whiskey witches 01 - whisky witches (13 page)

She let out a sigh. Summoning a demon right now was probably not a very good idea. Tempting, though. If things got any worse, Balnore could always destroy the tapes.

“What kind of drugs do you like to take?” White asked, standing up.

“Ibuprofen.” Paige crossed her ankles on the desk, watching White approach. “I don’t like aspirin. It doesn’t seem to work as well.”

“You know what I think?” White placed both hands on the armrests of her chair.

She threw him a complete dead-pan stare. “That I’m guilty and in on this?”

“You have a track record.” He brought his nose close to hers. “Every time you’re called in on a special case, it always remains unsolved. You know what that means?”

“That sometimes unexplainable shit happens that you can’t write in a report. You know why? Because writing that kind of crap makes you look insane.” Careful. Tapes.

“Do you know what the killer’s attempting?”

She blinked long and slow. “That’s why you called me in, right?”

Jones steepled fingers and pressed them against his lips.

“Can you share with the class?”

What did Jones need to hear? White was trying to throw her a line. She simply didn’t know what to do with what he gave her. “The murders were to draw me here. What happened at the shack was a trap for me.”

Letting his hands fall, Jones kept his eyes trained on her.

That’s what he needed, but the damned tapes were recording everything. “Someone thinks I can raise a demon for them.”

“And do what?” White asked.

“Open the Gate to Hell.”

Jones barked with laughter.

“Is that the story you’re going to stick to?” White asked with a chuckle.

“It’s easier to buy into the mold theory, isn’t it?”

“Cut the crap, Whiskey,” White shouted. “I will have you detained for impeding—”

“Bullshit, and you know it!” Paige slammed her feet against the tiled floor. “If you had anything on me, I’d be under arrest. And if you had any evidence, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now. He’d be behind bars.”

“You really have a hard on for me, don’t you?”

“So what is it with the killer?” White asked. “Is your boyfriend into the kinky shit? Does he get off killing people? Is the murderer this new guy, Dexx?”

She needed to talk to White about his interrogation skills. She had nothing to work with. “Come on, Jones, are you into whips and chains? I mean, what do you and Malika do afterwards?”

He laughed. “We’re so vanilla, it’s not—”

“Why do you keep turning this back to Jones?” White demanded.

“I knew a witch was involved.” She stood up. “The first victim was just to see if blood magick was enough. Ms. Fort was killed because she caught on. But then the third victim. He was different.”

Jones leaned his head against the wall and smiled at her.

She dug into his personal space, whispering into his ear. “How did it feel to torture him? Was it empowering?”

His smile deepened.

She walked away and placed her shoulder against the opposite wall. “His murder was the key, actually. You see, Chief, Mr. Lopez was a generator. In magical circles, they’re the ones that create the power for the ritual. When a generator is tortured, there’s even more pow—”

“You have no proof.”

She sauntering toward him, planting her hands on either side of him. “You and I both know that in this world, I don’t need proof. Proof is for the mortals.”

“How are you feeling? Are you sure you’re alone in there?”

“I think I’d know if I were sharing my meat suit.” She pushed away from him. “Don’t you?”

“Chief,” Jones said, standing. “You see she’s out of her mind. She has no idea what she’s even talking about. You can’t—”

“You don’t tell me what I do and do not believe.” White took his seat, his brown eyes narrowed. “Why did you request her?”

“I knew about her reputation. The Pilmner case was too similar to this one.”

“I’m going to need to check your alibi. Yours and Malika’s.”

“Chief, don’t you think that’s a little unreasonable?”

“No. I don’t.”

Thunder crashed across Jones’ expression. He ripped open the door and stormed out.

White glared at her as the door slammed shut behind his officer.

At least there wasn’t any question as to his guilt anymore, but no evidence to hold him, which was frustrating.

“I can’t believe he’d be a part of something like this, but that man—that man was not the one I know.”

Paige’s eyebrows rose.

“I’ll check their alibis, but Detective.”

“Yes, Chief?”

“I want this demon crap out of my parish.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“And I want a report on the symbols, something I can actually put in a report.”

“Understood, Chief. I’ll get right on it.”

“I take it you’re well acquainted with writing feasible reports.”

She glanced at the camera in the corner. “I need my Grandmother to look at them. The killer spliced runes together. I think its crap, but she has a better understanding of this.”

“Normally, my answer would be no . . .”

“But today?”

He headed for the door. “I’m way out of my league on this one, Detective. Way out of my league.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Just make sure no one knows of her involvement. This case has enough problems already without adding a known witch into the legal investigation.”

Paige nodded. “Right, sir.”

“And, Whiskey.”

“Yes?”

“God be with you.”

There are billions of people on the planet.

You’re not alone.

If it feels like it,

you’re the only one who can fix that.

I
N THE REAL
world, when cases didn’t immediately solve themselves, a person had two options. Well, two major options. Either sit around and run the information through the brain for hours and hours and hours on end, asking the same questions and going absolutely nowhere.

Or choose to do something else.

Paige had already been at it for hours and hours and hours. The evidence didn’t reveal anything new. She’d been lured to St. Francisville to summon a man who was part demon to open the Gates of Heaven and Hell.

Leaving was the best option, but she didn’t have the key and people weren’t safe yet.

Malika and Jones were involved, but couldn’t be the mastermind. The puppeteer was the real prize, the person she needed to catch. Running away and allowing him to remain free was a bad idea.

Dexx pushed away the to-go bag from the local sandwich shop and leaned on the table in her room. “How does the new ink feel?”

She shrugged. He’d put a new mark in the middle of her back, not permanent. “It feels like nothing. Like I said, I don’t need it.”

“Okay, whatever. Join us on the investigation tonight.”

Paige shook her head, staring at Ashley Fort’s file. “I don’t do ghost hunts, Dexx.”

“Why not? They’re fun.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “They’re ghost hunts.”

“And you’re a demon summoner. What’s the problem?”

She let out a long sigh. She just needed something to click. If they were really after Lucius, she was the wrong person for the job in the first place. He’d been a man. She did demons. Okay, so he was part demon or something due to him being immortal or whatever, but still the pieces didn’t fit. She’d missed something. But what? She had just enough pieces to see what kind of puzzle she was putting together. Not enough to complete it.

Dexx grabbed her hand, dragging her half-resisting out the door and down the stairs. She really did need a break and it had been a long time since she’d gone on a paranormal investigation.

The sun had set. The stars shone above the tree line as the cool breeze wafted around them. The moon played peak-a-boo behind wispy clouds that did little to blot out the rest of the sky. The scent of flowers teased her nose. It was a gorgeous night.

“We’ll take my car,” Dexx said, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

“Aw, Jackie!” Paige grinned, putting her hands on the warm burgundy hood of the 1976 Dodge Challenger. She’d had some good memories with this car. She met Dexx’s gaze as something clicked. “So, all those cases you helped me out with in Denver.”

He raised his eyebrows, his lips flat. “Yup. Demons and all with you unaware.” He disappeared inside his car.

Paige let out a long breath. She should be pissed, but she’d already expended so much energy on being mad, she didn’t need to take it out on the one guy just trying to help.

The car was a dream, especially from the inside. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment. When Dexx brought Jackie to roaring life, Paige purred, her fingers stretching like a cat doing the happy-paw dance. She licked her lips, turning to Dexx, a slight smile on her face.

He wiggled his eyebrows and put the car in gear. “Just like old times.”

“Not like old times. I know what’s going on now.”

“Right.”

“Also, I’ve never been on one of Tru’s investigations with you.”

“You—wha—oh. Huh. Right.”

They hadn’t driven very far before Dexx glanced over at her. “Spill it. What’s eating at you?”

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”

He glanced in his rearview mirror. “Pea, I’ve seen you at your worst. You’re not going to scare me, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re brooding.”

Paige waved him off. That’s what she did, brood. “I’m working a case.”

“You forget. I’ve worked cases with you before. I know what ‘case face’ looks like.”

She rolled her eyes. They’d only worked two cases, but they’d spent a great deal of time together, and she couldn’t ignore the fact she’d allowed him to get close. She enjoyed his company. So, yeah. He did know when something was off. “This is my fault.”

Dexx’s face screwed up. “It’s not. Look, the—I don’t understand everything going on, but how much of this could be your fault?”

“All of it,” she muttered.

“Pea, you’re an idiot,” he said, pulling Jackie to a stop in the rose-colored gravel driveway of the plantation, just behind the unmarked cop car. “You’re being played.”