placed all the death and decay–contaminated things in the barn loft. I have the scent of the person who is death and decay. I am not convinced the creator and the delivery person are one and the same.”
I caught up with FireWind and handed him my laptop to carry. “So we have a conspiracy? Or a death and decay coven?”
“Either one would be very bad.”
* * *
* * *
The stench was not to be believed, so bad I coughed or gagged with every other breath. And that was after Ing’s body had been zipped into a cadaver pouch for quick transport to UTMC for a para postmortem, and Adrian’s Hell’s chopped-up body, which had been rolled onto a heavy-duty tarp in the pasture, was pulled out of the trailer. The decomping bodies were gone, but the air was still poisonously rank. For an hour, I sat in the enclosed space with the big boss, the bench from the loft, the puddles of dark red wax, and an unconscious Pacillo, who had a snore that rattled the null room. And the stench.
FireWind occupied the chair beside me, his face serene, not coughing, not reacting to the stench in any way, looking through the downloaded photos on my laptop. I didn’t know how he did it, but it was annoying. And he expected me to keep working while I asphyxiated on the stench. Protective tears gathered in my eyes. My nose filled with mucus.
“What is the time stamp on this one?” He pointed to a photo. “And who is it?”
“Today, make that yesterday, at three a.m. Nearly twenty-four hours ago. His name is Cale Nowell, and he’s one of the band members who was also in the commune. He spent several years in jail for an accident that I believe was Stella’s fault.” I stopped and breathed through a mentholated handkerchief. It didn’t help. I checked the timeline and said, “He was present the day Stella died, but he hasn’t been seen or heard from since except here. Due to the jail time he likely spent for Stella, Occam marked him as a person of interest and sent the local deputies by his place. JoJo pinged his cell, but they can’t find him or it. No one admits to seeing or hearing from him.”
“Cale Nowell, Donald Murray Hampstead, and Racine Alcock are the last remaining members of the original poly marriage. I’d like you and Jones to concentrate on Hampstead and Alcock. They didn’t just fall through a hole into a pocket universe. They have to be somewhere. And based on the appearance of Cale’s fingertips in these photographs”—he expanded a photo from the day of the murders—“he didn’t spend enough time in a null room. He has been affected by the death and decay.” FireWind pulled his cell and dialed HQ. To whomever answered, he said, “Issue an all-points bulletin for Cale Nowell. He is to be brought to the local law enforcement center in whatever county or city he is found, and held for questioning until I arrive.”
A knock echoed from the door, concluding our null time. FireWind ended his call, I grabbed my gear, and the moment the big door opened, I raced outside, fell on the ground, and nearly lost the long-ago remains of my sandwich.
FireWind walked down the ramp to the ground looking like a fashion model, his clothes unwrinkled, his hair glinting in the security lights. It was beyond unfair for a man to be so composed and unruffled. As he passed me by, he said, “You did a good job in the loft, Ingram. Thank you for not swatting me on the nose.” He disappeared into the night like something from a fantasy movie, all magic wands and smoke and mirrors.
Occam appeared from the darkness and held out a steel mug. My heart melted. I accepted the cup, finding it contained warm lemon ginger tea. “Thank you,” I whispered to him.
“Anything and everything for you, Nell, sugar.” Occam left me sitting on the ground in the dark, because that was my happy place. Not something any other woman would want or any other man would know. I sipped my tea from the metal mug and let the night wind and the earth beneath my body ease my discomfort. I also scooped a little soil out of the pot and called on Soulwood to help me heal. Occam hauled Pacillo back to the barn and the remains of horse and human back into the trailer. Again.