“Everything needs to be considered at this point.”
“Any viable reason to assume it?”
“Any reason you’re immediately doubting it?”
“I’m not challenging you. Just asking the questions.”
I stared at him for a moment, not liking what I was seeing. One of his own had been slain, but I didn’t see thatfight, that hunt to find the killer, behind his eyes. Was it because his thoughts were at home with his pregnant wife and pending family? Regardless, Colson didn’t seem focused, and I didn’t like that. Baby on the way or not, Seagrave’s investigation deserved the full backing of the BSPD, and I felt like I was only getting half from Colson.
“God, I hate this case.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Okay. Let’s go over this again. Start from the beginning of the night Seagrave was murdered. The Black Bandit breaks into Mystic Maven’s Art Shop to steal the third Cedonia Scroll?—”
“Fourth.”
“Fourth?”
“Fourth. There are four scrolls total. All four were stolen together, a year ago, then sold off. The first three were recovered within days of being stolen. Two in New Orleans, one in Houston. The fourth just turned up here in Berry Springs.”
“The initial report said there were only three Cedonia scrolls.”
“The initial report was wrong. There are four.”
“Does the fourth show a picture of a location around here, like the others?”
I nodded and took a quick sip of coffee. It felt good to be talking about the case with someone other than the mice in my apartment.
“The image of Otter Lake is on one, Shadow River on another, White Rock cliff on the third, and brace yourself, my friend”—I shot him a look—“The fourth shows the Voodoo Tree in the park. Sans the voodoo shit, of course.”
Colson’s eyebrows popped. “No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Okay, now I know why you’re interested in the tree. Buthow’d you find out about the fourth scroll? I had, like, three people looking into it.”
“Investigating, Colson. You should try it. Yourself.”
He ignored the jab. “Was the fourth scroll sold after it was stolen, like the others?”
“Yep. For six figures.”
“Six figures?”
“Yep. It sold for the most of the group. All four scrolls sold for about four hundred thousand total. The underground black market for stolen art is a world-wide, billion-dollar industry. In case you didn’t know.”
“I’m in the wrong industry.”
“You’re on the right side of the law.” I sipped again. “The FBI has an entire unit of agents trained to recover high-value art, not to mention dozens of agencies in the private sector. Art investigators, they’re called. Thing is, stolen art moves quickly, which makes it tough to trace. The Cedonia Scrolls have been stolen and recovered three separate times over the last few decades, making them even more valuable in the black market.”
“That, and the fact that they’re said to be cursed. What idiots wouldwantto be cursed? Let alone kill a cop for one?”
5
JAGG
Colson obviously hadn’t spent the last seventy-two hours of his life researching the dark underworld of supernatural powers. The moment I began researching the infamous Cedonia Scrolls, two things surprised me. One was how little information there was on them, and two, the massive cult that worshiped them.
The legend went something like this: In 1968, a group of hikers found four scrolls locked in a chest, hidden deep in a cave just outside Berry Springs. The scrolls were constructed of leather sheets sewn together and wound on two wooden rollers. Using punched designs in the leather, each scroll depicted a different location around Berry Springs. Although there’s no record of the scrolls being professionally appraised, they’re assumed to be from the seventeenth century. According to the Wiccan websites I’d studied, the location on each scroll signifies a monumental ceremony held by the famous witch, Cedonia, where she raised demons from the earth.
The hikers who found the scrolls died two weeks later—one from a rare virus, and the other, a tumble off a cliff. Andso began the rumor that the scrolls were cursed and all those who touched them were doomed.
