Carnal Sin

SEVEN

“There’s nothing for you here,” Detective Grant Nelson told Skye after the autopsy was complete. “If we learn anything more, we’ll let you know.”

Skye bit back her anger. Antagonizing this homicide cop wasn’t going to win her friends. She needed him on her side. Or at a minimum, to not stand in her way. “I’d appreciate it,” she said, keeping her voice calm.

“Where’s your cult expert?” he asked, shooting his partner a sly grin.

“Getting air,” Skye said. “She’ll be back shortly.”

“I have to get back to work,” he said, glancing at his BlackBerry with a frown. “But I’ll call.”

I get your point. He wanted Skye out of town. Cops didn’t like others invading their territory, and as far as Grant Nelson was concerned, she was a small-town sheriff and he was a big-city detective. He showed her the common courtesy between colleagues, but nothing more.

Jeff Johnston, his rookie partner, gave her a warmer goodbye and said in a low voice out of Grant’s earshot, “His bark is worse than his bite. I’ll make sure he lets you know what’s up with these deaths.”

“Thanks.”

When she was certain the detectives were gone, Skye went back to where the pathologist Fern Archer was sewing up the body of George Erickson, the swinger.

“Nelson made it clear I couldn’t talk to you without him in the room,” Fern grumbled.

“That’s fine; I don’t want to talk to you about his case.”

Fern smiled widely. “What can I do for you, then?”

“A favor? If you get another body with a similar mark on it, would you call me?” Skye put her card down on the stainless-steel table behind Fern.

“Sure.” Fern bit her lip. “You think this really is a cult?”

“Of a sort. These deaths are somehow connected to the bodies in Santa Louisa.”

“My boss is signing the death certificate as a cardiac arrest.”

“But you said there were no signs of heart failure.”

“I said heart disease. But there’s no other explanation. His heart just stopped.”

“But you don’t have the toxicology reports back.”

“We have the prelims. We have a lab right here, can run standard screens 24/7. No drugs, low alcohol, no common poisons. And there’re no signs of trauma, aneurysms, anything that could be a contributing cause. But then I heard that my boss is talking to your coroner about the dead guy’s brain. Want to clue me in?”

Fern had been more than helpful, so Skye told her, “Dr. Fielding found something unusual about the brain stem, and wanted a second opinion. Dr. Takasugi was very kind to help.”

“And?”

“And they’re not done.”

“Don can be tight-lipped sometimes,” Fern grumbled.

“I’ll let you know if anything interesting pops up.”

She grinned. “Thanks.”

Skye resisted the urge to smile. She liked the petite black girl-she was spunky and held her own against the arrogant Detective Grant Nelson. “If you ever want to move out of a big city into small-town America, let me know.”

Fern beamed.

Skye added, “Seems that the victims have only one thing in common: they were horny men.”

“Oh, maybe a scorned woman or stalker?” Fern grinned. “I like that. Female stalkers aren’t that common.”

Skye raised an eyebrow, and Fern said, “I read crime novels, what can I say?”

“Maybe you should have been a cop,” Skye said.

The intercom system beeped. “Fern, you still back there?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“You got to come to Receiving. You’ll never believe this. Bring your camera.”

Skye raised an eyebrow.

Fern said, “Let’s see what’s going on. Should be fun.” For a young woman who worked in the morgue, Fern seemed almost happy-go-lucky.

Skye followed her to the receiving room. A City of Glendale crime-scene van had backed up to the main double-door entrance. One of the investigators was signing paperwork at the desk while five people stood around a white freezer with a police seal on it.

Fern said, “There’s a body in there, isn’t there?”

“Bingo,” the investigator said without looking up from his paperwork.

“Amazing,” Fern said. “What’s the story?”

“Found by the housekeepers when they were cleaning out Kent Galion’s place. We don’t know for sure he killed her, but she’s been missing more than a week. It’s just a matter of putting together the evidence. If she was frozen right after death, the evidence should be well-preserved.”

“Wow, I haven’t had one of these before.” Fern sounded excited. “Let’s get the freezer weighed, then take it to the decomp room and let it thaw in a controlled environment. Hopefully we can autopsy in twenty-four.”

Skye went over to the investigator and showed her badge. “Would you mind if I take a look at the file?” she asked.

“Help yourself,” he said.

She flipped through the crime-scene notes, then turned to Fern. “Did you say earlier that Kent Galion was the name of the other body with the demon’s mark?”

“I did; he’s long buried.”

“He attacked someone?”

“Galion was the owner of Velocity. Think that’s the connection? Because the college kid died in the alley?”

“Nelson said Erickson was also at Velocity the night he died.”

Skye jotted down the victim’s and the suspect’s addresses, trying to act nonchalant. She might have to risk ticking off Detective Nelson, because Skye needed Moira to check out the houses. One of them might lead to Fiona’s coven.

Her phone vibrated. “Thanks,” she said, handing the file back to the crime-scene investigator.

“Find what you were looking for?”

“Just curious,” she said. She mouthed thank you to Fern, then stepped out of the building and answered her phone.

“McPherson.”

“Skye. It’s Anthony.”

Her heart fluttered just a bit, enough to remind her that she already missed him. “Where are you?”

“New York. I have a few minutes before boarding. I wanted to hear your voice.”

“I’m glad.”

“What’s going on in L.A.?”

“Three men have turned up dead, apparent heart attack, but with demon marks on their backs. Rafe and Moira are checking out the only connection between the three, a nightclub they were at immediately before they died.”

“Where are you?”

“At the coroner’s, waiting for Rod. I was just about to call Moira and give her some addresses to check out using her-” Skye was at a loss on how to describe Moira’s ability to feel the presence of magic.

“Be careful, sweetheart.”

“You, too.” Quieter, she added, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Skye. And I’m worried. I wish I were there.”

“Me, too, but more so we can have our house to ourselves. It’s getting crowded.”

“I’ve been trying to find Moira a place to stay, but-”

“Only Moira?”

“Rafe needs time to heal.”

“Rafe is fine.”

“Skye, the situation is complicated.”

“I’m not obtuse, Anthony. I understand the complexities of the situation.”

“Skye-”

“We’ll talk about it when you come home.”

“I’ll call as soon as I land in Sicily. I need to board. Mi amore, please be careful.”

She hung up the phone and rested it against her forehead. She didn’t want to snap at him, especially now, but for the last two weeks Anthony had been pulling away from her. He didn’t realize it, and she knew it had nothing to do with his love for her. His love was one of the few things in which she had complete confidence. It was more what he didn’t say, the pressure St. Michael’s had placed on him since Father Philip died. Struggling with Moira O’Donnell’s presence. Several times when Anthony and Moira verbally sparred, Skye had the feeling Anthony wanted to slug her, yet Anthony wouldn’t hit a woman. He believed in chivalry-in opening doors, in the small, sweet gestures that showed his deep respect for women, coupled with the way he treated her in bed, insisting that her pleasure was more important than his. For a macho guy, Anthony was a true gentleman. Except with Moira.

She called Moira. “I’m texting you the address of the first known victim of the demon, and the address of a woman he allegedly killed before he died. Can you check them out and do your thing?”

“You mean check for magic.”

“Right.” Skye shifted on her feet. She still had a hard time talking about demons and magic as if that were a normal part of her job.

“Will do, as soon as we finish with Velocity.”

“Are you there yet?”

“Hardly. There are so many flippin’ cars on the road we should have walked.”