“I still think you’re hiding something,” the young rookie in the front row spat.
A deeper, coarser voice issued from the back of the room, “Then ya’ obviously didn’t pay attention, did ya’?”
Heads quickly swiveled at the sound of the unfamiliar voice and were greeted by a six-foot-six column of muscle. Clad in casual tan slacks and knit sweater with a gold shield clipped to his belt, the classically angular features of the Native American were carved from dusty red granite. His hardened face was framed by jet-black hair worn at a length just barely within tolerance of his superiors. Dark eyes that had already witnessed far too much suffering for one lifetime focused tightly on the crew-cut patrolman. Detective Benjamin Storm pressed the door shut behind himself and ventured farther into the room.
“Sorry for the interruption.” He nodded at me and slid into the first empty chair he spotted. Even seated, he towered over the rest of the group. “Please continue.”
Gnawing sensations tickling my lower abdomen prompted me to glance at my watch. The fact that Ben was here joined in to tell me that lunchtime was just the other side of now.
“Well, that pretty much concludes the lecture…unless there are any more questions?”
I can only assume that fear of retribution from the large man in the back row kept the heretofore-argumentative patrolman from continuing his verbal attack. As for the rest of the officers, I was certain that their minds were just as occupied by the thought of filling their stomachs as mine was. The room remained silent, and not a single hand moved to rise.
“…Then you all have my number on the handout I gave you. If something comes to mind, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be glad to answer any questions.”
Low-pitched squeals of rubber-footed, metal chairs against unwaxed linoleum joined with the quiet mumblings and shuffle of footsteps. As the sea of dark blue funneled through the now-open doorway, a few of the officers took a moment to shake my hand and thank me for the presentation. The literature-bearing heckler, however, maintained a wide berth and held his gaze elsewhere. As he made his way out, Ben stood and motioned him to the side. There followed a short private exchange between the two, and he let out what appeared to be a nervous laugh. Ben’s face bore a wide grin as he clapped the young patrolman on the back with a meaty paw and sent him to join his fellow officers.
“What did you say to that guy?” I asked when the room was finally clear and my friend sauntered to the front.
“Who? The jerkoff?” He angled his thumb over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “I told him if I found out about him harassing you on the phone or anything, that I’d shove his night-stick so far up his ass it’d take a team of proctologists a week just to find it.”
“You know, Ben, intimidation isn’t exactly the message I was trying to get across to these people today.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He brought a hand up to smooth back his hair and left it resting on the back of his neck, a mannerism I’d long ago learned to be a blatant signal that my friend had something of import going on in the back of his mind. “Sorry ‘bout that. It just pisses me off when assholes like that won’t listen.”
“Yeah, Ben,” I sympathized. “Remember, I deal with it all the time. Not all that long ago, even from you to some extent “
“Yeah, well, I got over it.”
“Yes, you did. Now just give them a chance to do the same.”
“Yeah, okay, you’re right… So, anyway, white man. Enough with that. You ready to grab somethin’ to eat?”
“Sure. What’d you have in mind?”
“There’s a great Chinese place not too far from the morgue. Just gotta make a real quick stop first.”
“Why do I get the feeling that the stop you are referring to and the morgue are one and the same?”
“You tell me. You’re the Witch.”
“Brianna Louise Walker,” Ben was reading to me with quick glances from his ever-present notebook as he drove. In reality, the Saint Louis city morgue was right next door to the police headquarters, but Ben had expressed extreme disdain at the thought of walking the short block in the cold only to have to walk back to get his vehicle. “Twenty-eight years old, single. AKA Mistress Bree, AKA The Wicked Witch of the West End. One a’ those dominatrixes. Regular bondage queen. Charged five bills an hour to use ya’ and abuse ya’.” He spared a quick glance at me before swinging the van around a tight arc into the parking lot of the morgue. “Coupl’a nights ago she took a nosedive off a sixth story balcony at the Riverfront Hilton wearin’ nothin’ but a studded collar and too much makeup.”
“Suicide?” I queried.
“Don’t think so…”
Ben urged the van into a snow-packed space, making a judgment call as to where the yellow demarcation lines might be and nosed it up against a pile of the freshly plowed white stuff. The fan on the heater shut down as he switched off the engine, and we were left in a sudden pounding quiet.
“…Cause she was also handcuffed. Probably her own. Best guess at first,” he continued, turning in his seat to face me while stuffing the notebook back into a pocket. “Maybe she spanked one of her johns too hard or something. Maybe a dispute over payment, dunno.”
“Okay,” I paused, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Ben reached up and smoothed his hair then began massaging the back of his neck. He looked past me out the corner of the windshield and let out a troubled sigh. I turned my eyes from him and looked out across the lot. The snow had begun to taper off to small flurries, leaving the final accumulation total somewhere around seven inches. Bitter northern winds sliced down the frozen streets, kicking up miniature tornados of the icy white crystals. It just plain looked cold.
The thump of the other shoe still not forthcoming, I pressed my friend further. “Come on, Ben. You’ve been telling me all this for a reason. What is it?”
Ben exhaled loudly, puffing out his cheeks, and returned his reticent gaze to me before pressing ahead, “Okay, white man, it’s like this. She’s got marks all over her body that obviously didn’t come from the double gainer she took. Lacerations… Burns… Looks like the sick bastard that chucked her out the window took time to torture her first.”
“Go on.”
“One of the marks appears to be a symbol, and I was kinda wonderin’…”
“…If I would have a look at it for you.” I finished his sentence for him.
“If it makes any difference, the request for you came from higher up the line,” he said.
“All you had to do was ask, Ben.” I told him. “You didn’t have to get all anxious about it and drag me down here under the pretense of going to lunch. Did you really think I’d say no?”
“Look, Row,” his hand continued working on the self-induced tension in his neck, “I talked to Felicity the other day. She said you’ve started havin’ nightmares again… Ya’know, about Ariel Tanner and all that…”
“A few. So?”
“So I don’t wanna drag you into somethin’ that’s gonna fuck you up, man.” He forced out another exasperated breath and turned away, once again avoiding eye contact with me. The windows of the van had fogged from our breath as we talked, and the winter landscape was all but completely obscured from view. Chilled silence filled the van for a long moment before Ben finally spoke in a near whisper. “I did that once already.”
“Dammit, Ben!” I snapped. “I’m telling you this for the last time. You didn’t drag me into anything. I volunteered to help you with that case. Any “demons” that I’m dealing with because of it are my own and, very simply, are not your fault!”
I felt like grabbing my friend and shaking him as hard as I could. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to convince him that he wasn’t to blame for everything that had occurred during that investigation-my brush with death, my nightmares, and even Felicity’s miscarriage. Each of those things had come about directly because of my involvement in the search for a sadistic serial murderer. Ben’s loyalty as a friend caused him to cling to that blame like a security blanket, as if by taking responsibility he could protect me from an evil that he himself did not understand. In his mind, he thought all of this was because he’d asked me to decipher a symbol left behind at a crime scene. In my mind, I knew it was because my destiny was to square off with that unseen evil and face it down.