Necromantia Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  When seeing dead people is more than a movie tagline.

  Circe Latham’s secret has always set her apart from everyone, but these days she uses it to bring home those whose lives are stolen too soon. Alongside her search dog, Zelda, she is able to make a difference, and the chance to work a case with her high school crush, Deputy Sheriff Katie Carlisle, is an exciting challenge. Until the case takes a deadly turn and her own life hangs in the balance. In order to save herself, Circe must do the one thing she swore never to do again: share her secret. Will her trust in Katie be strong enough to save her life or will she too fall victim to one who calls himself The Cleaner?

  Necromantia

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Necromantia

  © 2016 By Sheri Lewis Wohl. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-612-8

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: April 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Melody Pond

  Photo By Sheri Lewis Wohl

  By the Author

  Crimson Vengeance

  Burgundy Betrayal

  Scarlet Revenge

  Vermilion Justice

  Twisted Echoes

  Twisted Whispers

  Necromantia

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you goes out to Shelley Thrasher for being a fantastic editor, a wonderful writer, and a great friend. You have touched my life in more ways than you’ll ever know.

  Thanks also to the real Duane “Will” Willschem for all your years of keeping watch over us and making sure we were safe. For years, you asked me time and time again when I was going to put you in a book. So here you go, Will. This book is for you. Thanks for letting me have fun with your character.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to:

  The women, men, and K9s

  Across the country

  Who dedicate untold hours of their

  Time to train for deployment

  As search-and-rescue volunteers.

  In the middle of the journey

  of our life

  I came to myself within

  A dark wood

  Where the straight way was lost

  —Dante Alighieri

  Prologue

  No question about it. He was glad to be home. All the years away gave him a new perspective on the place where he was born. When he left, all he could think about was getting as far away as possible and leaving painful memories and those who had hurt him behind. Most important of all, he wanted to find somewhere more exciting to live his life with no history and no one watching his every move. Freedom was a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

  For a while the cities were glorious. New York, Chicago, Atlanta, and most fun of all, New Orleans. For a brief period, the resentment and rage that had sent him on his quest receded. Only for a while, though, and then it would ease back in like a cat slinking into the house after a night of roaming. Restlessness and discontent shadowed him no matter where he went.

  But it finally hit him. Home beckoned, and only at home would he discover the inner peace he sought. Dorothy was right when she said there was no place like home.

  So here he was, and peace was already beginning to settle in. The tricks he’d picked up in his years on the road helped him now. The time away had made him wiser and better equipped to deal with those around him who criticized his every move. Best, he was able to begin the work needed to create his masterpiece. All that came before was much like going away to school. With every step and every move, he’d learned and tucked each bit of knowledge away. Now he was a graduate and ready to put his education to good use.

  The house was another piece of the puzzle proving his path was the correct one. When he walked inside, it seemed as if someone had designed it with him in mind. Just off the Little Spokane River and Highway 395, it sat on a piece of land that provided ample privacy. Inside, it was nice and, more important, functional and roomy. The basement proved to be the crowning piece. Unfinished, with concrete walls and floor, one end was lined with nicely built storage shelves, and on the other, a utility sink hunkered next to a washer and dryer. Nothing else cluttered the room. He couldn’t have designed it better himself.

  Tonight, he flipped on the light to illuminate the space and walked down the stairs. He’d already lined up his first set of jars on the shelves, and the only thing he needed to do to make all of them complete was to properly label them, which he would do just as soon as he finished tidying up. Grabbing the remote control he kept on one shelf, he pointed it toward the ceiling. There on the very top shelf lurked a state-of-the-art stereo he’d purchased at a local big-box store and installed himself, mounting speakers in each corner of the room. When the music began to play, he smiled. It was Mozart tonight. Classical and a very good choice, if he did say so.

  He uncoiled the garden hose that was hooked on one end to the utility-sink faucet, and on the other end he attached a spray nozzle. With the tap turned all the way to hot, he began to spray down the walls and the concrete floor. Bloody red water flowed to the drain set in the middle of the floor. He hummed along with the music as he washed away the evidence of his evening’s work, stopping only when the water finally ran clear.

  Chapter One

  Being able to see dead people sucked. Circe Latham didn’t care how cool it looked in the movies; in real life it was just plain a pain in the ass. At least until she stumbled on a way to make it less disruptive in her life. These days it was a lot more manageable and often fascinating. And the sanity that came along with it was life altering in a way she could never explain.

  Today was one of those days when she felt useful and not the freak she really was. There was a good chance someone dead would come to her and she was the only one who’d know. Sort of. Zelda would catch it too, although unlike Circe, Zelda wouldn’t see them; she
’d smell them. After all, that’s what human-remains detection dogs did, and Zelda was an amazing one. Not that she was prejudiced, but her dog rocked.

  After nearly two years of training a minimum of three to four days a week, they’d passed their certification tests and were field ready. Since certifying they’d been called out at least a dozen times, including being loaned out to several different counties. If someone was nearby, they would find them. Or rather if a body happened to be in the area, they’d locate it.

  “You ready, girl?” Circe asked when she came downstairs outfitted in hiking pants, a nondescript moisture-wicking shirt, and her favorite hiking boots. Unlike a search for a missing person when she would put on a team shirt and jacket clearly identifying her as a search-and-rescue volunteer, people doing recovery searches many times tended to work under the radar. Neither she nor Zelda wore anything identifiable. For a lot of reasons, it was better that way.

  Zelda was already wound up and she hadn’t said a word to her yet. Every time Circe pulled on a pair of hiking pants, Zelda knew exactly what was going to happen next and started pacing in anticipation at the garage door. Living with a working dog was an adventure hard to explain to people who’d never spent any time with one. She couldn’t slide anything by her because she was as smart as they came and always up for a search anywhere, anytime, including right now. Nothing made Zelda happier than to be out in the field working.

  From the counter Circe grabbed two full-sized water bottles, one for her and one for Zelda. Searches were no different from any endurance event, and the motto “hydrate, hydrate, hydrate” was an unwritten law for both the handler and the dog.

  Zelda’s intense black eyes watched her as she slipped the full bottles into her waist pack. She smiled and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go then.” As Circe held the door to the garage open, Zelda raced through.

  Inside the back of her SUV, Circe slipped a harness on Zelda and then hooked it to the safety belt that would keep her secure in case of an accident. Some handlers let their dogs ride loose in the back of their vehicle, and some always kept them in crates. Circe went for the middle ground and chose the seatbelt harness. That way Zelda could see out the windows and stay safe at the same time. Of course, it was also easier to talk to her during their trips, and she loved talking to Zelda. She could say anything and felt less alone. Not to mention Zelda always kept her secrets.

  It took about thirty minutes to drive from their house at Long Lake to the parking area near the Sandifur Bridge just west of downtown, known for years as People’s Park. Part of the city’s urban-renewal effort, the bridge was a relatively new addition to an area that for decades hosted unofficial nude sunbathing. These days visitors were more likely to see runners, hikers, and dog walkers here. Nature-loving nudists were forced to move along, although on a sunny day it wasn’t unheard of to run into someone sunbathing sans clothing. Circe knew that one firsthand.

  When today’s call came in, Circe couldn’t help but wonder why this particular spot. Given the high usage in the area, it seemed an odd place to be called in to search. Then again, a good portion of land west of the bridge had been left in a natural state and remained largely unused. If she was to make an educated guess, they would most likely center the search in that rough, overgrown acreage.

  When she pulled into the gravel parking area, a familiar sedan already sat there and she parked next to it. “Hey, Brian,” she said to the tall, good-looking sheriff’s deputy.

  “Thanks for coming, Circe.” Brian Klym stood bent over a laptop that perched on the hood of his unmarked cruiser. “I’ll have the area for you in a sec.”

  She nodded and reached back through the open door of her car to retrieve the GPS unit currently in one of the pockets of her harness. After she freed it from the Velcro strip securing it in the harness, she handed it off to Brian so he could download the search area into it. While she waited, she put a bright-orange collar on Zelda, a tracking device that her GPS would pick up attached to it. When they were done with the search, Brian would be able to download the data from her unit, and it would show him exactly what ground both Circe and Zelda had covered. She did so love modern technology.

  Next she slipped on the chest harness that would hold her GPS once Brian was done with it, as well as a handheld radio and a compass, along with other useful items like a small notebook and pen. The chest harness made it easy to grab any of the items while out in the field without having to stop and dig through a backpack. She also took out her waist pack with two water bottles, flagging tape, latex gloves, and the most important item, Zelda’s fleece-covered tug toy. Zelda worked for the toy and would do anything for the chance to play tug with Circe.

  “Okay,” Brian said as he walked her way. “It’s not a huge area and you won’t need the GPS to grid it, but we’ll want to track and mark anyway.”

  After she became a K9 handler she learned pretty quickly that the GPS unit was a critical part of the search, even if the area was small and easily covered without walking it in tight grids. The data contained in the unit gave her all the information she needed to know what ground they’d covered and if they left any holes.

  “Our area,” Brian said as she tucked the GPS back into its pocket on her harness, “is the area south of the river, west of the bridge, and bordered by the roads on the north and east. Make sense?”

  Circe was surveying the search area as he talked. Given the parameters he described, she was able to visualize the search. She nodded as she clipped a leash to Zelda’s collar. “Got it.”

  “Where do you want to start?”

  Brian had done enough of these searches with her to understand how she and Zelda worked. Before they even started, she needed to determine the best pattern, based on prevailing conditions. By understanding wind direction and terrain features, she could set Zelda up for the best chance of success. Of course, she would find the dead regardless of either of those elements, but she still wanted to let her dog do her job as best she could.

  No one, not even the other members of her K9 team, knew of her special skill. Everyone thought Zelda did all the work, and she wanted to keep it that way. People didn’t need to know the dead came to her. Some secrets were better kept as just that: secrets. Besides, Zelda was a solid HRD dog, and regardless of what Circe saw, she did the work and deserved the praise.

  She turned full circle, feeling the breeze on her face, and when she determined the direction of the wind, she stopped and looked at Brian. “We’ll start from there.” She pointed to the southwest corner of their designated area. “We’ll walk north along the west border and then do fifty-meter diagonal grids east and west.”

  It was a relatively small space and probably didn’t need to be walked in a grid pattern. But keeping to the same routine was good for both her and Zelda.

  Brian nodded. “Got it.”

  In large search areas she’d have a navigator along who would keep her grid lines straight and uniform, which made sure they covered all their allotted space. Her job as a handler was to keep an eye on the dog. Today was different. The area was small enough that covering it wouldn’t be an issue so she could act as both K9 handler and navigator.

  With Brian at her side, they walked to the corner she’d pointed out as their starting point. The breeze kissed her cheeks as she leaned down and unclipped the leash from Zelda’s collar. “Are you ready?” she asked Zelda, whose answer came in the form of an excited yip. She nodded and put her on the command to work with a single word that had no meaning.

  Zelda took off. Brian didn’t ask about the nonsense word or what it meant because he knew. It was the command for Zelda to find human remains. The work of an HRD team was delicate in the best of circumstances, and the nonsense word used for the command served two purposes. First, it had no real meaning so no one would accidently use it and confuse the dog. Second, at times, family members of the missing person would attend a search, and the last thing those family members wanted to hear was a remi
nder that the dog was searching for the body of their loved one.

  At the sound of that single word, Zelda’s head went down and her eyes became even more focused. She was in full working mode. Zelda lived for this moment, and it never got old watching her work. Circe only regretted that she hadn’t discovered the world of search dogs earlier. Out in the field, side by side with this fabulous dog, not only could she do meaningful work with something she couldn’t escape, but she could participate in a heartfelt partnership. She couldn’t imagine her life without Zelda.

  Less than three minutes in the field, she realized this search would be a short one. Circe saw the victim shortly after they began. She didn’t have to alter her pattern because the young woman was standing directly in her path. At the sight of the disheveled woman, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, her heart ached. No one should lose their life that young. She was wearing high heels, short shorts, and a snug T-shirt that had once been a pale color but was now crimson with blood from a wound in her chest. Her bleached-blond hair hung in dirty strands down to her shoulders. Clearly, she’d seen some rough times in her few decades.

  “Help me,” she said, her voice whispery on the light breeze.

  Circe never talked back, for she’d learned as a child that while she could sometimes hear them, they never heard her. Instead she focused on Zelda, watching for the telltale change in body language. It always happened the same way. She would see them, and shortly thereafter, Zelda would scent them. This case wasn’t an exception. Seconds after the woman appeared, Zelda’s ears twitched and her tail went down. She had her scent.

  Without saying anything, she put a hand out to stop Brian from walking any farther. She wanted to give Zelda a chance to pinpoint her find. Both of them stopped walking and simply stood still as Zelda worked the scent cone. After they stopped it took less than a minute of searching with her nose close to the ground before Zelda gave her alert. She turned her head to Circe, who simply waited, her dark eyes focused and intense, as if saying, “Here.”