they could scope out the scene.
At the far end was a rambler with an attached two-car garage, and next to the garage was a barn. There was a plowed driveway in front of the garage and another in front of the barn’s double doors, but no vehicles were parked in either of them. A collection of snow-covered heaps littered the yard, however: Rusty station wagon with fake wood paneling on the sides. Turquoise Volkswagen Beetle. Camper top resting on a set of blocks. Purple conversion van with plastic taped over the missing back windows. Cherry-red convertible, its cloth top in shreds and its interior filled with snow. A half-dozen ancient snowmobiles.
“The boyfriend must like to work on engines,” said Bernadette.
“Let’s see if anyone is minding witch headquarters,” said Garcia, taking his foot off the brake and rolling toward the house.
Bernadette pointed to a massive woodpile alongside the barn. Another mountain was stacked against the side of the house. “I’ll bet all that wood is for her kiln.”
The road branched off, the right leading to the barn and the left to the house. Garcia took the left fork, pulling up to the garage. One of the garage doors had a plastic road sign nailed to it. Against the yellow background was the black silhouette of a witch on a broom, and the words SAVE A BROOM . RIDE A WITCH . On the other garage door was another road sign declaring, PROUD TO BE A PAGAN . Beneath the words was an upright five-pointed star with a circle around it.
“I remember that lawsuit over dead Wiccan vets not being allowed to have those symbols on their government-issued markers,” said Bernadette.
“The one on the girl was inverted, though.”
“That makes it satanic, not Wiccan.”
“Doesn’t exclude the witch from our short list,” said Garcia.
“I agree,” said Bernadette. “If Ashe doesn’t have something to do with the murder and the star, she has to know someone who does. There’s gotta be a connection.”
“If nothing else, someone wanted us to land on her doorstep.”
“Let’s do this.”
Both opened their doors and hopped out. With one hand still on the open passenger door, Bernadette caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced toward the area between the garage and the barn. Bounding out from behind the barn’s woodpile were two thick-necked pit bulls.
“Tony! Dogs!” She jumped back into the cab and shut the door. The snarling animals hurled themselves against her side of the truck with such ferocity that the Titan rocked.
Garcia dived inside and slammed his door. “Jesus Christ!”
Two more pit bulls dashed out from between the garage and the barn, one of them running to Bernadette’s door and the other circling around to Garcia’s side. The agents had to yell in order to hear each other above the barking.
“Crap!” hollered Bernadette. “I was expecting hunting dogs!”
The pit bull on Garcia’s side jumped so high, its front paws hit the middle of the window. “Hunting dogs, my ass!”
Wondering if someone would hear the racket and come out, Bernadette scanned the front of the house. “The windows are covered with black paper!”
“Pit bulls and blacked-out windows! You think there’s something naughty going on inside?”
Two more dogs came running toward the truck to join in the frenzy. Bernadette instinctively looked up at the truck’s ceiling for a shotgun and realized that it hadn’t been fitted with a gun rack. “How many of these monsters do they have?”
Garcia took out his Glock and put his hand on the door. “I’ve had enough of this!”
The dogs on the passenger side were standing on their back paws and clawing madly with their front, as if trying to dig a hole through the metal. “God almighty!”
The instant Garcia opened his door a crack, one of the dogs shoved its head into the opening. As Garcia kicked at the snarling animal with his boot, the dog latched on to the heel. “Shit!” Garcia yelled, and aimed
At the far end was a rambler with an attached two-car garage, and next to the garage was a barn. There was a plowed driveway in front of the garage and another in front of the barn’s double doors, but no vehicles were parked in either of them. A collection of snow-covered heaps littered the yard, however: Rusty station wagon with fake wood paneling on the sides. Turquoise Volkswagen Beetle. Camper top resting on a set of blocks. Purple conversion van with plastic taped over the missing back windows. Cherry-red convertible, its cloth top in shreds and its interior filled with snow. A half-dozen ancient snowmobiles.
“The boyfriend must like to work on engines,” said Bernadette.
“Let’s see if anyone is minding witch headquarters,” said Garcia, taking his foot off the brake and rolling toward the house.
Bernadette pointed to a massive woodpile alongside the barn. Another mountain was stacked against the side of the house. “I’ll bet all that wood is for her kiln.”
The road branched off, the right leading to the barn and the left to the house. Garcia took the left fork, pulling up to the garage. One of the garage doors had a plastic road sign nailed to it. Against the yellow background was the black silhouette of a witch on a broom, and the words SAVE A BROOM . RIDE A WITCH . On the other garage door was another road sign declaring, PROUD TO BE A PAGAN . Beneath the words was an upright five-pointed star with a circle around it.
“I remember that lawsuit over dead Wiccan vets not being allowed to have those symbols on their government-issued markers,” said Bernadette.
“The one on the girl was inverted, though.”
“That makes it satanic, not Wiccan.”
“Doesn’t exclude the witch from our short list,” said Garcia.
“I agree,” said Bernadette. “If Ashe doesn’t have something to do with the murder and the star, she has to know someone who does. There’s gotta be a connection.”
“If nothing else, someone wanted us to land on her doorstep.”
“Let’s do this.”
Both opened their doors and hopped out. With one hand still on the open passenger door, Bernadette caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced toward the area between the garage and the barn. Bounding out from behind the barn’s woodpile were two thick-necked pit bulls.
“Tony! Dogs!” She jumped back into the cab and shut the door. The snarling animals hurled themselves against her side of the truck with such ferocity that the Titan rocked.
Garcia dived inside and slammed his door. “Jesus Christ!”
Two more pit bulls dashed out from between the garage and the barn, one of them running to Bernadette’s door and the other circling around to Garcia’s side. The agents had to yell in order to hear each other above the barking.
“Crap!” hollered Bernadette. “I was expecting hunting dogs!”
The pit bull on Garcia’s side jumped so high, its front paws hit the middle of the window. “Hunting dogs, my ass!”
Wondering if someone would hear the racket and come out, Bernadette scanned the front of the house. “The windows are covered with black paper!”
“Pit bulls and blacked-out windows! You think there’s something naughty going on inside?”
Two more dogs came running toward the truck to join in the frenzy. Bernadette instinctively looked up at the truck’s ceiling for a shotgun and realized that it hadn’t been fitted with a gun rack. “How many of these monsters do they have?”
Garcia took out his Glock and put his hand on the door. “I’ve had enough of this!”
The dogs on the passenger side were standing on their back paws and clawing madly with their front, as if trying to dig a hole through the metal. “God almighty!”
The instant Garcia opened his door a crack, one of the dogs shoved its head into the opening. As Garcia kicked at the snarling animal with his boot, the dog latched on to the heel. “Shit!” Garcia yelled, and aimed
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