Page 25 of Deadly Deception
We reached the cruiser, and I climbed in the back seat with Boone. The faint smile and relieved expression told me I’d made the right decision, not that I’d considered leaving him back there by himself.
Witkowski pulled out of the parking lot and headed downtown. He was silent for a moment before our driver said, “I actually volunteered to chaperone.”
Boone perked up and asked “Really? Why?” Boone glanced my direction, but I didn’t know any more than him and shrugged. Witkowski had acted more interested than afraid while he’d been in the interview room with Navarre. Maybe he was curious. Turns out, I was right.
“I’m not sure. Curiosity, I suppose.” Witkowski glanced at us in the review mirror. “I should probably apologize in advance for the ignorant shit I’ll probably say today.”
Boone leaned into me, relaxing a fraction. “Advance apology accepted.” He sounded relieved, and I made a mental note to try and thank Witkowski privately later.
Boone’s relaxed state didn’t last long. The closer we got to where Navarre had been picked up, the tenser Boone became. He was distracted and kept glancing out the car windows. Boone twisted the edge of his coat with the fingers on one hand and rubbed his temples with the other.
Leaning toward him, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
Boone shook his head, his lips had thinned to the point of appearing ghostly pale. “I think this is going to be harder than I thought.” Swallowing hard, Boone’s bright green eyes looked up at me and said, “There are a lot of bodies out there, Franklin.”
“Define a lot.”
Boone’s eyes scrunched and he shook his head. “It’s like a cemetery. And on a scale of one to ten, this one’s a level eight, maybe nine. There’s a lot of noise, none of it happy or content.”
“Well, shit.”
“Yeah. It’s going to be a long day. How much candy did you bring?”
I felt around in my pockets and answered, “Probably not enough.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Chapter
Nine
Erasmus
Witkowski parked the cruiser, and Franklin and I stumbled out. My head pounded. I’d asked Franklin how much candy he’d brought with him, but the more important issue might be how many pain charms I had. Pops made sure to load me up before he left a few months ago, so I figured I was set and went ahead and activated one. The relief was immediate, the pounding in my head subsiding to little more than a faint whisper.
I shuddered to think this was the area Navarre had been hanging out in. If it was this bad for me, I couldn’t imagine what he went through. Most of the background noise came from echoes of upset souls, the soul itself having already moved on. But there were others I could feel on the periphery—souls that felt more whole. Souls that hadn’t been able to move on. Those were the ones Navarre attracted. They were the ones desperate for help that he couldn’t provide.
Finding the victim Sheriff Henson was after would be like finding a needle in a haystack. The area certainly didn’t lack for corpses, most of them not properly buried or given their final rites. They were lost to loved ones and their pain saturated the area. I shivered and burrowed deeper into my parka. Theextra fabric didn’t help. Franklin’s hand on the small of my back offered a small amount of warmth and a larger amount of security.
Unaware of my difficulties, Witkowski asked, “Where to?” He stood there, hands on hips and eyes scanning the area. It was a rough area by any standard. The buildings had more boards than glass covering their windows. The streets stank of urine and refuse. The cold, overcast sky added to the blighted picture and the sound of barking dogs in the distance did little to soothe my nerves.
Closing my eyes, I attempted to push out the fainter, more distant spiritual echoes. Energy remnants tended to fade with time. While I mourned for these upset dead, they weren’t fresh enough to be the ones I was after. Even doing that, the possibilities were numerous and overwhelming.
When I remained silent, Witkowski said, “I suppose we could just start walking and see if you pick up anything.”
I shook my head and finally answered, “Picking something upisn’t the problem.”
When Witkowski only appeared confused, Franklin clarified by saying, “I think you’ve got a pretty big homicide issue in this area and a lot of missing bodies.”
Witkowski’s eyebrows shot sky-high. “That’s more correct than you know.”
“Doubtful,” I murmured but didn’t push it. This wasn’t a pissing contest for who could detect the most corpses. As a necromancer, the odds were already heavily stacked in my favor.
With a heavy sigh, I said “This is going to take some time. Mostly to weed through the more recently deceased. You might want to have the coroner on speed dial. I expect we’re about to fill the morgue to the brim.”
Being right wasn’t always all it was cracked up to be. So far, I’d identified seven bodies. While all of them were recent deaths, none of them wererecent enough. While I didn’t pull their souls back from beyond the veil, I did give them their identities back. After the third body, the coroner called in reinforcements, and we had an impromptu entourage along with gawking local residents in tow. So much for Sheriff Henson’s desire to keep my presencelow-key.
“This is amazing,” Witkowski said. “Many of these are open cases.” Most of the bodies were found in the rusting carcasses of failed industrial businesses, their deteriorating buildings held together by drug paraphernalia and graffiti. Two were homeless victims that I thought might have died of natural causes, who lay beneath layers of cardboard and old rags. No one had reported them missing. One body was encased in concrete and would need to be jackhammered out.
