M. R. Sellars - Rowan Gant 2 by Never Burn A Witch

Author:Never Burn A Witch [Witch, Never Burn A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-06T21:07:54+00:00

"Yeah, we should all feel real sorry for the fuckhead," Ben spat sardonically.

"On the one hand, this could give us some breathing room," Agent Mandalay ventured. "If he really is broken up over this or whatever, then maybe he will shut down for a while. Decompress. Stop killing."

"Uh-huh," Ben admitted, "I'm all for anything that'll stop the body count from rising, but it's gonna make the prick a helluva lot harder to find if he just withdraws."

"He will withdraw for a while, I'm sure. How long is anyone's guess," I declared.

"The feelings of sadness I'm picking up are far too intense for him to keep going without first coming to terms with this. But something tells me that he'll cycle through it. He's not finished with what he set out to do."

"Of course not," Ben expressed. "We could never be that lucky."

"Another thing," I offered. "I don't think that killing the husband was his only mistake. Something just doesn't click with this scene."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Take a look around. No books on WitchCraft or Wicca in the house. No pentacles or other symbols. No trappings of the religion anywhere in here that I've seen."

"So maybe she kept all her stuff hidden or somethin'," Ben shrugged. "Like to keep friends or relatives from knowing."

"Maybe, but I don't think so this time. There's something else too… Like I said before, he passes judgment on his victims. It's very formal and strict. Even more so than pronouncing sentence in a court of law. It's important to him that the accused be fully aware that WitchCraft is considered an unforgivable crime."

"Yeah, so? I'm not sure I'm following you."

"Do you get the feeling that he didn't do that this time or something, Rowan?"

Mandalay asked.

"Oh no, he pronounced sentence all right," I shook my head. "But what I picked up when they were recovering her body was that she didn't understand. The fact that he accused her of being a Witch made absolutely no sense to her."

"So you don't think she was a Witch?" she pressed.

"I'm almost positive she wasn't."

"Then she doesn't fit the victimology any more than the husband," Ben expressed. "What would have prompted him to pick her?"

"I wish I knew."

Further musings were cut short and our small cluster grew larger by one when Carl Deckert trundled through the doorway from the living room. He had been out leading the door-to-door interviews and from the look of his face had only just now come inside.

"Okay, here's the run down," his voice issued as he sidled up next to us. "We got nuthin' in the way of witnesses."

Out of habit he removed his fedora and smoothed back his disheveled, greying hair, then perched the hat back atop his crown and tilted the brim upward out of his face. His fleshy cheeks were flushed bright red and he was visibly winded. A cloud of coldness still seeped from the fabric of his coat to noticeably chill the air around us.

"Looks like almost everyone was at a meeting of the Condo Association when all this apparently went down," Deckert continued.

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