Fires Of Solstice Part 10

Rhys put down the newspaper he was reading and looked up at his worried companion. "We leave for the estate tomorrow as planned."

Bleddyn's eyes narrowed. "Did you hear what I said? Slade is here."

"I know. He arrived on an afternoon flight from Paris."

Bleddyn grasped the back of the sofa so hard his fingers left deep furrows in the material. "You know he's here? Why didn't you tell me?"

Rhys sighed tiredly and laid down his paper. "It was only a matter of time before he showed up. Once we came together here, he was sure to follow. You know we rarely see each other unless Meredythe is involved."

Bleddyn's fingers gouged holes in the sofa. "Exactly. We have to get her. We can't leave her unprotected."

Rhys waved his hand. "Slade doesn't know where she is. And tomorrow, when we leave, he will follow us, believing we are going to her. There are simply too many people in New York City for him to waste time searching for her. Besides, he'd never believe that we'd leave her alone. Remember, he believes she's probably no more than sixteen or seventeen. We've never waited this long before."

Snarling, Bleddyn began to pace. "I don't like it. Too much can go wrong with this scheme you and King devised."

"Trust me. Meredythe is safe. And in a week or so, if that long, she'll be coming to Dr. Bleddyn Glyndwr for information."

Bleddyn stopped pacing and stared into the flames burning in the hearth. "Slade will follow us too."

Rhys nodded. "Yes, he will. But when I leave the estate, he'll follow me.

Winterbourne has been your home for the last ten years, and your remaining there won't raise his suspicions. I've visited you from time to time. Slade will a.s.sume I was visiting again. And I've always been the one to make periodic visits to Meredythe when she was growing up. He'll follow me, hoping I'm doing so again. I'll lead him to one of our decoys. There's one just across the border in Canada."

Bleddyn turned his head. "Which one?"

"The eight-year-old. Slade will let her be once he sees her. She's still too young for his purpose."

"I still don't like to leave Meredythe here alone."

Rhys sighed. "She won't be alone. I've asked Damian to keep an eye on her, protect her if necessary. He's agreed."

Bleddyn's body tensed. "Damian! But he's-"

"One of the best friends you have. One of the few friends you have. He owes you his life. Surely you don't think he'd hurt her."

Bleddyn shook his head. "No. He won't hurt her. It's just, he's so d.a.m.n... compelling. One look into his eyes and women can't resist him. I've seen him in action."

Rhys' tense shoulders relaxed and he chuckled. "He's only guarding her, Bleddyn. She'll never meet him."

Bleddyn turned his attention back to the flames. "I hope you know what you're doing, Rhys."

Meredythe stared at her computer screen, her mind not on the words displayed there but on the dream she'd had the night before, one that had unsettled her so much she hadn't been able to stay sleeping. Instead, she'd gotten up at four a.m. and had been sitting in front of the computer ever since.

Shivering, she jerked her concentration back to her computer screen. She was just working too hard. That's why she was having crazy dreams.

Methuselah jumped up onto her lap and pushed his head under her hand.

Smiling, she gathered him into her arms, refocusing on the text before her. "There were dog prints at three of the murder sites, but two of the victims were found on concrete. So there could have been a dog there. It wouldn't have been able to leave tracks on concrete."

She continued to stroke Methuselah. "The dog tracks at one of the murder sites are attributed to the seeing eye dog of the blind man who found the body. At least, that's what the police report says."

Pursing her lips, she shifted her gaze to the manila envelopes stacked on her couch. "I wonder... "

Rising, she dropped the cat on the sofa, picked up the folders James King had sent her and carried them to her kitchen table. There, she pulled the photographs from each and spread them out on the table. "This is the print from the murder here. Now let's see if any of the others match."

Slowly, she sorted through the photos until she had them all lined up. Straightening, she looked at the cat that sat in the chair next to her. "I'm sure not an expert, Thuse, but those tracks all look the same to me." She bent closer. "See this large crack to the left of the pad? That same crack is in every picture. And look at this photo, the one with the prints from the blind guy's dog. They're not all the same. There are two different sets of tracks here. And this print has that same crack in it. Thuse, the same dog was at every one of these murders. His owner committed all of them." Picking the cat up, she danced around her kitchen. "I did it. I've established a connection. James is right. There is a serial killer out there."

Setting the cat on a kitchen chair, she gathered up the photos and slipped them into a new envelope. Then, stopping only long enough lean over the roses and breathe deeply, she headed for the shower. She had to be at work in an hour.

As Meredythe typed another query into her computer, her phone rang.

Muttering to herself, she grabbed it, propped it between her ear and shoulder and continued typing.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Meredythe, it's Jon-Jon Bowers."

She stared at her computer.

"Meredythe?"

"h.e.l.lo, Jon. How are you?"

"Great, great."

Silence from the other end. He cleared his throat. Then more silence.

Meredythe fidgeted with a pencil. "What can I do for you?" she finally asked when he didn't say anything.

"Ah, well." She could picture him crooking his finger under his shirt collar to loosen it. "Would you like to go to dinner with me? Tonight?"

Meredythe held the phone out and stared at it. Dinner? A date? Her? With Jon Bowers? A mental picture of the tall, blond-haired man appeared before her. Well, his dimples were really cute. She pressed a key on the computer. And maybe he had some new information about the murder.

"Meredythe, are you there?"

"Ah, yeah, Jon, I'm still here." She frowned at the words that appeared on her screen.

d.a.m.n, another dead end. "Ah, sure, dinner sounds good. What time?" His sigh of relief was audible on her end of the line. "Great. I'll pick you up at seven o'clock." Hunching her shoulder, she tilted her head and wedged the phone against her ear as she typed another question. "How about I meet you?"

There was no hesitation on his part. "Sure, okay. Do you like Italian?"

She stared at the computer screen and typed in another question. "Ah-sure. Who doesn't?"

"How about Pellegrino's in Little Italy?"

"Fine," she said somewhat absentmindedly as she continued typing. "I'll meet you there at seven."

His voice was eager. "Great, I'll see you there."

She hung up her phone and cursed at her computer screen. Again, nothing. Every question she'd researched this morning was a dead end. Shoving her chair back, she rose and stretched. Dropping her arms, she settled back onto her feet and opened her eyes. Maybe if she organized what information she had, it might jumpstart her brain.

Sitting back down, she pulled up files and printed them out. Then she spread them out on her desk. When Alice walked around the edge of the part.i.tion an hour later, she was completely engrossed in her research.

Her friend nudged her shoulder. "You want me to order you some lunch?"

Meredythe never looked up. "Tuna fish on wheat with lettuce and tomato."

Alice grimaced. "Don't you ever get tired of tuna fish on wheat with lettuce and tomato?"

"No."

Alice stepped over to a chair. "You dropped one."

Meredythe looked up. "What?"

She retrieved a sheet of paper from beneath a chair. "You dropped this one."

"Thanks, which one is it?"

Alice c.o.c.ked her head and looked at her boss. "It's the one about werewolves."

Meredythe frowned and s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper from her friend. "Werewolves? Where did this come from?"

"Don't ask me. I only work here," Alice answered with a shrug. "I'll be back with your lunch when it gets here."

Meredythe continued to read the paper in her hand. "Yeah, sure." She didn't hear Alice leave. Werewolves? There were people who believed they were werewolves? Looking up, she pursed her lips and stared at the wall. Could someone with a wolf or wolf hybrid be acting out some kind of fantasy? Dropping the paper on the table, she returned to her computer. Soon she had reams of information about werewolves, and it was fascinating reading. When Alice brought her lunch, she thanked her absentmindedly. Her friend smiled fondly and placed the sandwich next to Meredythe's elbow and left. After the first bite of her sandwich, another thought occurred and she rose and shuffled through the papers on her table.

"I was right. Twelve murders in the last eight years-every one of them on a date important to the ancient Celtic calendar. Ostara, Spring Equinox, March 21. Beltane, April 30. Litha, Summer Solstice, June 21. Mabon, Autumn Equinox, September 21. And last night's murder, Samhain, Oct. 31. This keeps getting weirder and weirder," she muttered to herself.

Dropping all the papers on the table, she flopped into her chair and stared into s.p.a.ce. "Aunt Evie will be able to help me. I guess having an aunt who's Wiccan has finally become an a.s.set."

She went back to her lunch. As she chewed, her mind leaped from one seemingly outrageous idea to another. As the afternoon wore on, her common sense a.s.serted itself. Reshuffling all of her printouts and notes, she soon had three separate piles on the desk.

She had her back turned when she heard a step. "Not now, Alice. I'm still busy."

"It's five o'clock, Meredythe," answered James King. "I told Alice to go home."

Blinking, she straightened up and spun around. "I didn't realize it was you."

Her boss chuckled. "Engrossed in your work again. Someone could set off a bomb outside and you wouldn't hear it."

She grinned.

"How's the story coming?" he asked before she had a chance to say anything.

She turned back to the table. "There have been twelve murders in the last eight years that have identical MOs, three of them here in New York. Frankly, I'm surprised no one has put any of them together yet."

James stepped closer to her desk. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yes, and all of them occurred on days that are important to the ancient Celtic calendar. In my opinion, there's some kind of cult involved. And those photos of dog prints you gave me-they're wolf or wolf hybrid prints."

He grinned. "I knew I could count on you, Meredythe. What next?"

Glancing at her watch, she said, "Next I go home and get ready for my date." Since she was shoving papers into folders, she didn't see the shock on his face.

He stiffened. "Date?"

She chuckled. "Yeah, Jon Bowers-the forensics guy handling this latest murder- asked me out. I want to see if he's learned anything new."

Since her back was still turned, she didn't see the relief that leaped onto her boss's face. "Yes, well then, enjoy yourself. I'll see you tomorrow."

Sliding the files into her briefcase, she turned and smiled. "Tomorrow's Sat.u.r.day, and I promised Aunt Evie I'd be over. Besides, I have to take Methuselah home. I'll see you Monday."

He inclined his head. "Monday, then. Enjoy your weekend." Then he smiled. "If I know you, you'll spend most of it working."

She grinned back as she slipped her coat on. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she grabbed her briefcase. "I promise not to work too hard, boss."

He stood aside for her to precede him as he chuckled. "See that you don't. I want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday morning." He escorted her to the elevator.

"Tell your aunt I said h.e.l.lo."

"I will. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Meredythe," he answered as the elevator doors slid shut.

Jon held the chair. "Have you ever been here before?"

Meredythe smiled at the waiter who held out a menu and shook her head. "A couple of times. Their ravioli platter is wonderful."

Jon grinned up at the waiter. "That's what we'll have then. Italian dressing on the salad?" After her nod, he asked, "Wine?"

She shook her head. "Not tonight, thanks. Just water with a slice of lemon."

Jon looked up at the waiter. "I'll have a Heineken."

"So how's the investigation going?" she asked after the waiter left.

Jon grinned ruefully. "Kim said you wouldn't waste any time."

She grinned back. "I am who I am. Have you learned anything new?"

The waiter returned with their drinks and Jon thanked him. After sipping his beer, he said, "No. Four more bodies have been brought to the morgue since then. One of them is a city councilman. So the murder in the park has been shoved on a backburner."