Dark Rites

“I’m desperately trying to help a friend!” Vickie said.

“All right, all right,” Susan murmured, looking at the computer. She rattled off an address.

Vickie and Devin looked at each other, frowning.

“Say again, please?” Devin said.

Susan rattled off the address again, then paused, frowning. “Hmm. That can’t be right.”

“Nope. Not unless she’s living in the Atlantic Ocean,” Vickie murmured.

“Someone just transposed a figure wrong, or something,” Susan said.

“Right. Good job checking out your employees,” Devin said.

“Hey! We check, we do everything right.”

“You have a social security number for her?” Devin asked.

“Hey! Now, I think you have to give me a warrant or something like that for a social security number,” Susan said. “If you want more than that, you’ll have to wait until eleven o’clock. Our general manager comes in then. And he’s the one who hired Audrey!”

“But you do have a social security number for her, right?” Vickie asked. “I mean, seriously? Anyone who has visited Boston would probably know that was a sham address. Anyone who knows that we’re on the east coast would know—”

Devin jabbed her in the ribs. Vickie fell silent. She knew that she was getting more and more worried by the minute.

The waitress seemed suspicious now. Could she have drugged Alex, giving him something that made him either pass out or become out of it and pliable?

“You do have a social security number for her, right?”

“Of course!” Susan snapped. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work! We are a busy place, if you haven’t noticed.”

“We will get a warrant,” Devin said.

“Just come back when she’s due into work,” Susan said.

“I think you probably need to get someone to cover her shift,” Vickie said. “I think last night might have been her last night on the job.”

Devin grabbed Vickie’s hand, pulling her out of the office and out onto the sidewalk by Faneuil Hall.

“You can’t beat her up—not legal and won’t get us anywhere!” Devin said.

“I wasn’t going to beat her up. I just... I just had to let her know that...she’s...she’s dangerously careless and stupid!”

“We’ll get a warrant,” Devin said. “Not to worry, we’ll get a warrant.”

“Well, you can, but you don’t need to,” the two of them suddenly heard.

Vickie whirled around.

Dylan Ballantine was there, hand in hand with Darlene.

They were as real as the sidewalk to Vickie, and Devin, too, she imagined.

Others walked by them as if they were air.

“Hi,” Devin said. “You must be Dylan—and Darlene.”

“She’s one of them. She sees us clearly,” Darlene said, delighted.

“Yes, and...hi! Dylan Ballantine, and my friend Darlene Dutton,” he said, glad to meet Devin.

“Lovely. I’m Devin Lyle. I thought I’d meet you two soon enough, but a true pleasure,” Devin said. “So, why don’t we need a warrant?”

“Because I slipped into the office. And I memorized the number for you,” Dylan said.

“He’s so good!” Darlene said adoringly.

Devin glanced at Vickie and grinned. Then she drew out a notepad. “Okay, Mr. Dylan Ballantine. Let’s have it!”

* * *

It took Griffin a few minutes to realize that Professor Lacy Callahan was sitting in a wheelchair.

When he came upon her, she was under a massive oak, a shawl draped over her shoulders and her head bent over a sketchpad as she thoughtfully drew. She was an extremely attractive older woman—perhaps fifty or so—with delicate features and almost platinum-blond hair that shimmered around her, casting her in a gentle glow of beauty as if she were a mythical goddess.

“Professor Callahan?” he asked softly.

She looked up, just a bit startled, and then she studied him, head to toe.

Then she nodded gravely. “And you’re Special Agent Griffin Pryce,” she said.

“Yes.”

“I watch the news.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. There was a stone garden box near her and he took a seat on the edge.

She smiled suddenly. “You are quite a topic of conversation. Some people believe that you scared a man into suicide. Some just think you’re incredibly macho.”

“Professor, I didn’t scare a man I’d never seen before into carrying cyanide capsules, that’s for sure.”

“Well, good point. Still, you’ve given us a great deal to speculate over.”

“I actually try to stay out of the public eye—without being secretive. It’s a tough wire to walk.”

“I imagine it is. Which fascinates me. And, of course, makes me wonder why you’re here, speaking with me. Nope. Don’t tell me. There’s only one mystery in my life right now. My friend Alex Maple didn’t arrive for class this morning. He never misses. He wants a permanent position more than you can begin to imagine. Not only that, he loves teaching. I called him—I can’t reach him. And let’s see—Alex was the first person attacked by the man who died last night.”

“Maybe,” Griffin said.

“Maybe? You mean, an innocent man committed suicide rather than be questioned?”

“I didn’t say he was innocent. I just don’t know if he was guilty of all the attacks.”

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