“This Donna Scott live in Charlotte?”

“Her family moved to L.A. the summer before our senior year. That’s when she came up with the plan.” Finney looked down at his hands. They were trembling. “Donna got the idea from GraveGrab. It’s a pretty cheesy game but she liked it, so we played. Basically, you run around a cemetery digging up graves and trying to avoid being killed by zombies.”

“What was Donna’s plan?” I asked.

“That we steal something from a grave. I didn’t think we’d pull it off, but I figured going to a cemetery would be a trip.” Finney drew a deep breath, exhaled through his nose. It sounded like air being forced through steel wool. “Donna was into the Goth scene. I wasn’t, but I liked spending time with her.”

“Did you carry through with the plan?” I asked.

Finney nodded. “Donna was excited about moving, but knew I was bummed. Her idea was that we’d split whatever we stole; she’d keep one half, and I’d keep the other. You know, the old trick where people write a note, or draw a map, then tear it in two. When you meet years later you match the halves. Donna said that way we’d stay spiritually connected.”

“What graveyard?” Slidell.

“Elmwood Cemetery.”

“When?”

“Seven years ago. August.”

“Talk about it.”

“Donna picked Elmwood because some old cowboy movie star is supposed to be buried there.”

“Randolph Scott?” I guessed.

“Yeah. Since her name was Scott she thought it would be cool to get something from him.”

Randolph Scott was male, white, and eighty-nine at the time of his death. That didn’t track with my profile of a young black female.

“Did you succeed?” I asked.

“No. We met for a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show, then went over to Elmwood. The gate was open. Donna brought flashlights. I brought a crowbar.”

Finney’s eyes slid to his lawyer. Charlie nodded.

“We looked around for Scott’s grave, but couldn’t find it. Eventually, we stumbled onto an aboveground crypt, back in a different section, where there weren’t so many big, fancy tombstones. Seemed like a place we wouldn’t be spotted. The hinges were rusty. It took only a couple of shoves with the crowbar.”

“Was a name engraved on a marker?” I asked.

“I don’t remember. It was dark. Anyway, we went in, pried open a casket, grabbed a skull and a jaw and a couple of other bones, and ran. To be honest, I was pretty freaked by then, just wanted to be gone. Donna said I was being a candyass. She was psyched.”

“Let me be sure I got this straight. You’re saying you kept the jaw and Donna kept the rest?”

Finney nodded in answer to Slidell’s question.

“How’d Cuervo get the bones?”

“I don’t know.”

“You got contact information for Donna?”

“No. Her family moved right after that. She said she’d write or call, but she never did.”

“You never saw or talked to her again?”

Finney shook his head glumly.

“Who’s her old man?”

“Birch. Birch Alexander Scott.”

Slidell scribbled the name. Underlined it twice.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

Silence crammed the small space. Finney broke it.

“Look. I was a messed-up kid. Four years ago, I discovered Wicca. For the first time, I’m accepted. People like me for who I am. I’m different now.”

“Sure,” Slidell said. “You’re Billy Friggin’ Graham.”

“Wicca is an Earth-oriented religion dedicated to a goddess and god.”

“Lucifer part of the lineup?”

“Because we embrace a belief system different from traditional Judeo-Christian theology, the ignorant believe we must also worship Satan. That if God is the sum of all good, there must be an equally negative being who is the embodiment of evil. Satan. Wiccans don’t buy into that.”

“You saying there’s no devil?”

Finney hesitated, choosing his words.

“Wiccans acknowledge that all nature is composed of opposites, and that this polarity is a part of everyone. Good and evil are locked within the unconsciousness of every person. We believe it’s the ability to rise above destructive urges, to channel negative energies into positive thoughts and actions, that separates normal people from rapists and mass murderers and other sociopaths.”

“You use magic to do all this rising above?” There was menace in Slidell’s voice.

“In Wicca, magic is viewed as a religious practice.”

“This religious practice involve carving up corpses?”

“I’ve already told you. Wiccans perform no destructive or exploitive magic. We hurt no one. Why would you ask such a question?”

Slidell described Jimmy Klapec’s corpse.

“You think I killed this boy?”

Slidell impaled Finney with a glare.

“I robbed a grave when I was seventeen. Got picked up once for relieving myself in public. Two stupid pranks. That’s it.”

The glare held.

Finney’s eyes sliced from Slidell to Charlie to me. “You’ve got to believe me.”

“Frankly, kid, I don’t believe a thing you’re telling me.”

“Check it out.” Finney was almost in tears. “Find Donna. Talk with her.”

“You can bank on it.”

WE CAUGHT A BREAK. OR FINNEY DID. SINCE THE ALLEGED grave grab had taken place after 1999, the incident was on the CMPD computer. Using the year of occurrence and Elmwood as identifiers, we pulled the report in minutes.

On the night of 3 August, an unknown suspect/suspects unlawfully entered crypt 109 located at Elmwood Cemetery. The reporting officer spoke with Mr. Allen Burkhead, cemetery administrator. Mr. Burkhead stated that upon arriving at the cemetery at 0720 hours on 4 August he discovered crypt 109 had been pried open. Mr. Burkhead did not believe the crypt was damaged when he left work at 1800 hours on 3 August. Once inside the crypt the suspect/suspects opened a coffin and violated the remains of Susan Clover Redmon by removing the skull. The Medical Examiner was notified, but declined to visit the site or to examine the body to determine if other bones were removed from the coffin. At the time of the incident the cemetery was closed and there are no witnesses. A record search revealed that Marshall J. Redmon (deceased) holds deed to the tomb. A Redmon family member, Thomas Lawrence Redmon, was located in Springfield, Ohio. Thomas Redmon has been notified and will be kept abreast of developments. I request this case remain open for further investigation.

I skimmed the rest of the information: Reporting officer: Wade J. Hewlett. Incident address: 600 E. 4th St. Victims: Elmwood Cemetery; Marshall J. Redmon. Stolen property: human skull and jaw.

Slidell determined that Hewlett was now assigned to the Eastway Division. He phoned and was placed on hold. Seconds later Hewlett picked up. Slidell switched to speakerphone.

“Yeah, I remember the B-and-E at Elmwood. Kinda sticks in my head, being the only grave robbery I’ve ever caught. Case went nowhere.”

“You have a gut on it?”

“Probably kids. I caught a double homicide that week, so vandalism didn’t top my dance card. We had no leads, nothing to work. Local Redmons were all dead or moved away. The one out-of-state relative we managed to locate didn’t give a rat’s ass. Eventually, I decided to just wait and see if the skull surfaced.”

“Did it?”

“No.”

I jumped in. “Why was the ME a no-show?”

“He asked my opinion. I told him nothing else in the tomb or in the coffin looked disturbed. He said he’d contact the family member living in Ohio.”

“And?”

“Thomas Redmon said seal her up, call if you find the head.”

“Real humanitarian,” Slidell said.

“Redmon had never been to Charlotte, didn’t know that branch of the family, hadn’t a clue who was stored in that tomb.”

“Did you check cemetery records on Susan Redmon?” I asked.