Sleeping With Fear (19 page)

"No."

"Then why were you even willing to talk to him? You must have gotten plenty of calls from reporters on fishing expeditions, calls from others intent on causing you trouble. What made the call from Tate so different?"

"I told you. He knew people."

"What people?"

"Dammit, Riley, you can't expect me to answer that. Some of them don't practice openly."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Jake muttered.

Instantly, Steve said, "Because of suspicious people like you, Sheriff. We're
supposed
to have religious freedom in this country, you know."

Before Jake could follow what would certainly be a hotly impassioned tangent, Riley surprised most of the people in the room by asking a quiet question.

"How long had you been divorced, Jenny?"

Going pale beneath her tan, Jenny said, "What?"

"You heard me. Wesley Tate was your ex-husband, wasn't he?"

Steve reached for his partner's hand. "She doesn't have to answer that."

"Steve, don't be an idiot." Riley kept her voice matter-of-fact. "A connection like this would certainly show up in a deep background check, so why try to hide or deny it? Besides, they were legally divorced, right? So she wouldn't benefit financially from his death. And if they've been divorced as long as I think they have, any old hurts and resentments are undoubtedly past and forgotten. Jenny has no motive to have murdered Wesley Tate."

At least…I don't think she has. Focus, dammit!

Steve frowned but didn't try to stop her when Jenny finally spoke.

"We were divorced more than ten years ago," she said, something of relief in her voice. "Married less than five. He…couldn't accept my nontraditional lifestyle choices."

Flashing back to her dream-or memory-of seeing this woman serving as a naked altar in a ceremony about as far from
traditional
as it was possible to get, Riley wasn't sure she blamed him. But all she said was, "And since then? Any contact with him?"

"Not much. He sort of made it a habit to call around Christmas, just to check and see how I was doing."

"Do satanists celebrate Christmas?" Jake wondered aloud, either too intrigued by the question or too pissed at having the interview taken out of his hands to care about going off topic.

"Not the way Christians do," Steve said flatly.

Riley got them back on track. "So why did he contact you out of the blue?" she asked Jenny.

"He
said
he just wanted to help. There'd been…a few incidents, as Steve told you, where we were living near Columbia. Made the local news. Wes saw it, he said. He was worried things would get worse, that there was a general climate of intolerance in the area. All the supposed occult stuff during the last year or so here in the Southeast."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, we investigated some of that."
Bishop reminded me about that too. But it was all bogus. Or most of it was bogus…
"So Tate was worried about you. And?"

"And he said he knew of a safe haven. He told us about this house, said it was a nice, peaceful place with gorgeous views and that nobody would bother us. He said he knew-for certain-that there were like-minded people living in the area."

"But he didn't name names."

"No. Afraid not."

"And you still haven't been contacted by any of these like-minded people?"

"No."

"Okay," Riley said. "Did he say he'd meet you here?"

"He said he might spend some time here on the island, that maybe we could get together and talk," Jenny replied. "But it was all very casual, nothing at all set in stone. He said he'd call if he did come. He never called."

"And you didn't suspect he might be the man killed on Sunday night?"

"No. Why would I?"

Jake broke in again to say, "Well, excuse me, but you didn't seem all that surprised
or
broken up when we told you it was him."

"Not all of us show everything we feel, Sheriff," she said, rather pointedly scanning him up and down and then looking away dismissively.

Riley was conscious of a fleeting wish that she and Ash had come out here alone to talk to these people, but reminded herself silently of her unofficial status. And spoke quickly before Jake could explode-as he showed every sign of doing.

"Did you really think he'd changed his mind after all these years?" she asked Jenny.

The dark woman hesitated, then smiled faintly. "No. Not really. I wanted to think so, but it was far more likely he just wanted to find out if I was still serious about my lifestyle. He never remarried. I don't think he ever really gave up on us."

"Which," Jake said to Steve, "gives
you
a motive to murder."

"Hardly," Steve said. "You see, I
know
Jenny is committed to our lifestyle."

"Assuming we accept that," Riley said without looking at Jake, "you still need to account for your presence in the clearing where Wesley Tate's body was found on Monday morning. You
were
there Sunday night, weren't you?"

"
If
we were, it was only to perform a sunset consecration ritual," he said.

Riley knew how much rituals could vary from group to group, but she was picking up enough from Steve to feel fairly confident in saying, "No fire except a candle, black clothing rather than robes. Salt to form the circle and chanting inside it. It wasn't, strictly speaking, a sexual ritual, but at least three couples…indulged. You had intended to use the stone altar in future, more elaborate rituals but wanted to make sure the area was consecrated first."

"That was the plan," he admitted. "Until some lunatic decided to sacrifice a human being. Believe me, any rituals we conduct now will be private and inside the house. With the blinds closed."

"You have a permit for a bonfire tomorrow night," Jake said.

"We're going to roast marshmallows, Sheriff. You're welcome to come, but bring your own stick."

Riley decided that Jake's blood pressure probably couldn't take any more and rose to her feet. "We may want to talk to you again later," she told Steve. "In the meantime, I'll suggest again that it might be wise to stick close to home for the duration."

Steve frowned but nodded, and Jenny merely said quietly, "Thanks, Riley."

J
ake maintained his silence until they reached their vehicles, and then demanded, "Jesus, Ash, can't you keep your hands off her for five minutes?"

Holding Riley's hand, Ash smiled and said, "I really can't."

Leah coughed to cover the beginning of a laugh, and then said hastily to Riley, "You don't think they're involved, do you?"

"I think we were meant to believe so, but…no." Riley shook her head. "I think whoever killed him is the person who advised Wesley Tate to invite his ex-wife and her group here."

Jake said, "Wait a minute. Are you telling me I've got
another
group of satanists around here?"

"Not a group, no. That would be stretching the odds past breaking, I think. Maybe two people, a team, more probably just one."

"Using this group as a diversion," Ash suggested.

"A diversion from what? Some other reason Tate was killed?"

"Well," Riley pointed out, "it has worked. I mean, first we were running around trying to find out who he was, and now the obvious suspects don't look like such a good fit. We all know the longer it takes to solve a murder the colder the trail gets."

She wasn't about to confide in the sheriff her suspicions that she herself was the linchpin of the entire situation, the target of someone's rage. What evidence she had of such a conclusion was something he was not at all likely to understand, much less accept.

"Stalling tactics?" Jake shook his head. "Then why leave him hanging over that altar? Why not just dump his body in the ocean or bury it somewhere? Since he was never reported missing, we probably wouldn't even have known to start looking for him until new tenants showed up at that house.
And
why torture and decapitate him?"

"It was meant to look like an occult-related death," Riley said. "That doesn't mean it actually was one."

"So far, we haven't looked past the occult as a motive," Ash said neutrally.

With a definite growl in his voice, Jake said, "I've got a motive for you. It might have been dressed up in black robes and salt circles, but I've got a dead man
and
his ex-wife both on this island, and that can't be a coincidence. Look, spouses kill each other all the time. And, yes, even years after they divorce. Maybe he just inherited family money and she's still named in his will. Maybe there's a kid involved somewhere and it's a custody issue. Maybe Smiling Steve in there is a hell of a lot more jealous than he let on."

Riley frowned, then shrugged. "It's your investigation, Jake. I just don't believe anybody in that house killed Wesley Tate."

"Then
who
?" Jake practically roared.

"I don't know. Yet."

He settled his shoulders with the air of a man about to do things. Possibly intensely physical things. "Fine. I'm sure you won't mind if I dig a little deeper with those background checks."

"I think that's an excellent idea. Because there
is
another connection between that group, Wesley Tate, and either Castle or Opal Island."

"What sort of connection?" Leah asked.

"Find that," Riley said, "and we'll have a very big piece of the puzzle."

Jake motioned for Leah to get into their Jeep, then said to the other two, "So what're you going to be doing in the meantime?"

Riley knew Ash was tempted to reply that it involved nakedness and the Kama Sutra, and replied hastily, "Oh, nosing around. Trying to find out if there really are other occult practitioners in the area."

"Good luck with that. Let me know if you find anything."

"Will do." She watched the sheriff's department Jeep pull away, then looked at Ash with lifted brows. "You were a lot of help."

"I've discovered I enjoy pissing Jake off. It's like having a new toy."

She had to laugh, but added, "Well, stop it, okay? At least until we figure out what's going on. It's distracting."

Sobering, he said, "Yeah, you're right. I did notice that you haven't been in any hurry to tell Jake what you really suspect is going on here."

"It's not like I have any proof. And it all sounds so incredibly Byzantine, for someone to go to all this trouble to lure me here just to mess with my head. The more I think about it, the more unlikely it seems."

Ash glanced back toward the house, then led Riley around to the passenger side of the Hummer. "Maybe we should talk about this on the way," he said.

Riley waited until he joined her in the vehicle and had the engine going before saying, "On the way where?"

"You tell me. How is the head, by the way? You seemed to be picking up on undercurrents back there, if not actual thoughts."

"Actual thoughts," she confirmed. "Jenny's, anyway. Faint and fuzzy, but perceptible. So the head is definitely improving. On every count except memory; the blackouts are still blanks, and my time here before the Taser attack is still weirdly distant and definitely spotty."

Ash guided her hand to rest on his thigh. "So energy isn't a problem now?"

"Not so much. But I am hungry." She thought about it. "I guess food is still the fuel for the physical furnace, but your energy is helping with the psychic end of things."

"As long as it's helping." He glanced at his watch and put the Hummer in gear. "Lunch first, I think. I know you wanted to talk to Gordon this afternoon. What else?"

"I want to look at those arson sites again. Something's been nagging at me." She looked at him and, very conscious of his hard thigh beneath her hand, added dryly, "We'll get to the Kama Sutra later."

Ash smiled. "You really are getting back to normal."

"Because I knew what you were thinking?"

"From the first time we touched," he confirmed. "You said it wasn't complete thoughts, like conversation, just the general impression of what was on my mind at any given moment."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Actually," he said, "it's been a bit of a revelation. And a relief. I never have to explain myself or what I mean when we're talking."

"There's always a downside," she warned.

"Yeah, been there."

Riley lifted a curious brow.

"I had one of those random sexist-pig thoughts all men occasionally have. According to you."

"Must have been a doozy if I called you on it. I'm mostly used to them. The military life, you know. And growing up with brothers."

"Um. Let's just say it led to a…spirited…debate. And great sex afterward."

"Well, at least we didn't go to bed mad. My mother insists that's the secret to happy relationships. Never go to bed mad."

Ash smiled, but said, "I know this psychic deal with us is one-sided, but I don't have to be clairvoyant or telepathic to know that all this casual humor is more of that dandy camouflage you pull on the way other people pull on their socks. So what's really bothering you?"

Riley looked at her hand on his thigh, to any outward observer the casually intimate touch of a lover but to her a connection that might well be vital to her very survival, and spoke slowly.

"When I woke up after that Taser attack, it was like there was a kind of veil between me and the world. Everything was…muffled. Muted. Faded. Once I was able to tap into your energy, that veil began to disappear."

"But?" he prompted.

"Back there, in the Pearson house, a couple of times I…felt myself starting to drift. Even with you touching me, even with plenty of energy, it was difficult to focus."

"Any idea why?"

"That's what worries me. It felt like something outside myself."

"But you were picking up information outside yourself while we were there. How was this different?"

"Because it wasn't just there in my mind, like the clairvoyant bits or Jenny's thoughts. It was…pulling at me."

"Sounds like a confirmation of your theory."

"Yeah. Which is all fine and dandy, except that if I felt the attempt, whoever was on the other end felt the failure of it."

"You mean, if there really is somebody out there trying to mess with your mind-"

"Then whoever it is not only is still trying, but may now be aware that the attacks are less successful. That I somehow have the means to fight back. And I'm guessing the next attempt will be the sort with teeth and claws."

"You know," Gordon said after having been brought up-to-date, "I really wish now I hadn't called you down here, babe."

Riley shrugged. "I have an enemy, that's clear. If it hadn't been here, this way, it would have been somewhere else and maybe another way. I'm glad it was here, Gordon." She nodded toward Ash.

"Well, I'm glad for you, on that account. You been needing somebody to run in harness with as long as I've known you." He looked at Ash, adding, "A lightning rod for trouble. Can't say you haven't been warned."

"Trouble she can mostly handle," Ash pointed out dispassionately.

"Yeah. But, see, the thing is, it never occurs to her that maybe she
shouldn't
handle everything that comes along all by her lonesome. That it's not just about what she
can
do, but also about what she
should
do. And sometimes that means acceptin' a helping hand."

"Stop talking about me as if I weren't here, Gordon. Besides, I have help now-you two."

"And you managed to keep both of us out of the loop for the better part of three weeks," he countered.

"Okay, okay. But you're in the loop now, so some brainstorming would be helpful. I hope."

They were seated around a patio table and under the shade of an umbrella behind Gordon's house and near his dock, a place which provided both privacy and a refuge from the hot afternoon sun.

Gordon pursed his lips. "I guess you've already made your enemies list?"

"More or less." She and Ash had discussed that over lunch. "You know as well as I do that I made a few in the army when I worked intelligence and investigation. And since I joined the SCU I've helped put away some genuinely evil scum. But that's the thing-they
were
put away. Or killed."

"None of them on the loose?"

"Not that I can find out. We went back to my place after lunch long enough for me to get online and check the databases."

"Which she had apparently done before, during one of the blackouts," Ash added.

Gordon frowned. "So you been thinking about enemies for a while now."

Riley nodded. "Looks that way. My computer log shows I not only checked but also double-checked the whereabouts of every perp I helped put away during the last five years. They're all dead or safely locked up still."

"Maybe you need to go back further."

With a slight grimace, Riley said, "That takes me back to active service overseas, when enemies were all over the place. But I doubt any of them would target me specifically, at least to this extent; they saw the uniform, not Riley Crane."

"Then maybe this isn't personal."

"It
feels
personal. Very personal. Very specific in terms of an attack. Like somebody figured out what makes me tick and deliberately aimed to take away all my defenses. Not just the spooky senses, but even my memories, my sense of self. Gordon, somebody has been getting inside my
head
."

"You sure about that, babe? I mean, no disrespect, but, fact is, your memory is shaky and the spooky senses are AWOL, so-"

"They aren't AWOL anymore, thanks to Ash. Not a hundred percent yet, but getting there." She sent Ash a quick smile when he reached over and took her hand.

"So what're they telling you?" Gordon asked.

"That I'm part of the puzzle. Maybe even the reason all this is happening. That somebody has been getting inside my head."

"And using black-occult energy to do it?"

"At least partly." Riley frowned. "I've been trying to think of a possible enemy with that sort of knowledge, because it really is specialized and not something you read about in a textbook. But I've only encountered two black-occult practitioners during investigations, and both of them are dead."

Ash said, "You only mentioned one when we talked at lunch. The last time you investigated supposed occult activity, a few months back, and found a serial killer operating."

She nodded. "He wasn't psychic but had learned how to channel dark energy pretty damn effectively nevertheless. At least to the extent of being able to…oh, cloud my senses, for want of a better phrase."

"Which is what this enemy seems able to do," Ash pointed out.

"Yeah, but aside from the fact that I was present when the guy was autopsied, his effect on my senses was very different from what I'm going through now."

"Maybe because he didn't Taser you first," Gordon suggested.

That possibility gave Riley pause. "Well…could be. If you start out with an artificial disruption of the electrical activity of the brain, any additional sort of attack is bound to have a more extreme result. On the other hand…"

"What?" Ash was watching her intently.

"I'm just wondering if the Taser
was
the initial attack. If whoever this is has the ability to channel dark energy, then maybe he was having an effect on me from the very beginning. Blocking me somehow, distracting me. Slowing my reaction time, even clouding my judgment. Maybe that was why I had the sense there was something wrong here, despite the lack of any real evidence of occult activity-before we found Tate's body, at least."

Gordon shook his head slightly, and said, "I've seen your spooky senses at work long enough not to easily doubt them, babe, but I got to wonder this time. If you've got an enemy deadly enough to set all this up as a lure to get you here and then spend weeks messing with your head and your life, how can you not know who he is?"

"I thought I did know," Riley admitted. "Especially when I found out about the serial the police are after in Charleston. But it can't be him, that's why I didn't mention him. He's dead."
Bishop said so, and I can trust that.

"Who did you suspect?" Ash asked.

"The only other serial I've ever encountered who had an interest in the occult," Riley said. "John Henry Price."

She thought for an instant it was only her hand that had gone cold suddenly, but then she realized it was Ash, his hand, and when she looked at his face, the coldness went all the way to her bones.