Sleeping With Fear

Chapter 18

Riley-"

"Ash, there's nothing magical about it. Nothing unnatural, except in how it was used. It's…the corruption of a perfectly human ability to manipulate electrical and magnetic fields. We all do it every day in small ways; our bodies are filled with electrical impulses firing off all the time. Automatic. Unthinking. But in this case, someone has found a way to absorb dark energy, negative energy, and use it, even direct it back outward for a specific purpose."

"Riley, is that even possible? To absorb energy from something else? From someone else?"

She drew a breath and let it out slowly. "I really hope this doesn't creep you out. Take a closer look at my face."

He did, and his frown deepened. "You look…your face doesn't seem so thin. So exhausted as it did a few minutes ago. What-"

Ash was nothing if not quick. His gaze dropped to her hands gripping his wrists-and he got it.

"Wait a minute. You're pulling energy from me? From us?"

Glad he had added that last bit, she nodded. "I'm pretty sure, yeah. Feeling stronger by the moment. It's not something I've ever been able to do before. And we've tried, believe me."

"We?"

"The SCU. One of the ways Bishop matches some partners is by complementing abilities. Matching a strength with a weakness. My weakness has always been that I use so much energy during a case I end up exhausted, sometimes at very critical moments. So he tried matching me with team members who have…energy to spare. But that never worked, because I could never tap another source, even someone I trusted, someone entirely willing to share. Bishop said-"

"What did he say?"

Riley hesitated. But however uncertain her memory, her body knew, had clearly known for some time, at least one truth.

"He said there's a rare kind of trust he's only seen between some siblings and lovers. A trust so deep and so absolute that all the barriers that separate people from each other disappear. He's like that with his wife; they share their thoughts, their abilities, everything they are. Like two halves of a single soul."

She drew another breath and finished, "He said I'd probably find that when I fell in love. And if I did, I'd also find an amazing source of strength I'd be able to tap into. He and Miranda are precognitive, so when he says probably, you can pretty much take it to the bank."

When Ash didn't immediately respond, she added hastily, "It's not like I'm an energy vampire or anything like that, it's just-"

Ash kissed her. Long, slow, and impossibly deep.

When she could, Riley murmured, "Wow."

He smiled, but his voice was husky when he said, "Honey, the first time we made love, we generated enough heat to ignite a small star. So believe me when I say that I understand how human beings can create and channel energy. Especially the right human beings in the right combination."

She cleared her throat. "Man, I wish I remembered that."

"I'll remind you tonight. If not sooner." He kissed her again, briefly this time, and added, "Whatever energy you're drawing from me at the moment, I'm more than willing to give, especially if it's helping you. Besides, far as I can tell, it's nothing I can't spare."

"No, you're one of those people who have…excess. More than you need or would ever use." Something she had sensed in him from that first moment at the crime scene, memories or no memories, that palpable force of intensity radiating from him.

"You have to buy a new watch every month or so, because they always stop running, and I'll bet you have problems with ATMs and other computers."

"I do, as a matter of fact. On both counts."

"Some people produce a lot of energy and can't really productively channel the excess. Others burn it off quickly. Even too quickly."

"So we match perfectly. What I don't understand is why you're just now realizing you can tap into my energy. Correct me if I'm wrong, but up until now, I was under the impression that I was one of the major drains on your energy. Or our relationship was, at any rate."

"You're not wrong." She thought about it. "My best guess is that because of my uneasiness about not being in control I wasn't able to try to tap into your energy, consciously or even subconsciously, until I was desperate. Until my reserves had gotten so low it was a matter of sheer survival. You showed me my reflection, and on a very primitive level I realized I had to reach out-or die."

With a half smile, he said, "Have you talked to somebody about these control issues of yours?"

She couldn't help but laugh, albeit briefly. "Yeah. Besides, you're just the same. It's hard taking a leap of faith."

"And putting your fate in someone else's hands. Yes, I know. You were fairly pissed off about it."

Riley had to laugh again. "I'll just bet I was. But it does explain some of this uncharacteristic behavior of mine, huh? I've never been in love before."

"So you said. Scowling at me."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did. Scowled. Not that I cared. I've never been in love before either, and I was a bit cranky about it in the beginning myself. You asked about how open our relationship was around here; I don't think either of us was able to hide much, and we were…fierce…about each other from the moment we met."

"The moment?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, you were on a date with Jake when we met. He introduced us."

Riley winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah."

"Well, no wonder he's been…difficult."

"I've tried to make allowances," Ash admitted.

She pondered for a moment, but then shook her head. "I can't think about that right now. We'll mend fences or build bridges or do whatever we need to do with Jake later."

With a lawyer's ability to stay on subject when necessary, Ash said, "Okay, so back to your belief that losing energy the way you have is due to someone else's influence."

"Yes. If I'm right about that-and I think I am-then the purpose of all this ritualistic occult activity, including the murder or murders, isn't so much a smoke screen as it is a device."

"To tap into dark energy and use it."

Riley nodded.

"But isn't that always the purpose of black-occult activities?"

"You could get arguments either way. In my experience, most practitioners are more interested in flouting everything even remotely traditional in the way of religion, giving God the finger like gleefully misbehaving children, and convincing themselves it's liberating to be able to act like animals."

"Dressing up in robes and screwing in a coffin?"

"Yeah, basically. Only without the human sacrifice."

"So, usually, nobody dies."

"Virtually always, nobody dies. It's rare that anybody bleeds. The only exceptions I know of have been cases when someone genuinely evil is leading or otherwise controlling a group. As in sadistic killer types. A few have tried the Charlie Manson bit, convincing followers to kill for them, but most like to do the killing themselves. It just amuses them to dress up in robes and pretend they're summoning or channeling Satan and it's all for the noble cause of enlightening the ignorant."

Ash was frowning. "Okay. So if human sacrifice was only a…by-product of the ritual to create energy, and if you don't believe Wesley Tate was killed the way he was as a smoke screen to hide a murderer with a motive, then-"

"Who he was may not be so important as I first believed." It was Riley's turn to frown. "But he's part of the puzzle nevertheless. He fits in somewhere, and not just because he provided his lifeblood for some ritual. Victims are chosen. No matter how insane the killer, their logic makes sense in their reality."

"So the next step is talking to the group at the Pearson house."

"They are the only avowed satanists we know of so far. And even if they missed the preliminaries-which is troubling and not helping me put the pieces together-they were certainly here in time to participate in whatever happened Sunday night." She frowned.

"What?"

"That memory flash I just had. I don't know how trustworthy it was, since I was just getting my strength back, but if it was what really happened to me on Sunday night, then when I got to the clearing I had the weird feeling the whole thing had been staged. Or manipulated somehow. The body was real enough, but everything else, even my sense of an earlier ceremony there, had a feeling of unreality about it."

Ash shook his head slightly, not following.

"You said it yourself. Conspiracy in cases of murder really is rare. Maybe there was no conspiracy. Whatever occult ceremonies may or may not have taken place here might have all concluded without a murder."

"And the murder took place later, committed by a single individual?"

"Why not? The satanists have their fun and harmless ritual, dance and chant around the fire, drink a lot of wine and have a fair amount of sex, then go home to sleep it off. The killer comes back later and does his thing, staging it so that it appears to be part of what took place. Ritual. He uses the place and the murder as a means to help generate more negative energy, both through that act and by scaring the shit out of the populace. And he keeps us distracted. So we waste time looking in the wrong places, asking the wrong questions."

"Like who has a motive to murder Wesley Tate?"

"Maybe."

Slowly, Ash said, "If this killer has the ability to tap into energy, of places or rituals or whatever, and channel it, use it, then something has to be driving him. You don't just wake up one day and decide there are better ways of literally destroying people than using guns or knives."

"No. Even if it's a natural gift, the time and effort required to learn to control it…Channeling raw energy is really not that much fun. You'd have to be strongly motivated."

"Maybe by hate?"

"That," Riley said, "would probably do it."

"So the real question is-who might hate you enough to do all this in order to destroy you."

"Yeah," Riley said. "That is the question."

"My bet," Jake said to Steve, "is that forensics will place at least some members of your group in that clearing. Preliminary tests indicate both semen and vaginal secretions from a number of different…donors…on the ground out there. What, Satan doesn't let you bring a blanket to the party?"

"Sheriff," Steve said calmly, "whatever we may have been doing on Sunday evening, everyone in this house was in this house well before midnight. We had a big pizza delivery around eleven; I'm sure that can be verified by the restaurant and by the guy who carried in six large pizzas."

"So? Wesley Tate died sometime between two and six A.M., which means any or all of you had plenty of time to finish your pizza and return to the clearing."

"I never said we were at the clearing."

"We'll soon find out, won't we? Because Riley's statement that you spoke to Wesley Tate before you arrived here, coupled with your own statements to local citizens that you and your group practice Satanism, are enough for the judge to issue a warrant compelling all of you to submit to DNA testing."

When Steve sent a betrayed glance her way, Riley said, "Sorry, Steve, but a man's dead. We have to find out who murdered him and why. We will find out. If you and your people had nothing to do with it, now's the time to convince us."

Jenny spoke up then to say, "I still believe we should have our lawyer present."

Riley studied the dark woman thoughtfully. She was the only member of the group other than Steve who had anything at all to say; the other ten people-five men and five women-seated in the great room of their rental house were all silent and fairly expressionless.

They were a rather varied group, ranging from mid-twenties to nearing retirement age, but otherwise looked like any other visitors to Opal Island in their bright-colored shorts and thin tops, with most sporting at least faint cases of sunburn.

Riley was picking up a general low-level anxiety in the room, which made perfect sense given the situation, but nothing to make her overly suspicious of the group as a whole.

Jenny, though…Jenny was different.

Jenny was worried.

…not what I wanted. How could it be? But…I didn't know. I thought his mind had finally been opened, that he…I thought he had changed.

Interesting. And told Riley a lot. But before she could follow that lead, Jake was pressing again, determined to get his questions answered now that they had a tangible connection between these people and the murdered man.

"People who have nothing to hide don't need a lawyer," he said. "No offense, Ash."

"None taken." Ash was sitting slightly behind Riley at the big dining table, their chairs turned so that they faced the group ranged around the living room, and only he and Riley knew that the hand he rested casually on her shoulder was neither casual nor possessive but a necessary conduit between them.

And a vital source of strength for Riley.

Sitting on the other side of the table, Leah had noted the contact with a smile; Jake appeared more irritated every time he looked their way.

He doesn't hide his thoughts very well. Definitely doesn't like me being with Ash. But whether it's because of me or because of Ash, I can't really tell…

Why am I thinking about this shit?

"I think Jenny's right," Steve said, clearly uneasy now. "Why don't you go away and get your warrant, Sheriff, and we'll get our lawyer, and then we'll see."

Riley didn't have to be able to read him to know Jake was on the point of saying something hotheaded and completely unnecessary, so she spoke before he could.

"Steve, I promised your group wouldn't be harassed and I'll make sure that doesn't happen. But we need to know what you know. Wesley Tate was the one who called you, yes?"

"Yeah."

Ignoring Jake's affronted body language as he stood before the entertainment center and in what should have been the focal point of the group, Riley continued to calmly question Steve.

"But you had never met him?"

"No."

"Then why were you even willing to talk to him? You must have gotten plenty of calls from reporters on fishing expeditions, calls from others intent on causing you trouble. What made the call from Tate so different?"

"I told you. He knew people."

"What people?"

"Dammit, Riley, you can't expect me to answer that. Some of them don't practice openly."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Jake muttered.

Instantly, Steve said, "Because of suspicious people like you, Sheriff. We're supposed to have religious freedom in this country, you know."

Before Jake could follow what would certainly be a hotly impassioned tangent, Riley surprised most of the people in the room by asking a quiet question.

"How long had you been divorced, Jenny?"

Going pale beneath her tan, Jenny said, "What?"

"You heard me. Wesley Tate was your ex-husband, wasn't he?"

Steve reached for his partner's hand. "She doesn't have to answer that."

"Steve, don't be an idiot." Riley kept her voice matter-of-fact. "A connection like this would certainly show up in a deep background check, so why try to hide or deny it? Besides, they were legally divorced, right? So she wouldn't benefit financially from his death. And if they've been divorced as long as I think they have, any old hurts and resentments are undoubtedly past and forgotten. Jenny has no motive to have murdered Wesley Tate."

At least…I don't think she has. Focus, dammit!

Steve frowned but didn't try to stop her when Jenny finally spoke.

"We were divorced more than ten years ago," she said, something of relief in her voice. "Married less than five. He…couldn't accept my nontraditional lifestyle choices."

Flashing back to her dream-or memory-of seeing this woman serving as a naked altar in a ceremony about as far from traditional as it was possible to get, Riley wasn't sure she blamed him. But all she said was, "And since then? Any contact with him?"

"Not much. He sort of made it a habit to call around Christmas, just to check and see how I was doing."

"Do satanists celebrate Christmas?" Jake wondered aloud, either too intrigued by the question or too pissed at having the interview taken out of his hands to care about going off topic.

"Not the way Christians do," Steve said flatly.

Riley got them back on track. "So why did he contact you out of the blue?" she asked Jenny.

"He said he just wanted to help. There'd been…a few incidents, as Steve told you, where we were living near Columbia. Made the local news. Wes saw it, he said. He was worried things would get worse, that there was a general climate of intolerance in the area. All the supposed occult stuff during the last year or so here in the Southeast."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, we investigated some of that." Bishop reminded me about that too. But it was all bogus. Or most of it was bogus… "So Tate was worried about you. And?"

"And he said he knew of a safe haven. He told us about this house, said it was a nice, peaceful place with gorgeous views and that nobody would bother us. He said he knew-for certain-that there were like-minded people living in the area."

"But he didn't name names."

"No. Afraid not."

"And you still haven't been contacted by any of these like-minded people?"

"No."

"Okay," Riley said. "Did he say he'd meet you here?"

"He said he might spend some time here on the island, that maybe we could get together and talk," Jenny replied. "But it was all very casual, nothing at all set in stone. He said he'd call if he did come. He never called."

"And you didn't suspect he might be the man killed on Sunday night?"

"No. Why would I?"

Jake broke in again to say, "Well, excuse me, but you didn't seem all that surprised or broken up when we told you it was him."

"Not all of us show everything we feel, Sheriff," she said, rather pointedly scanning him up and down and then looking away dismissively.

Riley was conscious of a fleeting wish that she and Ash had come out here alone to talk to these people, but reminded herself silently of her unofficial status. And spoke quickly before Jake could explode-as he showed every sign of doing.

"Did you really think he'd changed his mind after all these years?" she asked Jenny.

The dark woman hesitated, then smiled faintly. "No. Not really. I wanted to think so, but it was far more likely he just wanted to find out if I was still serious about my lifestyle. He never remarried. I don't think he ever really gave up on us."

"Which," Jake said to Steve, "gives you a motive to murder."

"Hardly," Steve said. "You see, I know Jenny is committed to our lifestyle."

"Assuming we accept that," Riley said without looking at Jake, "you still need to account for your presence in the clearing where Wesley Tate's body was found on Monday morning. You were there Sunday night, weren't you?"

"If we were, it was only to perform a sunset consecration ritual," he said.

Riley knew how much rituals could vary from group to group, but she was picking up enough from Steve to feel fairly confident in saying, "No fire except a candle, black clothing rather than robes. Salt to form the circle and chanting inside it. It wasn't, strictly speaking, a sexual ritual, but at least three couples…indulged. You had intended to use the stone altar in future, more elaborate rituals but wanted to make sure the area was consecrated first."

"That was the plan," he admitted. "Until some lunatic decided to sacrifice a human being. Believe me, any rituals we conduct now will be private and inside the house. With the blinds closed."

"You have a permit for a bonfire tomorrow night," Jake said.

"We're going to roast marshmallows, Sheriff. You're welcome to come, but bring your own stick."

Riley decided that Jake's blood pressure probably couldn't take any more and rose to her feet. "We may want to talk to you again later," she told Steve. "In the meantime, I'll suggest again that it might be wise to stick close to home for the duration."

Steve frowned but nodded, and Jenny merely said quietly, "Thanks, Riley."