Page 27 of Wicching Hour

Osso pulled his notebook from his pocket. “Can you tell me yet what you saw?”

I took another sip. It went down, so I nodded. My voice was a painful rasp, but I eventually got it out.

“You didn’t see him?” he asked.

“There was no light in her room,” I said.

He thought a moment and nodded. “Blackout curtains for when she works the night shift.”

“Then how did he see her?” Declan asked.

Osso looked back at me. “No flashlight this time?” He must have read Hernández’s report of the last scene, when the killer used a flashlight.

I shook my head. “I think I was seeing things from her perspective, and it was like the darkness was beating her. The only clear thing I saw was, as she died, his lips parted and his teeth were visible.” My fingers went to my mouth as I tried to remember which side it would have been. “His right eye tooth is crooked. It angles left, kind of pushing the next tooth.”

Shrugging, I added, “He was taller than her, but she seemed petite. And really, it was more of an impression that the blows were coming from above. He was at best a shadow in the dark.”

Osso flipped his notebook closed. “Thank you and sorry about this.” He gestured at all of me, but I got it. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”

“Okay.” I slid off the seat onto the pavement and Declan held a hand out to steady me.

“I’ll take you home,” he said.

“Home! Shit! What time is it?” I had a shipping crew arriving at ten this morning.

Osso checked his watch. “Seven forty.”

“Oh.” I blew out a breath and leaned into Declan, who wrapped an arm around me. “I’m good then.”

Declan helped me into the passenger seat of his truck and then closed the door. As he walked around the back, I looked out the window at the cops who were still watching me. One of them shook his head and turned his back. A couple of others moved back into the house. Osso went to the man in the white coveralls. The man’s whole head was visible now. He looked over his shoulder at me and then, talking with Osso, walked back into the house.

Declan slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and then looked at my feet. “I like your new booties. Did you bring your backpack with you?”

Yes. Shit. Did I leave it in Hernández’s car? I tried to remember. “Detective Osso took it off my shoulder when I went into the bedroom.”

He patted my knee. “Hold tight. I’ll go get it.” As Declan jogged across the street, Osso came out the door, holding it. They spoke for a moment and then Declan returned. He put the backpack behind his seat and slid back in.

He took my hand, pushed up the sleeve, and kissed my wrist. “Osso’s phone call scared the life out of me,” he said, pulling out onto the road. “He’s a man of few words, but two of them could have beenshe’s okay.” He shook his head and turned onto the main road toward the gallery.

“I was driving back from Big Sur when he called. I was close to home, which is how I got there so fast.”

“Did you sleep in your fur in the woods last night?” I asked.

He glanced over, looking suspicious. “How did you know that?”

“Psychic. Duh.” Breathing more easily, I grinned. “It just came to me last night. I was worried about you driving home on curvy roads when you were exhausted and then I imagined you curled up in the woods, sleeping under a tree.”

“You’re a wily one,” he said.

I watched the ocean pop in and out of view as he drove across intersections. “Back there. I know you were focused on me, but did you notice anything about the cops?”

“No.” He glanced over again. “Should I have?”

I went back to staring out the window. “Not sure. Something felt off, though.”

FOURTEEN

Necking

---