Nemesis (FBI Thriller 19)

This was a surprise. Savich said, “Your mom’s a Wiccan?”

“Yes. Like my grandmother and one of my sisters. My mom’s Athame has a plain flint black handle, ugly, really, but she keeps it sparkling clean for all her rituals, won’t let anyone else touch it, says she couldn’t connect to the spirit of things if she didn’t have her Athame. I don’t really know how she believes all that stuff, and to be honest, I don’t really care.”

“What’s your mom’s name?” Sherlock asked her.

“Millicent, Millie—Stacy, that’s my maiden name.”

Savich handed her his cell phone. “Do you recognize this Athame?”

She looked at the knife, raised stricken eyes to his face. “This isn’t the Athame that killed—”

“No, no, it’s one that’s similar, that’s all.”

She shook her head. “The only Athames I’ve seen are my mom’s. This one looks old, really old, doesn’t it, back to when knights were riding around and knocking each other off their horses, right? Are those dragon heads?”

“Yes.”

Sherlock asked, “Are there many practicing Wiccans in Plackett, Tammy?”

“I’ve heard my mom say she wishes there were more around here and that many of them go back at least two generations. She said my grandmother raised her in Wicca, told her Mr. Gardner from England taught them everything way back in the fifties. Gwen—she’s one of my sisters—well, neither of us ever got interested in any of it, so Mom didn’t force it on us. She and my other sister will celebrate Litha—that’s the summer solstice—next month. It’s a time of great joy for them, it’s a popular time for handfasting. That’s a Wiccan wedding. I know that because she said she wanted Sparky and me to celebrate a handfasting with them next month, at Litha. Sparky didn’t know what to say when she asked, but he agreed.

“My daddy thinks it’s all crazy nonsense, so she doesn’t push it. He told her he’d join her at Litha if they could have wild sex in front of the fire.” Tammy smiled, a ghost of a smile, but still a smile. “She smacked him. For her, Litha is a time of celebration, a spiritual time.”

Savich asked her, “Is Walter Givens a Wiccan? His family?”

“Not that I know of. Wiccans don’t advertise, you know? That’s what my mom told me. Most people around here are like my dad—screwy in the head about Wiccans, my mom says.” She made a screwing motion at the side of her head. “So Wiccans tend to keep quiet about their beliefs, and their ceremonies. They don’t advertise.”

“Can you tell me the names of other practicing Wiccans in town?”

Well, I know the Alcotts for sure. They say they’re Wiccans outright. My mom told me in a real hushed voice once that she doesn’t have much to do with the Alcotts. She seems a little bit scared of them. I know that sounds weird, but I think it’s true. My mom does feel things, know things,” Tammy added, a touch of embarrassment in her voice.

“What do you mean, Tammy—what things? Can you give me an example?” Sherlock leaned forward, her eyes on Tammy’s face.

“I don’t know that much about it, Agent Sherlock. I never paid much attention. I’m sorry.”

Savich said, “What about Brakey Alcott? Is he involved?”

“Brakey? Not that I know of. Brakey usually keeps his head down, stays out of trouble. Brakey’s a nice guy, a little shy. He wasn’t all that good in school, but nice, you know? He’s a year older than Sparky.” Her voice hitched, her small hands clenched. She raised liquid eyes to Savich’s face. “He was a year older than Sparky. It doesn’t even seem real. Sparky was only twenty-three.”

After a couple moments Tammy raised her head again. “Brakey’s an Alcott, and he’d know all about the gossip about his family. How could he not? Why are you asking about Brakey?”

“It has to do with Deputy Kane Lewis,” Savich said. “Did you or Sparky know him?”

“He’s been here forever, even before I was born. I knew him better when we were kids and he was always giving us a hard time if he caught us at Milson’s Point over on Route 7.” She blushed and swallowed again. “He nearly surprised Sparky and me once. It was close. I don’t really like him, but my folks do, all the parents do. Why do you ask?”

As Savich spoke, Sherlock watched Tammy Carroll closely. “Deputy Lewis was found at the Reineke post office this morning stabbed through the heart with another Athame. Like Sparky. I’m sorry. He’s dead.”