Shadows ritual, p.4
Shadow's Ritual, page 4
But a murder with such overkill from a typical spouse? This felt too ritualistic.
While her instincts told her she’d never get so lucky, she hoped the murderer ended up being a jealous wife or pissed-off father-in-law. An agenda that basic would be easier to figure out or might provide a slightly more logical explanation for why everything was coated in shit.
Well, not reasonable, but understandable. Shitty people getting shitty treatment in the eyes of the killer.
“Other than your two missing members, did you see anything else unusual since you arrived?”
“No, nothing. I mean, it’s the first day so everything’s a mess. I was sure I saw her hauling things from our rental car to her tent. This morning, her campsite was up, but her stuff wasn’t laid out. It was all still piled up at the door. I thought maybe she just didn’t sleep there last night.”
“What time was that, when you last saw her?”
Rachel glanced down at her fitness watch, as if it would help her remember. “I saw her with her sleeping bag and pillow around eleven. She dropped her pillow because her arms were too full, so I helped her take the stuff to her tent. And I couldn’t stay and chat because I was scheduled to set up the welcome booth at eleven and knew I wouldn’t get through the glut of people in time.”
Rebecca took note of that to compare to the time of death once that was established. “And did you see Lily after you helped her?”
Rachel shook her head. “No. Like I said, I was late for my shift. We all have assigned duties, and I always choose setup to get it over with so I can enjoy the rest of the convention.”
“That’s smart. Do you recall seeing Bryce at all?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she shook her head again. “I’m afraid I don’t recall seeing him.”
“Did you notice anyone hanging around who wasn’t part of the group?”
Rachel shrugged and glanced over to the gathering. “Not that I know of. I don’t know a lot of people here. I don’t come to every convention. And this is my first time on the East Coast. There are a lot of people here who weren’t at the mid-country meetups or conventions. But that’s normal. People are more likely to attend the ones closer to them.”
The wail of the ambulance had been getting progressively louder, and Rebecca turned to watch it approach the full parking lot. She waved them over as they slowed.
“Okay, I’ll leave you alone to get checked out now. If you think of anything else, please call me.” Rebecca scrawled her contact information on a blank page of her notepad and tore it out. As she handed the page to their witness, she made a mental note to order business cards.
Locke finally shifted his attention back to them, and she pointed to Rachel’s shoes. He gave the barest of nods and opened his trunk to retrieve an evidence bag.
“Was it the witch that got her?” Rachel took the paper, staring hard at Rebecca’s face, and stuffed it into her back pocket.
“I don’t know who got her, but I do know I’ll get whoever did this.” She knew it was stupid to promise such things, but she also couldn’t imagine that someone this sick and twisted would manage to hide from them for long.
Rachel smiled, weak and tremulous but sincere.
That was worth the risk of being proven wrong later. With a nod to Locke, Rebecca left them and headed back to her cruiser.
“You leaving, Boss?” Darian was standing on the porch out of the sun, keeping guard over the scene.
She shook her head. “Maybe in a minute. The witness gave me some names to investigate. But first, I need to go back inside and check that mantel with the heads.” Her two victims deserved some respect. It was time she met them face-to-face.
5
Rebecca blew out her first relieved breath of the day after forensics showed up and installed the screen just like Darian predicted. They also set up a vacuum that sucked in the flying pests. Rebecca recalled an equally gruesome scene when two bloated bodies had washed ashore during the island’s hurricane, and Bailey had collected the bugs to analyze in her lab.
The machine was basically a modified Shop-Vac, but it made working so much easier. It also lowered the risk of blood-borne pathogens.
Thankfully, it also blocked the view of the inside of the building, as the media had arrived—the swarm of leeches prepared to suck the blood out of the story, forgetting about the humanity of those whose blood had actually been spilled here.
Hoyt’s shoulders were squared and stiff, his hands gripping his belt as he stared at one person in particular. Oscar Toullaine from the Richmond Times Dispatch was mingling with the Lovecraft group and taking notes as he talked to a couple.
Toullaine was slightly more rumpled than Rebecca was used to seeing him. His light-brown hair was parted crooked, and his button-up shirt showed wrinkles, as if he were living out of a hotel, never having left the island after writing his recent story on her.
The other news reporters faced their cameras with exceptionally made-up faces, smiling as they talked about any information they’d gleaned to keep the viewers engaged with their news outlet. More than likely they were regurgitating rumors or Lovecraftian fiction to keep the interest level high. Thankfully, they didn’t know about the truly horrendous parts yet.
Those two parts were staring Rebecca in the face. She knew it was a delicate dance to inform the press to get ahead of erroneous reporting and yet not fuel mass hysteria by providing too many details.
Viewing the heads propped on the wooden mantel over the fireplace didn’t add anything new to the investigation. Unless extra fuel for her nightmares counted. The cloudy eyes were open, staring blankly at her as she took pictures of them balanced on their neck stumps, which had been smashed down onto the ancient, coated wood until the flesh was pulped enough to hold them upright.
When she’d stepped back inside, it became clear they’d been placed there to gaze upon the horror of their own bloody bodies.
That had confirmed what Rebecca feared. This wasn’t just a dual murder. It also appeared ritualistic, even though there was no clear religious signature to define it as such. The staging, the drawings, the mutilation of the corpses, and the desecration of the cottage had all been done for reasons known only to the killer. The buzzing drone of the trapped flies had gotten louder, too, adding to the otherworldly, hellish feel of the scene.
Once she finished taking pictures, she left Locke, Hoyt, and Darian to babysit the scene and wait for the medical examiner’s arrival.
Rebecca headed to the sheriff’s office to track down the other two missing members, the founders. And to get fresh clothes and wash the bug guts off her. The smell of the place hadn’t really had time to sink into her clothes, but she still drove with the window down all the way back to the station.
People stopped and waved at her as she drove. Smiling, she waved back, glad to be back in the sunny, bright version of Shadow Island.
“Was it bad?” Viviane asked, practically leaning over the desk as Rebecca entered the station.
“Oh, yeah. It was bad. And gross. And I need to hit the locker room for a fresh shirt.” Rebecca spoke as she zoomed by, pushing her way through the lobby toward the locker room.
Viviane disconnected her headset and ran after her.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m not hurt, but I got a lot of bug bites on my back and they’re driving me crazy.”
“Oh, thank goodness. It looks like you’ve got blood spots on your blouse on the back here. I wasn’t sure from what.”
Rebecca didn’t want to think about that and hoped poor Rachel hadn’t noticed it. That woman had seen enough blood for a lifetime. Some things could never be unseen. She knew way too much about that and prayed Rachel would get the help she’d need.
Blood on tiles slowly spilling away from a gashed wrist and half-closed, dead eyes.
“You want me to take a look?”
Viviane was still following behind her when Rebecca spun around and blinked, pushing away her views of the past. Her flashbacks were happening less often now, but they still left her slightly unsteady. Grounding herself in the present stabilized her.
“I’m trained in first aid, ya know. I can treat a bug bite.” The itching on her back was more than enough to help her get centered again and she managed to laugh. “You’re just offering because you want to ask me a bunch of questions.”
Viviane grinned and her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Not just that. I also noticed from the mark on your shirt that the bug bites are probably in a spot where you can’t reach them. And I bet they itch something fierce about now. After standing in the sun, sweating. Those bites burning under your shirt, getting itchier.”
Her words had Rebecca’s back and shoulders twitching. Just like Viviane had likely planned. She was right, Rebecca couldn’t reach to scratch them, and they were driving her insane the more she thought about them.
Viviane sweetened the pot. “We’ve got these magical bite sticks in the locker room. That’ll get rid of the itch. Instant relief.”
Rebecca’s back twitched again. “Come on.” She led the way into the room and went straight to her locker where she kept a spare change of clothes while Viviane locked the door.
“Were they really beheaded? The witness was so shaken up when she called, I wasn’t sure if she was right or just delirious.” Viviane moved to the small medical kit that was kept by the sinks in the unisex room.
“She was right. Both heads were removed. And were set up as a display across the room to look at their respective decapitated bodies.”
Viviane grimaced and motioned for Rebecca to spin around. She did so and pulled her shirt off as the other woman stepped forward and used a cleansing wipe to clean off the bites.
“Of course, Bailey will have to tell us if those heads actually match the bodies.” Viviane made her first dab and the sting of ammonia settled along Rebecca’s nerves. “Only a few of these are from mosquitoes. The rest are other bites I don’t recognize. I’ll put antibacterial ointment on those. So do you think the killer was showing off, setting the heads up like trophies?”
“That’s a good point about matching the body parts. And the placement could’ve been part of whatever plan the killer concocted, or to display them. It could’ve been a revenge killing too. The two victims were rumored to be having an affair. The man was married.” Rebecca sighed with relief as the ointment did its job. “I see you’ve been studying the handbook.”
“It’s what we Darbys do. You know that. You think it was a crime of passion, then?”
Rebecca considered that as Viviane finished tending to her back. “It’s a possibility we need to check into, but my gut says no. It was disorganized, crazed even, and that was just the killing. After that, the killer took their time, cutting up the bodies, removing the heads, setting them up, and painting the room with what smelled like a mixture of shit and blood.”
“Poop and blood?” There was a moue of disgust in Viviane’s tone as she tapped Rebecca’s shoulder to let her know she was done.
Pulling her clean shirt on, Rebecca shifted around. “That’s what we’re guessing so far. The stink makes it pretty obvious.”
“But testing will have to prove it. Was it from the victims, or was it brought in?”
That was a good question. Neither body had been eviscerated, and she hadn’t seen any stains on Lily’s pants or Bryce’s underwear to indicate it’d come from them. It could’ve smelled like a slaughterhouse because it’d been collected elsewhere and brought in just to smear around. Lily and Bryce might’ve even walked into something in progress, instead of being the intended victims.
Turning on the hot water, Rebecca washed her hands. “No way to tell so far.” She dried them and tucked in her shirt, feeling much better.
“So we’ll have to move forward as if both possibilities are real. Which means the first thing will be to test how much of it came from humans.” Viviane set the miracle stick on the table.
Rebecca nodded. “Which is, thankfully, a quick and easy test. For the blood at least.” She beamed at Viviane, their sweet-as-honey dispatcher who was quickly becoming one of her most trusted friends. “Those are all very good thoughts.”
Viviane blushed as her smile lit up the room, belying the disturbing core of the conversation. “It’s time to get some answers. Anything you want me to do?”
“Look up the Lovecraft Symposium and get me everything you can find on them. I know they have events fairly often, from what the witness stated. Try to get us some pictures from those. And keep an eye out for Lily Grayson and anyone with the first name Bryce. No last name for him yet.”
“Got it, Boss.” Viviane’s tone mimicked Hoyt’s as she saluted before heading back out to her desk.
Which reminded Rebecca that she needed to requisition another computer for her team. The “spare” had been gutted for replacement parts over time and now was literally a shell of its former self. Ugh, she needed business cards for herself too. All of that could wait until after she got in touch with the symposium founders. She needed to locate Parker Armitage and Victor Van Dryer and possibly break the bad news that she’d found their two missing members in four pieces.
6
The two founding members had been more than willing to come in when they’d heard the sheriff’s office had found their missing people. But now that they were sitting across the table from Rebecca in the interrogation room staring at the pictures of the staged decapitated heads, the two men’s faces were etched in distress.
In fact, they both looked like they were about to puke. Rebecca had prepared for that by moving the garbage can over to their side of the table. With her foot, she nudged it a bit closer to Van Dryer as his hand clenched tightly against his lips and he swallowed hard, breathing heavily through his nose. His chest curled and straightened over his thick belly with every breath as he hunched in on himself.
He surprised her by pulling himself together enough to choke out a response. “That’s Lily and Bryce.” As soon as he identified the victims, Van Dryer flipped the photos over and pushed them away. His dark brown eyes were haunted as he struggled to focus on her face. “What the hell happened to them?”
“I’m sorry you had to see that, but that’s what we’re trying to find out. First, can you tell us their last names? We need to confirm their identities.”
Van Dryer’s gaze dropped to the overturned photos. “Yeah. Lily Grayson and Bryce Lambert.”
“Thank you. Can you tell us when they went missing?”
“They got here right after we did.” Van Dryer glanced over at his partner, who nodded in agreement. His friend’s pale skin went well with his copper hair but made him ghostly as he shifted in his chair. Van Dryer’s fingers twitched as he continued to stare at the overturned photos. “I helped Lily set her tent up. That was around ten thirty. Then I went with one of our members to his truck to get his string lights out, to make the area brighter and more festive. It was pretty dark. You ever try setting up a tent in the dark? I don’t recommend it.”
Armitage took a deep breath and blew it out before joining the conversation. “And I know I saw Bryce after the lights were up. That was probably eleven thirty. He wanted to make sure they would reach his tent because he forgot to bring a flashlight. That man was not made for camping. I think he forgot half his gear. And we gave him a list of things to bring too.”
Van Dryer made as if to push the pictures farther away, but then decided against touching them and ran a shaky hand through his dark hair.
Rebecca picked the photos up and added them to the bottom of the stack she’d printed from her camera. “Can you think of any reason they would’ve been in the cottage last night?”
Armitage sighed and put his face in his hand, rubbing his eyes. “I heard rumors they were having an affair. It wasn’t much of a secret within the group. Normally, I don’t pay attention to the personal lives of our members, but it was obvious something was going on. I know Lily was the only reason Bryce kept coming to events. She was into the group, and he was into her.”
“As often as he could be,” Van Dryer muttered under his breath, then managed to somehow become a shade paler than he already was, almost as pale as Armitage. “Not to speak ill of the dead. We never caught them or anything. But Bryce would follow her around like a puppy. If they weren’t together, it wasn’t for lack of trying on his part.”
The door had been left open since this wasn’t a true interrogation, and Viviane slipped in, carrying two cups of tea. She set them down in front of the men. The soothing scent of chamomile filled the air as both men thanked her, accepting the excuse to stop talking and take steadying sips.
Viviane slipped into the chair beside Rebecca and pulled out a notepad and pen.
Van Dryer put down his cup first. “Lily, though, she was always an active member. In fact, she would help us pick out the locations. See, we like to meet up in places that have a dark history, so to speak.”
“And that’s why you picked our island?” There was no hint of reproach in Viviane’s tone, but her stare held a bit of weight as she leveled it on Van Dryer, making him squirm. Her hometown pride was clear.
“Not the island. Just the one building. The witch’s cottage. Surely, you’ve heard the stories.”
“I have. And I’m not sure what that has to do with some monster from the ocean except for being near a beach.” Viviane stopped taking notes and sat up straighter in her seat.
“There’s more to Lovecraft than just Xul'thara.” Van Dryer leaned forward. Now that he wasn’t face-to-face with true horrors, he seemed to regain a bit of his composure.
“And there’s more to the Elder Ones than just him, or the ocean. The Elder Ones were space-traveling entities. You should really read his works. It’s great stuff, really thought-provoking.” Armitage set his cup down, his left hand no longer shaky.
Rebecca noted that he kept his right hand firmly tucked in his lap, as it had been since they’d come in. Glancing over at Viviane’s notes confirmed she’d observed that as well. There were also notes describing their physical attributes. Viviane had noted that Armitage was athletically built but described Van Dryer as having a dad bod, which amused Rebecca.
