“No, I don’t know her,” Devin said.
“Well, then, I guess we’re set here,” Jane said. She rose and smiled at Devin. “You have a lovely home,” she said.
Devin didn’t respond. It was still Aunt Mina’s home, really.
But Aunt Mina seemed to be disappearing.
“Thank you,” Devin said distractedly, her eyes on her aunt’s fading form.
Jane followed the direction of her gaze and said sympathetically, “It takes a lot to appear and speak, and your aunt had to really focus to give us so much information. She’ll be back.”
“Don’t be startled when she arrives out of the blue,” Angela warned.
“Oh, I’ve gotten used to her,” Devin said.
Jane and Angela got set to leave, and Devin walked them to the door. When she opened it, she had to stifle a scream.
Because standing there was Rocky.
“Hey, how did it go?” he asked.
Jane produced her drawing. Rocky studied it for a long moment. Then he looked at Devin. “Anyone you’ve ever seen before?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t know her.”
“We’ll find her,” he said, his eyes holding hers. “Thank you,” he told Jane. “Are you ready?” he asked Devin.
“For?”
“It’s after seven,” he said. “The tours all start around eight, right?”
“Oh!” she said, amazed that the afternoon had gone by so quickly. “Oh.”
“So...ready to go?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” She turned to the other two agents. “Would you like to join us? Brent is a friend of mine, he won’t mind.”
“We were going to go back to the hotel and assess what we have so far,” Jane said. “I think a tour—a refresher course—of the city’s history is actually a good idea, but we’ll go another night. Witchcraft does seem to be the key to solving this case, doesn’t it?”
Devin didn’t let herself reply, reminding herself that Jane wasn’t attacking the city’s Wiccan community, only stating the obvious. Because one way or another, witchcraft was at the heart of these killings.
It was the pentagrams found on the victims.
Devin grabbed her purse, let the others out ahead of her and locked the door. The other women took their rental, and she went in Rocky’s car. As they drove, he seemed preoccupied.
“Your friends—your coworkers—are very nice.”
He flashed her a smile. “They are. I’m just getting to know them myself. But what I know already is that they’re pretty amazing.”
“Oh.”
“New assignment,” he told her. “I just joined the Krewe. I’d been working across the country.”
“It must feel strange to come home to...this,” she said.
“Not at all—I asked for this assignment.”
Of course, he had. He had said it: he was haunted. Had been for years.
And now...
“Have you come up with anything?” she asked him, then smiled. “Or is that classified?”
“We’ve followed every lead, and we’re running some computer searches. But as to answers...no, none yet.”
“It makes sense that you wanted a sketch of the woman Aunt Mina saw.”
He glanced her way. “Of course. I’m trying to figure out how the victims are chosen, because I do believe there’s a reason they’re being targeted. I just keep thinking...our killer’s not a sexual sadist. The women aren’t being molested. It’s more like a ritual—a sacrifice.”
“Which is more proof that the killer’s not Wiccan. Today’s Wiccans don’t sacrifice—no matter what the Druids might have done. And if you’re looking to history to clarify what’s going on, the accused at the witch trials weren’t even witches. They were the innocent victims of paranoia. So if you think tonight’s tour is going to point a finger at the big bad witches, think again.”
“I know that.”
“Then...?”
“I don’t know. But I keep feeling... Well, I have been gone awhile. I just keep thinking that something in tonight’s tour will dislodge a clue from my memory.”
“Well, you’ll like Brent’s tour even if it doesn’t solve the case for you. There’s no hocus-pocus. No pun intended.”
Brent’s tour began at the Salem Witch Trials Memorial and ended at his shop—which, being a clever businessman, he opened for business as soon as they arrived.
It was a busy night. Over twenty people had gathered to take the tour. As they waited, Devin watched Rocky’s face. He was listening intently to those around them.
“I don’t think tourists really have to worry, do you?” one woman asked another.
“No, of course not. The victims were all locals,” her friend replied.
“They haven’t identified the second victim yet,” a man standing nearby pointed out. “And if she were local, wouldn’t someone know her? They posted her picture in the paper, and it’s been all over TV.”
“Hush, Henry, the children,” said his wife.
“They need to know to stay with us at all times,” Henry said gruffly.