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“Watkins. Not now,” Stephanie said and turned back to Hanlen. “Are you aware of the circumstances surrounding Mr. Durrand’s death?”
Hanlen shook her head. “No, neither Bea nor the nurse said on the voicemail. I just assumed it was a sudden heart attack or something.”
When I saw the look cross Stephanie’s face, I knew the words that were about to come out of her mouth next.
“Ms. Arbor, Mr. Durrand was murdered. His wife thinks maybe someone followed him home from the grocery store and took him by surprise. And it seems his life was taken by the same person who killed Mr. Reynolds.”
I caught Hanlen before her knees buckled.
* * *
A couple of hours later,after we’d made sure that Bea was okay and resting comfortably under Nurse Pritchett’s able care, Hanlen and I found ourselves back at the NOPD headquarters, giving statements and answering questions once again. This time, they let us stay in the same room, though I was informed that I should only answer when addressed directly. It was difficult. Detective Watkins seemed to enjoy playing the bad cop. I didn’t like the guy and I desperately wanted to tell him off.
For someone who generally stayed pretty even-keeled and didn’t like violence, my urge to give him a bloody lip was almost overwhelming. Some people just had that effect. It was an energy thing. Everything was made of spirit. And every person’s aura emitted a certain kind of energy that could be felt by sensitives. It wasn’t always easy to decipher because some personality traits felt similar to others and were hard to differentiate, but on the spectrum of good and bad, bad always felt . . . oily. The degree differed, of course, and it sometimes came through for things that weren’t quite so serious like chronic liars and the like. But we could always tell a bad egg, unless they specifically hid it or really and truly believed that they weren’t bad.
The day felt endless already. I had too much bad coffee swimming in my gut, and too many emotions roiling my insides. First the veve that Hanlen had, and then the murder. Now, watching this. They couldn’t honestly believe that Hanlen had anything to do with these crimes. Could they? This was the work of a serial killer, and Hanlen had been nowhere near the state for the first several confirmed cases. Even the one the killer claimed outright with their note—my sister. But I understood their confusion, too. The last two discovered victimshadbeen in Hanlen’s orbit. Itwasstrange, and I hoped we got to the bottom of it soon.
When they finally told us that we could go as they looked into a few things, including verification of Hanlen’s whereabouts during the times of the first few murders they could attribute to R?DRΩM, I simply held out my hand.
Without words, Hanlen fished her keys out of her purse and dropped them into my palm, and I took us safely back to The Ravisan. I helped her up the stairs and fixed her a drink, setting it in front of her.
“I’d ask how you are, but I can about guess.”
She looked at me with tear-filled eyes. “What the hell is going on here, Dev?”
“I wish I knew.” I tucked a chunk of silky waves behind her ear and pulled my chair close to hers so I could put my arm around her shoulders and tug her into my side. “I’m so sorry this is all happening.” I kissed her hair.
She shook her head against my chest, and I felt the tension in her body. “Nobody should suffer the tragedies that you have,” I said.
“Or you,” she replied and looked up at me. “You lost your sister. Your twin. And even though you didn’t come right out and say it, I intuited that you’ve lost others close to you, as well.”
“I have,” I confirmed. “We’re quite a pair, huh?”
She quirked a sad little smile. “I think the classic artists would have a field day with us. We’re almost the epitome of a tragedy. We should get masks.”
I laid my cheek on her head. “We’re not doing anything with the show until this is all resolved.”
She sat up and turned to me more fully. “No, Dev. This shouldn’t affect that. We have a contract, and you have a job to do. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, I kind of feel like a zombie right now, but we should keep going. The cops said that the main house and the immediate area around it can be used, we just can’t venture behind Bea’s cabin. To the . . . to the crime scene or the cemetery.” Her voice cracked, and it nearly broke my heart.
She turned to her lowball glass and knocked back her drink, pouring another and taking a small sip this time. She likely needed to calm her nerves.
“I shouldn’t be drinking,” she said. “I should let myself feel. But I just can’t right now. I want to be numb. And I am a bit. Yet, not enough.”
I grabbed her hand and rubbed the back of it with my thumb, tracing invisible veves and trying to imbue her with light and healing. I wished I had finished the gris-gris bag I had thought to make for her for protection, but I never took the time. I even had the herbs, bones, and other items sitting on the little bag in my ritual room, waiting to be assembled and spelled. At least she had the protection of her necklace, and I would do what I could outside of that.
“What can I do? What do you need from me? Whatever it is, it’s yours,” I said, totally serious. I would do anything for her right now.
When she looked at me again, I immediately noticed the change. She had made some kind of decision.
“Dev?”
“Yeah,” I answered, tucking that wayward lock of silky brown hair behind her ear again. The motion had become so natural. I couldn’t help myself.
“Did you mean it?”
“Did I mean what?” I asked. I thought I knew what she was likely getting at, but I needed to hear her say it. Needed the words.
“That you would do or give me anything.”
