didn’t know. The only residents were the dead and since I wasn’t a necromancer, they weren’t talking.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” Captain Cicely said. “Until then, let’s keep this between you and me.”
Of course, Becks knew too, or at least she had the inkling. I didn’t worry about her. She’d remain silent.
“Boone?” I asked.
Captain Cicely shook her head. “Only if it becomes necessary, or when we know more.”
I hated the thought of keeping this from him but I understood, and at the end of the day, it was my job. I leaned my head back, staring at the unforgiving florescent lights. With a groan, I remembered I’d promised to have dinner with Boone and his father. It was already going to be awkward enough but trying to make it through dinner with Nikodemus Holland while keeping this huge secret… Yeah, that was royally going to suck.
Those thoughts stuck with me as I made my way back to my desk. Captain Cicely broke off and closed herself off in her office. I sincerely hoped she was strategizing a game plan. McCallister’s absence quite possibly saved my ass just now. If McCallister really was behind these killings, the man was dangerous. No, not man. Maybe not even necromancer, at least not in the conventional way. Honestly, I had no idea what McCallister was. I had a sneaking suspicion finding out wouldn’t improve our chances.