Chapter 11 #2
That’s not normal any way you look at it.
If they were in the creek or even on the shore…
yeah, I might consider it. But that was before the officer said the creek was shallow and a popular swimming spot in the small town because—get this—the water was unseasonably warm for June thanks to an early spring.
The autopsies were done yesterday, and it took another phone call to the medical examiner to get the reports sent over.
I tap my fingers on my desk, waiting for the files to pop up on my computer. As soon as they’re there, I’m printing them and hightailing it out of here before I run into someone else I’ll have to lie to. And if anyone sees me printing these files…
The details of my parents’ murder are known to a few people around the station. No one brings it up or anything like that, but when the truth gets out that my parents were murdered and the case is still unsolved, everyone is curious. We’re all cops, after all. It’s sort of our thing.
The files pop up and I quickly print them, waiting by the printer.
I pull the first page out while it’s still hot and fold it in half, sticking it in my purse.
What I’m doing is wrong. I lied, flat-out lied, to another cop.
I think about the cops in fantasy movies and TV shows, balancing both their regular life with their magical life and how things work out to their advantage to have a foot in with the law.
But that’s not how it feels for me. Yeah, I’m accessing these files because of my badge, but it still feels wrong.
“You’re saving people,” I mutter to myself. It makes me feel a little better. I grab the last paper, stash it in my purse, and close down my computer. I hurry back out, finding Hasan standing outside the car.
“Everything okay?” I ask, heart skipping a beat.
“Yeah. I got bored,” he says with a smirk. “I was watching the people on the streets.”
“Still not used to it, are you?” I open the driver’s side door and get in.
“No.” Hasan gets in and pulls his seatbelt over his body. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like it here.”
“Good. You’re kind of stuck here.”
He playfully nudges my arm. “At least I have good company.”
“I’m pretty much the best,” I shoot right back, and he laughs, resting his hand on my thigh as we start the drive back to the house.
“Did you get what you needed?”
“Yes. Full case files. I haven’t had a chance to look over them yet, but just from the short conversation I had with the officer working the desk tonight, these people didn’t die of natural causes. Well, as natural as freezing to death can be,” I add.
Hasan gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze, and we don’t bring it up again the rest of the way home. Instead, Hasan turns up the radio. He’s a fan of classic rock, which suits him in a way I can’t really explain.
The house smells amazing when we step inside, and Hasan puts his hand on his stomach. Right. We haven’t eaten yet. Becoming obsessed with potential demonic murders should be a diet fad. I’ve forgotten to eat many times over the last few days.
“Did you get the files?” Jacques asks. He’s helping set the table.
“I did,” I say, pulling the papers out of my purse. “I haven’t looked them over yet.” I motion for him to join me at the kitchen counter. I inhale, holding my breath for a moment as I skim over the files. I look so fast I don’t absorb any of the info and have to go back again.
“What does it say?” Gemma says, turning off a burner on the oven. She sets a wooden spoon down and steps over.
“Um,” I start, scanning the report. “They died of hypothermia and had internal frostbite. Specifically in their hearts.” I swallow hard.
“The bodies weren’t found for three days and suffered considerable damage from animals.
So if the hearts were frozen, they would have thawed, but it sounds like my demon.
” I look over the report again. “Nothing from the campsite was stolen. The couple had a detailed inventory of what they brought with them, and almost everything is accounted for.”
“Almost?” Gil asks.
“Some of the food is missing, which is because the couple ate it.” I set the files down, crime scene photos face up. Gemma shudders and looks away, closing her eyes for a few seconds before going back to the oven.
“So we know how, but what we’re missing is a big fat why. Do you think the demon could be going after people with magical powers?”
“It’s a possibility,” Jacques says. “Or it could be the demon needed to feed.”
“The bodies weren’t devoured in any sense,” Thomas points out.
“Not all demons feed on the physical body,” Jacques says gently, flitting his eyes to mine. I can’t let myself think about my parents’ souls being devoured. I saw my mother’s spirit. I know it was her…if her soul was eaten, then that wouldn’t be possible.
“What do you mean?” Gemma asks.
“Some demons feed off energy.”
“Not souls?” I blurt, unable to help myself.
“Some do,” he answers almost apologetically. “Though if I were to make an educated guess, it would be this demon is feeding off the heart chakra.”
“That’s pleasant,” I sigh, and put my head in my hands. “So this asshole Mr. Trent is trailing this demon in some way. He’s either got eyes on it physically or has some sort of federal authority and is being notified of cases that involve people freezing to death in mysterious ways.”
“Maybe he’s an FBI agent,” Gemma suggests.
“I suppose he could be. I just…I don’t know, and I hate not knowing.”
Gil comes around the counter and puts his hands on my shoulders, massaging my stiff muscles. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Ace, but you don’t know most things. You’ve got to learn to let it go.”
“You’re right,” I agree, shocking him a little.
“And I know my need to control my surroundings comes from a deep void in my childhood and the lack of ability to control what was happening in my life. But this…this is literally my life’s work.
The reason I went into law enforcement. I need to solve my parents’ murder. They’d stop at nothing for me.”
Jacques gets up suddenly and hurries out of the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” Thomas asks, watching the spot where Jacques had just stood.
“No idea,” I say, not sure how anything I could have said was offensive in any way. I sigh and turn to the stove. “That smells delicious, what is it?”
“Tuscan chicken with creamy garlic potatoes.”
“Is it almost done?” I ask hopefully.
“Not quite. It has a lot of steps.”
I open my mouth to tell her again that she doesn’t have to go through all this every night—though I almost think she likes having people to cook for—when Jacques comes back into the kitchen holding the case files.
“You said something,” he starts, flicking his eyes to mine for a quick second. “And it made something click.”
“I did?”
He nods and opens the files. My parents’ is front and center. Hastily, he flips it over so I don’t have to see it. “You said your parents would stop at nothing to protect you.”
“Right. I know it.”
“And you have powers.”
I lean over, watching him flip through the papers. “What are you getting at?”
“You’ve been trying to find a connection between the victims.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, still not following him. “And I haven’t found one.”
“Maybe you won’t.” He places his hand on top of the files, eyes wide. “Because the demon isn’t targeting those he killed.”
“What?” Gemma and I ask at the same time.
“You sure about that?” Gilbert asks, giving Jacques an incredulous look. “He wasn’t after the ones he killed?”
“It’s a theory, but it’s starting to make sense.” He looks back down, feverishly looking at the case files. “And I wouldn’t have thought anything of it had Ace not said what she said.”
I look at Gil and he shrugs.
“You’re not making sense,” I say, getting a little irritated.
“I can’t know for sure,” he mumbles to himself.
“What?” My voice raises. “What can’t you know for sure.”
Jacques takes a breath and looks up. “The people this demon killed didn’t matter. They were just in the way.”
“In the way of what?” Gemma asks, pulling her arms in around herself.
“Of the magical children in their care.”