Blood Moon: A Rowan Gant Investigation (23 page)

“Don’t turn this back on me,” I demanded.
“Something’s up or you wouldn’t have been in such a rush to get us
in here.”

“What rush?” he asked with a shrug.

“Give me a break. You met us at the Jeep, hurried us
up here, and then bullied your way in.”

“I was just savin’ ya’ some time. ‘Scuse me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look, Row, I don’t know what’s eatin’ ya’, but you
need to calm down. Okay?”

“What’s eating me is that you’re lying about
something, Ben. I can tell by the way you’re acting.”

“Jeezus, didn’t we already go through this shit last
night?” he replied.

“Yes,” I snapped. “Which is why I’m not overly
pleased about going through it again.”

“Then don’t.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t acting all
squirrelly again.”

“You’re imaginin’ things. Listen, it’s simple… Just
like I told ya’ on the phone, we got a missin’ woman who fits the
victim profile of the two stiffs that just checked in here. But
based on the pattern, she’s prob’ly still alive.” He pointed over
to the storage drawers to punctuate his next statement. “Brass
wants your input so maybe she doesn’t end up movin’ in over there
next to the first two.”

“Okay, I can understand that.”

“Wunnerful. See? There ya’ have it. So if it seems
like I’m in a rush, maybe I am… And for a damn good reason,
don’tcha think?”

“I wish I could believe it’s that simple, Ben. But I
can’t. Something else is going on here.”

“Well I said it once and I’ll say it again, you’re
imaginin’ shit. Just chill out, okay? It’s all good.”

I shook my head. “No it isn’t. I still don’t get why
your brass suddenly wants my advice on this.”

“I already told ya’. Prob’ly because of your track
record,” he replied. “You’ve been instrumental in solving every
case you ever consulted on. They know that. Some of ‘em definitely
don’t like it, but they know it. Enough said.”

“Even if I buy that, there’s got to be more to the
story…”

“Why?”

“Remember asking me if I had a hinky feeling
earlier? Well, guess what? I’ve definitely got one now.”

“Maybe you’re wrong.”

“You know I’m not.”

He let out a heavy sigh and threw his hands up.
“Look, just drop it. It ain’t important.”

“So there is something,” I replied, my tone
sharp.

“Yeah, okay. There is, but I’m tellin’ ya’ it ain’t
important,” he replied, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.
“And right now you’re just blowin’ shit outta proportion.”

“You aren’t helping with the double talk.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda stuck in the middle
here.”

“Unstick yourself. Just tell me what’s going
on.”

“Listen, a wise man once said, what ya’ don’t know
won’t hurt ya’. I highly suggest you listen to the wise man.”

“Uh-huh, well it just so happens another one said,
when in doubt, do nothing,” I shot back. “And I’m having more than
my share of doubts right now.”

“Well do us all a favor and get over ‘em is all I
got ta’ say.”

“I will when you tell me what’s really going
on.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t believe me if I told
ya’.”

“Very funny.” I wasn’t laughing when I made the
comment. “This isn’t the time to beat me over the head with irony.
I’m not in the mood.”

“Irony? What… Oh, yeah, I did kinda sound just like
you right then, didn’t I?” he harrumphed and then gave me a
sidelong glance. “Frustratin’ as fuck, ain’t it?”

“Yes it is, but you also know exactly why I say
that.”

“Yeah, and I know ‘zactly why I’m sayin’ it too,” he
countered. “Just leave it alone, Row. Seriously. It ain’t
important.”

“Is the FBI involved in this?”

“Well hell, sure they are. I already told ya’
that.”

“No, Ben, I mean me being here now.” I wasn’t
yelling, but my voice had definitely risen in concert with my
darkening mood.

“Calm down. The Feebs got nothin’ to do with you
bein’ here.”

“Who then?”

“Me, who else,” he spat. “Now like I said, just calm
down.”

“And your brass?”

“Yeah, some of them too. Jeezus, you oughta be happy
you got a few friends in high places for a change.”

Felicity, who had remained conspicuously silent as
the discussion turned to an argument, now spoke up. “Aye, Ben, I
have to agree with Rowan. Something doesn’t feel right about this.
We’ve had our fill of hidden agenda’s today. What aren’t you
telling us?”

“Dammit, where the hell’s the doc?” he muttered as a
response.

“Okay, if you aren’t going to tell me what’s going
on, then I’m done,” I announced. “Come on, Felicity, I think we can
probably still catch that movie.”

“Jeezus, Row, give it a rest. Nobody’s out ta’ get
ya’.”

I took my wife’s arm, and we headed toward the exit.
We made it to the door before my friend gave in.

“Okay, stop! Just stop right there,” he barked,
struggling to keep his voice at a reasonable volume. “Sonofabitch…
I told ‘em somethin’ like this would happen.”

“Are you going to quit jerking us around?” I asked
as I glanced back toward him.

He huffed out a heavy sigh then reached up and
smoothed back his hair. He closed his eyes and hung his head for a
moment as his hand slid down to his neck and came to a rest.

“Goddammit…” he muttered before bringing his gaze to
meet mine. “Fine… Okay… You win… Ya’ happy?”

“I will be when I know what’s really going on here,”
I appealed.

“Maybe… Maybe not,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter.
Truth is I know it won’t make any difference as far as you helpin’
goes.”

“So someone thought it would?” I asked, confusion
wrinkling my face.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Which is exactly why I’m under
orders not to tell ya’.”

“What the hell is it?” Now I was thoroughly
perplexed.

Finally, he simply blurted out, “The missin’ woman’s
name is, Judith Albright.”

“Albright,” I repeated the name back to him. “As
in…”

“Yeah,” he said, cutting me off. “Albright as in
she’s Bible Barb’s niece.”

The revelation definitely gave me pause.

I stared back at my friend and he at me, neither of
us uttering a word. Even Felicity remained silent, which was a
shock because I was fairly certain she despised the woman even more
than me. Still, Ben was correct. I wasn’t about to withhold my help
on this case because of a grudge against a victim’s relative,
although I was fairly certain the same would not be true if the
tables were turned.

To say Captain Barbara Albright and I had a
turbulent history was the understatement of the century. I was a
Witch and she was a fundamentalist Christian with a badge—obviously
not a good mix. Still, it shouldn’t have been an issue, and to be
honest it wasn’t, at least not for me. However, she decided
otherwise before we’d even met, and the rest was downhill from
there.

Live and let live simply wasn’t a part of her credo.
If you didn’t share her beliefs you were damned to hell. To that
end, she was more than happy to use her position within the
department to cram Christianity down your throat and then find a
way to legally harass you if you dared to gag and spit it back
out.

Behind her back the majority of the police force
simply called her Bible Barb, or BeeBee for short. She definitely
had her share of lackeys and supporters interspersed throughout the
ranks, but among the cops on the street they were few and far
between. Still, you had to watch what you said if you weren’t sure
where someone else’s loyalties might lay because it would
definitely make its way back to her ears.

If ever I’d had a nemesis who just happened to be on
the correct side of the law, she was it. Our first run in had come
when she was a lieutenant and had unceremoniously taken charge of
an investigation with which I was involved. From that point forward
she’d been on a mission to sever my ties with local law enforcement
as a consultant. While she had eventually been promoted out of any
direct contact where I was concerned, I never felt as though I was
fully out of her sights. Even as recently as the debacle with
Felicity’s false arrest, Albright’s fingerprints were all over some
of the harassment and bureaucratic stumbling blocks we had
faced.

And now, here she was again.

“So that’s what you were all nervous about?” I
finally asked.

“I told ya’ I wasn’t nervous. What I was, was pissed
off about havin’ ta’ lie to you.”

“That seems to have become a theme lately,” I
agreed. “The lying thing I mean.”

“Tell me about it,” he huffed. “It’s been givin’ me
a friggin’ ulcer. But, like I said, you’re the one who blew this
all out of proportion.”

“You’re right,” I said with a nod. “Sorry… It’s been
a bad couple of days. And then the whole thing with the FBI… I know
that’s not much of an excuse, but it’s all I’ve got.”

“Yeah, well I probably shoulda just blown off the
orders and told ya’ anyway.”

I pondered the situation for a moment then let out a
bemused snort. “So your brass actually thought I was so shallow
that I’d refuse to help because of Albright?”

“Actually, no. She’s the one who thought you would
say no.”

“She
knows
I’m helping?” I could hear the
incredulity woven through my own voice.

“Yeah, she knows all right,” Ben told me as if he
was having trouble believing his own words. “Believe it or not, as
soon as her niece went missin’ she started demandin’ you be brought
in to consult, even if Major Case had to arrest you ta’ make it
happen.”

“Not exactly subtle, is she?”

“Listen, Row,” Ben continued. “You won’t have to
deal with ‘er. After she threw that fit, the chief put ‘er on
administrative leave.”

“Like that’s going to stop her?” I replied.

“Yeah, I know, but I’m tellin’ ya’ you won’t have to
deal with ‘er. I’ll make sure of it.”

I waved him off. “It doesn’t matter. You can tell
your higher ups I’m not a complete ass. I’m not going to walk away
from this just because of my history with Albright.”

“Yeah, I told ‘em that already, but they wanted to
play it safe.”

“Well be sure to let them know that playing it safe
almost did cause me to walk out.”

“Oh yeah. Believe me, that’s right at the top of the
list.”

“And, do me another favor, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“Can we try remembering that we’re friends and stop
with the tiptoeing around the truth? I think we’ve established that
it’s not helping either of us.”

He nodded. “Yeah, definitely. I don’t need the
stomach problems.”

“Good. Now that we have that settled why don’t we
see if we can find out what’s keeping Doctor Sanders. I’m ready to
get this over with…”

“How was lunch?” Ben asked the medical examiner when
she finally arrived in the autopsy suite. The acerbic aura
surrounding his words was anything but subtle.

“A little rushed,” she replied, no less caustic in
her tone.

“Yeah, don’t ya’ just hate that?” my friend
quipped.

“How was
your
wait?” she returned her own
verbal stab.

“Long. And a bit chilly.”

She nodded and shot him a wry grin. “Really? Don’t
you just hate that?”

“Havin’ a bad day, Doc?”

“I wasn’t until about twenty minutes ago.”

“Well then you’re already doin’ better’n me because
mine started yesterday.”

She ignored him and gave me a quick nod. “Mister
Gant, Miz…ummm…O’Brien, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Felicity replied.

“Doctor Sanders,” I said, returning the nod. “Sorry
we interrupted your lunch.”

“No need for you to apologize,” she replied with a
quick smile. “Detective Storm, however, is a different story.”
Making a half turn, she peered over the top of her glasses at Ben.
“You know, we’re still waiting on the labs. Neither of the
postmortems is finished yet, so I don’t know exactly what it is you
want from me. I already gave you the preliminary findings.”

“Yeah, I know,” he told her. “I was thinkin’ maybe
you could just fill us in on the high points so far to get Row here
up ta’ speed, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Which victim would you like to start with?”

“Either one is fine. You pick.”

She shook her head then repositioned her glasses
while shuffling a pair of file folders. Flipping open the first
one, she turned and started walking toward the far wall. As we
followed her across the room she began to recite, “Foster, Emily.
Caucasian female, approximately twenty-three years of age. Height
one hundred sixty-five centimeters, weight fifty-nine kilograms. As
you already know, the apparent mode of death was desanguination. In
layman’s terms, she bled to death.”

The doctor stopped at the bank of stainless steel
doors and quietly perused the file in silence, lifting a page, then
another, with her free hand. After a moment she closed the folder
and tucked it under her arm before quickly donning a pair of latex
gloves and inspecting the tags on the doors. Finding the one she
sought, she reached out and yanked the shiny rectangle open.

Before continuing, Doctor Sanders turned to me with
a questioning look. “Since you are here, Mister Gant, I assume you
intend to do whatever it is you do by way of…”

As her voice trailed off
uncertainly, Ben offered, “Just call it
Twilight Zone
, Doc.”

“I was thinking more along the line of
unconventional forensics,” she replied.

I gave her a nod. “I think that’s pretty much why
they asked me here.”

Doctor Sanders was no stranger to my facility. She
had witnessed me channeling victims on more than one occasion—in
this very autopsy suite, in fact. While she was far more inclined
to stick with tangible scientific data as opposed to the
supernatural riddles that often came of such episodes, she also
wasn’t one to completely dismiss me out of hand.