Wicked Tempest: A Kate Waters Mystery (Kate Waters Mysteries Book 2) (15 page)

“I would agree, that is unique,” Wells said.

“While it’s not impossible to rule out Lichtenberg’s Flowers, there’s a small chance it could be an exit wound of some sort. At the same time, it is uncommon. I need to do more research before I can say one way or another for sure.”

Wells glanced in his rearview mirror, watching a group of officers leave the building, none that he knew personally but had recognized from the drug and alcohol division.

“So, do you have any samples of Jim’s tissue with the Lichtenberg’s Flowers on it?” Wells asked.

“Unfortunately, he’s already been cremated, and we never thought to question his tissue at the time.”

“So what do you think?” Wells asked. “Is this new information worth continuing my investigation?”

There was a brief silence on the line. “In the end, it’s your call, but if Jim’s tissue was the same as Brooke’s, I’d say you might have an interesting development. Maybe not homicide, but at least something else uncommon that resulted in their injuries.”

“That’s one way of putting it. Thanks for your help, John.”

“No problem,” John said. “So, speaking of lightning, I hear it’s still pretty ugly out. One thing I do know for sure, I’d stay indoors if I were you.”

“Does a car count?”

“Better than standing in the street with a steel rod in your hand,” John chuckled.

“Great.”

Another call beeped in. “Thanks again, John. Let me know if anything else comes up.”

“Sure thing.”

Wells switched over to the other call. It was Julie.

“Hello, hon.”

“Dad, can you come over here?”

She was upset. Her voice quavered.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, but my friend isn’t. It happened again, Dad. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

“Hurry.”

“Julie?”

“Yes?”

“Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

Wells grabbed the magnetic siren from the backseat, put it on top of his car, and flicked it on. Rain hit him in the face like thorns. He powered up the window and started the car with a growl.

***

“Actually, it looks like a wheel with tree branches spanning out from the center.” Nick touched the back of Kate’s neck.

“Ouch,” Kate said, when Nick brushed his hand against the mark.

“Sorry.”

The restaurant staff was in the process of putting lanterns on the tables in preparation for another blackout. Some of the patrons were cashing out early.

Kate let her hair fall back down over her neck. She picked up the last two pieces of glass from the drink she had knocked over and then grabbed her purse. “I’ll be right back.”

There were two sinks in the women’s restroom. A woman washed her hands at one of them. Kate went to the second sink and fiddled with items in her purse until the woman left. She checked the stalls and then stood in front of the mirror. Her hands trembled. She didn’t want to look at the mark on her neck, but knew she had to. Her heart beat furiously, and felt as though it were compressing into a hard ball in her chest, recoiling in fear that the mark on her neck would look just like Brooke’s, just like Rán’s.

The noise in the bar drowned into a drumming silence inside the restroom, subdued by the hot blood thumping in her ears. Kate took a deep breath in and held it, pulled back her hair, and then the collar of her shirt.

What she saw first were the edges of the mark, fine dark red lines. Then a circular pattern with the lines extending out. Kate let her breath out with a gasping cry when the entire mark came into view. It was the same as Brooke’s, the same as the symbol on Rán’s chest.

The floor seemed to have dropped a few inches beneath her, and Kate fell forward on the counter catching herself with her hands. A burning lump of tears caught in her throat and her breath turned into a wheezing sob.

The presence of something unnatural wrapped around her, with cold arms that wouldn’t let her go. Her chest huffed as she struggled for air. Her mind fought to regain reason, to come up with a logical explanation that didn’t involve the curse. The feeling of drowning rushed into her again, and though she couldn’t see the woman she had seen in her bathroom and in the trees at the PNGS, she knew she was there, smiling with those sharp, broken teeth, and strangling her with her gnarled hands and black nails.

Kate kneeled over, her thoughts stumbling into the fog of memories, images of her mother and Jev. She saw them so clearly in her mind’s eye, that they almost seemed to be present, as though she could reach her hand out and touch them. A long breath came to her, and then another. The burning in her chest eased, and gradually, more air returned to her.

A voice whispered,
Light in her eye, blood on her hands
.

Kate stood up and spun around, half believing that someone was in the restroom speaking to her, but no one was there. She was still alone.  

Light in her eye, blood on her hands.

Kate questioned what she thought she had heard, doubted if she had even heard it at all, but the words were there, echoing in her head. Who had said them? Was it a warning?

Maybe what was really happening, Kate reasoned, was that the curse was becoming more and more real because she was feeding it power by believing in it. That was how curses worked. They were self-fulfilling prophecies. All she had to do was believe they didn’t exist, that Rán didn’t exist.

As she gazed into the mirror, the dim light of the restroom cast sharp shadows across her features. She looked different, as if a stranger looked back at her. When she moved closer to the mirror, Kate noticed her eyes had a silver-blue cast to them, almost as if they had changed color. She stood back from the mirror. “This is nothing,” she said to herself. “The mark is only coincidence. It’s just a scratch from my scuba gear. That’s all. Nothing more. Curses aren’t real. Narcoleptic hallucinations, however, are.”

She washed her hands, toweled her face, and then left the restroom to meet Nick back at the table.

He had been looking in her direction when she emerged from the hallway. His expression was one of concern. “You all right?”

Kate nodded. “Yes, but I have to go. I’m sorry.”

Nick blinked his eyes, as though he understood, but didn’t say anything about it. “I’ll walk you out.”

“It’s not necessary. Thanks for the beer.”

Nick stood up and touched the side of her arm. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yes. Soon. We have a lot of reports to review.”

When Kate left the tavern, she stepped from one storm and into another. Outside the trees rocked in the wet rain, forcing her to run for her car. Tears welled into her eyes, and Kate let them fall down her face and blend with the rain.

There were two cars in front of Julie’s apartment when Wells arrived at a speed his ex-wife would have hollered at him for. From the sound of her voice on the phone, Julie was distraught about something that had happened to her friend. His mind wandered to places that were darker than the night around him. He stepped out of his car and scanned the grounds, looking for someone who might be scoping the area. In the rain and wind, he doubted anyone would be out in the weather, but he had to make sure.

Not seeing anyone or anything suspicious, he went into Julie’s apartment building, up the three flights of stairs, and knocked on her door, announcing himself as he did. Julie opened the door, slowly at first, then quick with an expression of relief. Wells thought he caught a trace of guilt in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asked, stepping inside. In the living room, he saw two of her friends huddled on the couch. One had been crying, and the other had her arm wrapped around her.

“Thanks for coming over,” Julie said. “This is my friend, Anne.” She pointed to the girl who had been crying. “And that’s Jennifer. Anne was assaulted tonight, at her house.”

Wells went over to Anne and bent down on his knee. “Are you hurt, Anne?”

She shook her head and wiped tears from her face.

“I know this is difficult for you, but I need to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded. Wells glanced at Julie, who stood at a distance. He understood her demeanor now. She felt responsible for not having come forth about her attacker. It was probably the same person.

“Anne, first, I need to know exactly what happened. Were you sexually assaulted?”

She collected herself, wiped her eyes again, and brushed back her hair. “Yes,” she barely managed to say.

“And this happened about what time tonight?”

“A few hours ago.”

Jennifer rubbed Anne’s shoulders.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?”

She shook her head no. Wells turned to Julie again. Her bottom lip trembled, and she seemed to be struggling to hold back tears.

“I’ll be just a minute. Okay?”

She nodded, and then dipped her head into Jennifer’s shoulder.

Wells stood and walked over to Julie. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” He pointed toward the kitchen that had a private wall from the living room. Julie followed him.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Julie blurted in a whisper. “That if I’d done something earlier, this never would have happened.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.” He leaned into her. “What happened to her isn’t your fault. You didn’t do this.”

Tears began rolling down Julie’s face. “But I could have prevented it, right? Isn’t that the same?”

“No.” Wells reached for his phone in his pocket. “I learned a long time ago to stop trying to predict the future—it never turns out like you expect it will.”

“Who are you calling?”

“This isn’t my jurisdiction, Julie. I know a fellow police officer who specializes in assault and rape. She would be better suited to handle this situation.”

Julie leaned to the side and glanced back into the living room.  

“You are doing the right thing,” Wells told her.

“I’m scared.”

“I know you are.” Wells scrolled through his contact list. “But you and I both know that this cannot happen again.”

“I know.”

A wisp of Julie’s blonde hair fell from her bun at the back of her head and draped across the side of her face. Wells tucked it back behind her ear and rubbed her cheek gently.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I was stupid not to file a report.”

Wells pulled her closer to him. “I know you are sorry.” Anne and Jennifer walked into the kitchen. Julie turned around at the sound of their footsteps.

“You mean he did this to you too?” Anne asked.

Julie glanced at Jennifer and then back to Anne.

Wells stepped between them. “Pressing charges is an emotional decision, one that Julie was still in the midst of making.”

“Meanwhile, he’s doing to me what he did to her.” Anger had replaced Anne’s sorrowful expression, and it came out as a hardened glare. Jennifer looked at a loss to intervene.

“Anne,” Julie started to say, but Wells gestured for her to stop.

“This is not Julie’s fault, Anne. That boy is the one who hurt the both of you, and now it is up to the two of you to band together and press charges against him.”

“I’m so sorry, Anne,” Julie said. "I was scared, like you. I didn’t know what to do either.”

“So you just let him get away with it.”

“I wasn’t going to let him go,” Julie said, flustered. “I was scared.” She started to cry. “Who's to say you wouldn’t have done the same thing as me?”

“I came to you, didn’t I?”

Julie stepped closer to Anne. “Then let me help you. Please.”

Anne didn’t say anything, but her eyes softened.

Jennifer grabbed both Anne’s and Julie’s hands. She turned to Wells. “What now?”

“You’ll be talking with Officer Cheryl Hanes,” Wells told them.

Jennifer made tea while Anne and Julie talked on the couch. When Officer Hanes came to the house, she gathered the girls in the living room for questioning. Underneath her corporeal sternness, she had a gentle quality that helped the girls open up to her much more than he thought they would have with him.

Still, a grip of disappointment squeezed around him as he stood on the porch waiting for Officer Hanes to finish. He had wanted to take care of everything before anything could happen again, to Julie or someone else. At least now, they were doing something, taking the appropriate steps to punish whoever was responsible. His thoughts returned to Brooke Jennings as he looked out the window. The wind stirred violently in front of him, whipping the rain about as though frantically trying to communicate to him an important message. Strangely, he imagined it was coming from Brooke, and he promised her then that he would do everything to catch who might have killed her. That was his promise.

***

Kate woke to the phone ringing. It had come through her dream as an earthquake alarm in the thickly populated center of downtown. Brick and glass busted and fell to the ground, cars shook, and their horns sounded. Awnings, statues, and pillars at building facades crumbled down, but amidst all this, no one had been running or screaming. Instead, they stood frozen by fear and astonishment, unable to respond from the shock of what was happening around them. A horn blaring next to Kate grew so loud, she woke shaking her head back and forth, but it was only her phone. She had fallen asleep on the couch after leaving Nick at McKell’s and coming home to a glass of wine. It was still dark out.

She hit talk before the call went to voicemail, glancing at the number as she did. It was David. A pain kicked into her heart.

She answered curtly. “Hello.”

“Hey,” David said. “How are you doing?”

Was he joking? How could he even care what she was doing? “I’ve been better.” She couldn’t understand why he was being so nice. Had he called to confess or was he going to act like nothing was wrong?

“Is Stewart driving you crazy again?” David asked, with a little laugh.

Kate suddenly had the urge to throw up. “David, I know where you are.”

Silence filled the other end of the line. A sigh. “I called to tell you.”

“Bullshit. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to tell me.” Her spirit spiraled down like a broken kite. It was really true, not a mistake on the checking account like she’d hoped for in the back of her mind. “You should have told me before you left.”

“I’m telling you now.”

She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late. You don’t know the full story. Kate?”

Her spinning turned to a plummeting free fall. Now he was trying to win her back, which to her was worse than admitting he loved Robyn, and that they were getting back together. He was just a slimy dirtbag, and she was a fool. “I know enough. Save your excuses for Robyn!” Her anger had boiled over.

“Kate? Please, it’s not what you think.”

“You have no idea what I think, and I sure as hell don’t feel like sharing it with you.” She hung up and threw the phone into the seat of the chair across from her.

The lies. The excuses. She went to the hallway, located her purse, and retrieved her medication. She popped two pills in her mouth, setting the bottle down on the entry table.

Tears ruptured from her eyes and slid down her face. Kate wiped at them when a loud knock at the front door startled her. She checked the clock. It was almost midnight. Whoever was coming over at this time of night wasn’t here for a social visit, and Kate wasn’t in the mood for more bad news. She marched over to the door thinking that someone else was going to get a piece of her mind. She answered with what felt like heat in her eyes. Thea stood in front of her reflecting a similar temper on her face.

“Now is not the best time,” Kate said.

“It never will be,” Thea replied.

Kate didn’t say anything.

“Are you and David fighting?”

Kate let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Thea’s stare deepened.

“So if you want to talk about something else, come in, otherwise I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Kate said. Thea frowned at her. Kate backed up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” Kate moved to the side and opened the door for Thea. “Please, come in.”

Thea stepped in and glanced down at the table where Kate had set her medication. She turned around to face Kate. “I do want to talk about something else. Like you stealing the statue from me.”

***

Nick drove home on autopilot, his thoughts sinking deeper and deeper into the memory of Kate’s brown eyes and hair, soft lips, and a smile that warmed him from the inside out. She had left the tavern seemingly upset and in a hurry. Maybe she and her boyfriend were having problems, and she had become overwhelmed with guilt. She might have called him when she was in the restroom.

His thoughts derailed when he noticed Keith’s dark blue Mustang parked on the street in front of his house. Nick parked his truck in the driveway and went up to his front door. It was unlocked and slightly ajar. Keith must have picked it. Nick realized Keith had a dark side, always had, but lately, he was beginning to wonder if he had a good side anymore. How far would he go to get what he wanted?

He passed through the living room and went into the kitchen. The basement door was open. Nick heard the voices of two males below. Barry was with Keith. He took hold of the wooden railing and descended the steep, narrow staircase. Shadows drifted across the green-painted concrete floor.

Keith and Barry searched through the collectibles they had retrieved on the last dive and placed them on the large walnut table. Shelves, stacked with more artifacts, wrapped around the walls of the small room, and one bright lightbulb hung from the ceiling. Keith and Barry looked up at him when he reached the last step.

“Didn’t think you’d be home,” Keith said, returning to a crate he packed with bubble wrap. “Or at least, not alone.” He smirked, his top lip curling. “Thought you might get a little action tonight. No?”

Nick ignored his comment. “What are you doing?”

Keith’s voice darkened. “Testing your loyalty.”

“By stealing my cut?” It was his bag of artifacts, the one he had collected, that Keith currently searched through.

Keith held a ceramic plate painted with a black spiral over its entirety that they had found in an old pueblo cave in southern Arizona. “No, by looking into your girlfriend, Kate.”

“What are you talking about?”

Keith wrapped the plate up in bubble packaging and carefully placed it inside the crate. He looked up and crossed his arms. Barry shifted and leaned a palm on the table.

“Her dead friend, Brooke Jennings. She has something in common with our buddy, Jim,” Keith said.

“Who the hell is Brooke Jennings, and why do I care?”

“Brooke Jennings is the one who Kate found electrocuted in her house, the kitchen to be exact. Remember?”

“So?”

“So, she and Jim both share a few things in common, like how they died, when they died, and markings on their body. Markings I think you’ll find quite interesting.”

Barry nodded with a sly smile. “You know about this?” Nick said to him.

“Just found out tonight,” Barry replied.

“I think Jim found the statue, and Brooke stole it from him when she found him on the beach. The caller who reported the body was an anonymous female.”

“And you got all this from what?”

Barry picked up a piece of paper from a workbench. He handed it to Nick. It was a printout of a painting of the statue Rán.

“Look at the picture,” Keith said.

Nick’s gaze fell sharply on the symbol in the center of the statue, on the chest of Rán. His heart jumped at the image, having just seen it on Kate’s neck.