Page 19 of Deadly Deception
“I’ll need to look into it,” Henson answered. “That still doesn’t mean Navarre didn’t murder someone. All it means is that we haven’t found the correct body yet.”
I couldn’t completely disagree and evidently, neither could Boone. “I might be able to help with that.” I could hear the reluctance in Boone’s voice.
Henson perked up and asked, “And how do you propose to do that?”
Boone and I shared a quick glance. Instead of allowing Boone to answer, I said, “Let’s just say Boone has a knack for finding bodies.”
Henson’s hard gaze traveled from me to Boone, and he asked, “Is that so?”
“It is. Even if their soul has crossed over, there’s often a lingering presence I can feel. Sometimes that presence is loud, and sometimes it’s very quiet. It depends on how they died. Most of the time, if a body is lost, it’s not because they came to a peaceful end. Most of those souls are restless and the part of their spirit they’ve left behind is very upset.”
“Is that what’s going on with the spirits around Navarre?” I asked.
“What spirits?” Henson questioned and Boone quickly filled him in, earning us a litany of curse words and several instances of taking the Lord’s name in vain.
“Getting back to your question,” Boone said while turning his head so he could look up at me. “I think most of those spirits are the actual souls of the dead. I don’t think they moved on. If I had to guess, I think Navarre’s been adding to his spiritual baggage for years. This most recent victim is just the newest one. And the loudest.” Boone winced before turning his attention back to Henson. “Honestly, we need a medium.”
Sheriff Henson’s fingers tapped along his chair, his mouth pulled into a deep frown. “Good luck finding one of those. At least one who’s the real deal. They’re even more of a unicorn than you are.” Henson waved a hand in Boone’s direction.
Boone’s sigh was bone deep. “You’re right. And if that’s the case, the best option we have is for me to find the body. If I can do that, then I can trace its connection to its soul and pull it back. Once I’ve got that connection, I can also send the soul into the afterlife. I just can’t do those things without a body or the cremains of the deceased.”
“Hell, the things you get me into, Shane. I swear, I’m going to die young at this rate.” Sheriff Henson seemed genuinely concerned for his longevity.
“As you said earlier, the truth can be a prickly creature and difficult to track down. Now it sounds to me like Necromancer Boone has a plan. I say we let him loose and see what he comes up with.” Tompkins seemed eager to get started.
“‘We’? There is no ‘we’ in this, Shane. You’re retired. When the shit hits the fan, this will all be on me. If the press gets wind of this, my career is toast. No offense, Necromancer Boone, but no one likes necromancers. The community will be one part appalled and two parts pissed off when they hear I’ve asked a necromancer into the area.”
“Then we keep it on the down-low,” Tompkins answered casually, as if that was as simple as stating the words.
Henson made a noise that was half-choke and half-sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, because that plan always works out, especially since Boone here is already the talk of the precinct.” Henson let loose a weighty sigh as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, as if water-stained paint might offer up an answer.
I felt Boone shift beneath my hands, his own hand coming up to cover a yawn. That was our cue.
“How about this?” I stated. “Why don’t you two hash out what you want to happen while Boone and I get a hotel and hunker down for the night? It’s been a long day, and we could both use the rest.”
“Agreed,” Boone quickly answered while standing. Tompkins and Henson gave us disbelieving stares. “Listen, I’m willing to help, but I need rest, food, and some time away from the living. Call Franklin tomorrow with a general game plan. Okay?” Boone didn’t wait for an answer. He simply turned and walked out of Sheriff Henson’s office. Each of us said a cordial goodbye to Sara, ignoring the other piercing gazes.
The weather had gotten colder while we were inside the sheriff’s station, reminding me we still needed to stop and get Boone a warmer coat. Given what I suspected Henson had in mind for us tomorrow, Boone was going to need it.
Chapter
Seven
Erasmus
“I’m sorry about Sheriff Henson,” Franklin said as I hunkered down into the passenger’s seat. I was grateful the rental had heated seats and had already set my side on high. I noticed Franklin hadn’t even turned his on.
“Not your fault,” I answered easily.
“I know, but still.” Franklin inhaled deeply as he merged with the traffic on the interstate.
“Forget about Henson. I know that’s what I plan to do, at least for the rest of the night.” I’d had years to perfect that special ability. For me, it had become a survival instinct. I’d learned a long time ago not to care what most thought. It wasn’t like I could change who or what I was. No matter how much someone hated necromancers, I couldn’t change my DNA to suit their particular preferences. When I was younger, I’d wished desperately I could change—just slip out of my skin and into someone else’s. I’d often wished I were born a warlock, and sometimes even human. But I was who I was, and I’d had to make peace with that. Part of that process was figuring out whose opinion truly mattered. Surprisingly, that list turned out to be very small. The man sitting next to me had made it ontothat short list, and I knew where I stood with Franklin. I was good with my lot in life.
What I couldn’t as easily do was forget about Navarre sitting in a lonely jail cell. Only, he wasn’t so lonely. Navarre had a cadre of spirits haunting his existence. His life would be so much better if he truly werealone.
“You’re right,” Franklin agreed, unaware of my inner thoughts regarding Navarre. He leaned his head against the headrest and, with one hand on the wheel, used the other to rub his shoulder and neck. Now that I was paying attention, it was easy to see that I wasn’t the only knackered one.
“Are you okay to drive?” I asked.
