whether you want to face it or not.”
She rose from the couch, went into the kitchen. After rummaging through the cupboards, she took out a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, and dipped into it.
Thoughts sometimes best digested with comfort food, Wells thought. He walked over to the living room window. Front Avenue cut through a line of cherry trees below. On the corner, an old grey Subaru wagon parked. The car was too far away and too dark to see the license plate number, but he made a mental note of its characteristic details: new tires, ski rack, a purple and white sticker on the back passenger window, and a dent in the front fender.
Wells turned around to Julie. “I won’t pressure you anymore. I understand your fears, I really do. But I want you to think about what I said, about what might happen in the future if that boy learns he can get away with doing whatever he pleases.”
Julie’s eyes dropped from his again. “Okay.”
Wells’ phone buzzed in his jacket. He picked it up. “Detective Wells.”
“You were right about the marks,” a familiar voice said. It was John Collins, the medical examiner at Emanuel Hospital who had helped him with Jevanna Waters’ case. “They are Lichtenberg’s Flowers.”
“I thought so. I’d seen another patient with similar marks at the hospital recently."
“Right. That’s the fourth one this week.”
“No kidding?” Wells said.
Julie walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch, peanut butter jar in lap.
“The storms have been unusually prevalent this year,” John said. “I imagine we could see a few more injuries like this before they push through.”
“Can we make a definite call that lightning is what killed her?”
“Yes. She was definitely electrocuted by a very high voltage, which is commonly produced with lightning, and this resulted in her cardiac arrest. I still don’t see anything that would suggest foul play—there weren’t any chemicals in her system and no sign of bodily harm. Just a plain old freak accident.”
“You don’t think someone could have electrocuted her?”
“That still asks the question of how and with what? I suppose someone could have dragged in a generator or tapped into an electrical box in her place, but there didn’t seem to be any struggle marks on her body, so I’d have to go with the lightning theory. Makes sense.”
“I guess that’s as good as the news is going to get.”
“Unless you need anything else,” John said, “I’ll go ahead and call the undertaker.”
“No, that’s all. Thanks, John.”
“Sure.”
Wells hung up the phone. Although John had said there wasn’t any foul play that he could make of, he still couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling or forget about the fact that the girl’s front door was open, as if someone had left in a hurry. He suspected involvement with witchcraft again. To be sure he didn’t end up making the same mistakes he had made in the Jevanna Waters’ case, he made a note to interview a few of her friends and relatives before he submitted his report.
Julie set her tea down and walked over to him by the window. “I know you try real hard, Dad, and that you care about me and everyone else. It’s just that I’m an adult now. I have to take care of myself. You can’t always do it for me.”
Wells pulled her head gently to his chest and hugged her tight. “I know. I trust you’ll do the right thing, make the right decisions.” He looked out the window. The grey Subaru had left during his phone call with John. He wondered about the driver, if it were someone dangerous who might return, but Julie was right. He couldn’t watch her round-the-clock. She was going to have to take care of herself. It was just that he didn’t think she was doing a very good job of it.
CHAPTER 4
Night deepened to an ink-black darkness, seemingly thicker than curtains. With only the deck lights on the boat, the stars shone like a spray of glitter across the sky.
She rose from the couch, went into the kitchen. After rummaging through the cupboards, she took out a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, and dipped into it.
Thoughts sometimes best digested with comfort food, Wells thought. He walked over to the living room window. Front Avenue cut through a line of cherry trees below. On the corner, an old grey Subaru wagon parked. The car was too far away and too dark to see the license plate number, but he made a mental note of its characteristic details: new tires, ski rack, a purple and white sticker on the back passenger window, and a dent in the front fender.
Wells turned around to Julie. “I won’t pressure you anymore. I understand your fears, I really do. But I want you to think about what I said, about what might happen in the future if that boy learns he can get away with doing whatever he pleases.”
Julie’s eyes dropped from his again. “Okay.”
Wells’ phone buzzed in his jacket. He picked it up. “Detective Wells.”
“You were right about the marks,” a familiar voice said. It was John Collins, the medical examiner at Emanuel Hospital who had helped him with Jevanna Waters’ case. “They are Lichtenberg’s Flowers.”
“I thought so. I’d seen another patient with similar marks at the hospital recently."
“Right. That’s the fourth one this week.”
“No kidding?” Wells said.
Julie walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch, peanut butter jar in lap.
“The storms have been unusually prevalent this year,” John said. “I imagine we could see a few more injuries like this before they push through.”
“Can we make a definite call that lightning is what killed her?”
“Yes. She was definitely electrocuted by a very high voltage, which is commonly produced with lightning, and this resulted in her cardiac arrest. I still don’t see anything that would suggest foul play—there weren’t any chemicals in her system and no sign of bodily harm. Just a plain old freak accident.”
“You don’t think someone could have electrocuted her?”
“That still asks the question of how and with what? I suppose someone could have dragged in a generator or tapped into an electrical box in her place, but there didn’t seem to be any struggle marks on her body, so I’d have to go with the lightning theory. Makes sense.”
“I guess that’s as good as the news is going to get.”
“Unless you need anything else,” John said, “I’ll go ahead and call the undertaker.”
“No, that’s all. Thanks, John.”
“Sure.”
Wells hung up the phone. Although John had said there wasn’t any foul play that he could make of, he still couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling or forget about the fact that the girl’s front door was open, as if someone had left in a hurry. He suspected involvement with witchcraft again. To be sure he didn’t end up making the same mistakes he had made in the Jevanna Waters’ case, he made a note to interview a few of her friends and relatives before he submitted his report.
Julie set her tea down and walked over to him by the window. “I know you try real hard, Dad, and that you care about me and everyone else. It’s just that I’m an adult now. I have to take care of myself. You can’t always do it for me.”
Wells pulled her head gently to his chest and hugged her tight. “I know. I trust you’ll do the right thing, make the right decisions.” He looked out the window. The grey Subaru had left during his phone call with John. He wondered about the driver, if it were someone dangerous who might return, but Julie was right. He couldn’t watch her round-the-clock. She was going to have to take care of herself. It was just that he didn’t think she was doing a very good job of it.
CHAPTER 4
Night deepened to an ink-black darkness, seemingly thicker than curtains. With only the deck lights on the boat, the stars shone like a spray of glitter across the sky.
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