Free Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us by J. L. Doty Page B

practitioner. No one needed to tell Paul the suits were security.
    Salisteen led them to a large office with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto a patio and an enormous lawn. Waiting in the office was a fellow that looked like a dockworker, short, stocky, a little overweight, heavily muscled. He had the kind of dark, black hair that left a five-o’clock shadow ten minutes after shaving.
    “Charlie!” McGowan said, obviously surprised to see the man there. “What are you doing here?”
    “Walter,” the man said. To all outward appearances they were two old friends, but there seemed an element of tension between them. “Salisteen asked me to come and help too.” He spoke with a thick New York accent.
    McGowan made introductions, and Paul learned the fellow was Charlie Stowicz. That meant they had four of the five most powerful wizards in North America present in the room. McGowan’s uneasiness put Paul on edge. Whereas Salisteen wanted to eat Paul for desert, Stowicz looked at him like he wanted to hang him from the nearest tree. Colleen confirmed Paul’s suspicions when she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “The only reason Charlie would be here is to see you. And I’m not sure if that’s good.”
    ~~~
    Dinner was a casual affair, a simple help-yourself buffet. Katherine would have enjoyed it more, but when that cougar Salisteen heard Paul had never tasted Texas barbecue, she personally introduced him to every dish on the table. The slut never lost physical contact with him: a hand on his elbow, her hip brushing against his. She was probably spelling him, and Katherine considered checking his aura.
    What am I doing? Katherine asked herself. First I avoid him like the plague, then I turn into a seething bag of jealous hormones? She had no claims on Paul, and if he wanted that over-sexed, middle-aged trollop, he could damn well have her.
    They sat at picnic tables on one of the many patios. Katherine sat opposite Paul while Salisteen carefully chose a seat next to him, her hip brushing up against his. The conversation immediately turned to the demon kills. “It seems to have progressed to about one or two victims a month,” Salisteen said. “And it’s careful, never strikes in the same municipality twice, at least not without waiting several months between victims. Only strikes in larger communities that deal regularly with unusual deaths. The victims are all young girls about eight or nine years old. But other than that, no set pattern to victim type: white, black, Hispanic, blonde, brunette, rich, poor.”
    Paul asked, “But wouldn’t someone connect the dots on a string of murders like that?”
    Stowicz lifted his napkin to his face and wiped a bit of sauce from his chin. “No sign of trauma, right?” He looked to Salisteen for confirmation and she nodded.
    He turned to Paul. “No sign of trauma, no drugs in the system, no needle marks, nothing that’ll show up on an autopsy. Medical examiner just chalks it up to natural causes, sometimes of unknown origin, sometimes they take a guess.”
    Salisteen added, “And the greater Dallas/Fort Worth area has a population of well over six million. They deal with thousands of deaths from all causes every day.” She stared at her food for a moment, used her fork to push it around the plate without tasting it. “This one’s careful. But I don’t think it’s ventured outside the Dallas/Fort Worth area.”
    Colleen asked, “And what brought it to your attention?”
    Salisteen frowned and continued to stare at her food as if recalling a bad memory. “A friend of mine, Mike Ramirez, Sergeant in the Rangers, good cop, smart cop.”
    She looked pointedly at Paul. “As you say, he connected the dots.”
    She took a pull on a bottle of beer. “He’s also a practitioner of middling talent, checked out one of the bodies and spotted the demon stink, knows when to ask for my help. In these kinds of cases Mike’ll bring me on board as a consultant,