Chapter 1
Atonement for the Dead
“Dawn, get out of bed. I didn’t come back from the grave to spend my after-life
watching you sleep your life away.”
I groaned. “Clyde, there are days I wished you had gone to that happy resting
place in the sky. At least then I’d get more sleep.”
“That’s Uncle Clyde to you, wench. Now, get up, or else.”
I laughed and then moaned as sunlight hit my eyes and a world of hell burst open
in my head. He’d pulled open the curtains.
“Uncle Clyde!”
“I did tell your lazy ass to get up.”
No one should ever sound that smug. Especially not large black ravens inhabited
by annoying spirits.
“Fine, I’m up!” I pushed my jet black hair out of my face and stumbled out of
bed, groping blindly for some clothes. My head ached and I rubbed it with my other
hand. I really shouldn’t have gone clubbing the night before. I found a shirt and some
jeans, pulling them on as I cracked my eyes open, and found some shoes. Pain stabbed
through my head again and I moaned and headed out the bedroom door.
The beat of wings sounded behind me, following me to the kitchen. I ignored him.
Anyone who opened a window to full sunlight on a helpless hung-over sod like me
deserved no good-morning niceties.
“Hurry up.”
I grumbled under my breath and glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. He was
right. I was going to be late.
“Damn it, too late for coffee. And it’s Monday,” I muttered, grabbing my cell
phone and keys off the counter and heading out the back door to the garage.
“Lazy ass.”
I really had to learn how to keep my complaints to myself.
I walked over to my black 1980 Lincoln Continental and got in. To be honest, it
was ancient and looked a like a mini Hearse, but I liked it. It fit me.
I glanced at the side view mirror. My hair was a mess. It was jet black and pixie
cut and wild from my restless night. I looked like one of those troll dolls. Except gothic.
“You look like crap.”
“Thanks, Clyde.”
“Uncle!”
I sighed, started the car, and pulled out of the garage, heading for work. One
could hope the day would get better.
I pulled up to the NCMEC satellite office and parked. The day was bright and hot
in Tustin, California. I would have felt awesome if I hadn’t looked at the clock on the
dash: 9:47am. I was so late. I got out of the car and snuck in the building, shoulders
hunched, hoping to get to my desk unnoticed. Uncle Clyde glided in behind me: He,
unlike me, could be invisible.
“Dawn, while you were catching your beauty rest, we’ve had another
disappearance.”
Obviously, hoping anything invited karma to spit in my face.
I sighed and turned to face my supervisor, Dan Wilkins. “Another one? Who is it
this time?”
“A little girl.”
“What’s so different about this one? You haven’t called me out into the field since
the Maguey Case.”
Dan grimaced. That case had gone unsolved for nine years. I solved it in one day
by following the little boy’s ghost to his buried body in his parent’s hunting range.
“The little girl is the daughter of Shana Whitcauf, the Departmental head of the
Children and Family Services Department.”
I whistled. “Isn’t that ironic.”
“It get’s worse.”
I snorted and headed over to the coffee table. At least the office always had
coffee. I needed it. My head was still killing me. “How much worse can it get? Her kid’s
gone.”
“Her husband is the one who kidnapped her.”
I groaned. One cup of coffee was not going to be enough. Mondays should be
illegal. “And you need me to find the kid before it hits the local papers and the irony sets
all the reporters’ panties on fire.”
“Exactly. The state has already cut over three hundred employees because of the
budget. They’re just looking for reasons to cut more.”
I sighed. “Alright. Give me her information and I’ll start from there.”
As soon as he finished giving me Shana Whitcauf’s contact information, I headed
out.
Saving children was what I did.
But I could only attempt to save this child by meeting with her mother in person.
“The last time I saw my husband was about three days ago before I left for work.”
I raised my eyebrows. Shana Whitcauf was a tall, shapely woman. Her dark
brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her makeup made her golden skin seem
flawless.
“How long was it between the time you saw him and the moment he disappeared
with your daughter?”
She sighed. “My husband, Michael, and I have a very…unconventional
arrangement. He normally stays home while I work forty to forty-five hour weeks. So it
was always easier if he got her ready in the mornings and took her to school.”
I nodded, keeping the surprise off my face. The arrangement was different,
certainly, but this was California. Different was the norm.
“So he could have left any time after you left the house.”
“Exactly.” She leaned back against her desk, folding her arms and glancing at the
clock. Her schedule was so full that the only way I could speak to her immediately was
by meeting her in her office at work. Still, for a mother who had just lost her child, she
seemed a little impatient.
“Sorry, about the length of time—I know you’re pretty busy.” I wasn’t sorry at
all, but when working with parents on these cases, I always practiced a brand of niceness
that I didn’t normally use outside my job.
“No, no. I’ll spend all the time you need, if anything, I’ll just cancel my meeting.”
I shrugged. “That won’t be necessary. We’re almost done anyway—we just need
to schedule a time when I can meet you at your house.”
She stared at me. “At my house? Why?”
This part was always the hardest to explain without sounding like a Napa State
Hospital candidate.
“It’s easier for me to track children if I visit their homes.” It wasn’t true, but she
couldn’t know the real reason I needed to visit her house.
She frowned for a long while, doubtful, and then shrugged. “I don’t see what you
visiting our home will do when the police have already searched everything, but that’s
fine. Tomorrow evening I’m completely free.” She scribbled the address on a sticky from
her desk and handed it to me.
I took it, straightening and nodding a farewell. “All right, see you tomorrow
evening then.”
I turned and left her office, Uncle Clyde a silent, invisible shadow following me
out the door.
“That woman didn’t seem too invested in your meeting with her.”
I glanced up at the large raven flying above me as we headed towards my car.
“You know how it is. Once the police have gotten involved, no one ever thinks that the
NCMEC is relevant outside of their missing children’s hotline.”
He dipped in the air, irritated. “True, but still—something doesn’t feel right about
her.”
I stopped, craning my neck and crossing my arms. “Look, if you know something
I don’t, then spit it.”
He landed with the beating of large wings and a hop on the ground. He was a
large bird. Even for a raven. “No, I don’t know anything—not yet. But I’m telling you,
something doesn’t feel right about her.”
I sighed, weary. “Well, if that’s all you have to say then you’re not much help.
Maybe we’ll learn more when we check out her house tomorrow night.”
He hopped into the air, sullen. I knew he’d take his revenge in the morning.
But first we had to stop back at the office.
Dan was going to want an update on the Whitcaufs.
I walked back into the office, peering around for Dan. Cathy was the only one in
the room holding down the hotline. She looked up, wrinkled her nose at Uncle Clyde
sitting on my shoulder, and waved before going back to her call. I waved back and looked
at the clock: 4:43pm.
Dan must have taken an early day.
I sighed and headed home. Getting his take on Shana Whitcauf would have been
nice, but it wasn’t necessary. I’d most likely find out more than he ever could tomorrow
evening at the Whitcauf home anyway.
“Dawn, wake up.” There was the whoosh of fabric, and light smacked me in the
eyes.
I groaned. “Why does it always feel like my life is on repeat?”
“Because you’re too damn lazy to try something new. Like getting up early for a
change.”
I groaned again and rolled out of bed. At least today there was no hangover to
combat while stumbling out the door.
“Whatever,” I grumbled under my breath and headed to the bathroom and got in
the shower.
“You know, if you want to actually have food in the morning like a normal
person, getting up early is really good for that.”
I jumped, banging my arm against the water knobs and looked up. He was
perched on the shower doors looking down.
I cursed. “What the hell! Can’t I have a moment to shower? Alone?”
He ruffled his feathers, but disappeared from my view. “I’m your uncle and I’m
dead.”
“Still!”
“I’m just saying. You’re looking a little bony. ”
I rolled my eyes and finished up, glad that I’d hung the towel on the shower door.
I reached up and grabbed it, wrapping it around myself before stepping out of the shower.
Uncle Clyde was perched on the toilet seat, head cocked, black eyes beady and
serious. “You have to take better care of yourself, Dawn. Otherwise, what will you use to
negate the cost the next time you have to use a spell?”
I stiffened. He was right, but thinking about cost always hurt. Four years later and
my little sister’s death still rode me hard. “Fine, Clyde. Will you shut up if I eat?”
“Yeah, and while you’re at it, give your mom a call.”
I froze and then walked out the bathroom door. He’d gone too far. “Mind your
damn business, Uncle Clyde.”
“Dawn, why do you do this? Your mother doesn’t blame you for Christy’s death.
Her death wasn’t your fault to begin with.”
“You don’t know that.” My voice was raw. Thinking about the day my little sister
died hurt—I’d been fifteen and bitter at my powers. I hated dead things. While other little
kids were asking their mommies why Frisky or Spot wouldn’t wake up—I knew why.
They were dead.
The day my little sister died, I’d been avoiding Uncle Clyde, trying to smother my
powers, trying to deny that I wasn’t like other teens. Trying to deny the fact that I wasn’t
normal at all. If I’d accepted who I was, Uncle Clyde would have been with me that day.
He would have warned me in enough time to save her.
Christy died because I was too much of a coward to accept what I was: A
necromancer.
Every day that goes by, I atone for her death. Every child that I save is payment
for my guilt.
But her blood never washes off my hands.
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