Last Grave (9781101593172) Page 6

  Samantha bit her lip. “If you need me to, I can. I have to do this kind of thing all the time.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “Look, we can talk about all this later, I promise. But right now I need to know what you were going to be talking to Winona about.”

  “Local legends and history, mostly. I just wanted to pick her brain. I attended a series of lectures she gave at the university about religion and folklore in the pre-mission days. We exchanged contact information, and I reached out to her because I wanted to use her as a resource while completing my thesis. She’s Miwok, but she knows a lot about all the coastal tribes as well as the Sacramento-area tribes. She specialized in the mission time period, like I am, but she knows a lot about precontact culture as well.” Jill paused. “Knew, rather. It’s hard to think about her in the past tense.”

  “It always takes an adjustment,” Samantha said. “So, had you already met with her about your thesis?”

  “No. We’d just exchanged a phone call or two, a handful of texts. Today was supposed to be our first meeting.”

  “Can you think of any reason why anyone would want her dead?”

  “She was an outspoken advocate for cultural preservation. Sometimes that leads to head-butting with land owners and developers. I don’t know, though. She was very well respected in the community. She was viewed as a real leader, a force to be reckoned with, but a real person who could see both sides of a story and chose her side carefully.”

  None of that would explain why a witch had killed her. Samantha sipped her orange juice. She thought about the petrification and wondered if that had a special significance. The only thing she could come up with was deforestation and that didn’t really help her any.

  “I’m sorry I’m not more help,” Jill said.

  “Do you want to help catch her killer?”

  “Yes,” Jill said fervently.

  “Good, because I have a way that you can.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I want you to go to that meeting, pretend as if you didn’t know Winona was dead. We’ll have police all over the area. Then, if the killer shows up, we can grab them.”

  “Oh,” Jill said, her voice trembling a little. “That sounds dangerous.”

  With a witch on the loose and possibly wanting something from her, it was far more dangerous than Jill guessed. But Samantha forced a smile as she lied to Jill’s face. “You’ll be perfectly safe. I promise.”

  And even though Jill should have known better, realized that Samantha couldn’t possibly promise that, she started nodding.

  Samantha curled her hands into fists on the table, wondering if somehow she had persuaded Jill with more than just words.

  She didn’t want to think about it. She was too tired and there was a killer to catch.

  No rest for the wicked.

  * * *

  The two women were supposed to meet at a Starbucks. Given how many Starbucks there were in the city, it was a total joke. There was one intersection downtown that had Starbucks on three of its four corners. At least this particular Starbucks was alone at its intersection. Samantha and Lance were outside the coffee shop. There was a chance the killer would see them and recognize them from the museum or outside Winona’s house, and they couldn’t risk blowing the whole thing.

  Two cops in plain clothes were parked inside the coffee shop, having settled in a good half hour before Jill arrived.

  Jill was nervous. Samantha didn’t have to have special powers to be able to tell that. Her roommate was telegraphing fear in her body language as she walked into the shop.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Samantha hissed to Lance.

  “Sure it will,” he said back.

  She shook her head. The killer was going to be able to tell something was wrong the moment they stepped foot inside the shop. Samantha didn’t dare get closer, though, for fear that the killer would sense her and not even get that far. She needed whoever it was to at least get close to Jill before she could easily convince her fellow officers that they had found their man or woman.

  You could persuade them.

  She rolled her shoulders, trying to ignore the nagging voice inside her head. For three months it had been with her, tempting her, urging her to use her powers. She was doing her best to ignore it, but she wished it would shut up and leave her alone.

  “I just want to get on with my life.”

  “What?” Lance asked, turning to look at her quizzically.

  “Nothing,” she muttered, mentally upbraiding herself for speaking her thoughts out loud. She was getting sloppy.

  “You think the woman in black is going to show?”

  “You think the one who tossed Winona’s office was the one who killed her?”

  “Stands to reason,” Lance said.

  It did, but there was something bugging Samantha about the whole thing. She couldn’t say what it was, but she wasn’t completely convinced that the witch who had killed Winona was the same one who had saved her from being shot by her own partner. She felt like she was missing huge pieces of the puzzle, and without them she couldn’t even get a proper idea of what kind of puzzle she was working on.

  “Hey, you awake?” Lance asked, elbowing her.

  She turned to look where he was pointing. A guy in a dark jacket and pants was walking toward the coffee shop, stopping to look over his shoulder every few feet. “You think that’s our guy?” she asked. “I thought your money was on the burglar.”

  “It was, but this changes things. Get ready to move.”

  “Why? Who is he?”

  “Name’s Marcos. We had him on a murder charge last year, but the DA couldn’t make it stick.”

  “So?”

  “So, he was into black-market antiquities. Stuff that might get the attention of, say, a cultural historian.”

  “Okay, so it’s possible Winona had a run-in with this guy.”

  “If he takes one more step, I’m moving that from possible to probable,” Lance said.

  Samantha watched as Marcos walked into the Starbucks. Lance jumped to his feet, pacing closer, and Samantha followed him.

  A moment later, the door burst open and Marcos came sprinting out. Two officers were on his heels.

  “Police, freeze!” Lance shouted, pulling his gun.

  Marcos pulled one of his own and fired at them before taking off up the street. Bystanders scattered, running in every direction. She saw someone fall and couldn’t tell whether they’d been shot or just knocked down. The other officers ran to the victim. Lance took off after Marcos and, after a moment, so did Samantha. They went up two blocks, and then Marcos ran into an alley.

  Samantha heard more shots fired as she reached the corner, and she dropped down low as she raced in. Her foot kicked a can, and Lance spun around, aiming his gun at her.

  “Whoa, whoa!” she shouted.

  He scowled and then swung back toward the alley. Marcos was nowhere to be seen. Samantha moved cautiously, making sure to stay behind Lance. She looked up at the sides of the buildings on either side but didn’t see any fire escapes that he might have used.

  “He’s got to be here somewhere. He probably went inside one of these doors,” Lance said.

  That seemed likely, but Samantha didn’t relish the thought of poking her head through the doors just to get it shot at again. Plus, she had gotten close enough to Marcos to sense whether he had any power, and he didn’t.

  “Look, I’m not sure he’s our guy. He’s not a wi—” She ground to a halt, cursing herself silently.

  “Not a what?” Lance asked.

  “Maybe not Winona’s killer. If he was, based on this display, wouldn’t he have just shot her?”

  “He didn’t shoot his former partner either. We’re just special.”

  “Not in any way
I’d ever want to be special,” she retorted, eyeing the door closest to her.

  Lance wasn’t going to let it go; she could feel it. She hesitated for a moment, tempted to reach out and persuade him to give up the hunt. Now that they knew Marcos was potentially involved, they could get every cop in the city on the hunt. But something still didn’t feel right.

  “Let’s go in,” Lance said, moving toward a door on his right.

  Samantha reached out and touched the door she was standing in front of. If they were going to do this, they might as well do it right. “No, let’s try this one,” she said.

  Lance turned to look at her. Given his years in the city, she usually let him make those kinds of decisions, so she knew she had his attention now. “Let’s just say I got a feeling.”

  He nodded and moved over next to her. She grabbed the handle, did a silent count, and yanked it open. Lance stormed inside, and she followed moments later. They were in some sort of warehouse. She swept the place with her eyes. Some light came in from filthy windows up on the second floor. There was a catwalk that went around.

  “I’ll take high ground; you take low,” she said, as she moved toward a narrow metal staircase. She didn’t trust Lance to be above her at this point. He was too keyed up. Lack of sleep was combining with his normal aggression to create poor judgment. It didn’t help either that he clearly still had a beef with this guy.

  The stairs groaned under her weight, betraying any hope she had of stealth. You could make yourself silent. You could make yourself invisible. Catch a killer and stay safe.

  The voice that was whispering in her mind sounded so logical, so practical. They were both tired. Mistakes could happen; people could get hurt so easily. Why not use all the tools at your disposal?

  She bit her lip, torn. Then she swiftly made a decision. She’d used magic on this case more than once already and probably would have to a dozen times more before it was over. And this really was more defensive magic than anything else.

  She pictured Marcos in her mind, running, hiding. For best results, she should have had a candle or some other object she could have used to symbolize him. Without anything she could use, visualization would have to do. She just hoped it would do the job well enough.

  I bind you, Marcos, from seeing me or hearing me until such time I release you.

  She felt the energy sweep out of her. Her left hand was wrapped around the banister of the stairs and she could feel the energy rushing along the metal, moving to all parts of the warehouse. If he was inside, it should reach him at some point. She’d just have to go slow and careful for a few moments.

  When she finally made it to the top of the stairs, she began to breathe easier. She looked down and could see Lance moving toward the back of the warehouse, weapon constantly moving, like the needle of a compass seeking north.

  She looked around at where she was. The catwalk rimmed the building and crossed it twice. Toward the front of the building, it was deeper and there appeared to be an office of some sort. She walked that way, holding her gun at the ready. She had a strong urge to put it away, to use only her magic on him. Marcos had a gun of his own, though, and if she had to kill him, death by bullet was going to be a much easier report than death by head implosion.

  She blinked at how bizarre that sounded, even to her. I really do need to get some sleep too.

  She continued to walk, bolder now. The binding energy she had sent out should have reached Marcos by now.

  Finally, she was at the office. An old sign on the door read SHIFT SUPERVISOR. She peered in through the window, which had shards of broken glass still in the sill.

  Marcos was crouched down, his hands pressed to his head, rocking back and forth. Guilt, fear? She couldn’t quite tell. The signals he was sending out were a mishmash, almost gibberish.

  Maybe he’s on something.

  If he was, she was doubly glad she’d cast the spell. She turned and looked down at the ground floor. Lance was out of sight. Not good. She didn’t have time to worry about that, though. Now she just had to time things right.

  I’ll take his gun away from him before I release him from the spell. Of course, even that was going to be tricky with the way he had positioned himself. He might not hear the door open because it was being caused by her, but he would most certainly see it open. If he shot wildly at what he thought was air, he still might hit her.

  Going through the window was out of the question because of the shards of broken glass. Somewhere in the distance she heard a squeaking sound.

  Maybe if I knock the gun out of his hand from here.

  That seemed the safest way to do it. She readied herself. A hand descended on her shoulder, and she jerked, startled, and turned with a shout. Thankfully, Marcos didn’t hear her.

  Lance backpedaled, slamming into the railing of the catwalk. She winced, knowing that Marcos most certainly heard that.

  The door flew open and Marcos charged out. Samantha kicked the gun out of his hand, and it went tumbling to the floor below. He turned with a scream, unable to see her.

  “Who’s there?” he shouted. He tried to run, but he collided with Samantha, and they both toppled to the ground. Her gun went skidding across the catwalk.

  “What’s happening?” he screamed.

  “I release you,” Samantha hissed.

  She knew what it had to look like to him. One moment he was staring at air, and the next a woman appeared.

  He screamed and threw himself backward. His hand came down on Samantha’s gun and two shots rang out.

  Samantha froze and watched as blood spread across the front of Marcos’s jacket. He too looked down at it and then up at her.

  She grabbed her gun and tossed it toward Lance, then eased Marcos back down onto the metal of the catwalk. “Did you kill Winona?”

  “Are you an angel?”

  “No, but you need to tell me if you killed Winona.”

  “No.”

  “Then why were you at the coffee shop?” she asked.

  “Someone paid me to go get something from a lady. Cops saw me and I ran.”

  He started to convulse. He was slipping away, and there was no way for her to save him. “Who? What did they want?”

  But it was too late. He was gone.

  Lance handed Samantha her gun, and she tucked it back into her waistband. Lance reached down and pulled something turquoise colored out of the pocket of Marcos’s pants. A cell.

  He looked at it for a moment. “It’s got the texts to Jill. This is Winona’s phone.”

  “But he didn’t kill Winona. So how did he get her phone?”

  “The killer must have given it to him.”

  Her exhausted mind was working overtime to try to catch up and process everything that had just happened. “He said someone wanted him to get something from the lady.”

  “It makes sense. If you had killed someone, you’d want to lie low too, hire someone else to get what you needed.”

  “Yeah, but if the goal is to get the information and you’re afraid it might be a trap, why hire somebody the cops are likely to recognize on sight?” she asked.

  The answer hit her and drove her to her feet. She could see the same thought come to Lance.

  “It’s a diversion,” he said.

  “She wanted us to chase him so she’d have Jill to herself.”

  She raced toward the stairs. Jill was a sitting duck.

  5

  Samantha raced down the stairs and outside the building. She headed for the Starbucks, where her roommate was sitting, alone and unprotected.

  Idiot! You should have seen this coming.

  The two police officers who had been inside the café were dealing with some injured bystanders. Fortunately it didn’t look like anything too bad. They all seemed to be in much better shape than Marcos. She kept expecting to fee
l a surge of energy, proof that another with powers was nearby. There was nothing.

  As she ran into the coffee shop, she suddenly saw why. The witch wasn’t here because she had called Jill to her instead. Her roommate was gone.

  Samantha blinked and then grabbed one of the patrons who was staring through the window at the chaos outside.

  “You,” she said, shaking his arm.

  He jerked and looked up at her. “What?”

  “There was a woman sitting in here, brunette, she was at that table,” she said, pointing. “Where did she go?”

  “I don’t know. Her friend came in and then they left together.”

  “Her friend?”

  “Yeah, this smoking-hot chick with blond hair. She was dressed all in black.”

  “Did you see which way they went?”

  “No.”

  Samantha turned and scanned the other people in the coffee shop. They all had their eyes glued on the events outside. None of them were going to be able to tell her what she needed to know. She walked back to the door and reached out and touched it. She could feel a lingering impression of Jill. Her roommate had been the last person to touch the door.

  But beyond that Samantha couldn’t feel anything, no emotions. She probably has her under mind control. That’s what I’d do.

  Samantha jerked, angry at the turn of her own thoughts. She walked outside and looked around. They could have walked by all those people in the street and the police officers and no one would have suspected anything amiss if she had done it right.

  But why risk it when there are other ways they could have gone?

  Samantha turned and began to walk down the street. She reached out, trying to sense her roommate or the witch. There was the faintest impression of them on the sidewalk, almost like a perfume that lingered long after its wearer left the room.

  Confident now that she was going in the right direction, Samantha picked up her pace. She moved from a walk to a jog. The impressions became stronger, and she moved faster.

  She slowed as she neared a corner and then made a sharp left. There was a park a few blocks up, and she burst into a run, sure that was where the witch was taking Jill. There would be people there, so they wouldn’t seem out of place, and it was a good location for her to recharge her batteries quickly by connecting to the energy of the earth. It was easier to gather energy from dirt and rocks and trees than from cement and asphalt.