“You know your history—the people, the victims, the accusers, the social climate of the time. And the more recent history, too, of course.”
She stood in the doorway smiling. “There’s so much about the people who lived here that’s so fascinating. Take the gray house that borders the cemetery. Nathaniel Hawthorne’s in-laws lived there, and he wrote a story about a house next to a cemetery that was filled with spiders. And wondering about his in-laws makes me wonder about him. What does our background have to do with the way we live our lives? Do we embrace it? Run from it?”
He laughed softly. “I know. From the area, remember? Where the girls first became ‘afflicted’ is actually Danvers today, and where Giles Corey had his property is Peabody now. But it was all Salem back then.”
Devin laughed. “Okay, so you did grow up around here. And I certainly don’t want to escape the area. It’s just that sometimes I feel I know it too well. Still, for better or worse, this is home.” She hesitated, looking at him. “You really think that Salem’s history is relevant to the case?”
“For some reason, yes. A hunch—maybe the way the victims’ bodies were arranged. Definitely the pentagrams.”
“I know I sound like a broken record, but the Wiccans here today have absolutely nothing to do with what happened in the past.”
“No—and yes. Don’t you think maybe the Wiccan community here has thrived because of history?”
“I suppose.”
He exhaled thoughtfully. “Here’s the thing—they used witchcraft in 1692 to spread terror and kill people. Whoever is doing this is using modern Wicca in some way, apparently for the same reason.”
“And does that help you?”
“Right now it’s about all we’ve got, even if it doesn’t lead anywhere yet. We have nothing physical. No trace evidence is almost unheard of. We have no hairs, no fibers, no blood from the attacker—nothing to go on forensically.”
“They haven’t found anything?”
“Not yet. But we will catch him—or her. This time.”
“You think a woman could be doing this?”
“Yes. There’s no reason a woman can’t wield a knife.”
“True.”
“You all right?” he asked her. “I can...well, I can stay on the sofa or in your aunt’s old room—I think she’d let me.”
She smiled. “I’m fine,” she told him.
They were standing so close together there in the doorway. For a moment she wondered how someone she found so seductive and attractive had come into her life—and why he’d had to enter as a consequence of a tragic murder. And yet, despite the circumstances, there was something chemical between them, she thought. Or maybe the bond was more cerebral.
Apparently they both spoke to the dead.
No, it wasn’t that. She smiled slightly.
As in her Auntie Pim books, maybe it was slightly magical.
She thought they were going to touch. Their lips were close.... They would touch, and then...
He cleared his throat and stepped back.
“Please tell me that you have me on speed dial,” he said.
She nodded and smiled, and stepped into the house. “Don’t worry. I’m not taking any chances. I’m young. I like living.”
“So do I,” he said softly. “Lock—”
“The door.”
He took another step back. “I’ll be listening for the bolt.”
She shut and locked the door, then leaned against it and closed her eyes, listening as his footsteps took him down the path to his car.
“Dearest girl, you should have kissed the boy.”
Her eyes flew open. “Auntie Mina!”
Well, she thought dryly, she wouldn’t be having any wild affairs in this house, that much was for certain.
Not when it came with a chaperone.
Aunt Mina wagged a finger at Devin.
“Men like him don’t come along often in life, my girl. Trust me. I lived long, and saw much. You shouldn’t throw away such a rare opportunity.”
*
Rocky returned to the hotel room to find the rest of the Krewe already set up in the suite that Sam Hall had taken; it had two bedrooms, one for him and Jenna, and one for Angela and Jane to share. There was also a good-size kitchen/dining area.
There were papers all over the table.
“There’s coffee in the pot,” Sam told Rocky.
“And a bottle of Jack if you need something stronger,” Angela offered dryly.
He poured himself coffee.
“All right, here’s where we are,” Jenna said when he’d taken a seat at the table. “First, still no answers on our Jane Doe in the morgue. I tried missing persons across the country and couldn’t come up with our woman. I also showed her picture to everyone I could think of. No one remembers her.”
“I went over the bulletins from agencies across the country. Came close a few times, but the best we had was a woman with horrible teeth,” Jane told him. “Not our vic, I’m afraid.”
“How does a woman just disappear and die—and no one even misses her?” Rocky asked.