“I believe you promised to make something up to me,” Keegan said as she peeled her T-shirt off and wiggled her butt to work her bottoms off.

  Sept gazed at Keegan’s naked body, and her groin tightened. She’d never thought she could be turned on solely by looks. But Keegan changed that because of the way her breasts appeared slightly heavy but would seemingly fit perfectly in her hands, and the way that overall she embodied Sept’s concept of femininity.

  “What?” Keegan said in a tone that hinted at self-consciousness.

  “You need to get used to me staring at you.” Sept finally stood behind her and rested her hands on Keegan’s hips. “When I do, it’s not because something’s wrong, but because you’re incredibly beautiful and sexy.”

  “You must get lucky a lot.”

  “I thought it was taboo to talk about past experiences when you have someone naked standing in front of you.” Sept tried to take it slow, but the feel of Keegan’s skin made her want to move closer and memorize every curve. “And even if it wasn’t, I’m not in the mood to talk about anything or anyone right now.”

  When Sept cupped her breasts, Keegan took a deep breath and Sept smiled. They were definitely the perfect fit. But she just had to move her right hand in the opposite direction until it nestled between Keegan’s legs.

  “What are you interested in talking about, then?” Keegan said as she put her hand behind Sept’s neck and laughed.

  “I’m interested in a long conversation about plenty of things, but first I want to show you how much I want to be here with you.” When she spread Keegan’s sex, Sept took a breath at how wet she was. “Is this all for me?”

  “One of my secret recipes,” Keegan said, and Sept laughed.

  Sept turned her around and kissed her until Keegan brought her hands up and combed her fingers into Sept’s hair. The house was quiet and the floodlights outside produced just enough brightness for Sept to see that Keegan’s nipples were as hard as hers, and in that moment she wanted to touch Keegan until she lost herself in the experience.

  When their lips came apart, Keegan said, “Touch me.”

  Sept came close to orgasm when Keegan encouraged her to lie on top of her and she spread her legs. In the brief minute Sept stopped to enjoy the position they were in, her phone started ringing. “Fuck me,” she said, knowing she couldn’t ignore it.

  “I’m trying my best, but if you keep running out the door it makes it more difficult.”

  “With any luck, Nathan has a quick question.” Sept moved to get her pants. “Savoie.”

  “Sept, this is Bruce. I hate to call so late, but do you remember Estella Mendoza?”

  “I talked to her the other day about a robbery at her store. Why?”

  “You need to get over here.” Sept could hear a woman crying in the background.

  “What happened?”

  “We have another one, and our guy took a little more time.”

  “Shit.” Sept gave quiet acknowledgment of what her night had turned into. “Did you call Nathan?”

  “He said he’d be right here.”

  “I’ll be there in a few, but call the unit and get them back out here.”

  As Keegan held herself off the bed by her elbows, she said, “Please tell me you don’t have to go.”

  “Trust me, I’m in as much pain as you are. I don’t want to, but I have to.”

  “Do we have enough time to do something about that pain?”

  Sept threw her pants back on the chair and lay next to Keegan. “When I finally get to touch you, I don’t want to have to run out the door right afterward.”

  “You’re right, but I don’t have to like it,” Keegan said, and kissed Sept’s chin when Sept put her arms around her.

  “Try and get some sleep, and don’t forget to go with Jacqueline in the morning.”

  “You’re a riot.” Keegan bit her on the neck. “I couldn’t sleep now even if I wanted to.”

  “I don’t want to be blamed if you oversalt something, so try your best.” Sept kissed her again.

  “Before you go, remember that you have to make this up to me, but you have to be in one piece to do it. Be careful, and I expect you back here tomorrow night, ready to close the deal.”

  “It’s refreshing to finally meet a girl who knows what she wants.” Sept held her until she could almost hear her watch ticking. “I’m so sorry about this.”

  “Pull out your magnifying glass and big pipe, Seven, and find this guy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Estella Mendoza was slumped against the front of her building with her hands covering her mouth when Sept drove up. Whatever was inside appeared to have molded her face into the definition of horror.

  Lourdes came out the front door and waved Sept over. “I had Gavin’s staff come in to give us a time of death so we could figure out the sequence of events tonight.”

  “What’s his opinion?”

  “The guy in the park came first, and then he came here with this girl. I only saw pictures of the first crime scene with Tameka, but this one looks a lot like it.”

  The first time their perp had brought his own supplies, but this time, with the help of the stolen books, he’d had everything he needed on the shelves of the store. From Sept’s first impression, he’d had to improvise only on what he’d bound her with, and he’d left her tied spread-eagle in the middle of the floor.

  “Same wound patterns as before, but with subtle differences,” Sept said to no one in particular.

  “Hey,” Nathan said as he bounded through the door and put on a pair of booties. “This guy is putting a serious hurt on my sleeping patterns.”

  “Among other things,” Sept said softly as she squatted close to the woman’s head. A white candle was burning and a number nine was on her forehead. “We need Dr. Julio to pay us another visit.”

  “I’ll try him.”

  “While you do that, I’ll see if we can get a head start on this.” Sept looked at the heart on the floor and bent down far enough to sniff the large wet spot around it.

  “What is that?” Nathan asked, then swallowed hard.

  “Smells like nothing, so I have to guess it’s water.” Sept stood and pointed him toward the door. “Should we ask Estella her opinion—if she can handle it?”

  “Can’t hurt, unless she filleted that woman like a trout.”

  Estella was sitting on the curb with her eyes closed and her lips moving like she was chanting something. As Sept walked up she glanced at Estella’s clothes and concluded that she had indeed walked in to find the carnage the killer had left behind. She couldn’t possibly have done that and walked away without a drop of blood on her unless she’d showered and changed, but Lourdes’s interview stated that she had an alibi for the window of time when the killing took place.

  “Ms. Mendoza.” Sept said her name to get her attention. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Why did this happen here? The women in my family and I have helped so many communicate with the gods we worship here. All that blood… We’ll never wash away the taint, no matter how hard we scrub.”

  “If you remember, I talked to you about another killing that was a lot like this one.” Sept leaned against the light pole close to Estella and flipped through her notes. “For that one I spoke with Julio Munez from Tulane, who helped me navigate what the killer left behind.”

  “I know Julio, and if he shared anything with you I’d believe it. He’s a true disciple who knows the rituals as well as I do.”

  “I learned that all the rituals have meaning to one god, so I want to ask you about what was done to that girl in there.”

  “If I can help, I will. No one deserves that, especially in the name of any religion,” Estella said forcefully.

  Sept nodded and flipped to the new page in her book where she’d written just a few lines. “What god does the number nine represent?”

  “It depends. What else did you find?”

  “A white candle and an organ cut out that was doused in what appears to be water.”

  Estella pulled her necklace out and ran her fingers along the beads. “The warrior king Chango is a powerful Orisha with a huge following. He’s a ladies’ man and has more than one wife. One of them, Oya, is known to be compassionate and has power over the dead. The very few santeros who dare to use body parts in their ceremonies in Oya’s house wish to summon her.”

  “Oya’s house?”

  “Any cemetery is her domain.” Estella appeared to be gathering strength as she spoke.

  “I thought you and Munez said no one killed in the name of any of these gods.”

  “It’s a sin to take life, Detective, and I don’t know of a religion where it would be considered acceptable. But once God has taken the person’s spirit, some consider the shell left behind an offering. It does happen occasionally, especially if you need to create powerful magic.”

  “Thank you, and we’ll try and get this place cleaned up as soon as possible.”

  Back inside, Sept walked the scene with Nathan, and they located the shepherd’s hook on the bottom of the woman’s foot and the pile of clothes neatly piled nearby. On top was a small purse with an ID and fifty-two dollars inside.

  “Frieda Hearn. Run that name and see if anything pops,” Sept told Nathan.

  “Anything else?”

  “We have the hook at the bottom of the foot, but a completely different set of clues around the body, which Estella said are for a different god. What does that tell us about this guy besides he’s crazier than a flock of loons in heat?”

  “That his mother neglected him as a child?”

  “What’s his mother got to do with this?”

  “I don’t know, but all those guys they catch after they’ve killed enough people to fill the Superdome always say it was their mother.”

  “How about we try and focus, Dr. Freud?”

  “He’s trying different ones until he gets the results he wants?”

  “That’s what I think, so that answer is as close to genius as you’re going to get tonight.” They walked the rest of the scene together, including the storeroom in the back.

  Julio Munez showed up thirty minutes later and hugged Estella before he turned to Sept for another teaching session inside. He didn’t add anything new to Estella’s information except that Friday was also one of Oya’s favorite days to receive sacrifices made in her name.

  “If we’re looking for the sacrifice you talked about,” Sept said as George and Alex took samples around the room to see if the killer left any other clues this time, “what’s it going to be?”

  “Assuming he stole Estella’s family’s books, he wouldn’t know that part of the ceremony, which he proved by not leaving one at the first murder. So you might not find anything.”

  “Hypothetically speaking, if he did somehow miraculously start channeling the gods he wants to impress, what are we looking for?”

  “Oya’s representative is St. Theresa, but her symbols are a crown with nine points and a hoe, pick, gourd, lightning bolt, scythe, shovel, rake, ax, and a mattock hanging from those points. Or possibly a spear, a lightning-bolt symbol, or a dried seed pod.” Julio counted them off on his fingers as if he didn’t want to forget any of them. “The sacrifice can be tied to any one of those, or to a statue of St. Theresa herself, but I’m betting you don’t find anything because this is just a pretender of the faith.”

  “Who sat around and thought of all this stuff?” Sept said, almost without realizing the words were coming from her mouth.

  “The Catholic religion is as full of ritual as any other, so don’t ridicule something you know nothing about, Detective.”

  “I’m not making fun of anyone and I put all religions in the same category, Dr. Munez, so don’t take offense.”

  He tore his eyes away from the body to look at Sept. “Call me Julio, since we’ll probably be spending a lot of time together. And because religion is something I’ve devoted a lifetime to, I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

  “Surely you have people more versed on the subject than I am to talk to. My opinion shouldn’t matter.” Sept stared at the flickering candle and imagined what kind of detachment from reality you had to be suffering from to kneel next to this woman and gut her like that.

  “It does matter, because until you understand how someone can be deeply moved by what he believes, you will never get close to this person. Faith is a two-way street, and how you practice it depends on what you hope to gain by it.”

  Sept recalled the nuns of St. Genevieve and had to laugh. They might have devoted their lives to their faith, but they could sure nail you with a rosary or a yardstick when the mood struck them. “Religion to some, especially the most pious among us, is a crutch that they use to fill some void that no one else can. When I was forced all those years ago to attend church, the people who acted the holiest were the ones who couldn’t fit in anywhere else.”

  “That’s true, but some practice to find salvation or favor with the gods, and others practice to find the excuse to do things like this. People who blow themselves up in crowded marketplaces or fly planes into buildings act in the name of their god, and they expect a divine reward.” Julio pointed to Frieda’s body and the area in general. “We look at this and see the workings of a sick mind, but the person who did it sees nothing different than the little old lady who attends church every day and drops a quarter into the collection box to light a candle. This is how he interprets his faith, and what we need to find—and fast—is what he’s praying for.”

  “No clues at all from what you see here.” Sept walked around and squatted down next to where the killer had tied one of Frieda’s ankles to the leg of the counter. “Excuse me, Julio,” she said when she ran a gloved finger over the intricate knot. “George, make sure you save these knots when the coroner’s office cuts her loose.”

  “Sure thing,” George said.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Alex followed up.

  “Thanks, guys. I’ll see you in the morning at the station.” Sept cocked her head in the direction of the door. “Would you like to finish our talk, Julio?”

  Outside, Julio walked Sept to his car and put one hand on the hood. “I wish I could tell you something else, but I’ll have to do some research before I can add anything.”

  “I appreciate you taking the time, but nothing jumps out at you from what he left in there?” Sept felt like she hadn’t slept in a week, and the day was already starting to wear on her.

  As Julio rubbed his chin she heard the rasp of his five o’clock shadow. “This is only a guess, but from what I know of the Orishas he’s tried to leave sacrifices for, he’s trying to open the door that leads to the dead.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He sacrificed the first girl to Elegua, the guardian of entrances and paths and the first to be called in any ceremony. This one is a gift to Oya, who has power over the dead. Like I explained before, the ceremonies and what Orisha someone picks is like using a pay phone. Tonight he killed to speak to someone who lords over those who’ve passed.”

  “He’s calling the dead?” Sept asked seriously.

  “I don’t know that for sure, but perhaps. If that’s the case, we haven’t really narrowed it down, because there are a million reasons people want to talk to the dead.”

  “Call me if you find anything, but don’t worry. I’ll be in touch this week.” Sept shook hands with Julio and waited until he was behind the wheel before she headed back to her own car and aimed it toward her apartment. The sun was starting to rise when she parked and trudged up the stairs, wanting nothing but to fall into bed and sleep for a few hours.

  The bed was unmade, which saved her the trouble of having to pull back the covers, and after she’d stripped down to her underwear, she sat on the edge hard enough to bounce and dialed. “Hey, I wanted to let you know I came home for a few hours to get some sleep, and I figured you’d be getting ready for work. I’ll call as soon as I’m up and maybe we can have lunch. Remember to be careful and try not to be alone.” Keegan’s cell had gone straight to voicemail, but that didn’t concern her since she knew the unit she’d sent over would be there until shift change, which wasn’t until after seven that morning.

  When Sept plowed into her pillow, the tension drained from her body and the last thought that flashed through her mind before she fell asleep had nothing to do with new relationships or fear of nightmares. Why would someone want to call the dead?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I really appreciate this,” Keegan said to Madeline Seymour, Sept’s neighbor, as she unlocked the door to Sept’s apartment.

  “Whatever you do, don’t make any sudden noises to jar her awake. If you get shot I never saw you and I have no idea how you got in here. Do we understand each other?” The cigarette bobbed in Madeline’s mouth as she spoke.

  “I’m not planning on any noise, and jarring her awake is the last thing I have in mind.” Keegan smiled, waved, and closed the door on Madeline in an effort to get away from the smoke. She scanned the apartment in search of the kitchen and laughed when it took a blink to find it. “This tiny space and so little furniture, if there was a fire and I was an insurance adjuster, I’d turn her in for arson,” Keegan said to the bags she carried.

  The refrigerator was so white and empty it almost blinded her, aside from the two containers she was sure held the cure for cancer in the cultures growing on whatever they once were. “Seven, what the hell are you doing to yourself living like this?”

  The constricted space and lack of furniture didn’t bother her because they reminded her of Sept’s personality—simple and straightforward. What you saw and heard was who Sept Savoie was, and if you didn’t like it, you had a problem with the truth. What bothered Keegan was Sept’s poor eating habits as she ran from one crime scene to the next.