“Yes,” she said without hesitation, and then added more slowly, “Aubrey is there, and there are other people, too. But they’re hard to see. They fade in and out. They’re only vague images. I do know they’re in pain. They’re all in pain.” She shook her head again. “I’ve known it all along and just refused to think about it because it’s so, so terrible there. But it has to be where the murderer is keeping his victims’ souls.”
“The Land of the Dead,” Raef said.
“What?”
He snagged the slim book from where Lauren had left it on the kitchen counter. “It’s in here. It’s also what Aubrey’s talking about when she gets ripped back there by him.”
“Bread crumbs. She’s trying to lead us to her with bread crumbs, but they keep getting eaten,” Lauren said.
“Maybe not totally eaten.” He got up, refilled their coffee and brought a legal pad and a pencil back to the table. “So, whenever Aubrey’s emotions change—whenever she tries to talk about her death or her killer—he can sense it and he rips her away from here. Correct?”
“Correct. But it happens so fast that she never really gets to tell us anything.”
“But she tries,” Raef said. “Maybe we should listen better.”
“Okay, well, I’m not going to be very good at that because I feel her pain and I get ripped away with her. Or at least part of me does—that part that’s attached to Aub.”
“I get that. So let me help, or at least help with what I’ve witnessed. The first time Aubrey disappeared was in my office when you hired me and I asked her to tell me about her murder.”
Lauren nodded. “I hired you because she told me to, and that took her a while because she kept getting ripped away. She finally just described you and then said ‘KooKoo Kitty.’ I figured it out from there.”
“KooKoo Kitty? How the hell did you find me from that?”
Lauren smiled. “It’s twin speak. We had a cat when we were twelve. Someone had dumped her on our grandparents’ ranch by one of our guest cabins. She was, of course, pregnant. She was a sweet, friendly little thing, so Mother let us keep her as one of the barn cats, but said we’d have to give away the kittens and get her spayed. We called her Cabin Kitty. Well, she had her kittens and then promptly lost her mind protecting them. She attacked every cat, dog, chicken and even horse at the ranch. We renamed her KooKoo Kitty.”
“Nice story. Still don’t know why the hell that led you to me.”
“Oh, that’s easy. After Moonrise and the whole Psy thing is seriously cuckoo, and you’re the only tall, dark and handsome working there.”
“Thank you. I think.” Then he tried not to dwell on the fact that Aubrey described him as handsome. “So, that was time number one.”
“Obviously the murderer doesn’t want you involved in his case.”
“Yeah, well, too late. Second time was at Swan Lake.” Raef thought back, frowning. “I don’t remember her saying anything even vaguely pertaining to her death, do you?”
“Actually, I do remember what she was saying because it seemed harmless.” She moved her shoulders. “Sometimes I can tell she’s getting ready to get ripped back. I mean, I know that she’s trying to tell me something.”
“Like today.”
“Exactly. But yesterday she was totally happy. All she was doing was talking about the trees. She called them soldiers, wise and strong, and said they must need a lot of care. And that was it. He took her away.”
Raef’s eyes widened. “I’m an idiot. She wasn’t talking about trees—at least, not just about them. She had to have been giving us a clue about the murderer for him to have jerked her away.” He sat up straighter. “Ah, shit. She did it again today. She said when I stop looking at the forest and find the tree I’ll get a piece of the puzzle.”
“Raef! Whoever killed her must have been working on the trees at Swan Lake,” Lauren said.
“Puzzle piece found,” Raef said grimly. “And that tree-loving bastard better watch the hell out.”
8
“So what you’re saying is on July 15 there were no city tree trimmers at or around the area of Swan Lake?” Raef was talking into his cell as he paced across his home office.
“That’s correct, Mr. Raef, I see no record of having sent our tree trimmers out to Midtown at all that day.” The city worker’s voice sounded like she was talking to him through a tin can. Hell, with the City of Tulsa Works Department and their crappy budget, that might be true. He glanced at Lauren where she sat at his computer. She looked up at him. He shook his head, and she went back to concentrating on the computer. “Could you double-check your records, ma’am?”
“Certainly. Hold please,” she said.
“I’m on hold. Again.” Raef growled and continued prowling around his office. Finally the tin-can voice returned.
“Sir, I have checked and rechecked our records for that day and the day before. All of our tree-trimming teams were in the Reservoir Hill neighborhood on the fourteenth and the fifteenth of July. I am sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“Yeah, me, too, but thanks,” Raef said, disconnecting. “Struck out,” he told Lauren.
“Well, I think I just hit a home run,” she said, excitement raising her voice.
“How so?” He went to look over her shoulder at the Swan Lake website she had up. She’d clicked into several of the pictures and was studying them intently.
“First, I’ve quit thinking like a grieving sister and started thinking like a landscaper. Those are elms.” Lauren pointed at the picture. “Actually, almost all the larger trees lining the pond are elms.”
“Okay, why is that important?”
“Because of our weather patterns elms are especially susceptible to Dutch elm disease. It can be devastating to them.”
“And?” Raef prompted.
“And the pretty neighborhood around Swan Lake wouldn’t stay pretty if its biggest shade trees withered and died from a nasty, highly contagious fungus. These trees are healthy—strong and soldierlike, as my sister would say. That tells me Midtown has an arborist.”
“A what?”
“Tree doctor. This many elms, old and young, tell me they’ve been well cared for. Hang on, if I remember correctly …” Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she searched and clicked. “And I do! There’s an innovative preventative treatment for Dutch elm disease that needs to be applied in the spring and early summer.” She looked at him. “Mid-July would have been a perfect second-application time.”
“I was calling the right department, but asking the wrong question,” Raef said, but before he punched the city number again, Lauren’s words had him pausing. “He has more souls trapped than just Aubrey’s. I can feel them.”
“He’s a serial killer,” Raef said grimly. “I wonder how many more accidents have happened to people in Tulsa in the past year or so, and how many of them were close to other well-tended groves of trees.” Raef hit the number to the After Moonrise office. “Preston, I need you to get into the database and do a search for me. Deaths ruled as accidental in the past year. I’ll need specifics on the death sites. Pay special attention to details about the trees in the area—like, did the accident happen in Mohawk Park or did someone fall down the stairs at the BOK Arena. I’m interested in the trees, not the structures. Our killer has a connection to trees, might even be a tree doctor. Got it? … Good. Call me back ASAP.” He disconnected