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Nelson groaned, shaking his head. “Don’t say it,” he begged Nox out of the side of his mouth.
“He’s going to find out, Nelson,” Nox said as he turned in his seat and faced Nelson, dismissing Felton. “We’re getting a task force that you and I are going to task,” he stated pointedly and waited to see if Felton had anything to say. He glowered and threw up his hands so Nox grinned at Nelson and continued. “As you pointed out, I am an actual working professor. I’ve got classes to teach and quite a few assignments to grade and meetings to attend. And you’ve got more important leads to work on than knocking on doors and answering the tip line. That’s what cadets and junior agents are for and we can use all the help we can get. But the cat’ll be out of the bag as soon as we explain it was a group—”
Nelson held up a hand and shushed loudly. “Please don’t say it.” He gave Nox a loaded look, urging him to heed Nelson’s warning the first day they had met. It had only been two days so it didn’t seem likely that Nox would forget. Those two days felt like weeks, though.
“Nelson. It’s not like we had any choice in the matter. And it would seem pretty obvious that a cult was behind this when you think about how many people it would take to coordinate seven abductions within that short of a span. And we already know there were a few people at that altar.”
Felton looked like he might have a stroke as he rubbed a temple. “Jesus Christ, not a fucking cult.”
“Not Jesus, this time!” Nox declared as his finger shot up.
“Get the fuck out!” Felton roared, slapping his hands on the desk and rising out of his seat.
“Yes, sir.” Nelson didn’t need to be told twice. He was out of his chair and yanking Nox up and through the door a heartbeat later. “I don’t know if that went better or worse than I was expecting,” he said under his breath as he guided Nox to the elevator. It opened and Nox hurried inside.
“We need to talk to Clance.” He pressed the appropriate button, then flipped the folder open.
Nelson thought that was a good idea and was content to read over Nox’s shoulder. “She died from her injuries,” he noted, earning a serious hum from Nox.
“Like you predicted. Bruising around the wrists and ankles and she was dehydrated and malnourished.”
Panic and dread coursed through Nelson as he quickly absorbed as much as he could. “We have to find those other girls.”
“We will,” Nox said, then tucked the folder under his arm when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. He took off, rushing straight ahead, then down a hall on the right. “Clance usually spends his Sundays here. He’s got twin daughters at home who just turned sixteen.”
“I don’t blame him,” Nelson murmured.
He’d never had an opportunity to meet the Hoover Building’s “resident” anthropologist in person and was curious. Professor Clancy assisted on high-profile cases and was often the one who decided which cases were too cold for the FBI and which cases got handed off to the forensic anthropologists at the Smithsonian.
“You two go back, don’t you,” Nelson recalled and Nox chuckled.
“To my birth. Clance was my dad’s best friend and he got me my first consulting gig with the FBI.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Is it?” Nox asked absently, then pointed at an open door at the end of the corridor. The hall was dim with most of the doors closed and the silence was soothing, like one of Nelson’s dreams except Nox was striding ahead of him.
It was interesting because while Nelson had never been introduced to Clancy, he’d seen the distinguished older man around the building and at department functions. Clancy was popular and liked to mingle around the Deputy Director’s office. Nelson wondered how much Clancy had shielded Nox over the years and had often heard him reminding people that Nox was “still just a kid.”
“Knock knock,” Nox called as he tapped on the door and leaned in.
“Hey, kiddo! What are you doing here?” Tall and handsome, Clancy was how most people might envision a renowned anthropologist with his wavy auburn hair, tweed coat, and wire-framed glasses. He was overjoyed as he crossed the office and pulled Nox into a tight embrace.
“Working.” Nox clapped him tight on the back, then turned and gestured at Nelson. “Clance, this is Agent Nelson. Nelson, Professor Clancy. We caught a case and had some things to straighten out with Felton,” he informed Clancy, wrinkling his nose.
There was a hard wince from the older man. Nelson guessed that he was in his mid to late-forties. “I bet that was fun.”
Nox pulled a face and smacked Clancy in the chest with the folder. “Felton said he talked to you about two missing girls—missing witches—and you said you didn’t see a connection.”
“I think I remember…” Clancy said as he headed for his desk with the folder, stopping in his tracks when he opened it. He spun and his eyes were huge as he looked at Nox and then at Nelson. “What—?” His lips clamped shut and he gave his head a shake. “Why would they have anything to do with this?” He grimaced at the photo of the victim clipped to the report. “What is this?”
“First of all, how could you think those girls weren’t related?” Nox demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Because…” Clancy’s brow furrowed. “Two young women in their early twenties who were into tarot, crystals, and astrology, correct?”
Nox nodded quickly. “Right! And now we’ve got a third.” He nodded at the photo and Clancy paled as his gaze jumped to Nox’s.
“Most young women are into astrology and read tarot cards! My girls are!” He argued.
