Lily had had to call headquarters and get them to start over. With luck, though, the expanded list would be waiting for her when she booted up.
Narrowing that list was going to be a lot harder. “Get the name,” Cynna had said. She was trying.
They had no criteria for eliminating any of the male decedents over that three-day period, so they had to go after the human end, the practitioner who’d created the wraith. That practitioner, according to this Baron spirit, was a medium. A woman.
Next step, then, was hunting a medium among all the people who’d had contact with one of the deceased at or near the time of death. That was going to take a while. Lily could tell by touch if someone was a medium. Cullen could see a person’s magic, but couldn’t always tell what their Gift was. Sometimes, yes, but not always. This morning on her run, she’d figured out how to use him anyway.
And the press would help.
She got to her temporary field office at 7:10, booted up her laptop, and got to work. The list was there—and hallelujah, it was sortable. It made sense to start with the deaths on the day of the Turning and those in or very near Halo.
When Brown—the older, grumpier Brown—arrived at seven thirty with Jacobs—white, male, ten years with the Bureau, seldom spoke—she had a lot of white thumbtacks stuck into the map they’d pinned to the wall. That map already had red and green pins in it, showing where dead animals had been found.
The dead animals were noticeably clustered on the west side of town.
“Whatcha got?” Brown asked, sipping from an oversize foam cup of coffee.
“The list of deaths. We’ve got more animal deaths on the west side of town.” She gestured at the map. “We’ll focus on deaths on that side first.”
“Hospital’s on the west side.”
Which meant it included the majority of deaths. “We’ll need to check hospital personnel anyway. Here’s the plan. You know we’re looking for a medium, which means we’re looking for a woman.”
Brown grunted. Jacobs actually spoke. “Problem is, you’re the only one can tell.”
“That’s right. And I can’t testify about what I learn, but we’ll jump that hurdle later. For now we just need to find her.”
“You’re buying all that voodoo stuff?” Brown said.
“I trust the agent who collected the information, so—yes. We’ll assume for now it’s accurate, so we’re looking for a woman who had access to the body. She needed blood for the spell. Brown, you’ll divvy up the list of decedents and make the assignments. I want to know everyone who had access to these people just before, after, or when they died.”
“Male and female both?”
“Yeah, get both. We’ll look at females first, but we might need the others as witsnesses. I’ll be visiting funeral homes and the hospital.”
Brown nodded glumly. “Better look at paramedics, too. Ambulance drivers. Cops.”
He caught on quick. Emergency personnel, like hospital workers and morticians, had plenty of access to the dying and the dead. “Good point.” She grinned. “Careful, Brown. I might start liking you.”
He managed to control his enthusiasm.
“When you’re divvying up the deaths to investigate, leave yourself out. I’m going to give a press conference.”
“Shit. You’re not asking me to—”
“No, I’ll talk to the reporters. Locals only, emphasis on TV and radio. I’ll ask that anyone who knows someone who died on the day of the Turning come to the sheriff’s office and speak with us. You’ll interview those who turn up. You and Seabourne.”
Now he looked horrified. “You’re pairing me with that—that—”
“I am. You’ll take names and addresses, relationship to the deceased, and ask who else was around at the pertinent period. He’ll spot any who have Gifts. He may be able to tell if one is a medium.”
“Somehow I don’t think our perp will trot herself down here to chat.”
“If she doesn’t, we’ll still have more information than we do now. We’ll be able to cross off some of those connected to the deaths on our list because they lack Gifts.”
He sighed heavily. “Putting her on notice, are you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Might shake her up a bit.” She grinned at him, her blood fizzing. She had a line on the human perp now, and a way of hauling in that line. It was just a matter of time.
THE next two and a half days were as frustrating as any Lily could remember. The high point hit Saturday afternoon when she found a medium who worked for one of the mortuaries. Sandy Kaufman dressed the hair of the dead and she was very, very blond—in every sense of the word. Her lights were several bulbs short of a string, in Lily’s opinion—but she was a fairly strong medium.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t dressed the hair of any of the dead from the Turning. She’d been in Hawaii, basking on the beach with her boyfriend, her mother, her mother’s boyfriend, and her mother’s boyfriend’s mother.
Lily heard from Dr. Alderson on Sunday. The rats they’d fed the contaminated meat to were doing fine. No detectable brain damage.
On Monday at four thirty she was alone in the conference room. In the last three days she’d checked out every person who worked at the town’s two mortuaries and all but two of the EMTs, paramedics, and ambulance drivers; those two were on vacation out of the state. She was about a third of the way through the hospital personnel who might have had contact with any of the dead.
In addition, seventy-two people had come forward in response to her press conference. Cullen had spotted four Gifted women, three of whom Lily would need to check. The fourth had an obvious Fire Gift, he said.
Takes one to know one, she supposed.
It was a good thing she was patient. You had to be, if you worked in law enforcement. There was so damned much waiting involved, so many wrong turns, dead ends, false trails. They had the names and locations of 181 graves that might or might not hold the remains of one of the scattered dead. They did not have permission to pour salt on those graves.
Judges were not known for consulting with spirits. They were also not keen on anything that smacked of the desecration of graves. The U.S. attorney Lily had contacted had passed the job to an assistant, who’d been dragging his feet. Lily couldn’t really blame him, but she’d sicced Ruben’s secretary, Ida, on him anyway. No one withstood Ida for long.
At the moment she was going over the reports on Hodge and Meacham one more time while she waited for her phone to ring. Rule, Alicia, Toby, and Louise should be in the judge’s chambers by now, with their attendant lawyers.
Lily had offered to go, in spite of the case; Rule told her she wouldn’t be needed. This meeting with the judge was a formality. He and Alicia had already drawn up and signed a custody agreement giving Rule sole custody of his son. The judge simply had to approve it.
She hoped he was right. Of course he was right. There was no reason to deny the change of custody other than the most blatant prejudice against lupi, and judges were generally sensible, levelheaded people.
Except for the few who were complete bobble-heads. She’d run into a few so persuaded of their judicial invincibility—and for so little reason—that they’d rule against Mother Teresa if they were in the mood . . .
Focus, she told herself, and returned to her reading.