Mark of the Demon

I sighed. I was being stupid. I needed all the help I could get. And I also had to accept that there was a very real chance I’d get pulled off the case completely so it could be handled by someone with more experience. Which was pretty much anybody in Investigations.

I pulled up to the mouth of the alley that ran behind the stores, joining the throng of other police vehicles. The area where the body had been found was known as the outlet mall, but that was a poor description for what it was now. Ten years ago it had been an outlet mall, but it had lasted as such for less than a year, the victim of a very poor layout, a lousy location, and greedy local politicians. In its second year, the stores had begun to pull out in desperate acts of self-preservation. Eventually it was a run-down strip of empty storefronts, interrupted occasionally by a struggling entrepreneur who had been lured in by the low rent. Unfortunately, even the folks who tried to tough it out ended up going out of business, since the rest of the mall was so trashy no one wanted to go there to shop, simply out of fear for the safety of themselves and their vehicles.

I walked past the other cars, taking stock of the vicinity before getting to the actual scene. About half a dozen battered yellow Dumpsters were spaced along the alley, each surrounded by scattered trash that had missed its mark. I didn’t think that the Dumpsters had been emptied in several months, and the aroma of old garbage clung to the area like mildew in a shower. There was enough room to drive a car down the alley, but not many people would be willing to risk their cars passing over all of the debris back here.

I also knew I wouldn’t be looking through any surveillance video of this scene. Even though there were a few cameras left on the corners of buildings in places where people couldn’t get to them and steal them, there hadn’t been film in them in many years.

I looked ahead and saw my captain talking to three men by the crime-scene tape that had been stretched across a section of the alley. My steps slowed. I’d been right; I was finally getting some help. Be careful what you wish for, right? I thought with a grimace. But hopefully this means I’ll be staying on the case. After all, I’d been paged to report to the scene. That had to be a good sign.

Special Agent Kristoff, aka Obnoxious, was one of the men speaking to Captain Turnham. Another of the men was much shorter than Kristoff, and when he turned I bit back a groan. Detective James Harris was with the St. Long Parish Sheriff’s Office, a supercilious man who was very full of his own importance and thus difficult to get along with. A couple of inches shorter than me, he had a thick build with a paunch that stretched his dress shirts to their limits and a fleshy, ruddy face that tended to get even redder whenever he was annoyed. Unfortunately, he was fairly good at his job, had experience with ritual and cult murders, and was no doubt more than eager to get on a task force for this sort of case.

I didn’t recognize the third man—though judging by his suit and his haircut, I figured him for a Fed as well. He looked like he was barely eighteen, with short blond hair and a healthy tan that made him look more like a surfer. I knew he had to be older to be an agent, but I did have to wonder just how long he’d been with the bureau.

“Oh, yay, now everybody gets to think I’m a nutjob,” I muttered, resisting the urge to go back to my car and do a quick makeup check. Since I’d visited Tessa on my way to work, I was at least dressed like a detective today, in a red tailored shirt with dark-blue dress slacks and matching jacket. I’d even remembered to accessorize, which in my world meant that I’d stuck little pearl stud earrings into the holes in my earlobes.

Captain Turnham gave me a nod as I approached. “Gentlemen, this is Detective Kara Gillian. She’s been the primary on these cases. And,” he said with a quick glance at me, “as I said before, I intend to keep her on as the detective in charge.”

I struggled to keep the professional smile on my face. My captain had been serious about having a rookie detective on the lead! Unbelievable. And I had the distinct impression that there’d been some discussion about this already. Kristoff wore a stony expression, while Harris was actively frowning, face red. The only one who looked at me with a smile was Surfer Boy.

“Gillian, this is Agent Zachary Garner,” Captain Turnham said, indicating the blond agent. “I believe you’ve already met Agent Ryan Kristoff, and I’m sure you know Detective Harris, with the sheriff’s office.”

I shook their hands in turn, but my attention was already on the body that I could see beyond the tape. I smiled and murmured something appropriate, then turned away and ducked under the tape, distantly realizing though not caring that the three had followed me. The arcane energy practically crackled on this one, and it nearly took my breath away.

I stopped several feet from the body, and when Agent Kristoff continued forward, I threw up my arm to stop him, only realizing that I’d done so afterward. I looked up at him and gave a grimace of apology. “Sorry … uh, just thought that there was something on the ground there.”

He frowned and peered down at the ground, taking off his sunglasses to do so. Damn, he has pretty eyes, I thought again, then gave myself a mental slap to get my focus back.

Cautiously stepping forward, I watched the arcane flickers crawl and twine about the body. This is freshly dumped, I realized. This is what the shit looks like unfaded. I let out a sound of frustration. There was absolutely no way that I’d be able to get my aunt here, not with the Feds present.

“Are you all right, Detective Gillian?” Agent Kristoff asked.

I realized I was standing with one foot off the ground. I quickly put it down, avoiding a strand of energy that had wiggled off the body and was already beginning to fade. “I’m fine. There’s just evidence here that I don’t want to lose.”

Kristoff narrowed his eyes and replaced his sunglasses on his face. Harris cleared his throat and stuck his thumbs behind his belt. “We realize that, darlin’. That’s why our crime scene people and yours are going to cover every inch of this area and process the body as well.”

I forgot to hide the scowl as I looked at Harris, obscurely pleased that he was short enough for me to look down at him. “Can I at least have a few minutes to look before your folks come swooping in to save the day?” Darlin? It’s “Detective,” asshole, I wanted to add.

Harris’s face reddened again. Crap, there goes your Tact and Diplomacy merit badge again, Kara.

“Detective Gillian,” Kristoff said, voice unbearably cool and even, “our greatest desire is to work together with local law enforcement in order to accomplish the apprehension and conviction of the perpetrator of this series of criminal acts.”

I blinked. Then I gave him a bright smile. “Cool! Thanks, darlin’!” I smacked him lightly on the arm and turned back toward the body. “I’ll just be a minute, then.”

I heard someone stifle a laugh behind me. I knew it couldn’t have come from Kristoff or Harris, so I figured it had to be Garner. Could Feds even laugh? I’d always thought that the ability had been burned out of them in their training.

I ignored them and crouched about a foot from the body. Even as I watched, the strands were dissipating. Another twenty minutes and they would be just smudges. Definitely a fresh dump. And, unfortunately, not too difficult to believe that it could be dumped here unseen. “Who found the body?” I asked no one in particular, not taking my eyes off the arcane leavings.

“Anonymous call,” Garner answered. “No luck tracing it.”

He wanted us to find this body quickly. But why? I couldn’t wrap my mind around any answer that made sense. I could accept that the body at the treatment plant had been found quickly by accident, but the one at the ball field had been in plain sight. And now this one—with the phone call to make sure that we found it quickly. I was missing some key connection, some compelling reason for the change in method.

I leaned closer, looking at the ground beside the body. A single strand of arcane energy was twisting, and I realized with a shock that it was forming and unforming a rune. Excited, I hurriedly pulled my notebook out and sketched the rune, shielding the page from the eyes of the others as best I could. As soon as I was done with that one, I focused on another, sketching it as well. I forgot about the men clustered behind me as I slowly crabbed my way around the body, sketching runes as I saw them. Finally, when all the runes had faded away, I stood and closed my notebook.

Kristoff had taken his sunglasses off again, a frown creasing his forehead as he eyed me. Harris stood with his arms crossed and a dark scowl on his face. Crap, they think I’m totally crazy. Now I had to hope that the chief wouldn’t hear about this.

Kristoff’s eyes slid away from me and went to the body on the ground. I followed his gaze and realized with a guilty start that I had yet to actually look at the body.

She was nude, with dark hair that had been permed a few too many times. Bile rose in my throat as I looked at the girl’s eyes. At first glance I merely thought that the girl had died with her eyes wide open, but then I realized with a sick jolt that the eyelids had been cut away. Like the others, she had the deep ligature marks in her throat from strangulation, and she also had the hundreds of precise slices on her limbs and torso, just like the first girl. I looked for and found the nicks in the veins at her elbows, but when I looked to see if her ankle veins had been cut as well, I had another jolt: the girl’s achilles tendons had been cut.

No chance to get away. Had she tried to escape? Had she fought back?

“Jesus,” Agent Garner breathed. “He cut her eyelids off.”

I glanced up at him and nodded, then went back to examining the body. I couldn’t see the symbol, but I knew it was there. This was my guy. I knew it.

Kristoff frowned. “I don’t see that trademark symbol on her.”

“It’s there,” I replied.

Harris spoke up, tugging at his tie. “This could be a copycat. The details of the symbol have never been released to the public, correct?”

I turned to look at him. “You’re right, it hasn’t, but just because you don’t see it right here doesn’t mean it’s not on her somewhere. A couple of times the pathologist has been the one to find it. Plus, the other two did have it.”

Harris pursed his lips sourly. “These murders have never been so close together, either, or so easily found. It would make sense that these newer ones might be a copycat.”

I shook my head. “No, there are—” I stopped. How the hell was I going to explain the arcane smudges? “There are other details that are similar.”

“What other details?” Harris challenged. “We’ve read all your reports.”

Crap. I hadn’t expected them to be up to speed so quickly. “All my reports? How?”

Agent Garner spoke up with a smile. “Your captain forwarded everything to us after the body was found at the park. We were actually going over the details for getting the task force organized when this call came out, so we headed right on over here.”

Okay, he was definitely a newbie. He hadn’t learned how to be a dick yet. “Ah, well, there are still some things in my notes, you know. I didn’t realize my captain had spoken to y’all.” I turned and glared at my captain, but he was too far away to feel my gaze.

“What were you sketching, Detective Gillian?” It was Agent Kristoff again, watching me with a carefulness that was close to unnerving.

I gave him a bright, ingenuous smile. “Oh, you know. Doodling to get my thoughts in line.” Okay, so they were going to think I was crazy and incompetent. This was just great. “Look, guys, how about we meet up back at the station and go over all of this?” I really did want the resources of the task force. I just didn’t want them to think I was nuts.

“That’s acceptable,” Harris huffed, glancing at his watch. “We’ll meet you back there in one hour.” It wasn’t a question.

I plastered an accommodating smile onto my face. “One hour works for me.”

“And bring all of your notes,” Harris said.

“Oh, absolutely, guys. I’m eager to get y’all’s take on this stuff.” I even meant it. Sort of. But I realized that I was going to have to be careful to keep Harris from walking all over me.

Just like keeping a demon in check.

Harris and Garner turned to walk back to the cars. I began to follow them but stopped when Kristoff put his hand on my arm.

I frowned and looked down at his hand on my arm, then back up at him. “Is there a problem?” I asked, tone icy, refraining from saying something equally nice like, Get your fucking hand off my arm, asshole.

He didn’t release my arm. Instead, he glanced to see that the others were still walking away, then leaned in closer to me. “You saw something on the ground. What was it?”

I clenched my jaw and pulled my arm away from him. “I didn’t see anything. I was just making notes.”

His expression darkened. “Detective Gillian, we do not need to be withholding information from each other. If you saw something, you need to share it with me.”

And have you order a commitment hearing? Fat chance, darlin. “If I had information that would benefit you in the slightest, I promise I would be sure to pass it on.”

He made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat, then jammed his sunglasses on and stalked away. I watched him walk off. He’s going to put an eye out if he keeps this shit up, I thought, then followed after him and returned to my car.

I was feeling ornery, so I took my time getting my notes together, deliberately making the others wait a few extra minutes. I was also dawdling because I’d begged and pleaded and wheedled and promised Saints tickets to Dr. Lanza, and he’d relented and told me that he would go ahead and perform the autopsy on the latest victim that afternoon. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">