“And if napalm hits them tonight, you’ll lose them all over again,” Ezra reminded her.
“Fine,” she snapped. She waved her hand at my face. “You guys investigate Carol, and Nora can do her thing. Just solve this matter quickly and quietly. No muss. No fuss.”
I arched my brow at Shawn. He shook his head. I guessed Allison Green was the chief tonight. Oh well, she wasn’t saying anything Shawn wouldn’t.
“I’ll call Judge Watson and have him sign a warrant,” Shawn said. “The sooner we can search Carol’s place, the sooner we might know what the hell is happening.” He clapped his hands. “Four hours until dark, people. Chop chop.” As we were leaving his office, I heard him say, “Mayor Green, this is my command. While I serve at your pleasure, I don’t run my police force at your pleasure. If you don’t like the job I’m doing, fire me. Otherwise, I’ll be the one running my officers the way I see fit. Are we clear?”
I half expected the mayor to argue. Instead, she said, “Clear. It won’t happen again, Chief Rafferty.”
Good for Shawn. I was glad he stood up for himself. He wouldn’t have been an effective chief if he hadn’t.
Out in the bullpen, Broyles was on the phone, and Reese was at her desk reading some kind of flyer.
“Hey.” She waved it at me. “The raft race starts at five. In those homemade pieces of junk, it will take several hours for most of the contestants to go three miles to the dam and back. A lot of them won’t finish.”
“Okay.” I was sure there was a point. “And?”
“They’re set to shoot fireworks off at five after nine when the King or Queen of the Lake is crowned.” She shrugged. “The sky will be lit up like the Fourth of July.”
“The race is on could be a reference to the raft race.” Although I’d seen paint dry faster than these handmade floats could move.
“Wait, what? It can’t be the raft race,” Ezra said, alarm in his voice. “Mason and Ari are competing. They’ve been working on their float at my cabin all week.”
“We have to get them off the water,” I told Ezra, though I wasn’t sure why. If the bad stuff wasn’t going to happen until the fireworks went off, they’d be safe, right? “It’s not logical, but I can’t focus if I’m worried about them.” I needed to know the people I loved were safe. “Gilly,” I said. “She and Scott are probably there. I’ll text her and see.”
I tapped an SOS into the text box and sent it. That was our never-ignore code. Even if she was in the throes of passion, she would immediately text me back. That was the definition of never-ignore.
“We have to figure out who Carol’s accomplice is.” Ezra’s voice was strained. “If we find him, we can stop him, and then everyone will be safe.”
I nodded. “Yes, yes. That’s what we need to do.”
“Got the warrant,” Broyles said. He gave Ezra a studied look. “I can take Nora to the Billingsly house to do her thing if you and Reese want to go to the lake and find your kid.”
I nodded to Ezra. “I’ll call the minute I see anything that can help.”
“And if I get any non-mystical clues, I’ll call,” Broyles said.
“Okay,” Ezra agreed, his voice tight with strain. “I don’t like splitting up, but I agree it’s best for now.”
I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He embraced me back. “We’ll find the Scent Stalker, and the kids will be safe. Everyone will be safe.” I hoped my words were a promise from the universe and not pie-in-the-sky wishful thinking.
* * *
Carol Billingsly’sfront door creaked open like a spooky invitation. The colonial ranch-style home she lived in had an air of neglected elegance, the original molding on the walls hinted at its former glory. Carol was behind bars, thankfully, but her final words echoed in my mind.You’ll burn, they’ll burn, everyone will burn. You’ll all burn in hell.
We had to find her partner before it was too late. Broyles handed me booties for my shoes and evidence bags before handing me a pair of gloves. He shook his head as I slipped the booties over my Gucci shoes. “This has to be the fanciest outfit I’ve ever seen any cop wear during a search.”
“Not a cop,” I said, then easily put the large-sized gloves on.
He chuckled. “I guess not. Don’t touch anything that looks wet,” he cautioned. “Let me check it first to make sure it won’t eat through your gloves.”
“I’ll happily be guided by you,” I assured him. I remembered Levi’s blistered palms from the nitric acid. I didn’t want any of that.
Broyles took the lead as we made our way through the house. I took a deep breath, letting the mingled scents of old wood, coffee, and a faint hint of lavender fill my senses. The living room had a contrasting mix of history and modernity. The furniture was sleek and contemporary, a stark difference to the intricate, timeworn moldings that framed the room. I ran my fingers along the smooth leather of the sofa.
The coffee table was cluttered with copies of the Garden Cove Gazette. Their headlines were stories of political scandals and community events. Carol’s work, her life, sprawled out in ink and paper. I picked up the top issue, the one that carried the anonymous letter she’d written about me. The sharp smell of fresh print mixed with the room’s mustiness. I got a vision of Carol, giddy, as she read the letter out loud as if it were her victory speech.
Holy cow, Carol seriously hated me. And now that I knew why, I felt pity for the woman who never grew up or learned to take responsibility for her own choices. I was sure she’d spent her whole life lamenting all the bad things that happened to her, all the while never taking steps to make good things happen. What a pathetic waste. However, she’d now crossed a line and was going to have to pay.
