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Renee assured her tautly, “It’s not the police.”
“I never thought you’d be the kind to take a warning from the Tarot so literally,” Tamara said.
“I told you, it’s not the Tarot,” Renee said with extreme patience, her voice lowering. “You know I’ve been investigating, trying to dig up an angle for my story on Jessie, but…” She heaved a deep sigh that seemed to come from her gut, then pressed her palms to her cheeks. “You’re not listening. None of you are listening. And I don’t know how to get you to.”
“We don’t know what the hell you’re saying,” Evangeline said tartly but her face was gaunt, her eyes wide. She hadn’t missed the emotion, regardless of what she said.
“Okay, so I’m warning you. Me. Us. If anything weird happens, let the rest of us know right away,” Renee went on doggedly. “Maybe we can-avoid it-if we work together. If we watch each other’s backs.”
Watch your back, Becca… Jessie’s last words to her reverberated through her mind.
Tamara snorted, but Renee forged on, again rotating her nearly full cup on the table. “It’s like stirring up Jessie’s bones has awakened it.”
“Okay…It?” This time Evangeline’s tone had a hefty amount of disparagement, as if Renee were out of her mind. “Now you sound melodramatic.”
“God, Renee,” Tamara murmured. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s…just wh
at you’re feeling. Real to you, yeah, but come on. Whatever you’re going through…with Tim or with your work, it’s affecting your judgment. This isn’t like you. There are no demonic forces coming after us.”
“I didn’t say demonic.”
“You said stirring up Jessie’s bones awakened it,” Tamara reminded her, picking up her purse and grabbing her coat. “Close enough.”
“I hope Jessie’s dead,” Evangeline said suddenly.
Renee frowned at her, then turned to Becca. “She is dead. You think so, too, right?”
Tamara hesitated, her shoulder bag over her arm, but she was half turned toward their table, waiting for Becca’s answer. In fact, they were all staring at her. Becca said, “It all gets back to, if those bones aren’t Jessie’s, then whose are they?”
“That’s a good question,” Renee said.
“It’s been twenty fucking years,” Tamara snapped. “I don’t know what you expect us to say to you, Renee. You’re, like…falling apart. And you’re the smart one! You’re really starting to scare me.” She shot Becca another look. “You look scared, too.”
“It’s…disturbing,” Becca said. “I don’t know what happened to Jessie, but the police’ll figure it out.”
“What if something happens to us before they do?” Renee asked.
“Nothing’s going to happen to us,” Evangeline said, her voice an unconvincing whisper.
“I have to run.” Tamara, with a wave of her hand, headed out the door, leaving a swoosh of cold air in her wake that sent a little shudder up Becca’s spine.
Renee stared at Evangeline, who gazed back almost defiantly. “Nothing’s going to happen to us,” Vangie repeated as the door slammed shut.
Renee turned to Becca. “Be careful,” she said, then picked up her purse and coat as well.
“I’m a part of this investigation,” Gretchen Sandler stated flatly, her palms spread on Mac’s desk as she stood in front of him. “Your latest after-hours attempt to get me out of the picture is…at the very least, amateurish.”
It was dark, but then it felt like it was always dark this time of year. Mac knew his partner was pissed at him and didn’t much care. She, like many before her, would hang around for a couple of months, maybe even years, but soon enough she would get one foot on his back and another on the next rung to success and catapult herself forward. He was more interested in when the autopsy report and DNA would land on his desk, and if an artist could do facial reconstruction on her skull if there was no DNA match. Twenty years ago, DNA was in its infancy as far as law enforcement went, but it was available, and there were hair samples from a brush of Jessie’s follicles intact, that were being tested.
He knew in his gut the girl found in the maze was Jessie, and her parents suspected it, too. They might not want to talk to him, but he’d heard the weary acceptance in their voices nevertheless.
Mac still felt his partner’s presence at his desk. “D’Annibal ask you to keep an eye on me?” Mac didn’t glance up as he reread his notes on Jarrett Erikson. The guy was the slip-periest eel in the barrel and the least forthcoming. What a bastard.
“I-am-your-partner.”
“Could you say that a little slower? I’m not quite catching it.”
“You can be as big an asshole as you want. I’m still part of this investigation.”
