Page 39 of Deadly Lineage
Instead of turning toward home as I pulled out of the gas station, I headed back to the station. This time of year, by the time it got this dark out, it was late. That didn’t matter. I knew my brain, and what I also knew was that it wasn’t even close to shut down and rest mode. Might as well put that energy to use.
Unsurprisingly, the precinct parking lot was moderately empty when I arrived. We were staffed twenty-four seven, but staffing was less overnight than during the day. I scanned my ID and tilted my head in greeting to the officer in the front office. She was on the phone and didn’t comment on the late hour or the fact I’d already left for the day and returned.
The bullpen was even emptier than the parking lot. Most of those working the night shift were out on the road patrolling. It was blissfully quiet. Valiantly, I pushed thoughts of Boone from my mind and focused on looking up the names I’d been sent.
Going in listed order, I typed in Lorelai Winston. The first hit was her obituary. That wasn’t surprising considering the woman had been born in 1797 and died in 1832. Given how long ago that was, there was precious little else, at least on the surface. I’d need to do a deeper dive into historical archives if I wanted to find much more. Even then, there was no guarantee I’d find anything. I marveled inwardly when I remembered what Boone had relayed, that his fatherthoughtNoland’s necromancer siblings were probably deceased. How long did Holland think humans lived?
Shaking my head, I moved on to Ellen Needler. I found a bit more on her, although not much. She’d lived slightly longer than Lorelai. Ellen Needler had been born in 1899 and died in 1946. There was more in her obituary than Lorelai’s. Ellen was survived by a husband, Michael Needler, a son named Samuel, and two daughters, Josephine and Mae Needler. As I continued reading, there was a single sentence stating Ellen had another child, a son named Balan who’d died at the age of twelve.
Leaning into my chair, I tapped my pen against my desk. The sound would have annoyed the hell out of my fellow officers. Thankfully, there weren’t many currently present to care.
Detective Bethany Harrison proved me wrong. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you had an ounce of rhythm within your body. It’s really very sad, Franklin.” Dressed in jeans, a lavender t-shirt, and sneakers, Detective Harrison had a file in one hand and her phone in the other. Her purse crossed her chest and rested against her hip. She looked like she’d been home, forgotten something, and made a quick trip back into the station.
“You’re also sporting a perpetual frown these days,” Harrison said while easing closer to my desk. “Anything I can help with?”
I stared at the file in her hand and answered, “Looks like you’ve got enough on your hands.”
She waved away my comment. “Come on, O’Hare. You know that’s not how we operate. Besides, hearing about your case might just help with mine. At the very least, it will take my mind off my issues. When I come back, my brain will be clearer and maybe I’ll have a new epiphany.” Harrison grinned before shrugging. “At this point, I’ll take all the mental help I can get. Now, what’s the current reason you’re hanging out at the precinct at this ungodly hour?”
My watch confirmed it was only a little after ten p.m. I hardly considered the hourungodly,but wisely didn’t argue.
Dropping my pen on my desk, I briefly considered telling Harrison about my earlier conversation with Boone. But despite our mutual fondness, Detective Harrison wasn’t that kind of friend. I did, however, respect her professional opinion and asked, “Have you heard about the recent witch and warlock case?”
Harrison’s frown matched mine. “I have. Hearing you refer to them in the singular makes me believe you think they’re related.”
I nodded. “I can’t see how they’re not, and yet, I also can’t see how our two victims relate to each other beyond the fact they were both fringe members of their species’s communities. I’m not saying they were on the outs or considered persona non grata, only that they were individuals who wouldn’t be missed quickly.”
“I see.” Harrison leaned against my desk. She was petite enough that sitting would raise her feet off the floor. “And Necromancer Boone found both of them?”
Hearing Boone’s name flipped my stomach and made my palms sweaty. “He did,” I answered quickly before giving her the quick and dirty rundown of the case. Harrison patiently listened with only the occasional hissed intake of disbelief. I ended by telling her I was meeting dead end after dead end, with onepossible exception. “I don’t imagine it will amount to much, but I’m trying to track down possible relatives of Phineas Noland.” I shook my head. “Chances are, if they do exist, he wasn’t even aware of them. I’ve gotta admit, I don’t understand the warlock point of view on this one.”
“That’s because you’re not a warlock,” Harrison answered with a shrug. “I don’t get it either, but we’re both human. We were raised human with distinct human beliefs and morals. Warlocks are different. So are all the species. It makes it difficult to find common ground. That’s probably why the world was a clusterfuck until fairies stepped in and stopped the madness before we destroyed ourselves.”
“That’s certainly one way to look at it.” Humans fell into different camps when it came to fairy law. Most of those who vehemently disagreed had been permanently silenced decades ago.
“To me, it’s the logical way. I’m not saying I agree with everything they do, and fairies scare the shit out of me. Only the truly ignorant or the incredibly stupid aren’t frightened. What Iamsaying is that if they hadn’t stepped in, I doubt there’d be enough humans left to debate the subject. Hate them all you want, but at the end of the day, their intervention is probably what saved the planet.” Harrison shifted her purse so my desk bore its weight. “But we’re not really talking about fairies or their law.” She tapped a fingernail on the spiral notebook currently containing my scribbles. “You’re right, it’s probably another dead end, but at this point, I also think you’re right to pursue it. You and I both know that leads are found in the most interesting—and sometimes least expected—of places.”
“Yeah, but I think this one just ran dry too.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, desperately trying to erase the grit from my eyes. “Lorelai Winston died before the human, American Civil War. I’m fortunate I even found a notice regarding her death.And Ellen isn’t much better. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that Balan was Ellen Needler’s necromancer son and he lived to the grand old age of twelve.” I tapped my scribbled writing. “Any genetic bond between Noland and Needler is long gone.”
“Your right, sounds like the Needler angle is a bust, but you haven’t run down the Winston bloodline.”
I blew out a heavy breath as my head tipped back, resting on the back of my chair. “I’m sensing a very tedious trip into the archives.”
Pushing off my desk, Harrison stood to her full five-foot-nothing height. “Do you have a town attached to that obit?” she asked.
“Ocean Springs,” I answered.
“Makes sense. It’s one of the oldest cities in Mississippi. Historical, too. That might come in handy. Historical cities tend to keep better records than others. That doesn’t mean I envy your treasure hunt.” Harrison’s grin was just shy of malicious. “I’d offer to help but…” She tapped her thick folder against my desk. “I’m afraid I’ve got my own research hell awaiting me. You know, if he’s not busy, you could always ask Boone to help. I know he’s not technically on the payroll, but he is considered a consultant. I don’t think Captain Cicely would mind. I’ve met Boone a time or two and know enough to figure this case is eating him up inside. He’ll want it solved as quickly as possible and my bet is he’d like to help.” Harrison laid her fingers on my wrist and gave a squeeze of encouragement. “It’s just a suggestion,” she said with a smirk.
“Don’t stay too late, O’Hare. You’re a handsome fella, but all of us need our beauty rest. Take care and don’t hesitate to reach out if needed.” With a final pat to my wrist, Harrison headed out of the bullpen.
I stared at my computer until the image turned fuzzy and my eyes screamed for moisture. Scrubbing my hands over myface again, I logged off and shut down my computer. Tomorrow morning I’d see who to contact in Ocean Springs. I was still sitting the fence over asking Boone to help. From a purely practical point of view, Harrison was right. The captain wouldn’t mind, and Boone would most likely be happy to help. If I got to spend more time around the object of my current obsession, then who was I to complain?
Chapter
Thirteen
Erasmus
