“Good. Umm, about the Scott boy’s autopsy? I’d like to look through all of his files for anything that might lead us to an answer for his.. .condition.” McKenzie said the word with a delicacy that she knew was difficult for him.

She looked him deep in the eye. “Good. I’m counting on you to find something there. I think it’s important. I still think Brandon Scott was the target of these attacks. Find out why for me, okay?”

“Yes,LT. I’m on it.”

“Marcus, where are we with Crime Scene? Any links?”

“We’ve got fibers and fluids and fingerprints galore. It’s taking some time to isolate.”

“Anything that points in the direction of our suspects?”

“Not yet. I’ll get a call in to Simon Loughley at Private Match. He said he was going to fast-track that DNA from the wounds. Maybe he’s close. And there are no matches for that dark hair found at the Vanderwood crime scene.”

“Okay. Y’all scatter. I’m going to talk to the Howells first, I think.”

They didn’t move. ‘Taylor,” Marcus said, then broke off.

“What?”

“Ariadne said something happened to Fitz. Do you know anything about it?”

Taylor froze. How dare she? How dare she talk to them without Taylor’s permission? Where did that woman get off? This was none of her concern, and she knew nothing anyway.

“What did she say?” she asked, her voice hollow.

Marcus looked very young. “That he’d been hurt and you were terribly worried for him.”

Taylor pulled her hair down with a vicious tug, the blond spilling over her shoulders. She didn’t want to have this conversation right now, she needed to keep them focused. She needed to keep focused.

“Ariadne knows nothing about Fitz’s case. Baldwin called me this morning with some news. The SBI believes they’ve found his trail. The good news is the North Carolina police are ramping up the search. We’ve had unsubstantiated reports of an…injury…to his eye, but that’s all we have right now. I’ll let you know the minute I know more, I promise.”

It wasn’t an outright lie, at least. She hated to deceive them at all, but she couldn’t have them drawn away from the case at hand, not yet. Not when they were so close.

‘That’s good news though, isn’t it?” Marcus asked.

“I hope so, puppy, I hope so. Okay, let’s get to work. Who has an eye on Glen da the Good Witch? Or did she wrangle her broomstick home?”

“I’m here, Lieutenant.” Taylor jerked around-she hadn’t heard the woman walk into the room. Ariadne had her usual beatific smile in place, appearing completely unperturbed by Taylor’s barbs. Taylor wasn’t sure she particularly liked the access this woman had to her. It was making her very uncomfortable.

“We don’t really ride the brooms, you know,” she said.

“She was in your office, LT.” Lincoln had the good sense to look chagrined. ‘It was the only place to stash her, outside of the conference room.”

“And you don’t want me in there, near all those piles of information. You never know what might go missing.” Ariadne smiled sweetly at Taylor.

Taylor narrowed her eyes and said, “My office? please. Now.” She turned to her team. “The rest of you, get to it.”

She crossed the room to her office> felt Ariadne behind her. She stepped inside and went to her desk, signaling for her to take the chair in front and close the door. Once she was seated, Ariadne dropped the smile.

“Lieutenant, Fm feeling a great disturbance-“

Taylor cut her off. “Listen to me. You’ve done us a great service, pointing us in what seems to be the right direction on these murders. But I’m going to have you taken home now. We can take it from here.”

“No, you can’t,” she said simply.

“Actually, yes, we can. We’ve got all the components now, it’s just a matter of unraveling the evidence. We’re almost there.”

Ariadne shook her head. “You just don’t get it, Lieutenant. It’s not over. You’re still missing the warlock who is at the heart of this.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Ariadne shook her head. “But-“

“Then you need to go home and let us do our jobs. We’re actually quite good at finding people, you know.”

“Not when they’ve got cloaking spells in place. You won’t see him until he wants you to, Lieutenant. And by then it’s going to be too late.”

“Cloaking spells. Come on, lady. You’re starting to sound flat-out batty. It’s time to go.” Taylor stood. Ariadne’s face was a mask-she didn’t move from her chair.

“Do you know how many of us are out there, Lieutenant? In and out of the broom closet?”

“The broom closet?”

“Some coven members like to keep themselves hidden from their secular lives. Lieutenant. They don’t want the rest of the world to know that they’re practicing. We call that ‘in the broom closet.’ Samhain, Halloween, is the only night of the year when we can publicly flaunt ourselves. Christians, Jews, Wiccans, Goths, pagans-all the alternate religions, and most of the mainstream ones, recognize this night. Harmless activities have replaced the pagan rituals- dressing up, triek-or-treating, jack-o’-lanterns. By recognizing these symbols year after year, the associations are made.

You have granted this date significance, and its power comes from that. It is the one holiday that we all have in common, religious and secular, throughout the world, and that makes it twice as powerful. When someone recognizes us on Samhain our spirits reincarnate, because we believe that we will live on long after our deaths. We have a great deal of power on Samhain. These children know this. They’ve utilized the symbolic to help their purpose. They’re perverting our ways, and I want them punished.”

“That’s for the courts to decide, Ariadne.”

“Not entirely true, Lieutenant. We are responsible for these children’s actions, just as surely as they are.”

“Ariadne, really. I appreciate your help so far, but I’ve got to go back to the practical world. I’ll have a patrol get you home safe.”

The note of finality in her voice was enough, at last. Ariadne bowed her head, stood and said, ‘“As you wish.”

Forty-Five

Quantico

June IS, 2004

Baldwin

The phone startled Baldwin awake. He saw the number and cursed. Goldman. He put the phone to his ear and pretended to sound alert. It was only 6:00 a.m.

‘This is John Baldwin.”

“We found her.”

Three little words. Baldwin felt his heart sink. They’d failed, again. For the sixth time, they’d failed.

The forest was silent. The rain had made the path sloppy, it was slow going. The birds knew they were coming and after a flurry of wings and warning cries, had clammed up. All Baldwin could hear was the sound of the team’s feet on the gravel path, the soft layer of fallen leaves cushioning each step. The cycle of life was never more apparent to him than when he was surrounded by trees. No matter the season, shedding occurred.

Charlotte was breathing heavily behind him. They’d been hiking uphill for the better part of an hour now, and she was getting winded. At least she’d worn boots, although he could tell they were brand-new and bet she’d have some seriously impressive blisters by now. He’d never seen her in anything but the highest of heels. And barefoot, of course.