It’s not his fault,” Felicity voiced adamantly. “I’m the one that made the choice to walk through that door. He had nothing to do with it.”
“You know that, and I know that,” Deckert nodded, “but he still feels responsible. He seems to think that if he never got you two involved in this investigation, you never would have gotten hurt.”
“That’s just plain ridiculous,” I stated. “All he did was ask me the difference between a Pentacle and a Pentagram because he’d seen this hanging around my neck.” I hooked a finger beneath the silver chain and lifted the small pendant from behind my shirt. “Other than that, I volunteered. Hell, he was against the idea of me getting involved in the first place. I had to talk him into it.”
Deckert shrugged and echoed my sentiments, “I know, I know, but he’s your friend, and he feels responsible for you.” He let out a long sigh. “Shit, it’s part of being a cop. You feel responsible for everyone.”
At that moment, Detective Carl Deckert looked far older than his years. It was clear that he and Benjamin Storm had been cut from the same cloth when it came to loyalty to their friends and loved ones-when it came to loyalty to their careers as well. In a way, I felt I was seeing my best friend’s future being played out before me by the man seated at my kitchen table.
“We need to have a talk with those two,” Felicity ventured. “We’ve got to get this straightened out.”
I had finished preparing the mint tea and placed the full pitcher along with glasses on the table then slid in next to my wife. “Any ideas on how we should do that?”
“We need to speak to them when they’re together, for one,” she posed.
“Sure, but that’s going to be a little hard to accomplish with this investigation going on. Ben’s hours are a little unpredictable right now.”
Detective Deckert cleared his throat, and we both turned our attention to him. “I doubt that’ll be a problem. He should be home at a decent hour tonight.”
“Why’s that?” I queried.
“That’s another piece of news I need to give you.” He looked distantly out the window of the atrium then back at us. The deep furrow in his brow revealed the fact that he was struggling with exactly how to go about it.
“R.J. is being charged with the murders, isn’t he?” Felicity intoned flatly.
“Not yet, but don’t be surprised if it happens within the next day or so,” he echoed. “For the murder of Ellen Gray at least. We got the warrant and searched his place early this morning.”
“What did you find?” I wasn’t sure I wanted him to answer the question.
“Black and white candles. A lot of ‘em,” he detailed. “And a set of artists pastels among other things.”
“There has to be some kind of logical explanation.” I shook my head. “What about the dirk, Ariel’s athame. Did you find that?”
“The knife?” he echoed, shaking his head. “No. Not yet, but we’re still looking.”
“You’ve got the wrong person, Carl,” Felicity implored. “I can’t give you tangible proof, but I just know R.J. isn’t guilty.”
“I know you two think he’s innocent, but so far, the evidence points to the opposite. I think you might be backing the wrong horse.”
“The candles don’t mean a thing,” I declared. “If you searched our house, you’d find a ton of candles. Witches use them for everything, so we have a tendency to buy them in bulk.”
“Especially if you find them on sale,” Felicity added. “And as far as the pastels go, maybe he’s an artist.”
“Since you mention it,” Deckert returned, “he did take a few art classes at the community college, and guess who his instructor was…one Karen Lewis, better known to us by her married name, Karen Barnes.”
“He knows all three victims,” I muttered to myself.
“Looks that way,” he continued. “So if you add that in with the candles, the pastels, and his familiarity with your religion…”
Neither of us had a convincing argument to offer. We sat glumly, firm in our belief that the young man was innocent of the crimes but completely unable to prove it.
“Well, what did HE have to say?” Felicity almost demanded.
“We haven’t talked to him about it yet.”
“Well then, he might have a logical explanation for some of the things you found,” I expressed. “You won’t know until you ask.”
“Look,” Deckert intoned after a long pause. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you all this, but to be honest, I don’t understand why you two are so sure this kid’s innocent. Hell, from what I understand, you just met him a few days ago.”
“That’s true, but at the risk of sounding cliche,” I explained, “it’s a Witch thing. It’s just a gut feeling.”
“What about Devon Johnston?” My wife was on a mission, and she wasn’t about to give up. “We haven’t heard anything yet. Isn’t he still a suspect?”
“He pulled through, but he’s gonna be laid up for a good long time,” he answered. “We talked to him this morning, and Ben checked out his alibi. Except for killing a dog, the assault on you, and a couple of trespassing charges, he’s in the clear.” Once again he stared past the small jungle of potted plants and out through the atrium window. After a short pause, he let out a sigh of resignation and then continued in a fatherly tone, “Trust me, I’d like to believe you guys, but like I said, there’s a lot of evidence, even if it is circumstantial. It’s the fingerprint you found on the candle that really clinches it.”
“I wish I’d never seen it,” Felicity muttered in a dejected tone.
“And if R.J. really is guilty?” Deckert asked her rhetorically. “How would you feel then? Look, I don’t want to see an innocent kid go down either, but I’m not so sure that’s what’s happening here. The shrink says it looks like the kid got himself a crush on these women and then got rejected. It just kept building, and he finally snapped and carved ‘em up. Got himself a vicious circle going. Kill a woman then feel guilty. Fix it, in his mind anyway, with that expulsion thing of yours and then do it all over again.”
“Expiation spell,” I corrected. “And as pat and logical as that all sounds, it doesn’t feel right.” The hair rose on the back of my neck, and a tingle ran down my spine as I voiced my next thought, “R.J. being unjustly accused isn’t our biggest worry right now though.”
“What is then?” he questioned.
“If we ARE right, and he IS innocent,” I expressed grimly, “then the real killer is still out there, and that means another young woman is going to die.”
The waxing moon was creeping steadily toward fullness and had just begun its trek across the cloudless, early evening sky as we parked in front of Ben and Allison’s home. Nestled snugly within the confines of the historic district of the city, the stone structure rose upward two stories from the well-kept lot to a steeply pitched, slate tile roof. The two of them had spent the first few years of their marriage restoring this house, and Felicity and I had been there to help them put it all together. Now, the two of us felt as if we were, in a figurative sense, responsible for tearing it apart. We weren’t about to let that happen.
After Detective Deckert left earlier in the day, I called Ben at the MCS command post. He had remained distant and guarded during the conversation, much as he had the day before, but I was determined in my desire to resolve the situation and effectively invited Felicity and myself over for a visit. Before he could object, I said goodbye and hung up.
Allison met us at the front door wearing a thin, disconcerted smile and kept silent as we entered. Ben was wearily lounging on the sofa, tie undone, and fingers twined around the neck of a full bottle of beer.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Allison offered mechanically.
“No thanks,” I responded, “I’m fine at the moment.”
Felicity just shook her head. Allison fidgeted nervously, reminiscent of a trapped animal. It was as if our declining her offer had somehow cut off an avenue of escape, leaving her no choice but to face that which she was working so hard to avoid. After spending a tense moment recalculating her options, she hesitantly positioned herself on the couch. She took a seat noticeably distant from Ben but close enough to give the outward appearance that nothing was wrong. Still, the strain with which this was done would have been palpable to even the most oblivious stranger. The fact that we knew them as well as we did turned the small sign into a lighted billboard.
“Where’s the little guy?” I asked as Felicity and I found chairs opposite them.
“He’s sleeping over with his friend across the street,” Allison replied, seeming to ease somewhat at the benign question.
“I guess Deckert told you ‘bout R.J.,” Ben interjected, unceremoniously changing the subject.
“He did,” I answered, “and while we have our own views on the subject, that’s not the first thing on our agenda.”
“Agenda?” Ben repeated. “Are we havin’ a meetin’?”
“You could say that.”
The two of them simply stared back at us sullenly. We sat and allowed the thick silence to envelope the room and the four of us with it. Felicity and I had troubled over this conversation the entire afternoon, and though we had discussed and rehearsed everything we wanted to say, when it came down to the wire, the memorized script was forgotten.
“Look, Felicity, I’m sorry,” Ben suddenly gushed. “If there was anything I could do, I would. I wish I had never mentioned this case to you guys.”
“So Deckert was right,” I asserted. “You really do blame yourself for what happened.”
“If the shoe fits,” Allison muttered.
“Are you serious?” I faced her. “You actually believe Ben is at fault?”
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” my wife blurted, unabashedly taking the bull by the horns.
“Whaddaya mean?” Ben’s expression changed from guilt to shock at Felicity’s candor.
“What I mean is, what gives you the right to feel responsible for my miscarriage?”
“If Ben hadn’t…” Allison started.
“ Cac capaill! ” My wife spat a Gaelic profanity. The gates were open, and Felicity was living up to the stories about redheads and their tempers. “Ben had nothing to do with it!”
“I got you involved in this whole mess,” Ben insisted. “If I’d never asked Rowan to help, you never would’ve lost the baby.”
“You didn’t ask, Ben,” I expressed evenly. “I volunteered. So did Felicity.”
“She didn’t volunteer to have some asshole slam ‘er into a wall,” he shot back.
“I went over to Cally’s house of my own accord,” my wife interjected slowly and with more than a hint of anger. “You can’t possibly be responsible for my actions. And you, Allison.” She shifted her blazing stare. “How can you possibly blame Ben for something he had no control over?”
“Maybe he didn’t cause it directly,” Allison returned. “But he never should have brought you into this.”
“She’s right,” Ben added. “You guys aren’t cops. I never should have exposed you to the risks.”
“ Damnu ort! ” Felicity stood as the expletive burst from her lips. “How dare you! How can you two be so selfish?!”
“Selfish?”
“Yes, selfish!” she shouted. “This is MY pain, not yours! It’s MY fault!”
I joined Ben and Allison in their stunned expressions as I turned to my wife. We had discussed at length the fact that Ben was not to blame for the accident, but at no point had she ever affixed that blame to herself.
Until now.
Felicity remained standing, her auburn hair draping forward as she dropped her chin, murmuring through choked whimpers. “It’s my fault. I’m the one to blame.”
I was caught completely by surprise. I inwardly damned myself for not recognizing the fragility of her mental state. Even with the heightened senses I had developed through years of practice and meditation, I had completely missed this possibility. I shouldn’t have even needed those senses to know that something like this could happen. I felt horribly fallible. I had let her down.
“No, Felicity.” Allison was up from her seat instantly, maternal instincts in overdrive. “No it isn’t.”
I stood and placed a comforting hand on my sobbing wife’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault, honey. It’s nobody’s fault. It was an accident.”
She turned quickly and buried her face against my chest, shoulders heaving as she let out the pent up emotion. I wrapped my arms about her gently, holding her close but trying to avoid putting pressure on her cracked and bruised ribs. Ben was on his feet now. Both he and Allison looked back at me in astonishment. It was obvious from their expressions that they hadn’t foreseen this eventuality either.
I continued to hold this woman I loved more than my very life, crooning softly to her and allowing her to release the torrent of tears she had been silently gathering for the past day. We all stood wordlessly in the living room until Felicity’s weeping ebbed. Eventually, she began to calm. The shaking slowly faded away, and the sobs were replaced by muted sniffles. She looked up at me with reddened eyes and brushed a tangle of hair from her face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
She released her grip on me then stepped back unsteadily and shot Allison an embarrassed glance. “You wouldn’t have a tissue then, would you?”
“Sure I do,” Allison soothed and slipped an arm about her shoulders. “Come with me.”
Ben and I stared after them as Allison led Felicity down the hallway adjoining the living room. Considering the circumstances, I figured they would be gone for a while.
“Jeezus, Rowan, I’m sorry,” Ben sympathized as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I never thought…”
“Neither did I,” I echoed as his words trailed off. “Neither did I.”
The blame and self-accusation had finally completed its rounds, starting with Cally and ending with Felicity. Of everyone involved, she understandably took it the hardest. It was nearing midnight before we finally left Ben and Allison. All four of us were emotionally drained and physically exhausted, but the two of them were getting along much better than they had been when we first arrived. The cathartic episode left Felicity red-eyed and fighting a sinus headache, but in a somewhat selfish way, I was relieved that it was now over. Whether the police wanted to believe it or not, there was still a psycho out there, and I was certain he was preparing to kill again. I needed to be able to apply all of my attention to figuring out who he was before that happened.
“So I guess I managed to make a complete fool of myself this evening,” Felicity lamented, eyes shut, head tilted back on the headrest and rubbing the bridge of her nose.
“I wouldn’t say that,” I consoled. “You just did what anyone else in your position would have. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “At least Allison and Ben are straightened out.”
“Yeah. I think they’re pretty clear on the subject now.”
We continued on quietly, and I hooked a cautious left through the flashing yellow light at the intersection, speeding onto the highway in the direction of home.
“I guess I owe you an apology,” I finally announced.
“For what?” She was still massaging her sinuses, head back and eyes closed.
“For not being prepared,” I explained. “For not knowing how it was that you really felt.”
“How could you have known?” she half asked, half stated. “I told you I was fine. You aren’t a mind reader.”
“I’m a Witch. I should have sensed that something was wrong.”
“You’ve been preoccupied lately,” she admonished. “You can’t expect to be able to do everything.”
“I can at least expect to be sensitive to you and your feelings,” I expressed, glancing over at her.
“Don’t beat yourself up over this, Rowan.” She opened her eyes and looked at me. “Take it from someone who’s been doing just that. It won’t accomplish anything.”
I paused for a moment, pondering the wisdom of what she had just said. “I just wanted you to know I love you,” I whispered.
“I never doubted it.”