He placed his hands on his keyboard and attempted to start his report.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LINDA
We’re deeply saddened to report that Jeremiah Samuelson passed away in his sleep yesterday evening at approximately eight thirty-five p.m. We’re still unable to determine the cause of death, but we believe Mr. Samuelson was at peace when…”
A bleary-eyed Linda stared at the television in her office. Not the morning news she wanted to digest. The pasty CDC doc was trying his best to keep it together, but his face said it all. That he’d seen just how horrible Samuelson’s death really was. Linda didn’t need Elton’s intel from last night to figure that out.
This isn’t your fault…The words ran repeatedly through her mind as she flipped through news channels. Words that did nothing to ease the guilt she felt over letting the pastor down. She hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night, wasn’t sure she deserved to sleep again until she cracked the case. The smell of his blistering, burning skin was still with her, as if he was haunting the agency.
All stations were covering Samuelson’s death, regardless of what they typically aired. Some platforms featured pundits who lamented the lack of a unified response from Congress while others called out the presidentfor extending his trip overseas and refusing to set foot in the capital. “A clear act of moral cowardice,” one enraged talking head declared.
But most were focusing on the human element of the tragedy. AnMCURY Livereporter was at Ebenezer Memorial among a throng of congregants who’d made it their business to pay their respects to their associate pastor in person. People seemed calm, but now that they knew a demon eye’s condition could lead to death? Things would get ugly fast. Linda had become even more of a hermit, dealing with some of her agency cases here and there but mostly studying the files she’d created of the Afflicted. When she did go outside, the streets were eerily quiet. Clients weren’t reaching out. Folks were figuring out next moves.
She said a short prayer and once again asked Elegua to guide Jeremiah to whatever afterlife awaited him. She would light a diya for him at night. The man whom she’d met days ago was confused, hurt, in pain… a kind, gentle human being from what everyone said. He didn’t deserve to die the way he had.
She called up the latest roster of the Afflicted that Elton had sent her via their encrypted server. His office had far more sophisticated equipment than she did, had looked up the names in registries and databases she didn’t have access to. That was fine. Linda still wanted access to the names, to see if there were any links she could discern with her own specially curated network. She perused the list on her screen and was startled.
The name… Charvi Tompkins… Actually, two names as she rescanned the list… Charvi Tompkins, Juno Myers… Both people she recognized from Nueva Investigations’ client roster.
“Huh.”
Was it a coincidence? The names weren’t super common, but DC was a cosmopolitan place. Wasn’t impossible that the city would have people with these sort of identical names floating around, though it felt like a stretch. She brought up the full list of clients whom she’d ever donebusiness with, thankful for Maxine’s insistence that certain things at Nueva Investigations had to be digitized despite her boss’s insistence on discretion, that they weren’t living in the “godforsaken Victorian Era.” Linda cross-referenced the list Elton had sent her with her full database of clients in a special search and found that five names came up. Albert Praya, who she’d remembered from a few days ago, Charvi, Juno, and two additional names.
Five of Linda’s former clients were now demon eyes. She took a deep breath. What were the odds that five victims would somehow be connected to her agency?
A rock hit her gut, made her feel like she was going to sink into her chair and disappear. Something was off.
She remembered Albert, Charvi, Juno… but the other two didn’t ring a bell. She’d had so many clients over the years that she couldn’t remember who everyone was, even with her keen sense of visual details. Her Broken Hearts took priority in the file cabinet of her mind over her paying, non-mystical clients. The realization left her momentarily ashamed.
Linda sent a quick email, pulled out her phone, and video called Maxine, who’d been working from home ever since she ran into a demon eye on the street, keeping her daughter home from school as well. Linda wondered yet again if her assistant would leave DC and head back to London if the case wasn’t solved soon. She couldn’t blame her.
Maxine picked up after three rings, or rather…
“Auntie Lindaaaaaaaaaa,” Clea sang. “Oh, you look tired. Are you getting your beauty sleep?”
“Kiddo, I haven’t gotten that sort of sleep in years. And it shows. Your ma reminds me all the time.”
“Well, I know you’re a boss,” Clea responded in a slow, studious tone. “And being a boss requires self-care. When are you coming over? I wanna show you my neon eighties Lego set.”
“I’ll come over soon, promise. Your ma around?”
“I’m here,” Maxine said. Her head popped up on the right side of the screen. “Darling, I’ve set up the telly for you. Mummy needs to talk to Auntie Linda about work.”
“Bye!” Clea shouted with kissy-kissy smacks. “Remember your promise.”
“You okay talking for a bit?” Linda asked Maxine after Clea had departed. “I won’t keep you long.”
“Oh, please. I’ve put onMy Little Ponyin the other room, which Clea adores. Onscreen crack for the poor girl. You know, I’m grateful for my child’s American upbringing, different perspective and all that… blah, blah, blah… but your country’s take on children’s programming is rubbish. Especially for girls. Where’s the moodiness? The shadow? Clea’s going to be in her thirties before she develops any sort of edge.”
“My Little Pony… is a choice,” Linda said. Maxine was trying to deflect, to use humor to lift Linda’s spirits. Little gifts. Shit was getting bad. “I’ll try not to keep you long. I got some intel from Elton. He gave me some additional names for the Afflicted. Turns out five of ’em were former clients for our agency.”
“Really?” Maxine frowned. “That’s… well, that’s bizarre.”
“Sure is. I’ve emailed you the names. Can you take a gander? See if anything pops up to you.”
Maxine grabbed her laptop. “Uh, yeah. I recognize all the names, especially Charvi Tompkins. Lovely soul.”
