Page 5 of Deadly Lineage
“Hell, if I’m not needed, I’m gonna head back to my car and grab some water,” Johns said.
I held out my hand and Johns easily grasped it. I hauled him to his feet and he staggered off, slapping the seat of his pants in an effort to get the caked mud off.
McCallister didn’t say anything. His flushed cheeks spoke to his probable embarrassment, but that was it. Squatting, the man managed to crawl into our victim’s makeshift grave. It might not have been graceful, and McCallister landed rougher than looked comfortable, but he managed it on his own.
My phone rang, Captain Cecily’s ringtone filling the night. “It’s the captain,” I said. “If you’re good, I’ll get this.”
“I’m fine.” McCallister waved me off, not bothering to glance up as he did so.
Turning, I answered, “O’Hare.”
“What are we looking at?” Captain Cicely got straight to the point.
“Dr. McCallister’s in the grave with the victim right now. Early report is that it’s a red-haired white woman suspected of being a witch.”
I heard the barest inhale across the phone. “Witch? Any ID?”
“None that’s been found yet. Johns dug down to the body and like I said, Dr. McCallister’s in there with her now. Forensics is here too.” When I looked back, they were working with Dr. McCallister. “I’m not sure how long they’ll be, but Boone is also here.” I’d left that information on the message, so it wasn’t news. “Boone can’t give us much on the preliminary. With your permission, I want him to bring the victim back. Will her coven object?”
“All covens are different, but if it really looks like murder, I don’t think they’ll mind as long as we’re respectful. You’ve worked with Boone the most.”
“He’s respectful,” I answered easily. I’d learned that during the Jane Doe catastrophe. Despite forceful requests to the contrary, he sent the victim’s soul back as soon as he realized how distressed she was. Solving cases and bringing the guilty to justice were important. So was not victimizing someone twice.
“Understood. As soon as Dr. McCallister gives you the all-clear, let Erasmus do his thing. Once you’ve got the victim’s name, let me know and I’ll contact their coven.”
“Could she be—”
“Not one of mine,” Captain Cicely answered. “The only Caucasian coven member we have is Samantha, and she’s blond. Assuming you’re correct and our victim’s a witch, she’s not one of mine.” Relief filled Captain Cicely’s voice. “Thank you for worrying. I won’t lie and say I’m not relieved she’s not one of mine, but I feel for whoever she’s left behind.”
“Of course, Captain.”
“Tell Erasmus we can pay his usual fee.”
I had no idea what theusualwas. “I’ll let him know.”
“Take care, Detective.” Captain Cicely ended the call and my attention returned to the gravesite.
“I don’t think Joseph thought to expect company.” At some point, Boone had snuck up beside me. Hands shoved into his back pockets, he leaned into his heels. “The old guy might have freshened the place up if he’d known.”
I blinked, trying to make sense of what Boone said. When I remained clueless, I said, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Boone pointed at the tilted headstone. “Joseph Johnson. 1823-1901. Long life for the times,” Boone said. “If he had a wife, she’s not buried nearby. No children either.” Boone shrugged. “I suppose that’s neither here nor there. Unless I bring Joseph back, he doesn’t even know he’s currently got company. He’s a very content soul. Not much background noise from him. Probably someone I’d enjoy talking with.”
Speaking with Boone was always a bit of a mindfuck. The conversations didn’t weird me out like they did a lot of my colleagues. Boone was different, but it wasn’t the bad kind. His world was different than mine. Death—that all-important equalizer—didn’t mean the same thing to him as it did to me and most of the rest of the world. For Boone, death wasn’t the end of the conversation; it was the beginning.
“Freshened the place up?” I questioned, finally cottoning onto what Boone had said.
He gave me an impish grin. “A little necromancer humor. Cut me some slack, I don’t have a lot of material to work with.”
It was more difficult than it should be to suppress a laugh. The smile twisting my lips was impossible to deny. I started to comment, but McCallister poked his head out of the hole and said, “I think I’ve got what I need. I assume you want to utilize Mr. Boone’s…services before the autopsy.”
“Righto,” Boone responded before I got a chance. “Any idea how she died?” he asked, beating me to the question.
McCallister shot a glance my direction and waited for my okay before he unhelpfully answered, “Unknown at this point. Nothing obvious. An autopsy will definitely be necessary.”
“Any identification?” I asked.
Again, McCallister shook his head. “None that we’ve found. The gravesite is very clean.”
