Chapter 21 Cue the Bright Lights and Billy Clubs
TWENTY-ONE
Cue the Bright Lights and Billy Clubs
I let go of Uncle Robert’s hand and turned to Elizabeth. “I’ll see you in a few hours. You two need to be careful too, okay?”
“Arwyn, why don’t you and I go ward Robert’s vehicle?” Bracken suggested.
“Yes. Good call.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “Should I get Faith?”
Bracken smiled. “Let her work. Arwyn and I have this.”
My magic blended well with Bracken’s. No doubt the fact that we were both wicche-fae hybrids had something to do with that. The nice part about having either of us involved in the ward making was that wicches couldn’t unwind fae magic.
When we were done and said goodbye, Bracken checked his watch. “Oh, no. The gallery is open and I haven’t checked for poison yet.”
We walked around the front of the building. Cars had been filling up the parking lot while we worked, but spells had kept us hidden.
“Thank you for doing this,” I said to him. “I had no idea she’d been worrying.”
He paused at the base of the steps. “Someone is watching us. Do you feel it?”
I nodded, climbing the steps and putting myself behind the ward. “I promised Declan I’d be careful.”
Bracken followed. “Good. That’s the right decision.” He walked to the end of the porch and looked over the road. “As for the poison, that’s nothing. If it keeps that intrusive thought from plaguing her, it’s worth it.” He stared straight ahead. “Behind that big, flowering bush.”
I ran a finger over the glass tentacle I’d installed to the left of the front door. “Yeah. I clocked it too. It doesn’t feel like Milena this time, though.”
Bracken swirled a finger at his side and we heard a guttural grunt across the street. “It’s not nice to spy on people,” he said, holding out his elbow for me to take. “Let’s go check on your aunt.”
It was a steady day. Sundays were calmer than Saturdays. Midafternoon, I checked in with everyone, then excused myself to the hot shop. I wanted to work on the light fixture for the dining room. I ran up to the loft above my studio to change into work clothes, then got started.
A few hours in, I saw movement on the deck out of the corner of my eye. It was Hernández this time. I shouted, “Give me a few minutes!” She nodded, moving to one of my benches.
I finished the piece I was working on and got it into the annealer before going out onto the deck. I closed in the heat behind me, hoping this would be a quick visit and I could get back to work.
Detective Hernández sat beside a Native man I’d met before.
His name was Kaknu. He was Ohlone and a falcon shifter.
He sometimes worked with Osso, Nick, Declan, and me on our supernatural crime fighting crew.
He did not, however, work with Orla. Apparently, raptors didn’t get along well.
It had something to do with their other natures attacking one another in the wild.
Orla, as an eagle-owl, was one of the largest raptors in the world, so the one time they met, Kaknu took off quickly.
What I didn’t know, though, was whether Hernández knew Kaknu was a shifter. Hernández was human and though she knew about Osso, Declan, and me, that didn’t mean she knew about any others. I wasn’t about to out anyone.
“Hey. Sorry,” I said. “When I’m working with glass, I can’t just stop.”
Hernández waved that away. “We’re infringing on your time, not the other way around. I wanted to introduce you to Special Agent Mutsun of the FBI.”
He offered his hand to shake mine, but I held up my gloved ones. Kaknu knew I didn’t shake, which told me that Hernández wasn’t aware Kaknu and I knew each other.
“Sorry; I don’t shake hands. It’s nice to meet you, though.” I gestured to the bench, inviting them to sit back down. I sat on the opposite bench, wishing I’d thought to grab something to drink.
Kaknu, or Special Agent Mutsun, wore the black suit of a fed, with his long hair in a braid down his back. He took off his mirrored sunglasses, slipping them into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He took out his phone and looked at me. “May I record this conversation?”
I did not want to be in any FBI files but said, “I guess so,” anyway.
He tapped his screen. “Detectives Osso and Hernández tell me you’re the one who located the bodies at the summer camp. Is that correct?”
“Not exactly,” I explained. “My understanding was that a construction crew knocked down a cabin and found them.”
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you for that clarification. You found the others, though?”
“I indicated spots where I thought other bodies might be,” I replied. “I wasn’t there when they searched.”
Hernández put her hand up. “Sorry to interrupt. Arwyn, can I get you something to drink? Your face is really red.”
My fingers twitched at my side, unlocking the studio back door. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate that. Could you get me something from the fridge in the studio?”
“Of course.” Hernández stood and went in.
“Detective Hernández has gone to get the subject a drink,” Kaknu said into the recording app. “We interrupted her glass blowing. Arwyn Corey is an artist. She stopped working to speak with us. Here we are. Detective Hernández has returned with a grape soda for Ms. Corey. If we could resume?”
I cracked open the can and took a swig before nodding.
“Would you be surprised, Ms. Corey, to learn that everywhere you indicated there was a body, they did in fact find a body?”
I shrugged a shoulder as I took another sip. “Okay.”
“Could you explain to us how you knew where the bodies were?” he asked.
I blew out a breath. “I’m sure the lab has probably begun work on the remains, so I’m guessing you already know that some of them were killed before I was born. It certainly isn’t as though I knew from personal experience.”
Hernández gave me a long blink that amounted to a nod. That was apparently the right thing to say.
“As for how I knew,” I continued, “I’m sure there’s information on me at the police station.”
“Yes,” he said. “You’ve been involved in a number of high-profile cases, but there’s no record of the police department ever paying you for your assistance. Why is that? Oh, and if you could explain what it is that you do to assist Detectives Osso and Hernández, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’m a psychometrist.” I held up a gloved hand. “Meaning when I touch something, I can often see or hear who last touched it. Sometimes see the circumstances during which it was used.”
Cops had already seen me read bodies, so I’d have to confess to that. “If what they want me to read is a body, I can sometimes do that too. I often see the last moments of their lives, which gives the detectives more information for their investigation.”
“Have you ever testified in court?” he asked.
I took another sip and shook my head. “What I do, as far as I know, is not considered evidence. As I said, I pass on information and the detectives take that as they would any tips they might receive on a crime. The detectives are the ones responsible for investigating, not me. I help when I can and the police decide if what I’ve volunteered is useful. ”
Hernández seemed to relax beside a very formal Kaknu.
“Back to payment,” he pushed. “Do you know why there is no record of the fees the police department has paid you?”
A strong wind kicked up and I lifted my hot face toward it. “There are no records because I’ve never taken a payment from the police department.”
He opened a small notebook and flipped a few pages. “From what I’ve learned, you seem to charge a substantial amount for psychic—what are they called?—readings? Why hasn’t the police department paid you for your rather specialized expertise?”
I side-eyed that one. “I can’t tell if that was a diss. Are you suggesting I overcharge for my gifts?”
He stared back, expressionless. “Shouldn’t you know if that was a diss?”
I held up my gloved hand again. “I haven’t touched you.
” On an eye roll, I added, “As to the question you keep asking, I refuse to profit off someone’s death.
I help when and if I can. I volunteer that help.
I’m not employed by the police department, but if I can help a victim find justice, I will. ”
Kaknu checked his notes again. “I believe the captain asked you to read multiple bodies to better investigate the crime, to get that justice you spoke of, but you said no. Why was that?”
My, quite a lot of little birdies were in his ear, weren’t they? “If I feel too much is being asked of me, that my health and well-being will be compromised, I say no. I read two of the initial three bodies that were found. Both deaths were traumatic and I needed a break.”
He tapped the notebook against his leg without opening it this time. “I’ve read reports of you appearing to have injuries that mirror the victims. Is that part of your…gift?”
That pause held the disbelief and disdain of a hundred men—or however many worked for the police department. Assholes. “That doesn’t normally happen. The few times it has happened were anomalies that I believe had to do with how tightly I was tied to the victim in that moment.”
“I see. The coroner reported you having bruises around your neck after reading a victim who had been strangled. Another report was of you directing the police through the woods for a missing child and you having slashes across your body that matched the murder victim.”
Shitshitshit.
“Most recently,” he continued, “you were reading a victim who had drowned in a pond, and you vomited up what some witnesses estimated was a gallon of pond water. Manifesting the victims’ wounds feels more like the rule than the exception.”
I shrugged. “The incidents you listed were unusual. I’m not sure why I manifested their wounds.”
“If not you, who would know?” he asked. Damn, he was good at this.
I gave him an annoyed approximation of a smile. “If my assistance is more hindrance than help, it would be best if the police stopped showing up on my doorstep asking for it, wouldn’t it?”
The corner of Kaknu’s lips kicked up before his expression became impassive again. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Corey.” He tapped his screen and pocketed his phone. “You answered well and your righteous indignation at the end will read as honest affront, which is how the innocent normally react.”
Hernández’s head whipped around. She stared at Kaknu, trying to figure out what was going on.
“Forgive me, Detective,” he said. “Arwyn and I know each other. There are, unfortunately, quite a few disgruntled officers who don’t like Arwyn, regardless of her track record in helping to solve cases. We needed an interview on record that addressed some of those complaints.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered.
“Now that that’s done, can we talk you into accompanying us to the morgue?” He put his notebook away. “There’s a body we’d very much like you to read.”
I thought about it and asked, “Those pages you were flipping through were blank, weren’t they?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, his dark eyes shining with humor. “You’re the psychic.”
I looked out at the ocean, suddenly tired. “I have work to do and, as you know, the coroner hates my guts.”
“Well, it’s too bad she’ll have to deal with you then, isn’t it?” he said with a smirk.