Page 38 of Wicching Hour (The Sea Wicche Chronicles #3)

THIRTY-EIGHT

That’s One Question Answered

“C ome on! I’m already late for work.” The young Asian woman with the patio filled with potted plants is behind the wheel of her Jeep. She’s wearing the same white polo and black shorts, this time with reflective aviator sunglasses.

“License and registration,” he says, voice bored.

“I was like two miles an hour over the speed limit. Can’t you just give me a warning?” She pastes a smile on her face, trying to charm him. “I promise to slow down. Okay? Under the speed limit the whole way.”

“License and registration,” he says again.

She gives a strangled cry. “I can’t afford a ticket. I was literally two miles an hour over the limit. Why are you doing this?”

“License and registration, And I clocked you at five miles an hour over, with your music blasting and your hand on your phone.”

She stops rummaging around in her backpack and sits back in her seat. “Uh, no you didn’t. My radio doesn’t even work, and my phone is in my bag.” She pulls it out of the front pocket of her backpack.” She points at his chest. “Do you have your bodycam on? I can prove it.”

“License and registration. Don’t make me say it again and take those glasses off so I can see your eyes.”

“Why?” she asks, outraged.

“Because you might be under the influence, and I told you to.” The last few words were snarled as his right hand moved to rest on his gun. “You seem to be confused as to who’s in charge right now. License. Registration. Sunglasses. Now.”

She pulls her wallet out of her bag, opens it, and slides her license out of its slot. “What’s your name?” she asks

“I’m the one with the badge and the gun who doesn’t give a shit how cute you think you are.” He gestures for her to hand over her license.

She does, fear now pinching her features. “You can’t talk to people like that.”

“I just did. Registration.”

She leans over to get it from her glove compartment, clearly uncomfortable turning her back on him. As a waitress, she’s learned who the dangerous ones are. She hands it to him.

He stares at her license. “Do you still live at this address?”

A chill runs down her spine at the dead look in his eyes. She doesn’t want him to know where she lives but she nods.

“Glasses,” he reminds her, enjoying the fact that he’s broken her. He’d love to backhand her right across that smart mouth of hers. For now, though…She hands him her sunglasses and he drops them to the pavement, stepping on them, cracking the glass and bending the frame. “I’ll be back. Keep your hands on the wheel while I’m gone.”

He goes to his vehicle, types in her information, and checks her record. She has a few speeding violations. The last was two years ago. He takes out his phone and takes a picture of her license. It’s convenient, having the headshot with the address all in one pic. He considers again how much he’d enjoy shutting up her smart mouth for good. He’ll think about it.

A text pops up on his phone from Joel. With a growl of annoyance, he taps the message. Joel is short on rent and needs five hundred dollars. The cop swipes and deletes. That’s a problem he’s going to need to deal with soon.

He goes back to her Jeep, hands her the license and registration cards, and then tells her to slow down before he walks to his cruiser and drives away.

Looks like the bitch is going to be late after all.

Blinking my eyes open, I met Hernández’s gaze. “You already know who he is.”

She let out a gust of breath. “A cop. Shit .” She shook her head. “After I left this morning, I just sat in my car thinking. He knows how to get in and out without leaving evidence, almost like he knows how we investigate. You said he uses a penlight, just like cops. You were really uncomfortable at Gaby’s crime scene. Arthur said the cops were bothering you.

“I went back to check the record, to see who was there. One of the patrolmen is the one you already told me to watch my back around. I found a history of authority issues, especially with female superiors or supervisors of color. He was suspended for two weeks. When he came back, I felt more uncomfortable around him. It was like he was seething in silence whenever he saw me.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Whatever. I’m a cop. I’m used to men on the force having issues with me. I’m a lesbian Latina. That’s three things right there to hate about me. I’m used to ignoring that shit.

“I thought about what you said though. That it wasn’t sexual with him. It was all about power, about permanently shutting up the people, especially women, who question his authority. I looked up his record. He was in the Marines for a short time. I knew he’d had an issue with a judge at some point. I contacted a court reporter I used to date and asked. She said that he’d screwed up the evidence chain of custody for drugs found in a dealer’s car. The case ended up having to be thrown out. The judge he killed was the one who presided over the trial. The defense lawyer—a white man—ripped the cop a new one and the judge—a Black woman—let it go on. My friend said he was fuming as he stalked out of court and guess which one he went after.

“I did a deep dive on complaints against him and found our latest victim had submitted one, saying he was rude and threatening, destroying her property and making her worried about him having her address.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what I just watched.” I relayed what I saw. “I couldn’t see him, but I saw white hands and I saw him take a picture of her license. I’m sure hers isn’t the only one he has. His photo app probably contains his hit list.”

Hernández stared into space a moment. “The text was from someone named Joel?”

I nodded. “He wanted five hundred bucks, and it pissed off the cop.”

“Joel was the name of our one male victim.” She stood, closing the evidence bag. “I’ll talk with my captain. Nothing you’ve told me is admissible. I need hard evidence, and he’s left none at the crime scenes. I snagged that cup from his trash can this morning. I wanted your take on him. We should have enough to subpoena his phone.” She put on her sunglasses. “Okay. Thank you for your time. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

She walked off the deck and around the corner. I wished I could’ve given her more, but I didn’t have the smoking gun.

Declan sat down beside me. “You did everything you could. She’s smart. She’ll get what they need to arrest him.”

“Hopefully before he kills someone else.” I tipped my head onto his shoulder, suddenly exhausted.

His arm went around me. “We have about two hours before your aunt and her family arrive. Why don’t you go in and take a nap? You haven’t been sleeping well and we need you firing on all cylinders tonight.”

I never napped, but it sounded so good, I stood and was suddenly dry. “Thanks,” I said to Bracken before zombie walking into the studio and up the stairs to my bed. I flicked my fingers, blocking out the skylight, dropped onto my bed, and was out.

I woke to the sound of dishes clinking and hushed voices. The light had changed. I’d actually slept. Sitting up, I realized that one of the hushed voices I was hearing was my Aunt Elizabeth. I stumbled to the half wall and looked over. They were all here.

Declan looked up and grinned. “They just arrived.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll be right down.”

Elizabeth and Robert looked up, both smiling. She waved away my apologies. “Your young man has been taking care of us. We’re fine. Honestly, I was so happy when he told us you were napping.”

Robert rubbed his wife’s back. “The way she worries about you working with fire while being perpetually sleep-deprived.” He shook his head, laughing. “You sleeping has made her day.”

“It has,” she confirmed. “Now take your time. We’re fine. We haven’t been able to spend quality time with Declan before. Robert and I are enjoying grilling him.”

They went back to talking amongst themselves and I went into the bathroom. Holy crap! I’d forgotten that I’d been in the ocean earlier and then just fell asleep salty. I jumped in the shower for a super-fast scrubbing.

There was no time for my usual hair routine, so I conditioned, blew dry just long enough for it to stop dripping, and used one of my black terry cloth headbands to keep it off my face. I put on black jeans, a long-sleeved black sweater, matching gloves, and black slip-on sneakers.

When I started down the stairs, Declan glanced over and raised his eyebrows. “You look like an adorable cat burglar.”

“That’s the point,” I said. “We have sneaky things to do.”

He gave me a hug and a kiss when I hit the bottom step. “I’m glad you got some sleep,” he murmured. “Bracken and I have it all under control.”

Elizabeth and Robert were sitting on the couch, Bracken in my chair. Frank and Faith sat at the end of the worktable eating chips and salsa—which I didn’t realize I had. I had a severe lack of seating options. It had always been fine because I was the only one here, with the occasional visit from Mom or Aunt Sylvia.

My mind flashed on the new flat Declan had created and my heart warmed. Soon, we’d be able to have a proper dinner party. Wait. I only had a set of six plates and bowls because that was how many had come in the box. There were seven here tonight.

Scanning the table, I saw seven matching plates and utensils. I pulled Declan to my side. “Where did the seventh set of dinnerware come from?”

“Bracken. He brought over one of his and then spelled it to look like yours.”

I grinned. “Tricky.” I smelled something spicy and delicious, but it wasn’t lasagna. “What are we having?”

“I called Mariana’s and put in a huge order. Bracken went to pick it up. I put out chips and salsa.” He pointed to the worktable. “Your aunt brought bacon-wrapped jalapenos. Sorry. Those are all gone. There was also chicken quesadilla over there.” He gestured to where Elizabeth and Robert sat, the plate empty. “I saved some of that one for you.” He pulled a plate from the microwave with a triangle of cheesy goodness on it. “I have the pans in the oven keeping warm. I figured we could do dinner buffet style. Put all the aluminum pans across the stove and counter, use some serving spoons, and let people take what they want.”

I pulled a thin rubber glove from my kitchen drawer, heated the quesadilla slice in my hand and took a bite. Delicious. “I should sleep more often. You two have it all figured out, and this is so much nicer than the frozen lasagna I had planned.”

Grinning, he gave me a kiss. “Good.”

“You sure are smiling a lot tonight,” I observed, taking another bite.

“Huh,” he mumbled. “I wonder why?” His arm slid around me as he looked over the group. “Is everyone ready to eat?”

“Yes,” Frank and Faith said in unison.

“Sorry I made you wait,” I said again.

“Don’t be silly,” Elizabeth said, walking over to give me a hug. She knew just how to do it without touching my skin.

Uncle Robert rubbed my shoulder in lieu of a hug, trying to make it safe for me, which I appreciated. “They’ve only had a few shifts, but the kids are really enjoying working here.”

“Thank goodness.” I lowered my voice. “If that ever changes, let me know.”

He nodded, patted my shoulder again, and moved to stand beside his wife.

Declan took out all the trays and lined them up, peeling off the covers. “Can everyone grab a plate and then come up and take whatever looks good. We have Mexican rice and black beans, some chicken flautas. In this pan we have chicken, beef, and cheese enchiladas. I think the beef is in red sauce and the chicken is in green. Honestly, I’m not sure about the cheese. Here we have a few chimichangas. Those three are beef. These three are chorizo.”

He pointed to the last tray and said, “And then we have tacos. These are beef. These are chicken. Carnitas. Chorizo. Shrimp.” When he turned, he appeared confused by our stunned faces.

“That’s a lot of food,” Elizabeth said and then gave him the sweetest smile. “You’re so kind providing a feast for us.”

“Wolves need a lot of fuel,” I said, “and he loves leftovers.”

He laughed at that. “I really do. And we have churros and flan for dessert.”

I waved everyone forward. “Let’s fill up our plates, share some secrets, and come up with a plan to deal with our sorcerer problem.”