Witch's Net Read online

  “You said you killed two men who attacked your partner. Were there more?”

  “Not there. That doesn't mean there aren't more where they came from though.” Jonah sighed, running a hand down his face. “You saw a woman leading men to their death and my gut instinct suggested something similar. That's at least one suspect we know of. I'm going to hunt her down, whoever she is, and I'm going to end this.”

  Malaika's hand covered his as she whispered. “You're a good man, Jonah Porter.”

  He looked down at where their hands met and barely caught a glimpse before she retreated, once more appearing stiff and untouchable, her arms folded across her chest. She wouldn't meet his gaze, instead she stared fiercely at her daughter, being far more protective than necessary.

  “What is it, Malaika?”

  She closed her eyes and shrugged, her lips thinning. Obviously something was going on inside her mind and she didn't want him to know.

  Wonderful, he thought as he brought the coffee cup to his mouth, sipping down the much needed caffeine.

  “I'm going to have sex with you.”

  The coffee burned its way through his nose as it came back out. Fortunately he was too busy trying not to choke on the hot liquid to worry about how bad his reaction looked.

  Hell. She was going to kill the man. Malaika ran to the small vendor nearby and grabbed some napkins, returning to blot the liquid from Jonah's jacket as he struggled to breathe.

  “Are you choking?” she asked as she patted his back hard. “Jonah?”

  He let out a strangled noise and sucked in air. “I'm fine,” he said, waving her hands away and grabbing some napkins from her in the process. He chuckled as he wiped coffee from his nose. “Man, am I smooth or what?” He laughed again, the sound coming out slightly embarrassed as he wiped at the coffee running down the side of his Styrofoam cup. “Sorry about that,” he said after regaining his composure. “As much as it hurts my ego to admit, I'm not used to women announcing their intentions with me so bluntly and out of the blue.”

  As heat rose to her face, Malaika silently cursed herself for blurting out such a stupid statement. “I d-didn't mean it like that,” she said, fighting not to stammer.

  “Oh?” He wiped at the wet spot on his jacket while glancing around, most likely hoping the embarrassing incident wasn't being heavily reviewed. Fortunately, no one seemed overly interested in them. “How did you mean it?”

  “I didn't…I…” Malaika threw her hands up in the air and groaned. “I had a vision.”

  “Another one?” His head jerked up, his eyes wide. “Did you see the killer?”

  “No, no,” she said, realizing he wasn't following her. “I had a vision last night, of us.”

  “Oh.” He crumpled the napkins in his hand. Then he stilled as his eyes heated, understanding now. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.”

  “Last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?”

  “I did not have a sex dream about you!” she growled, indignant. “What do you think I am, some sex-starved loser who dreams of doing every guy she meets?”

  His cheeks reddened and if she didn't know better she'd say he was embarrassed but she didn't have time to figure out what was going on in his mind. She needed to get things straight right away, before that vision had a chance of happening.

  “I just told you so you know it can't happen.”

  He cocked his head, gazing at her curiously. “I thought visions were future events.”

  “Visions are warnings of future events. Nothing is set in stone. Which you proved yourself by saving your partner.”

  “OK,” he said, still looking at her curiously. “So why tell me about the vision? Why not just make sure it doesn't happen yourself?”

  “Because I'm an idiot who doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut,” she muttered, scratching her head. “Look, there's obviously a mutual attraction between us or the vision would have never happened. I just want you to know that under no condition am I sleeping with you or even entertaining the idea of any romantic notions with you whatsoever. You got that?”

  His hazel eyes darkened, leaving little green showing. “The last time I checked I hadn't said or done anything inappropriate toward you.”

  “Really? Quit acting like you're such a great guy then. I know how it works. You think you can befriend my little girl, use her to work your way into my bed—”

  “I wouldn't have to use your daughter to get into your bed,” he said, his voice low and barely controlled, “and you had the vision to prove it. And I don't work like that. I'm hunting down a murderer and thus far you're the closest thing I have to a lead. That, Ms. Jordan, is why I came by your apartment last night. I stayed on your couch per your request and I fixed your daughter cereal because she asked me to. I picked her up because she was tired and if I've been nice to her it's because I'm a decent man, obviously unlike the previous men you've known or you wouldn't have just said something so stupid.”

  Malaika opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, repeating the process a few times before finally regaining the ability to form a sentence. “I'm sorry, Detective. I didn't mean to offend you, I'm just—”

  “Full of yourself?”

  “Hardly.” She folded her arms before her chest as anger resurged through her. “What I am is a single mother who has to constantly be on alert. I know how men think.”

  “So I take it Deja's father left you for another woman and now every male you have contact with has to pay for his mistake?”

  Malaika gasped, outraged by his assumption. “Oh here we go. I suppose this is the part where you inform me I'm just a bitter, dejected black woman with too much attitude to maintain a relationship with my saintly white—”

  “And I suppose I'm the white bastard that's just slumming in the ghetto trying to get a little flavor.”

  “I know you did not just call me ghetto!”

  “Hey, you're the one who brought up stereotypes.”

  Malaika opened her mouth, ready to continue their battle of words but the spirit of her grandmother hovering at Jonah's back, shaking her head from side to side, made her snap it shut. She'd first appeared while they'd been sitting on the bench, smiling in approval at the detective and that combined with her own attraction to the man had scared her into the verbal sparring match.

  “Look, it doesn't take a genius to look at your daughter and see her father was white. Obviously, he didn't treat you the way he should have but you can't go jumping down the throat of every other white man you meet who might happen to show an attraction to you. We're not all bad guys.”

  “I know that,” she conceded, looking away as her grandmother's spirit nodded her head in agreement with the detective. Shame crept into her chest as she realized she'd been allowing her mother's prejudiced ideas to influence her thoughts. “I apologize. Deja's father did… He wasn't a bad guy but he could have been a lot better in the way he treated us and when I had the vision…”

  “It scared you,” the detective said softly, the light of understanding in his eyes.

  “Yes, so I pushed you away.”

  “No, you didn't,” he commented with a smug grin. “You just made an ass out of yourself. Now, if you don't mind I have a job to do and I need to check on a few things. Would you kindly go get your daughter? I'd hate to be accused of using a small child in order to seduce her mother.”

  He chuckled softly, managing to do so without the slightest trace of a smile, and abruptly walked away, crossing the street to walk toward his car.

  “So foolish,” a soft, aged voice said from her side.

  Malaika turned to find her deceased grandmother shaking her head at her, disappointment clear in her eyes.

  “Grandma Mahdi? I've tried to call you before. Why are you here now?”

  “I am here to guide you. You must think clearly.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Craig is alive.”
>
  “He survived the attack?” Malaika noticed a passerby glance at her oddly and quickly lowered her voice, turning her face so her moving lips couldn't be seen. “Where is he? Why hasn't he returned home?”

  “Your home is no longer his,” her grandmother responded sadly. “You must stop him.”

  “Stop him?” A cold chill raced along Malaika's spine. “Stop him from what?”

  “You must stop him… before he destroys the person sent to save you.” The older woman's gaze shot across the street to rest on Jonah as he sat in the driver's seat of his unmarked Crown Victoria, waiting for them.

  THREE

  “You're shitting me, right?”

  Jonah turned away from the window, where he'd been watching Malaika as she described the fisherman to a sketch artist, and faced the police chief. The balding man, not exceptionally tall, but powerfully built, sat behind his desk staring at Jonah as though he'd sprouted a second head.

  “I mean, a psychic? Surely, you're joking.”

  “She's been at more than one crime scene.”

  “There are other ways to explain that.” Chief Granger narrowed his gray-green eyes and redirected his gaze so that he could see Malaika through his office window. “Have you checked her background?”

  “It was the first thing I did.” Jonah barely contained his anger, unsure whether the sudden rise in his temper was due to the chief questioning his common sense, or the fact the man was looking at Malaika as though she were guilty. Hell, it'd been an assumption he'd made right off the bat too, but now that he'd met her, his gut told him she was no killer. He didn't like the chief looking at her as though she were. “Her background check came back spotless, not so much as a parking ticket or overdue library book. She's a website designer, not a murderer.”

  “Then why is she hanging around the crime scenes?”

  “I told you.” Jonah shot one more glance toward his desk to make sure Malaika was all right, and then sat in one of the chairs opposite the chief.

  “Yeah, I know. She's psychic.” Granger rubbed a hand over his smooth head and let out a sigh. “Look, son. I know you've been through some shit lately—”

  “You know there have been cases where psychics have been brought in,” Jonah interrupted, tired of having his sanity questioned. “It may seem weird as hell, and not logically explainable, but there are psychics. Remember that little girl who went missing last year, and a psychic led the police right to the abductor's home?”

  “Yeah, I'll give you that one, but I'm not so sure this woman is a psychic. Why can't she tell us who the killer is? Uh-uh. Not buying it.” Granger sat back in his chair and shook his head. “And I'm not buying you being perfectly fine either. Something is going on with you, Porter.”

  “I've passed the mental exams.”

  “Yeah, well, that don't always mean shit.” Granger sniffed and his mustache twitched. “I talked to a buddy of mine with the feds. He was with the team that went down to Hicksville after Curtis Dunn.”

  “And?” Jonah prompted after Granger affixed a hard stare on him and went silent.

  “Do you know what they found?”

  “No.” Jake hadn't divulged much during the one brief contact he'd had with him during that time.

  “A bloody massacre. The majority of that town is gone. There was this one house… It looked like a battle had been fought inside, with a whole damn army. The carpet was soaked through with blood.”

  “You make it sound as if an entire town was killed off.”

  “It was.”

  Jonah gulped. Jake had been there. If it was that bad and he hadn't answered his cell in all this time…

  “We talked to the Sheriff there. Peewee Porter. Your cousin.”

  “So he's alright?” Like Jake, Peewee also hadn't returned his calls.

  “I wouldn't say that. Whatever happened there messed up the man's wiring. He's convinced vampires took out his whole town and would have killed him too if not for a little help from the family. I'm betting you know who he was referring to.”

  “Where's Jake now?” Jonah ignored the suspicious glare he received from the chief, more concerned with his younger brother's safety.

  “Hell if I know, but I'd sure like to find out. What the hell was he doing there, Porter?”

  “He's a detective too.”

  “A private detective, or so he says.” Granger leaned forward. “I find it highly suspicious he wound up in the same county Curtis Dunn was suspected of being in.”

  “He has the right to search for the man too.” Jonah clenched his jaw, barely restraining his temper. “And we have family there. He's allowed to visit our family.”

  “I hope your brother isn't looking to serve a little vigilante justice for what was done to you.” Granger narrowed his eyes, and lowered his voice to a threatening tone. “And I hope to hell you aren't supplying him with information regarding a case I ordered you off of.”

  “I haven't heard from my brother in quite a while, close to a year, actually. He tends to disappear for periods of time. I haven't given him any information regarding Curtis Dunn or that case,” Jonah lied through his teeth. “Jake's a smart man, and a good detective. If he knows anything about Curtis Dunn's whereabouts, he figured it out on his own, and I can't stop him from looking for the guy.”

  “He's your little brother.”

  “In case you haven't noticed, my little brother is a grown man with an aversion to authority.”

  Granger let out a frustrated sigh and sat back in his chair. “If he screws with my investigation, I'm bringing him in, in cuffs.”

  “Won't be the first time he's spent the night in a cell,” Jonah responded, careful to keep his tone neutral. He was already on the chief's shit list, and he'd just killed two cops. What he really needed to do was grovel and kiss major ass, but that just wasn't in his genetic makeup.

  Granger let out a mirthless chuckle, and scratched his head. “Give me your gun and your badge, Porter.”

  “What?” Jonah brought his hands down on the edge of Granger's desk with a loud thump.

  The police chief widened his eyes in surprise. “You killed two cops, Porter. You know there's going to be an investigation.”

  “Yeah, but, I, but—” Jonah sputtered, anger wiping out his ability to think straight. Yes, he knew there would be an investigation, but to take his badge? When he'd saved his partner's life?

  “Porter, you know it's protocol.”

  “Fuck protocol!” Jonah rose out of his seat lightning fast. “I saved Ronnie's life. If I hadn't pulled the trigger when I did, she wouldn't be in the hospital, she'd be in the morgue, and you damn well know it!”

  Granger stood, rested his fists on the desk. “I'm going to remind you who I am, son.”

  “You know this is bullshit.” Jonah stared his boss in the eye, too mad to give a damn about repercussions for his immediate actions.

  Granger looked away, the slight blush of red in his cheeks giving away the truth. He did know it was bullshit. “I'm sorry, Porter. My hands are tied.”

  Jonah clenched his fists tight as Granger held out his hand.

  “Give me your gun and your badge. Don't make me have to take them from you.”

  He was tempted to do just that. But he loved his job, lived to serve. Jonah took a deep breath and pulled out his badge. He rubbed his thumb over it reverently before handing it to the chief. The gun was easier. He had another one in his car, and several more at home. “This is fucked up, Chief.”

  “Off the record?” Granger lay the gun and badge on his desk, and looked Jonah square in the eye. “You're a good detective, Porter. If it were my choice, I wouldn't have done this. You saved your partner's life, but the details surrounding the situation…” Granger shook his head and frowned. “Why in the hell were your bullets silver-coated?”

  Jonah's heart slammed into his throat. He'd totally forgotten about the bullets. He opened his mouth while struggling to think of a good reason which wouldn't sound like
a pathetic excuse, and snapped it shut when he failed to come up with anything halfway decent.

  “Ah, save it,” Granger said with a wave of his hand. “Whatever you think up to say isn't going to sound sane to me. You've been hung on a damn wall by some devil-worshiping psycho, found in the same building with charred remains of a serial killer, and now you're walking around with silver-coated bullets, killing cops-gone-bad with them. There's not a thing you can say to make sense of all that, Porter. Therein lies the problem.”

  Granger plopped back down into his seat with a heavy sigh. “Go on home, Porter. Watch ESPN, get drunk, and get laid. Take the damn vacation you're being given until I can find a way to convince the higher-ups that you're not a walking disaster area.”

  Jonah nodded his head, unable to say anything to change the outcome of the situation, and turned for the door.

  “And stay the hell away from Malaika Jordan. You're to go nowhere near this case.”

  “What?” Jonah whipped around to face the chief. Desperation clawed through his belly. He didn't know why, but his gut insisted he stick to Malaika. “You have my badge and my gun. Isn't that enough?”

  Granger's eyes widened as Jonah loomed over him. “Porter—”

  “I know I'm off the case in official capacity, but why—”

  “You're off the case in any and all capacity,” Granger said, rising from his seat. “Dammit, Joe, I'm trying to help you keep your damn job. Stay away from this case. All of it!”

  “She'll talk to me. I've built a rapport with her.”

  “Another detective can do the same.”

  “Another detective probably won't even believe her!”

  “Lower your voice, son.” The chief's order came out between clenched teeth. “We'll question the woman, and if there's anything—”