shadows of salem 01 - shadow born (4 page)

“I—” The words caught in my throat, and I pressed my lips together. What was I going to tell him, that I’d just seen a vision of him and Tom talking together? He’d say I was crazy, and anyone else would believe the same. My ability wasn’t normal, and as far as I could tell, Baxter was a regular guy.

But if that was the case, then why was he telling me he’d never met Tom when the vision I’d had clearly indicated otherwise?

“Never mind,” I said quickly, then plucked the lens from the tile and held it out to him. “Here’s your contact.”

“Great. Thanks.” Confusion morphed into relief as he took it from me, then rose. “I’d better go and wash this off.”

I stood with him, and just as I got to my feet, another detective passed by us on the way to his desk. On a hunch, I reached out and snagged him by the elbow, pulling him to a stop.

“Hi,” I said, flashing him a smile. “I’m Brooke Chandler, the new detective in town.”

He smiled back, the annoyance melting from his oriental features. “Bobby Yan. Nice to see a new face here.”

“Yeah. You know, I was wondering, did you know my fiancé, Tom? He worked here about ten years ago, came back here recently to help out with a case.”

The smile flitted from Bobby’s face, replaced by a more serious look. “Oh, yeah, I knew Tom. Everybody who was here around that time did. He’s a hard man to forget, and it’s a damn shame we lost him to that fire. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says,” Baxter agreed. “I wish I’d known him.”

“Very funny, Baxter.” Bobby scowled. “You shouldn’t be making jokes like that under these circumstances.”

“What are you talking about?” Baxter asked, his eyebrows pulling together, but Bobby only shook his head. “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I need to fix my contact.” He brushed past us.

“Don’t mind Baxter,” Bobby told me. “He’s got his moments, but he’s a great detective.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said as Bobby continued onto his desk.

I looked over my shoulder to watch Baxter as he disappeared down the hall. If Baxter wasn’t lying, that meant there was something wrong with his memory, and an addled mind did
not
a good detective make.

It took me most of the day to finish filling out the paperwork and go through the mandatory orientation course that HR required. I was hoping I could get my hands on Tom’s file before it was time to go home, but as luck would have it, Baxter caught a case, and the captain ordered me to go with him.

God, but part of me wished I’d waited until the Chief had come back in town before coming to Salem. If she was here, she could help me cut through Captain Randall’s wall of bullshit and get to the bottom of things. Now I’d have to deal until she was back.

I reviewed the notes I’d taken as Baxter drove us to the suspect’s office in his white Chevy Impala. We were going after an accountant named Remy Vox who was suspected of running a drug-trafficking operation under the table. “So…what’s the plan?”

“We’re going to ask the man some questions, for starters.” Baxter kept his gaze fixated on the road as he headed toward downtown Salem. This was the touristy section of town, lined with small brick buildings and Georgian and Italianate style homes that were interspersed with museums and witch shops. “Hopefully we’ll either get something out of him or see something in plain sight that’s enough to squeeze a warrant out of the judge.”

“Right.” I sighed a little, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice and expression. I didn’t need Baxter to explain to me the purpose of an interview. “Do you think he’s even going to be at the office at this hour?” We’d spent quite a bit of time studying the case files, and the sun was starting to set now.

“If he’s not, we’ll catch him first thing tomorrow,” Baxter said. “But in the meantime, we might as well try.”

I slanted a look at him, trying to figure out my new partner. Everything I’d seen so far—from the methodical way he’d studied the case file to the laser-focus in his eyes when he drove—indicated a man fully possessed of his wits. So how was it that he couldn’t remember my fiancé?

He has to be lying,
I thought, my stomach tightening. But why? Why would Baxter lie about something like this, when Bobby had made it clear that Baxter was around at the same time Tom was? I bet that if I asked the other detectives, they would all say the same thing, so what did Baxter have to gain by pretending he didn’t know my fiancé? Whatever the reason, I bet that if I could uncover it, I would be one step closer to discovering what had really happened to Tom.

Baxter parked us illegally outside a Dunkin’ Donuts off Washington and Essex, and I blinked as he reached for the door handle. “Where are you going?”

He turned back and looked at me as though I were an idiot. “We’re going on foot from here. In case you haven’t noticed, the streets here are small and crowded.”

“Oh.” I let out a breath, then followed Baxter out of the car. I’d thought we were making a pit stop at Dunkin’ Donuts, and while that was stereotypical of a cop, it was also pretty unprofessional considering we were on our way to an interview.

I followed Baxter up Washington and around the corner to Essex Street, passing a burbling fountain along the way. Men and women stood in the middle of the cobblestoned street or at tables, flagging down passersby and getting them to sign up for their ghost tours.

My nose twitched at the scent of burning incense drifting from the open door of a witch shop, and I turned, gazing curiously at the bundles of herbs hanging inside the storefront windows. How many of these people were charlatans, and how many had real power?

If I could find a real witch here, and befriend them, perhaps I could get them to lead me to the
real
supernatural hotspot in this town. Because even though this was where all the paranormal-
looking
stuff was in Salem, at the end of the day, it was still just a tourist trap. I didn’t need a tarot reading, or a guide to tell me how to photograph ghosts. I needed real answers.

“Here we are.” Baxter stopped in front of a glass door next to the Salem Five Bank. From a quick glance at the signage, I figured out that this was an office rental space. “Let’s see what Mr. Vox has to say for himself.”

He pushed through the glass door, and I followed. A blonde receptionist in her late thirties glanced up from behind her desk, and offered a friendly smile.

“Good evening,” she said. “How can I help you?”

Baxter unhooked his badge and placed it on the desk. “I’m Detective Guy Baxter, and this is Detective Chandler.” He tilted his head in my direction in the briefest of acknowledgements. “We’re looking for Remy Vox.”

“Oh.” The receptionist blinked, then glanced down at her log. “I’m afraid Mr. Vox isn’t here right now. He left just a few minutes ago.”

“I see.” Baxter’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes darkened. “Do you know when he’ll be back in, ma’am?”

“At this hour, he’s gone for the day. I expect he’ll be back in at his usual time tomorrow. Nine a.m. Would you like to leave a message for him?”

“Sure.” Baxter dug out a card from his pocket and passed it to the receptionist. “Tell him I need to ask him a few questions about an important matter. Appreciate your time.”

“Well, that sucks,” I said as we walked back outside. And it really did, because I’d been hoping to get this over with so I could go home. But as I glanced up the street, I noticed a man with dark blond hair wearing a charcoal grey woolen coat walking briskly up away from us. From the back, he looked a lot like our guy.

“Hey, Baxter…I think that’s Vox.”

“Oh, yeah?” Baxter followed my gaze, and a smile curled his lips. “Sure looks like it. Let’s see if we can flag him down.”

I arched an eyebrow as Baxter immediately began heading up the street. “You’re going to have to move a little faster than that if you want to catch up to him.”

Baxter snorted. “I’m not an idiot, Chandler,” he said irritably. “I’m not in the habit of accosting citizens on the sidewalk. We’ll follow him to wherever he’s headed, then take him aside for a quick conversation.”

My lips curled into a smile despite myself. “All right, if you say—”

A muffled shriek cut my words off, and I jerked my head to the left just in time to see a guy in a ski mask burst out of the CVS, clutching a knife in one hand and a bulging paper bag in the other that I was willing to bet wasn’t filled with Slim Jims and Cheetos.

“Dammit.” Baxter snarled under his breath as I rushed forward, probably because we were letting our drug-dealing accountant get away. But there was no way I was letting this guy rob a store right in front of our eyes.

“Stop!” I shouted as my flats slapped against the cobblestones. Shit, that was uncomfortable. I was going to need to wear better shoes next time if I planned on making a habit of this. “Stop, police!”

The guy briefly glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide with fear, which turned out to be a mistake. The epitome of grace, he tripped on one of the cobblestones and crashed face-first into the hard ground. The paper bag flew from his hand, and I grinned triumphantly as cash spilled onto the street.

“Oh, no you don’t!” I shouted as he began to get onto his knees. I tackled him, then grabbed and twisted the wrist of the hand still clutching the knife. Yelping, his grip loosened, and the knife clattered to the ground, safely out of reach.

“Police brutality!” he yelled as I yanked both his wrists behind his back, digging my knee into his sacrum to ensure he didn’t get up.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered as I cuffed his wrists. “Tell it to someone who cares.”

“I guess you didn’t need my help.” Baxter’s voice came from my right, and I looked up to see him standing there, both his eyebrows raised approvingly. The sight almost mollified me, until I remembered that he was a liar and was keeping secrets from me about my fiancé.

“Yeah, well, just because I did the hard part doesn’t mean you get to put up your feet.” I yanked the perp to standing, then shoved him toward Baxter. “Read him his rights and take care of the paperwork. I’ll see if I can catch up with Vox.”

“Wait!” Baxter called as I spun away. “You can’t just go walking off! You don’t have jurisdiction!”

I ignored him, pushing through the crowd of gawkers and headed after our suspect before Baxter could say another word. Maybe I didn’t have jurisdiction, but I didn’t trust him, and I was better off working without him. Vox might not have anything to do with Tom’s death, but I had a sudden urge to go after him, and I didn’t need Baxter to take a single guy like him down.

CHAPTER 4

K
nowing that Baxter couldn’t very well stop me with his hands full of criminal, I hurried onward. I couldn’t tell you why, but something urged me to catch up with our original suspect despite the fact I hadn’t wanted to take this case in the first place. Call it Detective’s Intuition.

As I walked, I touched lamp posts and shop windows, catching little glimpses of him here and there to make sure I was on the right track. These little visions had me take two right turns and then a left, and then I caught sight of Vox turning the corner. His disappearance from my view once again galvanized me into action, and I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the street so I could hurry after him without having to push through the crowded sidewalk.

I rounded another corner just as Vox stepped into the parking lot in front of a high-end club. The stacked stone exterior of the building was awash in purple light, no doubt coming from the bulbs recessed into the rooftop ledge, and above the chrome double doors, huge metal letters spelled ENVY Nightlife. Judging by the full parking lot and the line of people spilling out onto the sidewalk, this was a popular joint. It also looked completely out of place amongst the little red brick buildings smooshed close together.

Unfortunately for me, Vox was apparently high enough on the food chain to bypass the line. He went straight up to the biggest bouncer I’d ever seen in my life. Seriously, if mountains wore suits, that’s what this guy looked like, right down to his craggy dark face and plate-sized hands that probably looked like obsidian boulders when they were clenched.

And the worst thing was, he wasn’t even the only one out there. I counted three other enormous men in suits patrolling the outside of the club, all fitted with black shades and earpieces, and the bulges beneath their suit jackets suggested they were packing heat.

Just what the hell kind of club was this, that the owner felt the need to have armed security guards around?

Mountain Man seemed to recognize Vox on the spot, because he inclined his massive head, then stepped aside to allow him entry. Dance music, heavy on the bass, spilled into the crisp air as the bouncer opened the door, but as soon as Vox was inside, the door shut and the sound abruptly cut off.

So, they’d soundproofed the building, too. Yeah, that wasn’t weird at all.

I had half a mind to march up to the bouncer and flash my badge, but the idea of doing so made the hairs on the back of my neck crackle. I had the feeling these men wouldn’t take kindly to being heckled by a cop the size of their pinky toes, and even if I did manage to muscle my way into the club, the commotion would likely alert my suspect, which was the last thing I wanted.