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“I’ll see you later,” I said, leaning up to kiss him. He wrapped one arm around my waist. As his tongue played in my mouth, I softly moaned, my resistance and will slipping. Every inch of me wanted him.
I finally managed to break away, though gently, and touched him on the nose. “I’ll see you later,” I whispered, then before he could answer, jumped into my car.
* * *
I wason the way home to get ready for work when I saw the sheriff’s car parked by the side of the road. Daisy was standing next to it, and when she looked up and saw my car, she raised one hand to flag me down. She was parked in a turnout which led to a walking trail through a woody thicket called Taylor’s Gulch. It wasn’t really a gulch, though itwasa ravine—one of those common here in the wilds of western Washington, with steep sides overgrown with ferns and brambles and stinging nettle that led down to a lazy creek.
Thimble Creek meandered through the thicket, which covered a four-hundred-acre patch. Well-trod trails and paths offered plenty of exercise for hikers and horses alike. The elevation rose abruptly, for Taylor’s Gulch was an oxymoron and was located on a hill. While most of the walking trails were easy enough, there were a handful that only the most determined attempted. Those led through tougher terrain, and the paths were rough and precarious.
I slowed down and jumped out of the car, heading over to her side. “Hey, I just came from Bree’s. Faron has stationed two members of his company to watch over her land and she’ll have someone at the shop with her.”
“That’s good. I think we may have a break in the case, but right now, it has to go on the backburner.” She was so pale I thought she might faint.
I glanced toward the woods. Crime tape cordoned off the entrance to the thicket, and another officer was marking off the entrance to the parking lot. There were three other patrol cars there, along with the coroner’s car.Crap.“Another murder?”
“Yes. If we don’t find him soon, the vigilantes are going to be out in force and then we’re going to be in real trouble. This is our sixth victim. I imagine this is how the cops felt with the Green River Killer—he went on and on and on.” Daisy rubbed her forehead.
“Who is it this time? Or is that private information?”
“It’s private for now. But I was wondering…” She drifted off, looking uncomfortable.
“Do you want me to see if the ghost is around?” I asked. “If I can talk to the victim’s spirit?”
“That would help, yes. But I need to prepare you—this one’s different.” There were tears in her eyes. Daisy was a tough woman, she was a puma shifter, like Bree, and puma shifters were resilient.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened? Did you know the victim?” All I could think is that whoever died must be a friend of hers.
But she shook her head. “No, not personally,” she said, her voice choked up. “But it’s a child, Elphyra.A little girl.I want to strangle her parents for letting her out alone. They can’t have missed all the warnings. They can’t be that stupid.”
“Blame on the murderer, Daisy. Take a deep breath. Maybe she slipped out—kids do that. Parents should know where their kids are, but sometimes that doesn’t happen.” I put my hand on her arm, willing the same earth energy that I’d used to calm Bree to flow through Daisy.
She blinked, looking startled, then caught her breath. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a space in which to breathe.” I glanced toward the woods again. “I don’t want to go in there, but I will. And I hope, for all our sakes, that her spirit’s still there.”
Daisy hesitated for a moment, then motioned for one of her officers to join us. I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Arnie Fryer. He had driven me around to some of the murder scenes before, and he was a sensitive deputy who loved his family. He also had the knack of putting people at ease.
“Hey, Arnie,” I said.
“Elphyra—good to see you again, although I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances,” he said, holding out his hand. I shook his hand, smiling.
Daisy turned to him. “I’d like you to escort Elphyra to the crime scene. She’s going to scope out the area to see if the spirit of the girl is still around. Make certain you don’t disturb any evidence. Give her all the time she needs.”
“Of course,” he said, turning to me. “Come with me, please.”
He led me toward the trailhead. As we approached the entry into Taylor’s Gulch, I tried to steel myself. Childrens’ deaths were especially difficult, though speaking to their spirits wasn’t usually as hard as seeing their remains. Knowing they survived whatever killed them offered a form of consolation, which was why some psychics made their living as liaisons between the living and the dead.
At the edge of the parking lot, the asphalt ended at the beginning of a path wide enough for two people to comfortably stroll side by side. A trail sign, rust-proof metal painted green with an acrylic enclosed sign board, had a map displaying the system of trails through Taylor’s Gulch. We were about to set foot on Cedar Rain Path.
The scent of cedar hung heavy in the air, warm and musky, and I could imagine how it smelled during the rain. Petrichor was a special scent that coiled in the air in this area of Western Washington for months on end during the rainy season—that pungent tang of soil mingling with the crisp scent of tree needles with overtones of decay from the mushrooms and moss that filled the forest biome.
As Arnie escorted me onto the trail, a heavy sense of gloom descended around me. Although the sun was out, it didn’t penetrate the canopy of trees very well and the path was cloaked in shadows. My pulse raced as we headed along the gently-inclining path. It wasn’t enough to really notice unless you raced along at a good pace. I had been walking along the trail before, early when I moved to Starlight Hollow, but it had been a while since I’d been here.
The silence deepened as we forged deeper into the gulch. The ravine wasn’t visible from here, it was farther into the thicket. We paused at a fork in the trail.
“Where does this go?” I asked, indicating to the fork we were about to take.
Arnie took off his hat and wiped his forehead. “It’s a dead end, leading into a culvert. That’s where we found her.”
