His lips curled into a smile. “I think I might have something.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and grabbed a business card. “You’re in luck.” When he handed it to her, their fingers touched, and she felt that same shock of electricity like a live wire.
She ignored it and placed the card on top of the map, along with the small hematite crystal from the inside of her bra. “Thanks.” After she grabbed a lighter from a kitchen drawer, she lit a few sticks of incense and three white candles. She picked up a saltshaker and sprinkled a circle of protection around the table. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered and reached for the keychain, holding it over the map. The moment she closed her eyes, she focused her mind and set her intention for her spell.
“Goddess of light give me the power to see,
To find this innocent and set her free.
This is my will, so mote it be.”
Sparks of light filled her vision as the spell took shape. Magick, pure and bright, pulsed through her fingertips as the keychain swung back and forth. After a few minutes, it began to swing in a circle. Finally, the keychain landed on a spot on Route 3. “Mulroney? You need to see this.”
“Did you pick up anything?” He moved to her side and ran his finger over the place on the map where the pendulum had landed. His arm brushed hers, and she tried to ignore the tingle along her skin. “This is somewhere in Lyndhurst. There’s a stretch of motels along the highway.” He grabbed his cell and took a picture of the spot before glancing over at her again. “I’m calling my boss.”
For a moment, his words took Gillian by surprise. Not all cops were open to using psychics in their investigations, even in an unofficial capacity. Gillian could thank Willow for the shift. While working as a consultant for the MBI, her friend had helped solve a murder case. Gillian suspected even a hard-ass like Mulroney would be open to the idea after that. She supposed maybe he wasn’t a complete jerk after all. “I just pray it leads us to Brooke.”
Chapter 7
Mulroney found a corner of the kitchen next to a butcher block and took a seat at a stool. A leather-bound book sat open with splotches of candle wax of all over the pages. He took his cell, pushed a button, and his captain, Mark Matthews, answered right away.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Hello to you too. I’m at the coven.” They’d been working together for almost a decade now, but rarely saw eye to eye. Right now he wasn’t sure how to phrase what he was about to say without sounding like he’d lost his marbles, so he just dove in. “Miss Howe used magic to try to locate her cousin, and frankly, I think she may be onto something.” After he filled him in on the location, he stole a glance at Gillian. She continued to pace back and forth with a shell-shocked look on her face. “I need a squad car to comb the area along the highway.” There was dead silence on the other end of the phone line. “Sir?” he prompted.
“Still here. I guess I’m surprised that you’re taking the word of a psychic into account, but then again this is Gillian Howe we’re talking about.” Some gossip had spread through the station that they shared a rather contentious relationship, and now, Garrett was the butt of some colorful ribbing. “Don’t worry. I’ll send a car.”
“It’s worth a shot. I’m copying Denopoulos and Teague on the area as well.” He didn’t typically rely on something as unscientific as the occult in police work, but over the years, he’d experienced his fair share of cold cases that eventually became reopened and solved using forensic psychics. Hell, he’d try anything at this point if it led them to Lawrence. “How about you? What do you have so far?”
“I’ve gone over all the interviews from the hotel room, and it’s a major shitshow. I’m sending you the video to see if you can pick up on something I might’ve missed.”
After a moment, his phone pinged. “Got it. You were saying?” Garrett asked, hoping to get something concrete.
“All of the women there, aside from the two witnesses, were sent by a business associate of Lawrence’s. She goes by the name Rowena Cherry.”
Garrett scratched his head. “Why do I know that name? Wait a minute; I busted a Rowena Cherry years ago. She was some Upper East Side socialite. The woman would have to be close to eighty by now. She can’t still be doing the same thing. Could it be her daughter?”
“I’ve got her file right here.” The sound of his captain pounding on his keyboard crackled through the phone line. “Trust me, it’s her. I guess she figures she has a good thing going and it beats canasta. She’s been busted in Brooklyn and Queens for pretty much the same thing. She’s somehow managed to lure these women into the blood ring by promising them educational scholarships and fashion careers. But it’s all just a ruse to groom them into becoming blood slaves. Nothing we can prove solidly enough to put her away, but you know how that goes.”
“Let me get this straight, I want to make sure I get all the players right,” Garrett said, shaking his head. “Lawrence pays Rowena Cherry for the women she sends over while he gets paid by the Brotherhood to find them a blood bond. They have quite the business model going on. Send me the client list and the forensics report on the Jane Doe found off Frank Sinatra Boulevard. It can’t be a coincidence. The killer must’ve dumped the body there for a reason, either because they were sloppy or to frame it on someone from the Brotherhood.”
“The Jane Doe’s been identified as Serena Benson, age twenty-four, a grad student at Columbia. She was last seen at one of Lawrence’s soirées two weeks ago. I think it’s safe to say that whoever killed her was somehow connected to the Brotherhood, the question was how.”
Garrett ran a hand over his mouth, and sighed, the realization making his throat tight. “Could she have threatened to expose their operation?”
“Lawrence is more or less a flunky,” Matthews said. “He’s not experienced enough to pull this off himself. Someone else is pulling the strings.”
“Someone like Malcom Von Scrivner?” Garrett’s jaw clenched. From all accounts, the vampire had reputed ties to human traffickers all over Europe before he came here to the states.
“We’ve done surveillance on him, and there have been multiple calls and text messages to Kurt Lawrence.”
Garrett bit back a curse and ran a hand through his hair. Hearing the words fueled his anger even more. “What does that mean for the investigation?”
“We can use your connection to Von Scrivner to our advantage.”
“What are you saying? What do you want me to do?”
“Protect the witness. If he discovers you’re involved, it could draw him out,” Matthews continued. “From now on, I want you glued to Gillian Howe’s side as much as possible. Make sure she sticks to her normal routine to keep from arousing suspicion. You can take turns with Dubrosky keeping an eye on her at work. If memory serves, she owns some kind of head shop on Washington Street.”
“It’s calledEnchantments,” Garrett muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. He’d driven by the place more times than he could count, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. His boss didn’t need to know he’d taken a personal interest in the witness, or he might pull him from the case.
