Page 26 of Deadly Deception
We stopped for lunch, and I activated another pain charm afterward. Franklin’s obvious concern grew, and he said “Maybe we should call it a day.”
I shook my head. While I was pushing myself, I still had enough stamina to keep going. If I’d been asked to call each soul back, that wouldn’t have been the case. “I think I’ve got a few more hours in me.” I gave Franklin a wan smile. “But you may need to stop by a convenience store and buy some more candy.” Eating lunch would help with my wonky blood sugar levels, but assuming we did find the victim we were looking for, I’d need the extra sugar boost.
“Consider it done,” Franklin said warmly before leaning down and placing a kiss on my forehead. He did it in front ofevery officer we’d attracted. I’d been careful not to engage in a lot of PDA, so when Franklin openly flaunted our relationship, I couldn’t help but preen inwardly.
We’d begun our search around the convenience store Navarre had been found in, and circled outward from there. Another body called to me. I didn’t think it was fresh enough, but I couldn’t leave it there. Franklin, Witkowski, and a member of the coroner’s team followed me through a broken window. I avoided the boarded-up door and the tetanus infested porch. Sascha Elaine Prusakova’s decaying corpse lay under a disease- and insect-infested mattress.
“Shit,” Witkowski whispered. “Her parents reported her missing a year or more ago. She was only fifteen at the time.”
That would make her about sixteen now. While I didn’t know how she died, I could guess both her death and the last year of her life had been hell. While I wasn’t a medical examiner, I’d seen enough of the dead to be able to estimate a time of death and given the amount of decay, Sascha’s body was more than two weeks old. Sascha was a victim, but she wasn’t the one we were searching for.
Our tag-a-long called the coroner, reporting our latest find. Sascha’s body would have to wait a little longer. Our little field trip had resulted in the whole of the LaPorte County police force descending on a few blocks of Michigan City. I felt sorry for anyone who had a day off today, because they weren’t getting it.
Careful to try and preserve any evidence that might be left, Witkowski, Franklin, and I backed out of the room and exited via the window we’d entered through.
“This is insane,” Witkowski said, and I wasn’t certain if he was commenting on the number of dead bodies in the area or the fact that I’d managed to find them in less than three hours. “Is this what you do?”
I kept walking, hands stuffed in my pockets, head down and necromancer senses open. “Yes and no. Most of the bodies I’m involved with are either waiting for a proper burial or have been dug up from a known grave. I do occasionally find an unclaimed or unaccounted-for one.”
Witkowski grunted. “Every department needs one of you.”
I didn’t think that was true. Most areas of the country weren’t like this. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure what to call this. I desperately wanted to get Franklin alone and ask him if this was typical. It wasn’t in my neck of the woods. I was avidly trying not to judge, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. If this level of violence was common around the Chicago area, then I could easily understand why Franklin moved away.
We rounded another corner, and I felt a strong mental tug. My feet stuttered to a stop. Franklin’s hand found my shoulder and he leaned in and asked, “What is it?”
I nodded toward the alley. “There. I think this might be it.” Walking cautiously, I headed down the small alley. It was strewn with trash that appeared to be weeks old. I wasn’t sure if the local refuse company even made it down this direction. Most likely everything I saw was discarded waste that never made it into the proper receptacle. The building was just as old and derelict as the rest. Heavy block windows rested against the street, most of them surprisingly intact, but one area was busted out and uncovered. There was absolutely nothing on the outside that pointed to a body lying within.
I pointed at the opening and said, “He’s in there.”
Witkowski motioned us back while he got on hands and knees, flashlight leading the way. Scooting down until his belly was on the ground, Witkowski inched forward until his head and right arm were inside the building. Muffled curses drifted to my ears, growing louder as Witkowski wormed his way out of the opening. Sitting on his rear, legs bent, Witkowski clicked off hisflashlight and reached for the radio on his shoulder. Franklin and I listened as he called it in. When Witkowski was done, he stared up at us. We’d seen a lot of death today, and I’d yet to see Witkowski look that pale and visibly upset.
“You think it’s our victim?” Franklin asked.
“I’d say it’s a good bet. The body looks fresh enough and…” Witkowski inhaled deeply, most likely regretting the action by the scrunched look on his face. “There’s a lot of damage. I didn’t get a great look. My flashlight’s good, but not as good as the flood lights that’ll be brought in to examine the scene better. It’s difficult to tell if what I’m seeing is dried blood or something else. If it’s blood…there’s a lot of it, whatever it is. We’ll need to wait for the M.E.’s report, but I can tell you this: that guy didn’t die peacefully.”
Franklin reached out a hand and helped Witkowski stand. “Thanks,” Witkowski said before brushing off the debris from his chest and rear. “If all of that’s blood, then I don’t think Navarre is our guy.”
“No?” I asked remaining exactly where I was. I didn’t need to get any closer. “Why not?”
“Easy. That looks like a massacre.” Witkowski hooked his thumb in the direction of the body. “If Navarre did that, he would have been drenched in blood, not just covered in it.”
Sheriff Henson was far more haggard than usual. A five o’clock shadow had begun forming along his jaw, slightly covering his flushed skin. The purple discoloration below his eyes was so prominent I thought for a moment that someone had punched him in the face.
“This is a clusterfuck,” Henson lamented while scrubbing his hands up and down his face. His roughed-up skin looked like he’d been doing that all day. “Everyone on the force is going to pull overtime for the next few weeks.”
This time, Franklin was sitting next to me in Henson’s office. I saw him tense out of the corner of my eye and laid a hand on Franklin’s thigh, stilling his voice. Mine, however, was fully operational. “Forgive me for bringing home the dead and solving cases for you.”
Henson’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch it, necromancer. My patience is currently razor thin.”
“Which is not Boone’s fault,” Franklin said, tension leaking through every word.
Henson’s lips pulled back, exposing his perfect white teeth. The human would have made a good werewolf. Knuckles white, Henson gripped the edges of his chair. “We’ll get to the other cases soon enough. Right now, the last body brought in is our priority.”
“Agreed,” Franklin answered, and since I didn’t think differently, I remained quiet.
Henson’s gaze lingered on Franklin a few seconds too long before shifting to me. His eyes were hard, but his tone lacked his earlier condescension when he asked, “Can you bring this one back too?”
I nodded. “Yes, but it’s not so much bringing him back because DeWayne’s soul never crossed over.”
