M Sellars - Harm none

“So why don’t we head over to the house,” Felicity finally suggested, breaking the silence. “It’s cooler and there’s fresh, herb, sun tea in the fridge.”

“Sounds great to me,” I intoned. “Besides, that’s where my cigars are.”

“I’m with you,” Ben added.

Felicity rolled her eyes and went around the Jeep to climb into the driver’s seat.

Felicity was changing into shorts and a t-shirt while Ben and I set fire to a pair of cigars out on the back deck. I was just finishing the final adjustments to the patio umbrella when she came out to join us, preceded by our two bounding canines. She set a tray containing glasses and a pitcher of iced tea on the table and then lithely draped herself in a chair to join us.

It was still early afternoon, and the temperature had not yet begun to decline. The air remained thick with humidity, but there was a slight breeze, and as long as we stayed relaxed in the shade, the clime was at least tolerable.

“So I made a coupl’a calls on the way over here,” Ben announced, helping himself to the tea. “Seems Deckert managed to dig some info up on Devon Johnston.”

“Have they found him?” I asked, taking my turn with the pitcher and pouring a glass for my wife.

“Not yet,” he continued, “but we’re still lookin’.”

“What did Detective Deckert come up with?” Felicity asked, taking a sip of her drink.

“Found Johnston’s parents,” Ben answered, “or his mother anyway. His dad is deceased.”

“Why did it take until today?” I queried. “Not that I’m being critical.”

“Illinois license,” he replied. “We were just searching the Missouri DMV records initially. His mom lives in Urbana, and apparently, that’s where he grew up. He just never switched his driver’s license over. But, that’s not the interestin’ part. It seems that one Mister Devon Johnston was recently dismissed from his position as a medical technician with Mercy Hospital… And accordin’ to his records with the DMV, he’s got grey eyes.”

“So that should take the heat off of R.J.,” Felicity stated.

“Not really,” Ben told her. “It just gives me another asshole who’s moved one of his bricks into the suspicious pile ta’ worry about. Granted, his bricks are a little heavier than R.J.’s.”

“Seems to me they should be a lot heavier,” I interjected.

“Like I said,” Ben blew out a stream of smoke, “the information you get from one of your visions doesn’t do a damn bit of good in a courtroom. If it gives us a lead, great, but I still hafta come up with hard evidence. Hell, I don’t even know why I believe you. This ain’t exactly an everyday method of investigation, you know.”

“Maybe because you’re an open-minded individual,” Felicity chimed. “Whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But sometimes, I still feel like I might be a little nuts to go for some of this stuff.”

I knew exactly what Ben meant; I had even been known to be a bit skeptical myself in earlier years. I had been a practitioner of The Craft for all of my adult life, and though I had come to accept the things my otherworldly senses would tell me, I could still be surprised. As someone unfamiliar with the supernatural talents of the mind, this had to be very hard for him. I had to admit, he was holding up better than most.

I took advantage of the momentary silence to watch our dogs at play in the sun-soaked backyard. They tumbled and rolled with one another, tails wagging in a delighted frenzy as they wrestled, oblivious to the horror we three humans were being forced to contemplate. I sometimes wished I could be just as unmindful.

“Any ideas where Devon might be?” I queried, ending the self-imposed reticence.

“Nada,” Ben answered with a slight, somewhat animated shrug. “His mother hasn’t heard from him in six months, or so she says. We’ve got somebody sittin’ on her place too, just in case. We checked with his former co-workers, and it appears like he’s a bit of a loner. None of ‘em really got to know ‘im that well, and from what was said, they really didn’t care to either.”

“What about Cally?” Felicity intoned. “He called her once. Do you think he might try to contact her again?”

“We hafta hope that she’ll tell us if he does,” he returned. “We’re watchin’ her place, but if he calls ‘er or meets ‘er somewhere else, we’ll prob’ly miss it.”

“Can’t you follow her?” I asked.

“Not enough evidence at this point.” Ben turned his attention to me. “Last thing we need is ta’ get nailed for harassment.”

Ben paused as he puffed on his cigar and quietly watched the hummingbirds assault a hanging feeder like WWII era airplanes in a spectacular dogfight. Eventually he reached up and began smoothing his hair. Felicity and I looked at each other then back to him, as we were both intimately familiar with the gesture.

“So let me ask you somethin’,” he finally spoke.

“Shoot,” I returned.

“You said somethin’ about this creep taking Karen Barnes’ heart with ‘im so he could ‘finish the ritual’. What was that all about?”

“It’s part of the sacrifice,” I explained. “And what he does with it is entirely dependent upon what he is trying to accomplish. He might burn it, or he might bury it… Hell, he might eat it.”

“I was afraid you were gonna say somethin’ like that,” he mumbled.

“I wish I could say for sure, but I’m still not entirely clear on what he’s trying to do.” I continued with a frustrated sigh. “To be honest, something about his whole ritual is bothering me.”

“How so?” Felicity asked.

“The energy at the crime scene.”

“What energy?” she queried, confused. “I didn’t feel anything except death.”

“Exactly,” I replied.

“What are you two talkin’ about?” Ben interjected his question, coming fully upright in his seat and paying rapt attention.

“Whenever a Witch or practitioner of magick does something, an invocation for example,” I explained, “he or she leaves behind residual energy. Kind of a left over that just floats around until it dissipates.”

“So what’s your point?” he pressed.

“That excess energy wasn’t there,” Felicity stated. “Neither of us felt it.”

“I was at that scene within hours of the murder,” I told him. “And we were there again today. That energy should hang around for a good long time, but there’s nothing there. Just the energies given off by Karen Barnes. Her fear, pain, and especially her death.”

“Okay,” Ben replied slowly. “So I’d still appreciate it if ya’ could tell me what this is s’posed ta’ mean.”

“Maybe nothing,” I answered. “There could be a few different explanations, like maybe he just went through the physical motions but didn’t actually perform the ritual as he should have. It’s just something that kind of bothers me.”

“So it’s not a lead or anything like that.”

“No. At least I don’t think so.”

Ben returned his attention to the cigar held loosely between his fingers then relaxed and leaned back in his seat. It was obvious that he was on edge, and I was certain that a lack of sleep was partially to blame.

“When is the last time you had a decent night’s sleep, Ben?” Felicity asked him, following my thoughts as if I had spoken them aloud.

“I think it was sometime during winter ‘bout three years ago,” he answered facetiously.

“Do you really need to talk to R.J. today?” I questioned. “Couldn’t that wait till tomorrow?”

“Probably. Why?”

“You need sleep, Ben,” my wife stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, chief,” I agreed. “No offense intended, but you’re all edgy, and you look like someone ran over you with a truck.”