The District (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Christina greeted him in the hotel restaurant with heavy eyes and a yawn.

“You look like you need another eight hours of sleep.”

“
Another
eight hours? Try two.”

“Are you still worried about Vivi?”

“Yeah, Vivi.” She dropped into the chair across from him and gulped down some of his ice water.

“I’ll tell you what.” He reached for his phone. “I’ll give Judd a call and see if he can track her down.”

“Would he do that?”

“If he’s not busy.” He scrolled through the contacts on his personal phone until he reached Judd’s number. He tapped the phone and it rang on the other end.

His brother’s gruff voice rumbled over the phone. “Judd Brody, leave a message.”

“Judd, it’s Eric. Give me a call. I want you to find someone for me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t see how that guy can make a living with his social skills.”

“Do you think he’ll call you back?”

“Like I said, if he’s not on a case taking pics of some cheating spouse.”

“Is that usually the type of work he does?” She wrinkled her nose.

“He’ll take just about anything, but he does missing persons, a lot of bodyguarding, too.”

“Any celebrities?”

“Here and there.” He raised his brows. “Why? Are you thinking of writing another book?”

“Another book?” She smacked the table. “I thought we cleared that up? There was no book.”

He patted her hand. “Take it easy. I was kidding. Is it too early to kid about that?”

“No, kid away. I’d rather have the bad jokes than the dagger looks.” She waved at the waitress. “That reminds me. I still have those notes. I meant what I said then and now, Eric. Those notes are yours.”

“I don’t know what I’d do with them now.”

“You used to be interested in finding out the truth about your father.”

“I still am.”

The waitress stopped at their table, and he ordered an omelet with the works while Christina settled for a bowl of oatmeal with berries.

She planted her elbows on the table and buried her chin in one palm. “What? You’re not interested in your dad’s case anymore?”

“Sean discovered something recently when he was investigating that Alphabet Killer.”

“Something about your father?”

“When the Phone Book Killer started communicating with my father, the department recommended that he see a shrink.”

“That makes sense—standard operating procedure for a lot of departments.”

“Sean thought the psychiatrist might have some insight into my father’s suicide, so he tracked down the doctor.”

Christina hunched over the table, clasping her hands in front of her. “That’s exciting.”

“Didn’t end up that way. The guy dropped dead minutes before Sean got there to question him.”

“What?” She pushed her hair off her face, her eyes wide. “What happened?”

“He had a heart attack.”

“Oh, my God. What are the chances of that happening?”

“Exactly.”

“What does Sean think?”

“He thinks the doc may have had some information for him, information someone didn’t want him to have.”

“Does he have any proof that the heart attack was induced?”

“That’s when he called me in, but I couldn’t get a toxicology report on the doctor. We don’t know what happened to him. It could’ve just been a heart attack. Maybe he got stressed-out thinking about my father’s case and that brought on the attack.”

“That’s so strange.”

The waitress dropped off their food, and Eric dug into his omelet. He pointed his fork at her bowl of mush. “Is that going to be enough?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got brown sugar, bananas, berries. I’m in heaven.”

“This,” he said, waving his fork with a string of orange cheese hanging off it, “is heaven. Anyway, enough of my father’s case. We have our own killer to find.”

“We’ll fire up your laptop and do a little research on covens.”

“Maybe we can get more info from Libby. We should drop in on her again.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and Nigel will be around.”

“So many witches, so little time.” He stuffed another bite of omelet into his mouth.

They finished their breakfast, and took the elevator back up to their rooms. In the light of day, Eric felt more in control of his impulses. He wouldn’t rule out another go around with Christina, but he wanted to make sure she wasn’t harboring any more secrets.

He did believe that she never intended to write that book, but she’d kept her relationship with Ray Lopez a secret from him, and there was no doubt in his mind that if Lopez had gotten his hands on those notes, a book on his father dredging up the whole sordid affair would’ve been forthcoming.

Christina still had something to prove to him, and maybe he had something to prove to her, too.

Maybe that’s why she was still skittish. She was just waiting for his moody psycho side to make another appearance.

The elevator dinged, bringing him out of his daydreams.

“My room?” She tapped on the door with her card.

“I’ll meet you through the secret door, since I have the laptop.”

“I have a laptop, too.”

“Mine’s faster.”

She sighed. “If you insist. I’ll meet you at the secret door, but you have to do the secret knock.”

She twirled around and shut her door in his face.

In his room, he swept his computer from the table and knocked on the door that separated their rooms. “Ready?”

She flung the door open. “You got the secret knock right on the first try.”

“I’m psychic.” He wiggled his fingers in the air.

“Water?”

“Line ’em up.” He set the laptop on the table by the window and powered it on. “Okay, what should we search for first? Covens?”

“Give it a try.”

His hands hovered over the keyboard. “Do the covens actually have names?”

“I have no idea. Libby wasn’t very forthcoming with the particulars.”

“And your sister? Did she ever mention a name?”

“No. I never even knew she was a member of a coven. Her or my father. I didn’t know there were different covens.”

“Maybe they’re like sororities. You have to rush a coven and they make sure you’re a good fit.” He tapped a few keys.

She stuck out her tongue. “Don’t be dumb. Remember what Libby said? You don’t join a coven, you just are.”

He ignored the tongue and stared so hard at the screen, his vision blurred. “I’m wondering if half of what Libby told us was bull.”

She leaned over his shoulder. “What do you have there?”

“What’s the difference between witches and Wiccans?” He pushed his laptop toward her.

As she leaned in closer to the screen, her hair feathered against his cheek and her perfume emanated from the pulse beating in her throat. If he didn’t already know she applied a dab or two of the musky scent every morning, he’d swear it was her original smell, something organic to Christina.

“I have no idea what the difference is.” She flicked the monitor. “Try this website. It looks like a directory of witches or something.”

“Witchweb dot com? Catchy.” He clicked on the link and a screen popped up filled with symbols and signs and links to products. “Whoa, we could spend all day on this website.”

She jabbed her finger at the display. “We may not have to. There’s our symbol.”

“And it links to something.” He brought up the next page, which contained a brief description of the symbol.

Running his finger beneath the words, he read aloud. “This symbol first appeared in the Caribbean and has been a part of Santeria practices, but today it is most commonly associated with the brujos of Mexico, especially the coven
Los Brujos de Invierno.
”

“I’ve never heard that name before—winter witches.” She dropped to her knees beside his chair. “But Dad comes from Mexico, so it totally makes sense that he’d belong to that coven. Why would someone want to wipe out members of a coven?”

“Money? Love? Power?”

“Does it look like these people care about power or money to you?” She waved her hand at the website, and then clenched it into a fist. “Wait. The tarot card. The one with the lion and the maiden means strength. I guess that could be power.”

“Power and death, right?” He tugged on his earlobe. “I was hoping there would be a directory of witches. How is the killer finding them? We need to figure that out before he gets to his next victim.”

“And before we go too far down this path, we need to check the witch connection with the other two victims outside San Francisco. So far, we have the occult symbol necklace on Liz, and Nora’s employment in an alternative bookstore and Libby’s assurance that Nora was a member of this coven.”

“Don’t forget the same symbol on your windshield, which means our killer is still in the city or someone other than the killer knows about the victims’ connection to this coven.”

She sat on the floor beside his chair, folding her legs beneath her and tilting her head back to look up at him. “We’ll have to turn over all this info to the P.D. We promised we’d share, and maybe they have something for us.”

“I’d feel a lot better if my brother was in town.”

“When is he coming back from his extended vacation?”

“Not until September. He’s with a teacher he met on his last case.”

“Your brother is actually serious enough about someone to travel with her? A teacher?”

“I know, a kindergarten teacher. I was kinda surprised, but that cold heart of his had to melt sometime.”

“Well, I’m glad it was a kindergarten teacher who did the melting and not some red-hot stripper.”

He laughed and ruffled her hair. “The date he brought to our engagement dinner was
not
a stripper.”

“Uh, she worked at The Boom Boom Room at the edge of North Beach, and her name was Candy.”

“Candy was an exotic dancer.”

“If an exotic dancer takes her clothes off, she’s a stripper, especially if her name is Candy.”

Eric pushed away from the table and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge. “Sean dated those types of women because he was always afraid of getting too close to someone. He could keep his distance with them without hurting anyone’s feelings.”

“Looks like he’s gotten through all that if he’s on vacation with a kindergarten teacher.”

“Exactly why I don’t want to bother him with this case.” As he stepped through the door to his own room, he called over his shoulder, “I’m getting those files.”

When he returned to her room, she was huddled over the laptop, her fingers racing over the keyboard.

“Find anything else?”

“Just doing some name searches, but there aren’t any websites that seem to have a list of coven members.”

He dropped the files on the desk. “They probably want to keep a low profile.”

Someone knocked on Christina’s door. “Expecting someone?”

“No, unless that’s Darius Cole with more news about Vivi.” She untangled her legs and jumped to her feet. Placing a hand against the door, she put her eyeball up to the peephole and swore.

“Who is it?”

She whispered, “No one. We can just pretend we’re not here.”

With his brow furrowed, Eric stalked toward the door.

She slapped her hand over the peephole at the same time a voice came from the hallway.

“C’mon, Christina. It’s Ray Lopez. I know you’re in there, and I want this story.”

Chapter Nine

She ground her teeth together and took a quick look at Eric’s stormy face. He may have come to realize she was never working with Ray on a book about his family, but it didn’t mean he liked the man. And she didn’t need Ray complicating this tentative truce she had with her ex-fiancé and the father of her child.

Shaking her head, she mouthed,
ignore him.

Eric reached across her and pushed down on the door handle. “By all means, let’s hear what the scrappy boy reporter Ray Lopez has to say on the matter.”

Eric flung open the door, and Ray jumped back into the hallway.

Ray’s mouth spread into a smile. “Now I know it’s a big case with a Brody in the mix. How the hell are you, Brody?”

Eric grunted in response and ignored Ray’s outstretched hand.

“What are you doing here, Ray?” She wedged her hands on her hips, hoping to show her extreme displeasure at her childhood friend’s appearance.

As usual, nothing got through his thick skull. He rubbed his hands together and slipped into the room. “What am I ever doing? I’m after a story. Two murders in the city and nothing from the SFPD. You know, if your brother was here, Brody, he’d give me the goods. He always gives me something.”

Eric folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb, still keeping the door wide-open. Just in case he wanted to throw Ray out?

“I guess I forgot to tell him you were ferreting around trying to get the dirt on our family.”

Ray stroked his goatee. “Just the truth, man. It’s still a fascinating story after all these years. I’m not the only one looking for a new angle on the story. There’s a reporter up in Seattle who just hit the bestseller lists with one true crime book, and she has her eye on the Joey Brody story for her second.”

Christina grabbed Ray’s arm. “I’m sure you didn’t track me down to discuss the ancient Brody case.”

“I tracked you down because I heard you were working these two murders—Nora Sterling and Liz Fielding.”

“I am.” She took a step toward Eric still glowering by the door. “We are.”

“That’s a little,” he remarked as his gaze darted toward Eric, “awkward.”

Eric pushed out a noisy breath of air. “We’re all adults here, Lopez. Have you heard anything on the street about the murders?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours first.”

Christina jabbed her finger into Ray’s ribs.

He gasped. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. I’m just wondering why two FBI agents are out here for a serial killer.”

“Well, duh. We have a serial killer division.” Christina tipped her chin toward Eric to close the door, and he let it slam.

“I know that, but usually you guys get involved when the murderer crosses state lines. Have there been other murders? Similar murders elsewhere?”

“I guess we’re not going to see yours, Lopez, because there’s no way we’re giving up that information to a reporter.” Eric practically spit out the last word.

“The press serves a valuable purpose, Brody.” Ray folded his hands over his slightly paunchy stomach and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“Prove it. What are you hearing on the street?”

Ray looked both ways and cupped a hand around his mouth. “That Liz and especially Nora were into some weird stuff.”

Christina’s pulse jumped. “Like what?”

“Voodoo, hocus-pocus stuff.” He waved his hands in the air. “Séances, Ouija boards, conjuring spirits. Kinda reminds me of your old man, Christina.”

Eric narrowed his eyes. “Maybe they conjured the wrong spirits.”

Ray made a gun with his fingers and pointed at Eric. “Are the cops working this angle yet? Are you?”

“You know we can’t reveal anything like that.”

Ray jerked his thumb at Eric. “Have you explained how quid pro quo works, Christina? Hell, even your brother knows how it works.”

“My brother is a homicide detective with the SFPD. He needs people like you.” Eric brushed his hands together. “We don’t.”

“Aww, I’m all broken up. Didn’t I just give you a choice morsel of info?”

“It ain’t that choice, Lopez.”

Ray wagged his finger. “Ahh, you just gave me a hint, Agent Brody. The cops
are
working this angle. You already know about the witchy ways of Nora and Liz.”

Christina shoved her hands in her back pockets. “Is that all you came here for, Ray? To find out what we know about the murders?”

“That,” he said, grabbing her by the shoulders and planting a kiss on her cheek, “and to say hello to an old friend. You look great, by the way.”

“Thanks, Ray. You look good, too.”

“Just remember to throw me a few scraps now and then. I’m not asking for anything confidential, but if you’ve got something you’re going to release to the press anyway, think of me first.”

Eric dug into his pocket and handed a card to Ray. “And if you hear anything, let us know.”

Ray pressed the card to his heart. “We’ve come a long way, Brody.”

Christina’s brows shot up. Eric had taken this forgiveness thing to a whole new level.

Ray seemed to want to quit while he was ahead because he practically ran for the door. “Say hello to your mom for me out there in Nowhereville.”

“Will do.” She shut the door and turned slowly. “That went...well.”

“I still don’t appreciate that he was working on you to use me to get to my family’s story, but I guess I understand him better.”

“I know he’s kind of a jackass, but he’s just trying to make a name for himself.”

“What does that have to do with pretending to have a relationship with you? He even hinted marriage.”

“He’s always had a little crush on me.” She held up her fingers about an inch apart. “The two of us were over by then anyway. He’s not a bad guy. He’s helping his mom send his younger sister through school.”

“Okay, enough of the sob story. If he can give us anything, I don’t have a problem reciprocating with a little advance information.”

The knots that had been twisting in her gut since the moment she saw Ray through the peephole began to loosen. She liked this retro Eric Brody. This was the man she’d first met and fallen in love with. The man who’d existed before he’d started working child abductions.

What psychiatrist had told him
that
was a good idea? Instead of resolving the issues from his own kidnapping, the assignment had twisted his insides. And when his team had lost the child on that last case, he’d come unraveled.

How would he feel now to know he had a child of his own?

“Earth to Christina.” He snapped his fingers in front of her nose. “Let’s finish looking over the files from the other two cases and then get some lunch.”

“As long as I can stretch out on the bed while doing it—looking at the files, I mean.”

“Nobody told you to sit on the floor.”

“Believe it or not, the floor is more comfortable than sitting at a desk. You’re not the only one who gets tight muscles and backaches.”

He reached for one of the files and tossed it onto the bed. “Stretch away. I’ll go through the Juarez case.”

Christina fluffed up the pillows against the headboard and sank against them. She flipped open the file on her lap and started with the lab report on the victim, Olivia Dearing.

For the next half hour, the silence of the room was broken only by the rustling of pages and a few clicks as Eric typed on the laptop.

Then Eric whistled. “Hello.”

“Find something?”

“A few days before Victor Juarez was murdered he had a tattoo removed.”

“Yeah? So what?” She swept the papers from her lap and rolled onto her stomach.

He held up a photo and waved it. “There’s a picture of his left shoulder where the tattoo was removed. It’s round.”

“What are you saying? He had a tattoo of our symbol removed?”

“Maybe.” He rose from his chair and tossed the photo onto the bed. “Have a look?”

She squinted at the reddened flesh on the dead man’s skin. “It could’ve been any circular tattoo.”

“Could’ve also been that coven symbol.”

She picked up the photo, swinging it by one corner. “Anything in that report about what kind of tattoo it was?”

“Nope, but the name of the tattoo removal place is in here. I’m going to give them a call and see if they can remember what they removed from Mr. Juarez’s shoulder. Did you find anything?”

“Not yet.”

“There may be nothing in the file at all, but I’m willing to bet the connection has to be there.” He returned to the desk and shuffled through the papers in the file. “Got it. He went to a dermatologist.”

He reached for his phone, and Christina jabbed her finger in the air. “Speaker.”

The phone rang on the other end and a woman answered. “Westpoint Dermatology.”

“This is Agent Eric Brody with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m wondering if you can help me with some information about a recent patient of yours, Victor Juarez.”

The woman hissed. “The guy who was murdered last month.”

“Exactly. Did the police already talk to you?”

“Yes. They called to verify that we were the ones who removed Mr. Juarez’s tattoo.”

“Did they ask you what kind of tattoo it was?”

“They just wanted to know if it was a gang tattoo, which it wasn’t.”

Eric slid a piece of hotel stationery toward him. “Do you remember what it was or do you have a record of what it was?”

“I wouldn’t remember. I never saw it. I’m not even sure I was here when Mr. Juarez came in for his removal. When news of his murder hit the airwaves, another girl told me he’d been in here.”

“Can I talk to the doctor who removed it, or do you have the tattoo on file?”

“Oh, yeah. We always keep a before and after picture. I can look it up for you, but not right this minute, and I’ll also need some verification from you that you’re really from the FBI.”

“Understood. I’ll give you the number for the FBI, my ID number and also my email address so you can email me the picture of the tattoo when you get it.”

“That’ll work.”

Eric rattled off the information and ended the call. “I think we’re onto something.”

“I can’t find anything on this victim that points to witchcraft.” Christina shoved the case file off her lap.

“It’s there somewhere.” He clasped the back of his neck, tilting his head from side to side. “I need a break. Lunch?”

“Let’s get out of here. It’s almost worse than working in an office. It’s so claustrophobic and there are no coworkers to make fun of.”

“Remind me never to turn my back on you in the office.”

Her phone buzzed and one glance at it caused a rush of adrenaline to course through her body. “Ah, this is a private call.”

His brows shot to his hairline. Then he backed up toward his room. “Go ahead. I’m going to make a few calls myself.”

He shut the door behind him with a decisive click, and she let out a breath and collapsed against the fluffed-up pillows. “Hi, Mom. How’s everything going?”

“Kendall is doing fine, but she misses her mommy.”

Christina put a hand over her heart where the hole just got bigger. “Can you put her on the phone?”

“Of course. She’s helping me pack up a lunch for our picnic at the park. I’m meeting that nice, young mother down the street and her daughter. I think she’s a stay-at-home mom.”

Christina gritted her teeth and ignored the jab. “Great. Kendall and Serena play really well together.”

“Here she is. Say hi to Mommy, Kendall.”

“Hi, Mommy.” Her daughter’s sweet voice filled the hole in her heart with love.

“Hi, girly-girl. Are you going to play with Serena today?”

“In the sand.”

“Are you going to build castles in the sandbox?”

“Princess castles.”

“Those are the best kind.” When she’d been a girl, she’d spent time building sand castles and then punching holes in them. Kendall clearly had not inherited her mother’s tomboy ways.

Kendall went on to tell her about her lunch and the kitten next door, and a few other things Christina couldn’t quite figure out, but she loved listening to her daughter chatter away anyway.

Then the words abruptly stopped and her mom got back on the phone. “Quite the chatterbox today.”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell her I love her. Can you put the phone back to her ear?”

After some rustling noises, Christina said, “Love you, girly-girl. See you soon.”

“When
are
you coming home, Christina? Chasing serial killers around the country is no job for a woman with a young child, especially when that child doesn’t have a father.”

The guilt twisted her insides. Nobody could do guilt better than her mother—especially when she was right.

“He’s here.”

“What?”

Christina lowered her voice. “Eric. He’s on the same case and he’s here with me.”

“Perfect. Now you can tell him he’s a father.”

“It’s not that easy, Mom.”

“It’s not easy because you’ve been sitting on this bombshell for over two years.”

“You know why I did that.”

“Because he was mad at you?”

“It was more than that. He was in a dark place when he lost that kidnapped child, and he’d already told me he didn’t want kids of his own. I had agreed to that, so when I got pregnant it would’ve looked like a trap after he dumped me.”

“So what? If he’s any kind of man, he’ll get over it when you tell him he has a daughter.”

“He’ll hate me for keeping it from him.”

“As he should. So that’s why you’re not telling him now? You think it’s going to mess up the little kissy-face game you have going on now? You’re selfish, Christina.”

Anger pounded hot against her temples, and a retort burned on her lips. Then she closed her eyes and dragged in a breath through her nose. “You’re right. I need to tell him. I will tell him.”

“A man like Eric Brody will never walk away from his responsibilities. He may walk away from you, but never his daughter. He’s not like your father.”

Christina’s eyes flew open. “Speaking of Dad, have you heard from him or Vivi lately?”

“Funny you should ask. Vivi was just out here.”

“What? When?” Christina bunched the bedspread in her fist.

“A few weeks ago.”