Something Wicked (30 page)

“What other matter?” Ravinia repeated.

“The graves,” Catherine said suddenly. “If you can't get to Echo, let's take care of the graves first.”

“All right,” Earl said.

“Tonight,” Catherine replied, pressing.

“Tomorrow,” Earl said after a moment of thought, and then he locked the gate and headed out.

Catherine turned back toward the lodge with Ravinia at her side. “What's with the graves?” Ravinia asked.

“Detective Dunbar says there will be an exhumation, so I need to make sure your mother's bones are in the ground beside her headstone.”

Ravinia looked at her carefully. “They're not now?”

“No. They're in a separate place in the graveyard.”

“So, whose bones are in there?”

Catherine felt her stomach tighten. She hadn't talked about it. Ever. Not even with Mary, who'd been there, who'd saved her . . . “The bastard who tried to rape me. The one your mother killed in order to stop him.”

“My mother killed someone?” Ravinia asked in surprise.

“And he deserved to die,” Catherine responded tautly.

“My God, Aunt Catherine . . . who? One of our . . . fathers?”

Catherine thought back to the evil monster who'd pushed her into the closet, his hot breath stinking of bourbon, his eyes a malevolent blue flame that burned into her as his hands crawled all over her and he bit at her neck and breasts. “Yes,” she stated flatly. “But he sired a son, not a daughter. And I think he's out there on Echo, biding his time. Waiting to come for us.” She looked to the west, but there was no fire tonight. Then she turned to Ravinia, who was standing immobile, waiting for more. “I may need your help in this endeavor.”

“Just tell me what I have to do,” Ravinia said, on the same wavelength as Catherine for possibly the first time in her life.

 

 

Conversation stopped as soon as Savvy eased into the chair behind her desk. Lang wasn't immediately visible, but she'd seen his car in the back lot. Burghsmith looked to Deputy Delaney, who'd been off for a week on a pre-Thanksgiving vacation, and Delaney looked to Clausen, who finally said, “Lang filled us in. Real sorry about Kristina.”

“Yeah.” If Savannah said anything more, she risked those tears that were hovering behind her eyelids, ready to jump out at a moment's notice.

“Congrats on the baby,” he added. “O'Halloran really put the fear of God into you about desk duty, huh?”

He was trying to keep things light, but his eyes were serious and she could feel the empathy, even if he wasn't showing it. This was not good. If they were going to be
nice
to her, damn it, she was not going to make it through the day.

Lang appeared from the break room with a cup of coffee and an individual-size bag of barbecue potato chips from the vending machine. Seeing Savvy, he put the cup and chips on his desk and sat down across from her. “You really did come to work.”

“I said I was going to.”

“Think you and I could talk alone for a moment?”

“Sure,” she said slowly, wondering what was coming. She looked around, but before she could get up from her seat, the other officers left in a herd, as if they knew what was coming and didn't want to be anywhere around. “Uh-oh,” she said.

“You didn't mention yesterday that Kristina's death was a homicide.”

“That hasn't been fully determined yet,” she said.

“Yeah, it has.” Lang looked at her with sympathy. “O'Halloran took a call from Detective Hamett out of Seaside. They interviewed Hale Bancroft yesterday.”

“St. Cloud, Lang. St. Cloud,” she said, her face flushing from growing fury. “I just saw Hale, and he didn't say anything about it.”

Lang lifted his palms. “Maybe there's a reason for that.”

“Don't play word games. What are you suggesting?”

“That maybe he didn't want you to know that they were looking at him.”

“Looking at him,” she repeated. “You're kidding. You have to be kidding. Hale? It's not him.”

“He is her husband,” Lang pointed out, “and by his own admission, they were working on their marriage, so something wasn't right between them.”

“Hale said that? To Hamett?”

“And his partner, Evinrud. They went to Hale's house yesterday afternoon and asked him where he was Saturday night, and he said his wife never came home Friday night at all, and that he hadn't seen her since Friday afternoon.”

“Hale did not kill my sister.”

“A neighbor saw a white truck outside the crime scene that night. Your sister's car was parked there, and the truck was just down the street.”

“Hale drives a black TrailBlazer. I just saw him getting into it.”

“Bancroft Development trucks are all white. That was confirmed by St. Cloud as well.”

“Jesus, Lang.”

“I'm just telling you what I know.”

“Then it's someone else. Someone . . . maybe . . . Kristina was involved with.”

Lang gave her a long look. “Are you saying she was involved with someone?”

“I'm saying that I have some other ideas. Not Hale St. Cloud. Where's the evidence report on the Donatellas?”

“You still want that?”

“Yes, I want it.” Savvy was sick of being treated like she was somehow deficient in her skills as a detective.

“Okay, but I want to know what you're thinking about your sister. Hamett and Evinrud already want to talk to you.”

“I need to talk to Hale first.”

“Savvy. What the hell? I'm telling you he's a suspect. You can't talk to—”

“Not about the case,” she snapped in frustration. “About his wife. My sister. And whether he thought she might be having an affair. That's what I want to talk to him about. If he doesn't know, I want to be the one to tell him.”

“Let Hamett and—”

“No! That's just what I'm saying! You're not listening. Owen DeWitt suggested that Kristina might have met someone . . . at the Donatellas'. Someone she was meeting there.”

“Holy shit . . .”

“That's why I want to talk to Hale first. I don't think he killed my sister, but believe me, if he did, I'll be first in line to string him up.”

“You're too close to this.”

“God damn it, Lang.” Savvy jumped to her feet just as O'Halloran looked into the squad room.

“When you have a minute, want to come to my office?” he said.

“We're not done,” Lang said as Savannah headed after O'Halloran. When Savvy ignored him, he added, “You said you got some files from Bancroft Development?”

She stopped at the door to the sheriff's office and called back, “They're in my Escape, which is at Isaac's Towing by now, most likely.”

“Ah. Okay. I'll get somebody to retrieve them.”

“I looked them over. I don't think there was anything there.”

He nodded as if he heard her, but she realized, with another spurt of renewed anger, that he thought she was just covering up for Hale some more. Her heart was pumping wildly, she realized as she entered O'Halloran's sanctum. Hale wasn't involved. He wasn't. But he was being targeted like a main suspect, and what did that mean for little Declan? And how come he hadn't told her about the interview with the cops?

And who could have wanted to kill her sister? Kristina had had her issues, yes, but she wasn't a bad person. Was it Declan Jr.? Whose sexual lure might be as powerful as his mother's. Who maybe had drawn Savvy's sister under his spell so powerfully that she thought it was
sorcery.
Whose sickness and lust for revenge or payback or bloodlust, or whatever, had put them all in his sights, the women of Siren Song and Declan Bancroft, and herself as well.

Did that even sound like a sane argument?

She needed to talk to Hale. And she needed to talk to Declan Sr.

“Take a seat, Savannah,” the sheriff said, gesturing to the chairs on the opposite side of the desk as he settled his bulk into his desk chair, which creaked and groaned under his weight. When she did as instructed, he said, “Last week we were going to put you on desk duty today, as I recall.”

“We were going to meet today and discuss it.”

“And how are you feeling?”

“A lot of things have happened. I'm . . . still processing,” Savvy admitted.

“But you're here at work.”

“This is the one area that I feel certain about right now. My job.” She gave him a weak smile. Lang's words still rang in her ears, and her head was full of thoughts of Hale . . . and little Declan . . . and Catherine's warnings....

“You still want to be out in the field.”

“Yes.” She was adamant.

“If you feel ready, I don't see any reason to hold you back,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said with feeling.

“I'm sorry about your sister. We all are.”

Savvy nodded as she got to her feet. Feeling like she'd gotten past a huge obstacle, she walked back toward the squad room and then felt something wet on her chest. Looking down at her gray shirt, she saw two wet spots spreading across her breasts.

May Johnson was just coming out of the break room. “What?” she asked, seeing Savvy had stopped short.

“My milk just came in,” Savannah said.

 

 

“What did you say?” Hale asked, the receiver of his landline pressed to his ear, as he watched the nanny, Victoria, carry the baby toward his nursery, cooing to him.

“Your mother's on her way,” Declan repeated, sounding pleased.

Hale let that information process slowly. He'd figured out how to put in the new car seat, and he'd driven Declan home, with Victoria following behind in her car. His head was full of thoughts of bringing the baby home and settling him in. Thinking of his mother, who, in her way, was as bullheaded as her father—probably why they didn't get along—made him feel like the precarious merry-go-round he'd been riding was about to spin out of control. “My mother is flying in from Philadelphia?”

“I told her about little Declan. She should be here in Portland tonight.”

“How's she getting to the coast? The roads are still a mess.”

“Oh, they're fine. I saw it on the news. She's a grandmother, Hale,” he said, as if that explained away irrational behavior. “She's going to want to see the boy. I do too. I'm getting out of my driveway this afternoon and coming up there to see him. Maybe I'll stay overnight.”

“I'll have someone come get you,” Hale said quickly. His grandfather's driving ability was suspect at best and didn't allow for any unexpected changes, like hazardous weather conditions.

“The roads are clearing. It's fine.”

“They're not that fine.” Hale thought his grandfather's anxiousness could also be attributed to his belief that someone had been at his house.

“All right. Have someone come get me,” Declan grumbled. “But I want to be there when Janet shows up.”

“Mom shouldn't drive over the mountains yet. It's not safe.”

“Well, you tell her that when she lands. See how that goes over.”

Though Hale rarely saw his mother these days, he knew of her formidable will. What the hell? He'd inherited some of that, too. He could handle her. But he sure wished Declan would have let him tell his mother about the baby first. The surprising part was Janet and Declan rarely talked to each other. They'd been damn near estranged for all of Hale's adult life.

“What time is she getting in?” Hale asked.

“Seven or so.”

“I'll leave a message on her cell. What made you decide to tell her about the baby?”

“Well, you didn't seem to be picking up the phone.”

“I've been a little busy,” Hale said dryly.

“
Ack.
For your own son?”

Hale held on to his temper with an effort. While visiting his grandfather the day before he'd laid out all the events that had surrounded baby Declan's birth, the terrible weather and Kristina's death, expecting a different reaction from Declan's rather befuddled “Well, why couldn't you just wait for the ambulance, son?”

With his grandfather, sometimes explanations were a waste of breath. Hale had left him then, heading home to take a shower, drink a glass of red wine, and fall into bed. Sylvie had left him a message with Victoria Phelan's number, and he'd made plans to meet with the nanny at the hospital this afternoon. As soon as he got up, he'd gone to see Savannah and the baby. Savvy had been on one foot and the other to get home, so he'd taken her into Seaside so she could rent a car. Then he'd headed to Ocean Park to meet Victoria and pick up baby Declan.

“I'll come get you,” he said to his grandfather as Victoria cruised into the kitchen.

“I'll get my overnight bag ready,” Declan said.

“You have formula?” Victoria mouthed, holding up a baby bottle, and he pointed to the cabinet that Kristina had chosen for baby supplies.

Victoria was slim and attractive, and he hoped she was going to be good for the baby. She'd signed a contract with Kristina, so now he and she were forging ahead, seeing how things worked out. There was nothing wrong with her. She just seemed kind of . . . young . . . and, well, he wished that Savannah were here. He wanted her to be with Declan, to be at the house. He wanted her to be Declan's mother in Kristina's place. But that was never the way it was supposed to be. He was just . . . wishful.