New Orleans Part 3
Author: Mariel
Chapter 7
He's planning to kill her. The words ricochet around inside my head. Jesus. It's bad enough we're after a serial killer, but to be chasing one who's out to get one of us... Jesus...
"Why you?" I ask, trying to shut down an unusual sense of panic. "How the hell does he even know you? None of this makes sense."
She looks uneasy, but doesn't respond to my outburst. Instead, she offers, "If I'm a target, I can be used to draw him out."
Across my mind flashes the memory of a woman lying face down on a cemented floor, one bloodied hand outstretched.
No.
She's not gonna put herself at risk. I won't let her.
Standing up, I start to pace the floor. "You can't be his next target. How can he possibly know you? And why choose you? God, you're FBI. How on Earth does he think he can try to kill you without gettin' caught? It's crazy. The dreams...." My voice trails off as I realise that for a moment at least, I'd fallen hook, line, and sinker into actually believing dreams had some bearing on the case. Mentally, I reach out and grasp reality, shaking my head as I do so. I must be losin' it.
She smiles a little, though it doesn't completely erase the worry from her face. "I was wondering when you'd realise what you were contemplating." Her face turns serious again. "But whether you like it or not, John, this is real. The dreams are important. We've got to pay attention to them. I need time to mull things over, but now that I know we're both having them, I'm sure I'll be able to make some sense out of everything. We're on the right track with this."
She might think she's on the right track, but I can feel myself wanting to get off it in a big hurry. A little sanity just about now would be real welcome. We'll get this guy, but to think we can solve a murder or prevent one from happening because of a few dreams... well, that's a little nuts. And I'm not using Monica as a sacrificial lamb to catch him, no way. That ain't in no game plan of mine and never will be, so she can just toss that little baby out with the bath water.
As usual, she goddam knows somehow what I'm thinking because she says, "John, don't toss the idea aside. If he's focussed on me, we may be able to draw him out a bit, gain time to figure out who he is."
I sit down again, trying to cover my disquiet.
She sits, staring at her hands, giving both of us needed time and space to think. It's mumbo jumbo, it's psychic crapola, but there's still that crazy little voice inside me insisting there's something to what she says. Our both having dreams about the women we've found dead committing murder themselves is maybe too much of a coincidence not to look into.
I glance over at her, my unease growing. Monica believes she's been threatened. Threatened in a dream that the killer is after her. Why her? What's she got to do with any of this?
Meeting my gaze, she says, "We've got to take a look at the records for unsolved murders with the same MO's as the ones in our dreams."
I look at her, not understanding.
"We know the women we've found murdered weren't killed the way that we saw the women in our dreams commit theirs," she explains patiently. "Ergo, they're different murders. I mean, we're not seeing the women re-enacting their own murders. These are something completely different. We've got to find out if they really happened."
"And if they have?"
"And if they have, then we've got a motive for their murders - revenge, perhaps. Someone knows they've murdered and wants to see them pay."
I shake my head. "They're too spread out. No one person could possibly be aware of several murders committed by several women in two different parts of the country. It's just too much of a coincidence."
Monica shrugs. "All I know is that the murdered women aren't tied together in any other way that we've been able to discover. I think the reason we can't find the connection is that they spent a lot of energy seeing to it that no one could. Kelly was right - the link between them is that they've all kept something important hidden - namely, the murders they committed and the reason they committed them. I can't explain how one person knows about all the murders, but I'm sure we'll discover that at some point."
I try not to grimace at the mention of 'Kelly' and 'was right' in the same sentence. Still concentrating on the idea of keeping Monica out of harm's way, I say, "We should get you outta New Orleans."
"Why?"
"Because he's here and you're here, and a threat's been made."
She looks at me with surprise and something else I can't quite define. "I don't think leaving is the answer. Some things you can't run away from: they just follow you until they catch up. Besides, I thought you didn't take the dreams seriously, John."
What can I say? I know that I'm not reacting to any of this in a very logical manner. I'm like a bloody yoyo, believing one minute, appalled at the insanity of it all the next. It's crazy for me to be worried about a warning my partner believes she received in a dream. I'm falling into this mumbo jumbo stuff way too easy. Maybe I should be the one leaving - to somewhere nice and quiet with soft, padded walls. Still, I look over at her and can't help but feel uneasy. I can't let anything happen to her, I can't.
I rise and begin to pace again. I'm not sure how long we remain locked in our own thoughts before I hear her say, "Oh, God..."
Stopping, I turn and look at her. She's suddenly gone pale, her eyes huge and filled with a fear I've never seen before. "What?"
"What if they were all seeking more power for themselves?" she asks in a quiet voice.
I can tell this isn't really a question - she's decided it's the answer. Another one of her leaps. I turn to look at her dead on. "What do you mean?"
"John, if they had anything to do with the occult...it's all about power. Power asked for or power demanded. That's their connection. If they..." Her voice drifts off and furrows form between her eyebrows as she stops to think things through. She's tense, though whether from anticipation or worry, I don't know. Speaking rapidly, she finally continues: "It would explain the darkness I feel surrounding these murders - and the evil I sense surrounding the women and their possessions. I've been having trouble thinking of them as victims; now I know why. It all makes sense: they're victims, but they started out on the other end. They've committed terrible acts, too."
"Who?"
"The victims. They're murderers. They have to be."
She's going too fast for me. "Why would they have to be?"
"To obtain the power they were seeking. That explains everything..."
She stands and starts to pace around the room. To get out of the way, I move between the two beds and sit down on one of them.
Moving her hands expressively, she says, "John, the morning I spent in the evidence room told me one thing: these women all had evil ingrained into their possessions. I thought it must be residue left from the man who'd killed them, but it wasn't." She stops and looks at me. "They were evil themselves."
That explains her strange behaviour in the evidence room. Of course she hadn't told me what she'd felt - I'd have told her she was nuts. I watch her, my mind working. This, as much as the dreams, was what she couldn't tell me. She was right not to - I wouldn't have listened.
I'm almost ready to now, though.
"You gotta explain this a little better, Monica. I'm a bit adrift here." I gesture and she moves into the alley between the two beds. She sits facing me on the bed opposite, slightly to my right, her knee almost touching mine. The part she's talking about where the women are evil I can investigate, but I still don't get where Monica fits in and why she thinks the murderer is out to get her.
She leans forward and answers my question before I have to ask it. "That would explain why he's interested in me: he's gathering power. He murdered the other women because he knew they'd accumulated strength through ritual murder themselves. I'm on his hit list because of what I can do and the energy he could obtain from that. He's been keeping an eye on the investigation somehow, knows who's working on it and knows that I have the ability to sense things. He wants to benefit from that."
I guess she can tell by looking at me I don't know what the hell she's talking about.
"My ability to 'feel' things is a sort of power, John," she explains patiently. "There's psychic energy involved in it. He knows I have that ability, and knows he can gain that energy through my death."
"How does he know that?"
"I don't know. Perhaps he's been watching the investigation. Perhaps he-" She stops abruptly. I can tell the 'perhaps he-' thing was on its way to some sort of explanation of the occult that she doesn't think I'm ready for. Maybe she's right, I dunno. Weakly, she finishes, "There are many ways he could seek and obtain the information he wants."
"Okay," I say, "so he knows through means unknown. He has to kill to gain the power he wants?"
"Of course not. There are many ways of increasing whatever powers you've been born with. Most learn to do so through focussing, practice, and channelling natural energies. You can also do what I think the murderer is doing: you can kill and steal your victim's experience and energies by capturing its essence as they die. The rituals are very complicated and extremely dangerous, but it is possible."
I'm still trying to catch up. Monica's never been too shy about talking about 'feelings' and things, but she's never talked about this sort of stuff before. At this point, though, I'm game for almost anything. "The more psychic energy a person has, the more you acquire when you kill them?"
"If you know how to tap that energy before it returns into the universe, yes," she says. "If I'm right, he's been acquiring power at an incredible rate. Somehow, he discovered what those women were doing and decided murder was an easy way to accrue what they'd gained without the work. He must have strong natural abilities and a lot of knowledge, or he wouldn't be able to control it."
I greet her words with silence. I'm out of my league. It all sounds too weird to me. A whole bunch of women, working independently, all witches, or whatever, and all committing murder to increase their powers? Like no one would notice this after a while? I shake my head. None of this sounds as though it could possibly have any basis in reality, and yet it doesn't feel wrong. It thinks wrong, yeah, but it somehow seems to click things into place. And like I said, gut instinct goes a long way in this business. Still, it's about as crazy as I can imagine anything getting.
Monica looks at me, then reaches over and touches my knee. "You're not crazy for considering this, John. It's real. We just have to figure out how to fight it."
I feel something akin to an electric shock course through me from her touch. Fighting the urge to place my hand over hers, I look her in the eyes. A premonition of danger trickles a cold finger down my spine. Things are going to get worse before they get better, and if this is all real, I don't know what the hell needs to be done to protect her or anyone else from this sort of shit.
"I don't want you out of my sight until this guy's put away."
She smiles and rises, her movement stirring the air. A chill skitters across my skin.
Chapter 8
It's been two days since our talk at the motel, and we've spent most of our time since then still sitting in our dingy little borrowed office in the New Orleans Police building, going over the computer files of unsolved cases we've decided match the murders in our dreams. I've taken a couple forays out into the real world, looking for real facts, but I'm always drawn back to Monica and her search. Two of the murders we've found took place in New York, but most of the others that fit our dream scenarios have taken place in the general area of New Orleans. I'm convinced now the man's a local, and yes, I'm pretty much convinced I have to let Monica run with this one. There's stuff I don't understand that makes perfectly good sense to her, and I sure haven't come up with any sensible explanation to anything.
"Showing these to Kelly will probably help," Monica says, referring to the pile of pictures and information we've brought back to the hotel with us.
I try to squelch the distaste I feel at Monica's faith in her friend.
"Why?"
"Because she knows more than I do about some things. She's also knows what's going on these days in the occult scene here. She knows who goes where, who's with who, who's into what. Perhaps she'll recognise some of these women if I show her the photos."
"What? She doesn't get the newspaper? All the victims have had their photos plastered all over the place."
"Yes, but I want to show them to her all at one time - and I want her to see the photos of the unsolved murders we think the victims may have committed, too. She may be able to pick something out, remember something..."
Her voice trails off. She can tell I'm not enthusiastic about the idea.
When she speaks again though, her voice is determined. "John, I know you don't care for her, but she can help."
"I thought you were the one with the 'abilities'."
"I am, but she's..." She pauses a moment, then shrugs. "She's special. And I haven't been here the past year. She has. She knows what's happening on both sides of the fence."
"What?"
"She knows what's happening in the 'real' world and what's happening in the underground occult world, too."
"You mean what's going on in places like the Talisman?" It's a leap I'm kinda proud of, but now that I know what I know about Kelly, I figure with a name like that it just might be a gathering place for strange people interested in weird things.
She nods. "She might know something she doesn't realise she knows until we prod her memory."
Finally, I nod. Yeah, we're desperate. If Kelly can help, why not?
"I'm going with you." That's my fear speaking for me. I've been very careful not to let Monica out of my sight: that icy premonition of doom hasn't left me, and I'm payin' close attention to it.
"You don't have to. I know you don't like her, so it'd be torture for you. It's only a few blocks away - I can get there myself, John."
She's right, but that doesn't make any difference at all. "Yes, on all counts," I agree, "but I told you: I'm not letting you out of my sight."
The phone rings. Without responding to my comment, Monica reaches over and picks up the receiver. She smiles when she recognises the voice on the other end.
"I'm on my way. Just give me a few minutes to change, okay?" She hangs up and turns towards me.
"That was Kelly. She wants to know if I can come over a little earlier. She has plans for later on."
Suspicion raises it ugly head. There's something about the thought of Monica going over to see her friend I don't like. I search my mind trying to figure out why, but only come up with the usual suspicions about Kelly herself. What do I really know about her, anyway? If she's into all that occult stuff shit, how do I know she doesn't have something to do with the murders herself? She's awful interested in our investigation, and there's nothin' to say that these murders had to have been committed by a man. We've been using the term 'he', but that doesn't mean anything. And Kelly has known for a long time that Monica 'feels' things. Maybe she's been targeting Monica all along...
"John?"
I jump. "Yeah?"
"What's wrong?"
Like I'm gonna tell her. She'd have my head and call me crazy. No, this is something I've gotta run with by myself for a while.
"I'm going to Kelly's with you." When she starts to object, I'm quick to say, "You have a point about her maybe knowing things we don't. I wouldn't mind hearing about what's going on in the New Orleans scene, and I guess it wouldn't hurt for me to learn something about the witch and hocus pocus stuff - if she's willing to talk about it."
Monica looks at me with well drawn scepticism. There's no way she can object to my going now, but she's sure got doubts about the sincerity of my reasons.
"And your attitude has taken a complete about face because...?"
"Must be something in the air," I say. "Let's get ready to go."
She stands up, deciding it's not worth the battle to get me to talk. "I want to change," she says, "and I need my purse. I'll be back in a couple minutes."
The thought crosses my mind to go with her, but she's in the connecting room and I don't want to look like a complete idiot about this. She goes through the door and closes it. I suffer through an impulse to get up and open the door, but hell, she's entitled to a little privacy if she's changing. I sit down with a couple files to wait.
I can't shake the feeling of impending doom, though. After about five minutes, I knock on her door.
There's no answer.
I don't tap again. Quickly turning the handle, I go in.
No Monica in sight.
Christ.
A million thoughts flash through my mind... Kelly calling from the lobby... Kelly showing up at the door and saying 'let's drop the dude' and Monica laughingly taking off towards her doom without me... Kelly showing up, maybe with an accomplice, and overpowering her somehow, forcing her to leave quietly...
I stride across the floor to the door leading to the hallway. Pulling it open, I look both ways down the corridor. Nothing. I listen, catching my breath. Sure that I hear something to the left, I flip the cover off my holster and race down the hall.
End New Orleans Part 3
Chapter 7
He's planning to kill her. The words ricochet around inside my head. Jesus. It's bad enough we're after a serial killer, but to be chasing one who's out to get one of us... Jesus...
"Why you?" I ask, trying to shut down an unusual sense of panic. "How the hell does he even know you? None of this makes sense."
She looks uneasy, but doesn't respond to my outburst. Instead, she offers, "If I'm a target, I can be used to draw him out."
Across my mind flashes the memory of a woman lying face down on a cemented floor, one bloodied hand outstretched.
No.
She's not gonna put herself at risk. I won't let her.
Standing up, I start to pace the floor. "You can't be his next target. How can he possibly know you? And why choose you? God, you're FBI. How on Earth does he think he can try to kill you without gettin' caught? It's crazy. The dreams...." My voice trails off as I realise that for a moment at least, I'd fallen hook, line, and sinker into actually believing dreams had some bearing on the case. Mentally, I reach out and grasp reality, shaking my head as I do so. I must be losin' it.
She smiles a little, though it doesn't completely erase the worry from her face. "I was wondering when you'd realise what you were contemplating." Her face turns serious again. "But whether you like it or not, John, this is real. The dreams are important. We've got to pay attention to them. I need time to mull things over, but now that I know we're both having them, I'm sure I'll be able to make some sense out of everything. We're on the right track with this."
She might think she's on the right track, but I can feel myself wanting to get off it in a big hurry. A little sanity just about now would be real welcome. We'll get this guy, but to think we can solve a murder or prevent one from happening because of a few dreams... well, that's a little nuts. And I'm not using Monica as a sacrificial lamb to catch him, no way. That ain't in no game plan of mine and never will be, so she can just toss that little baby out with the bath water.
As usual, she goddam knows somehow what I'm thinking because she says, "John, don't toss the idea aside. If he's focussed on me, we may be able to draw him out a bit, gain time to figure out who he is."
I sit down again, trying to cover my disquiet.
She sits, staring at her hands, giving both of us needed time and space to think. It's mumbo jumbo, it's psychic crapola, but there's still that crazy little voice inside me insisting there's something to what she says. Our both having dreams about the women we've found dead committing murder themselves is maybe too much of a coincidence not to look into.
I glance over at her, my unease growing. Monica believes she's been threatened. Threatened in a dream that the killer is after her. Why her? What's she got to do with any of this?
Meeting my gaze, she says, "We've got to take a look at the records for unsolved murders with the same MO's as the ones in our dreams."
I look at her, not understanding.
"We know the women we've found murdered weren't killed the way that we saw the women in our dreams commit theirs," she explains patiently. "Ergo, they're different murders. I mean, we're not seeing the women re-enacting their own murders. These are something completely different. We've got to find out if they really happened."
"And if they have?"
"And if they have, then we've got a motive for their murders - revenge, perhaps. Someone knows they've murdered and wants to see them pay."
I shake my head. "They're too spread out. No one person could possibly be aware of several murders committed by several women in two different parts of the country. It's just too much of a coincidence."
Monica shrugs. "All I know is that the murdered women aren't tied together in any other way that we've been able to discover. I think the reason we can't find the connection is that they spent a lot of energy seeing to it that no one could. Kelly was right - the link between them is that they've all kept something important hidden - namely, the murders they committed and the reason they committed them. I can't explain how one person knows about all the murders, but I'm sure we'll discover that at some point."
I try not to grimace at the mention of 'Kelly' and 'was right' in the same sentence. Still concentrating on the idea of keeping Monica out of harm's way, I say, "We should get you outta New Orleans."
"Why?"
"Because he's here and you're here, and a threat's been made."
She looks at me with surprise and something else I can't quite define. "I don't think leaving is the answer. Some things you can't run away from: they just follow you until they catch up. Besides, I thought you didn't take the dreams seriously, John."
What can I say? I know that I'm not reacting to any of this in a very logical manner. I'm like a bloody yoyo, believing one minute, appalled at the insanity of it all the next. It's crazy for me to be worried about a warning my partner believes she received in a dream. I'm falling into this mumbo jumbo stuff way too easy. Maybe I should be the one leaving - to somewhere nice and quiet with soft, padded walls. Still, I look over at her and can't help but feel uneasy. I can't let anything happen to her, I can't.
I rise and begin to pace again. I'm not sure how long we remain locked in our own thoughts before I hear her say, "Oh, God..."
Stopping, I turn and look at her. She's suddenly gone pale, her eyes huge and filled with a fear I've never seen before. "What?"
"What if they were all seeking more power for themselves?" she asks in a quiet voice.
I can tell this isn't really a question - she's decided it's the answer. Another one of her leaps. I turn to look at her dead on. "What do you mean?"
"John, if they had anything to do with the occult...it's all about power. Power asked for or power demanded. That's their connection. If they..." Her voice drifts off and furrows form between her eyebrows as she stops to think things through. She's tense, though whether from anticipation or worry, I don't know. Speaking rapidly, she finally continues: "It would explain the darkness I feel surrounding these murders - and the evil I sense surrounding the women and their possessions. I've been having trouble thinking of them as victims; now I know why. It all makes sense: they're victims, but they started out on the other end. They've committed terrible acts, too."
"Who?"
"The victims. They're murderers. They have to be."
She's going too fast for me. "Why would they have to be?"
"To obtain the power they were seeking. That explains everything..."
She stands and starts to pace around the room. To get out of the way, I move between the two beds and sit down on one of them.
Moving her hands expressively, she says, "John, the morning I spent in the evidence room told me one thing: these women all had evil ingrained into their possessions. I thought it must be residue left from the man who'd killed them, but it wasn't." She stops and looks at me. "They were evil themselves."
That explains her strange behaviour in the evidence room. Of course she hadn't told me what she'd felt - I'd have told her she was nuts. I watch her, my mind working. This, as much as the dreams, was what she couldn't tell me. She was right not to - I wouldn't have listened.
I'm almost ready to now, though.
"You gotta explain this a little better, Monica. I'm a bit adrift here." I gesture and she moves into the alley between the two beds. She sits facing me on the bed opposite, slightly to my right, her knee almost touching mine. The part she's talking about where the women are evil I can investigate, but I still don't get where Monica fits in and why she thinks the murderer is out to get her.
She leans forward and answers my question before I have to ask it. "That would explain why he's interested in me: he's gathering power. He murdered the other women because he knew they'd accumulated strength through ritual murder themselves. I'm on his hit list because of what I can do and the energy he could obtain from that. He's been keeping an eye on the investigation somehow, knows who's working on it and knows that I have the ability to sense things. He wants to benefit from that."
I guess she can tell by looking at me I don't know what the hell she's talking about.
"My ability to 'feel' things is a sort of power, John," she explains patiently. "There's psychic energy involved in it. He knows I have that ability, and knows he can gain that energy through my death."
"How does he know that?"
"I don't know. Perhaps he's been watching the investigation. Perhaps he-" She stops abruptly. I can tell the 'perhaps he-' thing was on its way to some sort of explanation of the occult that she doesn't think I'm ready for. Maybe she's right, I dunno. Weakly, she finishes, "There are many ways he could seek and obtain the information he wants."
"Okay," I say, "so he knows through means unknown. He has to kill to gain the power he wants?"
"Of course not. There are many ways of increasing whatever powers you've been born with. Most learn to do so through focussing, practice, and channelling natural energies. You can also do what I think the murderer is doing: you can kill and steal your victim's experience and energies by capturing its essence as they die. The rituals are very complicated and extremely dangerous, but it is possible."
I'm still trying to catch up. Monica's never been too shy about talking about 'feelings' and things, but she's never talked about this sort of stuff before. At this point, though, I'm game for almost anything. "The more psychic energy a person has, the more you acquire when you kill them?"
"If you know how to tap that energy before it returns into the universe, yes," she says. "If I'm right, he's been acquiring power at an incredible rate. Somehow, he discovered what those women were doing and decided murder was an easy way to accrue what they'd gained without the work. He must have strong natural abilities and a lot of knowledge, or he wouldn't be able to control it."
I greet her words with silence. I'm out of my league. It all sounds too weird to me. A whole bunch of women, working independently, all witches, or whatever, and all committing murder to increase their powers? Like no one would notice this after a while? I shake my head. None of this sounds as though it could possibly have any basis in reality, and yet it doesn't feel wrong. It thinks wrong, yeah, but it somehow seems to click things into place. And like I said, gut instinct goes a long way in this business. Still, it's about as crazy as I can imagine anything getting.
Monica looks at me, then reaches over and touches my knee. "You're not crazy for considering this, John. It's real. We just have to figure out how to fight it."
I feel something akin to an electric shock course through me from her touch. Fighting the urge to place my hand over hers, I look her in the eyes. A premonition of danger trickles a cold finger down my spine. Things are going to get worse before they get better, and if this is all real, I don't know what the hell needs to be done to protect her or anyone else from this sort of shit.
"I don't want you out of my sight until this guy's put away."
She smiles and rises, her movement stirring the air. A chill skitters across my skin.
Chapter 8
It's been two days since our talk at the motel, and we've spent most of our time since then still sitting in our dingy little borrowed office in the New Orleans Police building, going over the computer files of unsolved cases we've decided match the murders in our dreams. I've taken a couple forays out into the real world, looking for real facts, but I'm always drawn back to Monica and her search. Two of the murders we've found took place in New York, but most of the others that fit our dream scenarios have taken place in the general area of New Orleans. I'm convinced now the man's a local, and yes, I'm pretty much convinced I have to let Monica run with this one. There's stuff I don't understand that makes perfectly good sense to her, and I sure haven't come up with any sensible explanation to anything.
"Showing these to Kelly will probably help," Monica says, referring to the pile of pictures and information we've brought back to the hotel with us.
I try to squelch the distaste I feel at Monica's faith in her friend.
"Why?"
"Because she knows more than I do about some things. She's also knows what's going on these days in the occult scene here. She knows who goes where, who's with who, who's into what. Perhaps she'll recognise some of these women if I show her the photos."
"What? She doesn't get the newspaper? All the victims have had their photos plastered all over the place."
"Yes, but I want to show them to her all at one time - and I want her to see the photos of the unsolved murders we think the victims may have committed, too. She may be able to pick something out, remember something..."
Her voice trails off. She can tell I'm not enthusiastic about the idea.
When she speaks again though, her voice is determined. "John, I know you don't care for her, but she can help."
"I thought you were the one with the 'abilities'."
"I am, but she's..." She pauses a moment, then shrugs. "She's special. And I haven't been here the past year. She has. She knows what's happening on both sides of the fence."
"What?"
"She knows what's happening in the 'real' world and what's happening in the underground occult world, too."
"You mean what's going on in places like the Talisman?" It's a leap I'm kinda proud of, but now that I know what I know about Kelly, I figure with a name like that it just might be a gathering place for strange people interested in weird things.
She nods. "She might know something she doesn't realise she knows until we prod her memory."
Finally, I nod. Yeah, we're desperate. If Kelly can help, why not?
"I'm going with you." That's my fear speaking for me. I've been very careful not to let Monica out of my sight: that icy premonition of doom hasn't left me, and I'm payin' close attention to it.
"You don't have to. I know you don't like her, so it'd be torture for you. It's only a few blocks away - I can get there myself, John."
She's right, but that doesn't make any difference at all. "Yes, on all counts," I agree, "but I told you: I'm not letting you out of my sight."
The phone rings. Without responding to my comment, Monica reaches over and picks up the receiver. She smiles when she recognises the voice on the other end.
"I'm on my way. Just give me a few minutes to change, okay?" She hangs up and turns towards me.
"That was Kelly. She wants to know if I can come over a little earlier. She has plans for later on."
Suspicion raises it ugly head. There's something about the thought of Monica going over to see her friend I don't like. I search my mind trying to figure out why, but only come up with the usual suspicions about Kelly herself. What do I really know about her, anyway? If she's into all that occult stuff shit, how do I know she doesn't have something to do with the murders herself? She's awful interested in our investigation, and there's nothin' to say that these murders had to have been committed by a man. We've been using the term 'he', but that doesn't mean anything. And Kelly has known for a long time that Monica 'feels' things. Maybe she's been targeting Monica all along...
"John?"
I jump. "Yeah?"
"What's wrong?"
Like I'm gonna tell her. She'd have my head and call me crazy. No, this is something I've gotta run with by myself for a while.
"I'm going to Kelly's with you." When she starts to object, I'm quick to say, "You have a point about her maybe knowing things we don't. I wouldn't mind hearing about what's going on in the New Orleans scene, and I guess it wouldn't hurt for me to learn something about the witch and hocus pocus stuff - if she's willing to talk about it."
Monica looks at me with well drawn scepticism. There's no way she can object to my going now, but she's sure got doubts about the sincerity of my reasons.
"And your attitude has taken a complete about face because...?"
"Must be something in the air," I say. "Let's get ready to go."
She stands up, deciding it's not worth the battle to get me to talk. "I want to change," she says, "and I need my purse. I'll be back in a couple minutes."
The thought crosses my mind to go with her, but she's in the connecting room and I don't want to look like a complete idiot about this. She goes through the door and closes it. I suffer through an impulse to get up and open the door, but hell, she's entitled to a little privacy if she's changing. I sit down with a couple files to wait.
I can't shake the feeling of impending doom, though. After about five minutes, I knock on her door.
There's no answer.
I don't tap again. Quickly turning the handle, I go in.
No Monica in sight.
Christ.
A million thoughts flash through my mind... Kelly calling from the lobby... Kelly showing up at the door and saying 'let's drop the dude' and Monica laughingly taking off towards her doom without me... Kelly showing up, maybe with an accomplice, and overpowering her somehow, forcing her to leave quietly...
I stride across the floor to the door leading to the hallway. Pulling it open, I look both ways down the corridor. Nothing. I listen, catching my breath. Sure that I hear something to the left, I flip the cover off my holster and race down the hall.
End New Orleans Part 3