Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation (23 page)

“Lucky guess,” Ben answered for her. “I want
that print lifted and run yesterday,” he continued. “And while
you’re at it, check all the candles from the previous crime
scenes.”

“That might be a problem,” he replied.

“Whaddaya mean ‘that might be a problem’?”
demanded Ben.

“There were no prints on them.” The tech
visibly inched away from an angered Ben Storm. “So we just pried
them up. They’re in quite a few pieces.”

“Dammit!” Ben exclaimed, turning in place and
rubbing the back of his neck in a physical display of his
exasperation. Once again he faced the tech and stabbed his index
finger at him purposefully. “As soon as you guys are done here, I
want you checkin’ out those candles. You understand me?”

“I’ll do what I can, Detective,” the
forensics tech assured him, no longer exhibiting his earlier
cockiness.

“And you,” Ben continued, turning and hooking
his arm around Felicity. “Let me know if you ever need a job.”

* * * * *

A younger, but no less stone-faced desk
sergeant issued Felicity and I visitor’s badges when we entered the
police station where the Major Case Squad was currently
headquartered. We walked down the long, familiar hallway and
entered the room where the core of activity had been occurring when
last we were here. At this early hour of the morning, the space was
dark and still, entirely devoid of the earlier urgent bustle.
Detective Deckert flipped a wall switch as we entered, bringing the
stubbornly flickering fluorescent lights to life.

“Go ahead and have a seat,” he said. “Anyone
besides me interested in coffee?”

He hung his jacket on the back of a chair and
ambled over to the coffeemaker, rolling up his sleeves as he
went.

“Me,” Ben announced.

“Make that two,” I added.

“Would you be havin’ any herbal tea?”
Felicity queried.

“We got a box of some kinda lemon tea or some
odd thing like that,” Deckert called out.

“Aye, that’ll work,” Felicity told him,
heading over in his direction. “Here, let me give you a hand,
then.”

I took a seat at one of the long cafeteria
tables that had been set up to serve as a staging and conference
area. Ben stripped off his own jacket and loosened his tie then
joined me. He rubbed his tightly shut eyes then the back of his
neck, shoulders drooping as he let out a long sigh. His hair was
unkempt and his shirt stained with sweat. He was obviously still
operating on little sleep.

“You didn’t take our advice did you?” I asked
him.

“I took it,” he answered tiredly, head tilted
back and eyes closed. “I just didn’t get a chance to use it.”

“You know, Ben, you can’t catch this guy all
by yourself. Let some of the other cops do some of the work.”

“They are, I just like to know what’s goin’
on, and there aren’t enough hours in the day to keep up.”

“Remember how worried you were when you
thought I was dying earlier?” I asked.

“Yeah, what about it?” he replied. “That’s
what bein’ a friend is.”

“You’re right,” I told him. “And I’m starting
to get worried about you.”

He let out another heavy sigh and slowly
tilted his head forward, opening his eyes as he did so. His gaze
came to meet mine, and we sat there silently for a long moment.

“I know you are. I know the little woman is
too. I appreciate it, I really do,” he finally said. “Let’s just
catch this asshole, then I’m takin’ a vacation. True story.”

“Here you go,” Detective Deckert said as he
slid a cup of coffee in front of Ben. “It’s still brewing, so this
is a bit thick if ya’ know what I mean.”

A similar cup appeared in front of me, placed
there by my wife as she sat down. She clutched a cup of hot water
and was rhythmically dipping a tea bag in it.

“How are you feeling?” I asked her.

“Fine, but I’m tired,” she replied and leaned
against me. “And a little queasy, but I’ll be fine.”

“Allison had morning sickness for the first
six months,” Ben offered.

“Morning sickness?” Deckert stated
rhetorically. “I didn’t know you two were expecting.
Congratulations. How far along?”

“Early yet,” Felicity told him. “Six
weeks.”

“Well, it’s nice to hear some good news in
the middle of all this crap,” he said and lifted his coffee cup in
an informal toast.

“I hate ta’ bring it up,” Ben interjected,
“but we have to talk about the case. The way I see it, we still
have an asshole out there killin’ women, and we aren’t much closer
to knowin’ who it is than we were when we started. Now personally,
I think R.J.’s pile of bricks is startin’ to add up on a side of
the scale where he’d rather not be.”

“You still need to talk to Devon,” I
offered.

“True.” He continued, “And his pile isn’t
exactly tiltin’ the scale in a positive direction either, but the
fact is, R.J. very possibly worked with the latest victim.”

“You know,” Felicity stated thoughtfully. “It
might not be either one of them.”

“That’s true,” Deckert chimed, “but you
follow the leads you have.”

“What about that partial fingerprint?” I
queried. “How soon do you expect to know anything?”

“The lab guys should have somethin’ for us in
a coupl’a hours,” Ben answered. “It’s all gonna depend on how soon
they get finished at the scene and how much of the print we
actually have...”

“And if its owner is in the system,” Deckert
added. “If he isn’t, then it could be weeks before we get any
replies from the non-participating municipalities.”

“We haven’t got weeks,” I told them flatly.
“This psycho has killed three women in less than ONE week, two of
them in as many days.”

“You got any better ideas?” Ben asked.

“No,” I replied candidly, “and it irritates
the hell out of me.”

“Welcome to the club,” he replied.

* * * * *

They were still processing the fingerprint
from the latest murder scene when Felicity and I left to go home.
With Detective Deckert’s help, we convinced Ben to do the same, as
repeated calls to the forensics lab had only served to frustrate
him more. It was agreed that we would attack the situation anew
after whatever modicum of sleep we could get. I half expected to
find Ben at my door for breakfast the next morning.

F
elicity was feeling the effects of her first actual bout of
morning sickness when the phone rang the next day. As expected, the
person at the other end of the line was Ben, however, this time he
was calling from the Major Case Squad headquarters instead of my
driveway. His voice, though somewhat somber, sounded much less
weary than it had only a few hours before.

“So are you free to come down here?” Ben’s
voice issued from the earpiece.

“Yeah, I don’t have any client meetings
today, so I can shake loose for a while,” I replied. “Felicity’s
not feeling too well though.”

“Get used to it,” he told me.

“So what’s up?”

“We got the kid down here,” he returned,
referring to R.J. “Says he doesn’t want a lawyer, but he wants you
here.”

“Did you arrest him?”

“No, one of the local muni’s picked ‘im up on
a DUI about the time we were at the crime scene last night... this
mornin’… whatever.”

“Driving under the influence, huh,” I mused.
“How’d you find out about that?”

“Since we decided we wanted to question him,”
Ben began, “and I couldn’t find ‘im yesterday, I decided to run his
tags this mornin’. Sometimes crap like that pays off, and it did
this time ‘cause there he was. He looks like he’s fightin’ a hell
of a hangover, but other than that, he’s no worse for wear.”

“Why does he want me there?” I queried.

“Somethin’ to do with the whole Wiccan thing,
I guess,” he replied. “When we said we wanted to ask ‘im a few
questions about Ariel Tanner and Karen Barnes, he got kinda
paranoid on us.”

“You didn’t mention Ellen Gray at all?”

“Not yet. I still have a few things to check
out before I play that card.”

“But if he’s not under arrest,” I puzzled,
“can’t he just walk out?”

“He got a bit rowdy with the officer that
stopped him, so they decided to set an example,” Ben explained.
“City of Andrew Heights is gonna hold ‘im over for arraignment on
the DUI and a resisting charge. I just got the muni to let me have
custody for a while.”

“Okay,” I told him. “Better let me grab a
shower and all that. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

As I was hanging up the phone, Salinger
jumped up to the corner of our entertainment center and seated
himself. He looked up at me with his bewhiskered face and large
eyes forming a caricature of a wizened prophet then let out a
doleful meow.

“You don’t really think R.J.’s guilty, do
you?” I asked him rhetorically as I scratched him behind the
ears.

He replied only by closing his eyes and
purring loudly.

“Aye, Rowan, was that Ben on the phone?”
Felicity asked as she trudged slowly into the room with soda
crackers in one hand and a cup of what smelled like ginger tea in
the other.

“Yeah, that was him,” I told her. “He’s at
the MCS headquarters. They’ve got R.J. down there, and he’s asking
for me.”

“Did they arrest him?” she asked with a
start.

“Yes and no.” I explained,
“He was arrested on a Driving-Under-the-Influence charge early this
morning. Ben went looking for him again using his license plate
number this time, and that’s how he found him. He
borrowed
him from the
municipality that arrested him, so he could ask him a few
questions.”

“Why is he asking for you instead of an
attorney, then?”

“Who knows?” I shrugged. “Probably because
I’m a Witch—at least that’s Ben’s theory. Apparently, he got pretty
antsy when they told him they wanted to ask him about Ariel and
Karen.”

“Aye, wouldn’t you?” Felicity asked.

“I suppose I would.”

“So, how long before we have to be there? I
don’t know if I’m over this nausea yet.”

“You don’t need to go,” I told her. “You can
stay here and rest for a while, and I can fill you in later.”

“Are you sure?” she queried. “I don’t have a
photo shoot scheduled until this afternoon, so I’ve got the morning
free.”

“I’m sure,” I replied. “You need to get some
rest. The accent is still a little heavy.”

“Oh, stop it, then.”

“Seriously though, honey. I can call you if
anything happens.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay then.”

I left her lounging on the sofa in our living
room, surrounded by three cats displaying curious concern as only
they can do.

* * * * *

I parked my truck behind City Hall and
checked in at the desk. I was apparently becoming a familiar face,
or I was anticipated, as the Sergeant had a visitor’s badge in hand
as soon as he saw me. After checking in, I continued down the
corridor and was met at the door by Ben and Detective Deckert.

“How’s Firehair?” Ben inquired, calling
Felicity by one of his many nicknames for her.

“She was starting to perk up,” I told him as
we continued farther into the bowels of the building. “I expect
she’ll be fine.”

“Good, good,” his voice trailed off as we
descended a flight of stairs, and he fell silent.

Detective Deckert’s face wore a somber
expression, and his only greeting to me when I arrived had been a
stiff nod. He was still silent as we rounded a landing and
continued downward. It didn’t take the heightened senses of a Witch
to feel the tension coming from the two. Tension directed toward
me.

“So look, Rowan…” Ben finally broke the
silence as we stopped in front of a heavy steel door. “I got
somethin’ I need ta’ tell ya’, and I don’t think you’re gonna like
it much.”

“I had a feeling,” I acknowledged. “It’s
something about R.J. isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Deckert
intoned.

Ben let out a heavy breath and smoothed his
hair back. His brow was creased with apprehension as he wrestled
with what he had to tell me.

“So there’s no way to sugar coat it,” he
spoke. “I just got off the phone with the forensics lab a minute or
two before you got here...”

“Something about that fingerprint?” I feared
I knew what he was about to say.

“Yeah, that print,” he answered. “The muni
that popped R.J. this morning entered his prints into AFIS, and the
lab boys got an immediate hit.”

“It matched?” I stared at him in
disbelief.

“Like an identical twin.”

“Damn,” I whispered. “I thought it was a
partial print?”

“It was, but there was enough there to make a
positive ID.”

“What about the wax from the other
scenes?”

“They were clean, but that doesn’t matter.
The one found last night matches. No two ways about it.”

“That’s not all.” Deckert expounded, “The
M.E. came up with some long, dark hairs on the body as well as some
other fibers.”

“And the lab ran a check on the semen found
at the scene last night. Blood type O Positive,” Ben added. “Same
as R.J.”

“If I remember correctly, O Positive is
fairly common,” I protested. “Somewhere near forty percent of the
population shares that blood type.”

“Yeah, it is,” Ben agreed. “But fingerprints
ain’t. The lab’s gonna run a DNA analysis too, but that’ll take
awhile.” He paused. “We got enough for a search warrant, Rowan...
I’m sorry man, but I think R.J.’s involved.”

“What about his eyes, Ben?” I pleaded,
unwilling to believe what I was being told. “What color are his
eyes?”

“His eyes are brown,” he responded. “But like
I told ya’, that’s inadmissible... Besides, maybe you made a
mistake.”