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“Be careful if you decide to meet Elroy. Remember what I said.”
As Arnie escorted me back to his car, I thought about Jimithy. Demon hunters were astute—they were the strongest of witches. There was no doubt in my mind that he meant what he said. He had been killed by a wolf shifter, and how was I going to break the news to Faron?
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
After I visitedthe other two sites, on the way back to my place, Daisy called. I answered as Arnie drove sedately along Oak Leaf Road, the road that I lived on. I gazed out the window as the early evening shadows fell.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.
Daisy wasted no time. “I forgot to ask you to please keep what you learned quiet. I’d prefer it if you don’t tell Faron what you found out this afternoon. And what happened with the two other murder sites? Were Olivia or Lucius’s spirits still hanging around?”
“No. I didn’t pick up on anything there, except the strong sense of sadness and fear that always permeates tragic surroundings.” I frowned. “Why don’t you want me telling Faron what Jimithy told me?”
“Think about it: he’s desperately trying to protect one of his own. Now, I am not saying that I’m headed over to lock up Elroy—we don’t have enough evidence. But if Faron knows that Jimithy bore out our suspicion about a wolf shifter, he might try to protect Elroy by hiding him. Consider this privileged police information. We always hold things back in investigations that only the killer might know.” She was silent for a moment, and it hit me that she was waiting for my response. I couldn’t very well refuse.
“All right, I promise. Though he’s so worried—”
“Faron Collinsworth will manage until we’re further along in our investigation. What worries me now, though, is how do I approach the town about this. With a third murder, Ihaveto say something. It’s obvious we have some sort of serial killer on the loose, and people need to be on the alert. I suppose I’ll have to call Nan and ask her to put me on the local news before people start marching outside my office, protesting that I’m not doing my job.”
“Who’s Nan?”
“She runs the programming for the Dabob Bay News, an online news site that airs every evening, streaming. I can’t take a chance by not warning people. If we had someone else show up dead, and I hadn’t put out a warning, there would be hell to pay.”
Daisy sounded so depressed that I wanted to cheer her up, but I couldn’t think of anything to say that would work. “All right. I promise to keep quiet.”
“Thank you. I have to go. I have reports to finish, and the coroner needs to wrap up things out here.” She sighed. “What a waste. I hate cleaning up after murders. Such senseless violence.”
I slid my phone back in its case, which was strapped around my arm. As I leaned back, staring out the window, the immensity of dealing with cases like this struck me.
“Do you ever get tired of your job?” I asked Arnie.
He shrugged. “I think everybody does at some time in their life. I’m pretty sure every cop, at one point or another, wishes he didn’t have to face the darker sides of the world. But almost all of us want to make a difference—to help people in some way. And this happens to be the way we contribute. Oh, there are bad cops. I won’t deny that. But for the most part, we just want to protect people.”
“Witches are, by nature, given to walk in the shadow side. But it’s hard for me…now. I used to be able to without blinking, but things change when those shadows hit you in the gut.” I shook my head. “I swore when I left Port Townsend that I wouldn’t get involved again. That I’d focus my life on growing things, on life instead of death. And here I am—again—steeped in the underworld.” I shifted in my seat. “Do you think it’s ever possible to leave it behind?”
Arnie didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said, “I don’t know. For someone like me, I can walk away from the job, but I’ll never forget what I’ve seen. But when it’s in your blood, like you? I’d like to think that you can escape your destiny, but I’m not at all certain.” He pulled into my driveway and drove up the graveled path. “Here we are—you’re home, safe and sound.”
As I stepped out of the car, I leaned down. “Thanks, Arnie. For the company, as well as the ride. I’ll see you later. Take care. Be safe.”
He saluted me, but before he pulled out again, said, “Maybe focus on the good you do, rather than the toll it takes? That might help.”
I waved as he turned in the loop and then headed back toward the graveled road. Maybe he was right. Maybe that was exactly what I needed to do.
* * *
Fancypants was curled up asleepon the sofa when I entered the living room. May had left a note telling me that everything looked good, that he’d eaten a good dinner, and that she’d be back around nine to check on things. I decided to let him sleep and went into the bedroom to dress for my date. The afternoon had put a decided damper on my mood, but what weighed on me more heavily than anything was: what was I going to tell Faron? I’d done as he requested, but now I couldn’t tell him what I’d found out.
It was seven, so I had an hour till he showed up. I decided a shower was in order, and dinner required more than jeans and a shirt. I slid out of my clothes and stepped into the spray of water. I was lathering up and my mind was starting to drift as the knots of the day worked themselves out of my shoulders when the shower curtain rustled.
I let out a shriek. Abruptly, the curtain ripped away from the rings and Fancypants, caught in the swirl of material, crashed to the floor. Luckily, the material softened his fall.
I stood there, buck naked as the shower spray continued to spew hot water, as the dragonette sputtered and tried to worm his way out of the tangle of cloth.
“What the hell were you doing? You scared the crap out of me!” I turned off the faucet and grabbed for a towel, wrapping it around myself.
“Hey, I’m no peeping Tom!” Fancypants managed to extricate himself from the shower curtain. He fluttered each wing, testing them to make certain they weren’t broken.
“Why did you sneak up on me like that?” Shaking, I stepped out of my shower and sat down on the vanity stool. My hair was still frothing from the shampoo and I had soap scum—or what would soon turn into soap scum—all over my body.
