“Maybe she needed it to look like a suicide. She didn’t want to attract any attention yet.”
Kirsten was shaking her head emphatically. “No, there’s a method for that, which vampires just love. They put the victim in their bathtub, drink most of the blood, and let a little bit run into the water to turn it red. Hardly anyone who commits suicide that way is actually a suicide.”
Jesse was temporarily distracted. He glanced over at Kirsten. “Really? Wouldn’t the medical examiner realize a lot of blood was missing?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never heard of anyone catching it. They do this fairly often.” She wrinkled her nose. “Think about it. If you were going to commit suicide, wouldn’t you rather just shoot yourself, or take pills?
Jesse started to answer that, but remembered the actual point of the discussion. “Anyway,” he said, gesturing for them to get back on track.
“Right. You read the police report. Did Denise have any major cuts? Specifically at the arteries?”
Jesse thought back. Denise’s body had been nearly pristine, he remembered, except for some minor bites from fish. No major arteries. “No.”
“Then maybe it wasn’t Olivia,” Kirsten said. “Maybe it was the witch.”
“Denise weighed a hundred and fifty pounds,” Jesse said skeptically. He didn’t mention that that was her weight after the fish had nibbled on her—Kirsten didn’t need to know about that. “And she would have been fighting like crazy, and maybe screaming for help, and terrified of the pier. If we’re talking about one witch, a woman…I just can’t see her being able to get Denise that far. Could someone have…hypnotized her?”
“A reasonably powerful witch could,” she said thoughtfully. “But although we can technically perform spells on each other, we’re naturally a bit resistant to other witches’ magic. And Denise’s mind would have dug in its heels, metaphorically speaking, about going out over the water. Hypnosis is like that; it’s hard to make the subject do something that goes against her deepest feelings.”
“Are there any other spells, though? For, I don’t know, mind control?”
She shook her head. “Neuromancy, witchcraft that deals with the mind, is an extremely specialized and difficult area to work in. I know a few witches who could put her in a trance, or maybe take a few seconds of memory, but to get her to the pier and then over the side…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”
They were both quiet for a long moment, thinking that over. Jesse could understand why the Santa Monica PD had ruled Denise’s death a suicide. It was just too neatly done. “Okay, let’s put a pin in that for the moment,” he said at last. The car had finally made it to the source of the traffic—a multicar fender bender that had forced the police to close off two lanes of the freeway. Jesse nodded to the highway patrolman directing traffic around the cones, and was momentarily grateful that he’d never signed on for highway patrol. “What happened next?”
“I knew about Denise’s death, and I was suspicious right away,” Kirsten said. “But there wasn’t anything I could do, really. I just thought…I don’t know what I thought.” She slumped back in her seat, biting on a cuticle. It was obvious that Kirsten was blaming herself for not acting after Denise’s death, but Jesse didn’t bother pointing out that it wasn’t her fault. She knew that; she just didn’t feel it, and Jesse understood. He’d felt the same when Jared Hess had taken Scarlett.
“Then Erin died,” he prompted gently. “What do you know about that?”
Kirsten told him about being unable to reach Erin, about using a locator spell and sending the substitute cleaner to her apartment. Jesse was still itching to know who had helped Scarlett get rid of the body, but Kirsten didn’t use the cleaner’s name, and by her sidelong glance Jesse could tell she knew not to tell him. Dammit, Scarlett, he thought. She must have warned Kirsten.
Jesse was still a little pissed about the cleaner taking Erin’s body, but he did realize that Kirsten wasn’t the person to take it out on, so he pushed ahead. “Was there anything else that the cleaner mentioned?” he asked. “Anything else he noticed while he was there?”
Kirsten held up a hand. “Let me think.” She sat silently for a few minutes, and Jesse figured she was trying to figure out what he should and shouldn’t know. That pissed him off again, and he was about to say so, when Kirsten said, “Two things. First, he said it looked like the body had been crushed, evenly. Not like it had been beaten and bones were crushed, but the whole thing at once.”
That matched what the crime scene techs had said about the bloodstain. “And the second thing?”
She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing, but he said there was a bit of an earthly smell. Like dirt, but sort of…processed.”
That rang an alarm bell in Jesse’s brain. He had forgotten about the dirt being at both Erin’s apartment and the Reeds’ crime scene. “Wait. I gotta stop for a minute,” Jesse said. He took the next exit off the freeway and pulled into the parking lot of an In-N-Out Burger. Kirsten began to ask him a question, but he shook his head. “Hang on a second,” he told Kirsten, and pulled out his cell phone. He turned off the Bluetooth and dialed Glory at the lab.
The phone was answered by one of her underlings, a bright Asian twentysomething with a Mohawk whom Jesse had met a few times. He informed Jesse that Glory was working nights this week, and Jesse immediately felt stupid. Of course she was; that was why she’d been at the Jeep crime scene to begin with. He hung up and dialed Glory’s cell, glancing over at Kirsten. The witch was calmly playing Angry Birds on her own phone.
“Jesse?” Glory’s voice was sleepy and irritated. “This better be really good. The kids are in school and I was finally sleeping.”