Page 58 of Deadly Deception
Henson and I asked Jordan a few more questions. We talked long enough for Officer Witkowski to arrive with the individual containers. They weren’t fancy urns. I figured the family could decide on that later. Franklin took one of the containers from Witkowski’s trembling hands, sat it on the ground relatively close to the swarming cremains, and stepped back.
“Jordan Allen King, I release your soul. Go in peace.” I funneled the remains into the container as Jordan’s soul departed.
The windswept dunes were quiet until Witkowski said, “Holy shit. That was… I don’t have the words, but I’m glad I witnessed it.”
I liked Witkowski better and better with every interaction.
“How are you holding up?” Franklin asked. “What do you need?”
That was a loaded question. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I needed beyond a chair. “Maybe a lawn chair,” I answered. “I’m good for now, but I’ll probably need to sit after the next one.” Franklin shoved several pieces of hard candy my way even though I hadn’t asked for it. Regardless, I unwrapped the first piece and shoved it in my mouth.
“Witkowski, can you get us—”
“On it, Sheriff.” Witkowski took off, and I knew he’d bring me some type of seating.
“That was pointless,” Henson said, disgust clear in his tone. “Why in the hell would someone go to the trouble of taking the bodies, burning them, and assaulting Dr. Scott if they don’t know anything?”
“There are still four more,” Franklin said. “I’d also hazard a guess that whoever is masquerading as Vanja, they don’t know what these victims knew. So far, it looks like this Vanja wannabe is hands-off on the grisly stuff. They give the orders and someone else implements them. My guess is that they don’t know what the victims might know, what their assailants might have let slip.”
Henson scrubbed his hand over his forehead, pacing back and forth across the sand. “I just want some fucking answers.” Tilting his head back with hands fisted on his hips, Henson stared at the cloudy, gray sky. “Sorry. Give me a minute to get me shit together.”
“Take your time.” I waved Henson off, even though he couldn’t see me.
With a deep inhale, Henson turned and gave a firm nod. “Okay. Let’s get this shitshow back on the road.”
I chuckled. “Now you’re talking my language.”
Eyes slipping closed again, I tugged on the next string. “Devon Prince Mason, I call you soul back from beyond the veil…”
And that’s how the day progressed. I went through four souls, two turkey and cheese sandwiches, three soft drinks, and a bag of candy. Even with all the food and rests in between, I was wiped, and we hadn’t learned anything more useful. Every soul said Vanja was responsible, and yet none knew who this mysterious Vanja was, or the full names of the thugs who’d killed them. Not everyone had died by heinous methods. Two were gunshots to the head. They’d never seen it coming, and could only speculate that Vanja had been behind it.
What we did learn was that the newest incarnation of Vanja was following in the old, and much feared, Vanja’s shoes. Three of the victims said they suspected Vanja because they’d skimmed from the profits of illegal sales of charms, drugs, and in one case, weapons. While I didn’t want to victim shame, none of these guys were up for citizen of the year awards. Regardless, I kept their remains separated and individualized for their families. It wasn’t my place to judge. I was just here to get information.
“We should wait until tomorrow for the last one,” Franklin said. He was sitting beside me, our legs stretched out and sand filling our shoes. Witkowski had gotten more than one chair when he’d brought mine, bless his heart.
I considered and shook my head. I was hella tired, and if it weren’t for Pops’s pain charms I’d be in the fetal position cradling my head, but the thought of coming back out tomorrow and doing this again? No thank you. I wanted it done, and there was just one more.
“I can do it,” I said while pushing my shaking limbs out of the chair. The air was getting colder as early afternoon drew into late afternoon, evening on the horizon. If this went on much longer, and if the cloud cover broke, I’d get a chance to see that spectacular sunset I’d imagined.
“I know you can, but I’m not so certain you should,” Franklin said while helping me stand. He kept a steadying hand on my elbow. The sand shifting beneath my feet didn’t help.
Henson gave me a critical eye and when I nodded, he took that as my answer to continue. Eyes slipping closed again, I reached for the final string. It felt different than the others. It was still human, but while the others sang male, this one struck me as female. I’m not sure how I could tell, only that I was right. Verification came when her name popped into my head. “Daisy Maria Vasquez, I call your soul—” I didn’t need to complete my sentence. Daisy’s soul flew back, colliding with her cremains in a vivacious swirl. While the others had been reluctant, Daisy was eager.
“This one might be different,” I said. “Franklin, you still have enough power on your phone?” He’d recorded all the others.
“Probably not.”
“I’ve got it,” Officer Witkowski said. He’d stayed and watched me bring back every soul. He seemed no less eager now than when he’d first arrived.
“Daisy Maria Vasquez, Sheriff Henson would like to ask you some questions regarding your murder.”
“Oh, thank God,” Daisy said. My energy was failing, and I had to dig deep to give her enough boost for the others to hear. “I was afraid no one would find me, that all my work would be lost.”
Franklin and Henson shared a look and Henson asked, “What work would that be?”
“I’m a journalist.” I think her answer surprised all of us. I knew she was different. For lack of a better explanation, her soulfelt cleaner than the others. She wasn’t apprehensive and she wasn’t consumed by fear. If anything, Daisy was eager.
“A journalist?” Henson sounded mystified. “I have no reports of a missing journalist. Surely someone is missing you.”
