“What can I do for you officers?”
“Surveillance tapes,” Rokov said.
The thin man shrugged and motioned them toward a side office. Once he shut the door, the blare of the music eased. “There a problem?”
“We don’t know,” Rokov said. He glanced at a bank of six television screens behind a desk abutting a wall. “But I’d like to see the tapes from the camera you have out front.”
The thin man turned. “Number one. East on Washington. Sure.” He punched a couple of buttons. “What time frame?”
“Let’s start with today around five.”
“Pretty specific.”
“Can you pull it up?”
“Sure.” He tapped a couple of buttons and the image of 4:45 p.m. popped up. The camera didn’t take in all of Sooner’s storefront, only the far west side. The thin man played the images frame by frame. Cars passed. People passed. But without a direct angle on the front door, it was impossible to see who entered the shop.
The black SUV that the video kid had mentioned drove slowly by the shop.
Rokov leaned in. The tape caught a portion of the license. ADEJ. “Can you copy that for me?”
“Sure.”
He downloaded the images, shoved a CD into a slot, and hit record. “You’ll have a copy in a minute. What happened?”
“You noticed the new age shop across the street?”
“And the new psychic? Yeah. She’s a looker. What’s she done? Drugs. Prostitution?”
“What makes you think she’s done something?”
“She’s been in business less than a day, and she’s got cops on my doorstep. Plus that weird old guy has been lurking around.”
“What weird old guy?”
“I don’t know who he is, but I caught him watching her shop a couple of times. He never stayed long.”
Grady Tate. “If I get a few pictures, could you identify him?”
“Sure.”
Charlotte saw the flashing police lights in front of Sooner’s the instant she pulled onto Washington Street. She parked and got out of her car. It was easy to spot Rokov.
She hurried to him, her high heels clicking against the pavement. “Daniel.”
Rokov turned, as did his partner.
Sinclair raised a questioning and amused brow. “Daniel? Christ, can I call them or what?”
Rokov moved toward Charlotte. “You were right to call. There were signs of a struggle in the alley.”
Her stomach clenched. “Did you find Sooner?”
“Not yet. But we’re doing all that we can.”
Feeling both helpless and angry, she shook her head. “I knew something was wrong.”
“Detective.” Rokov turned toward a forensics tech. “Yes.”
“We found a twenty-dollar bill in the desk. I dusted it and pulled two nice thumb and index prints from the edge.”
“Thanks. Let me know the second you have an ID.”
“Do you think the killer gave it to her?” Charlotte gripped his arm, uncaring if anyone saw her.
He patted her on her hand. “If he did, then we might be able to identify him and find her.”
Sooner awoke in stages as the fog cleared from her brain. Her eyelids felt heavy and her mouth dry. She realized she was sitting in a metal chair. Her arms were tied to the chair’s arms and her feet to the legs. She tried to rock from side to side and knock the chair to the side but discovered it was bolted to the floor.
Her vision cleared to a dimly lit, plain windowless room made of concrete. All she could see in front of her was a metal door. The room was empty to the right and to the left. She craned her neck behind her but could only make out some sort of tub and a stack of cinderblocks.
Heart now hitting her ribs, she tried to twist her hands free. All she managed to do was cut the tender flesh of her wrists as she twisted and turned.
“Shit. Where am I?” She screamed but the thick walls boomeranged her voice right back. She’d been in fixes: drunken townies looking for fun or a mugger aiming to grab her cash. But nothing, nothing like this had happened to her before.
The door opened and a brighter light switched on and drowned the room in light. The brightness made her wince and turn away.
“What do you want?” she said.
“Your confession.”
Her pupils adjusted and she looked up. Whoever this creep was, he stood just behind the light so that she couldn’t see his face clearly. She did make out the outline of a robe and hood. What was he, some motherfucking monk? God help her. This wasn’t about sex or money. This guy was crazy. “Why do I have to confess?”
“I can’t send you to God without a confession.”
She strained against her bindings, letting the rope dig into her skin. Pain kept her mind focused and her panic tethered. She’d been dealing with crazies since she was a kid and knew the futility of arguing. They believed what they believed. “God doesn’t want me with or without a confession.”
“God wants you clean and pure,” he said.
His kind got off on fear and control. He had control, but she’d withhold fear as long as possible. She managed a laugh. “That ship has sailed.”
“Redemption is always possible no matter how unclean you once were.”
“Not in my case. God will want more from me than just a simple confession. I’ve lied so much. The words will be meaningless to him.”
Tension rippled through his body. Good. Keep him off balance. Keep him thinking.
“How would you know what God wants?” he said.
“I know.” Her voice didn’t wobble or betray the fear tearing her gut.
He crossed the room, grabbed the back of her hair, and jerked hard. “How do you know what God wants, witch?”
Pain pulsed across her scalp. “I know He wants more. You need to find more like me or He will be angry.”
Her captor released her hair and stepped back. He studied her with narrowed eyes. “He wants the other witch, too, doesn’t He?”
“That’s right. He wants us both.”
“I’d thought to wait and save her for last, but maybe not.”
She didn’t know who he referenced, but hoped she could buy enough time to get free and get out of here before he returned.
He stepped back and moved to the door. “I’ll take care of you both. It seems right that you two go to God together.”
When he slammed the door behind him, she closed her eyes and started to weep. “Forgive me.”
Chapter 23
Sunday, October 31, 1 a.m.
Daniel had told Charlotte to go home. He wanted her locked behind her apartment door, safe and secure. But just sitting on her hands and waiting for someone else to save Sooner wasn’t an option. She did go home, but only to change quickly into jeans, a thick sweater, and sneakers.
As she hurried back to her car, she thought about Sooner lost and afraid and calling for her. She hoped to put aside all the time and memories they’d lost. She’d hoped they’d make new memories. Now she feared that window into the future was closing quickly.
She stiffened her spine. “Feel sorry for yourself later, Grace.”
Daniel was still trying to get a warrant to search Grady’s trailer. Likely it wouldn’t be until midday when the judge signed it. But she didn’t need a search warrant. She wasn’t concerned about convictions or due process. She simply wanted to find Sooner.
She slid behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and backed out. “Find Sooner. Find Sooner.”
Finding signs to the I-395 on-ramp, she headed south and then followed the interstate and back roads to the carnival. Even this early the road was crowding with traffic. When her phone rang, she was glancing in her rearview mirror at a black truck that was annoyingly close to her bumper. She slid into the right lane as she hit Send. “Charlotte Wellington.”
“It’s Angie.” Her voice sounded rough with fatigue.
“Have the police found Sooner?”
“I haven’t heard.
I’m headed to Grady’s now.”
“Are you going alone?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Malcolm says Grady is a suspect.”
“I don’t care what they are calling him now, I just want to find Sooner.”
“Charlotte, does Daniel know where you are?” Concern dripped from the words.
“No.”
“He needs to know.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve handled Grady before and I will again.”
“Daniel should know what you’re doing.”
“I’ll tell him.” The SUV’s headlights bounced off her rearview mirror, temporarily blinding her.
Angie hesitated. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. No.” She softened her tone. “But thank you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Charlotte raised her chin. “Thanks.”
“I know this isn’t the best time, but thanks for last night. You were a big hit. We raised over two hundred thousand.”