Page 57 of Dirty Valentine
“Guess we walk from here,” I said, noting how the trail wound through dense undergrowth toward the river.
The path was well worn but narrow, meandering through stands of ancient cypress and over wooden planks that bridged the wetter areas.Spanish moss draped from every branch like nature’s curtains, and the sound of our footsteps was muffled by decades of accumulated leaves.The air grew thicker as we approached the water, heavy with the rich scent of river mud and blooming jasmine.
The cabin that emerged from the green tunnel was exactly what Sheldon had described—a rustic structure that seemed to grow from the landscape itself.Built of weathered cypress logs with a tin roof gone green with age, it sat on stilts above the marshy ground with a screened porch facing the slow-moving river.Wind chimes hung from the porch rafters, and what looked like herb gardens sprawled in seemingly random patterns around the raised foundation.
A small wooden dock extended into the dark water, and I could see where someone had cleared areas for what looked like ritual circles—bare patches of earth surrounded by carefully arranged stones.The whole place had an otherworldly quality, as if it existed in the space between the mundane world and something older, more mysterious.
“Definitely feels like the kind of place where people hold séances,” I said.
We approached the cabin carefully, our footsteps muffled by the soft ground.The air was thick with humidity and the competing scents of jasmine, woodsmoke, and something earthy that might have been patchouli.Wind chimes created a gentle symphony, their tones ranging from deep metallic gongs to the crystalline tinkle of glass tubes.
The woman who answered our knock was not what I’d expected.
Evangeline Toscano stood barely five feet tall, with silver-streaked brown hair pulled back in a practical bun and intelligent dark eyes that assessed us with calm interest.She wore a simple cotton dress in deep blue, sensible sandals, and the kind of jewelry that suggested careful selection rather than random accumulation—a single silver pendant, small hoops in her ears, a watch that looked expensive but understated.
“You must be the sheriff,” she said, extending a work-roughened hand to Jack.“And Dr.Graves.I’ve been wondering when you’d find your way out here.”
“Ms.Toscano,” Jack said.“We’re looking for Leena Cross.We believe she might be here.”
“She is.We’ve been expecting you.”Evangeline stepped back, gesturing for us to enter.“Leena’s been quite concerned about young Sheldon.She wanted to speak with you about what happened the other night.”
The interior of the house was a fascinating blend of the practical and the mystical.Bookshelves lined every wall, packed with volumes on everything from medicinal herbs to quantum physics.Crystals shared space with houseplants, and what looked like serious scientific equipment sat alongside candles and incense burners.The overall effect was of someone who approached the unknown with both open mind and healthy skepticism.
“Leena,” Evangeline called toward the back of the house.“Your visitors are here.”
The young woman who emerged from what looked like a kitchen was a study in contrasts to her older companion.Where Evangeline radiated calm competence, Leena fairly vibrated with nervous energy.Her black-dyed hair hung in uneven strands around a face that was pretty despite—or perhaps because of—the dramatic makeup that emphasized her dark eyes and pale skin.She wore layers of black clothing that managed to look both carefully constructed and carelessly thrown together.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said immediately, her voice carrying the defensive edge of someone who’d been questioned by authority figures before.“Sheldon came with me willingly.I didn’t hurt him.”
“We need to ask you some questions about your connection to our investigation,” I said carefully.“Sheldon mentioned you had specific knowledge about the marked graves at the cemetery, and we’re trying to understand how you knew details that weren’t released to the public.”
Leena’s expression shifted from defensive to uncomfortable.“I…Evangeline and I went to the cemetery after we heard about the murder.We could feel the energy there, the disturbance.When we saw the symbols, I recognized what they meant.”
“You went to an active crime scene?”Jack’s voice carried the sharp edge of authority.“The area was cordoned off.”
“You don’t feel energy like that every day,” Leena said quickly.“And in that part of the cemetery it’s easy to stay hidden, so no one saw us.Someone was using justice magic.The symbols almost glowed with power.You could see them even outside the perimeter.”
“And you told Sheldon about them,” I said.
“I was excited.I’d never seen real ritual magic being used before.I thought he’d be interested.”She paused, seeming to realize how that sounded.“I didn’t know it was connected to the actual murder until later.”
Jack pulled out his phone, scrolling to crime-scene photos that showed the carved markings on the cemetery headstones.“Since you claim to understand what these mean, can you explain them to us?”
Leena studied the images with the focused attention of a scholar examining primary sources.Her fingers traced the air above Jack’s phone screen, following the lines of the carved symbols with precision that suggested genuine expertise.
“These aren’t random,” she said finally.“Someone who understands ritual magic created these.The scales of justice represent divine judgment—the belief that cosmic forces will balance wrongs that human courts failed to address.But look at the way they’re positioned.”
She gestured to the image of Ezekiel Morton’s headstone.“They’re not centered on the stone.They’re placed specifically to the left, which in ceremonial magic represents the path of severity, of punishment without mercy.”
“What about these?”I asked, showing her the Roman numerals carved on Rebecca Hughes’s grave.
“VI, XII, III,” Leena read.“Six, twelve, three.Those aren’t dates—they’re a countdown.Six families were involved in the original injustice, twelve bloodlines were affected, three generations have passed.It’s a way of saying the debt is coming due.”
The hair on my arms stood up despite the warm afternoon.“And the initials around William Lawson’s headstone?”
“Binding circle,” Leena said immediately.“The initials represent the conspirators, carved in a pattern that’s designed to trap their spiritual essence.Someone believes these people need to be held accountable even in death.”
Evangeline had been listening quietly, but now she moved to a bookshelf and retrieved a leather-bound volume that looked genuinely ancient.“The stone circle found around Rachel Mills’s grave is more complex,” she said, opening the book to reveal pages covered in hand-drawn diagrams.“It’s called a justice circle, specifically designed to channel the energy of the wronged dead toward their persecutors.”
