“He’s not a good example.”

“I know that. I just get overwhelmed with the negativity and the confusion that follows these people.”

“It’s contagious. But we do what we do to help others. We always need to remember that.”

“What would happen if there were no law enforcement officers? Would evil run amok?”

“A Christian friend, who I share spiritual things with, would say God will one day take away the restraining forces on evil. So my understanding is that evil will only get worse.” 

“Frightening thought, but there is an element of truth there. I don’t see things getting better. The world is advancing scientifically, technologically, and intellectually—at least, I suppose it is. And we’re blessed materially. But the human race keeps getting worse.” Jack stood up and stretched. “It all seems out of balance. I wonder what restraining forces your friend is talking about?”

“Well, first she would say sin is the problem. It’s what’s inside of us. I thought of that when you told Oram it wasn’t his dad’s fault. It’s his fault, the fault of what’s going on inside of him. Evil lives inside that man. There must have been evil living inside his dad as well. Maybe all of us. So what holds back the evil in others?”

“The restraining force. What is it? All pretty deep stuff. To be continued.” He walked over picked up his chair and brought it closer to the desk, and placed his notebook on the desk. “Back to the evil one. Do we have the forensic report on the envelope?”

“Yep.” Catherine found the report on her phone. “Forensics only found the subject’s fingerprints on the envelope. Whoever gave him the envelope knew what they were doing.”

“Do you think he would have killed Ruby if he got to her directly?”

“Do you think Ruby was the target?”

“Good point. I’m making an assumption here. We could confirm that if we knew he had Ruby’s address. We should check out what CCTV cameras were in the vicinity. Trace his steps. See how he got Ruby’s address. Maybe it was given to him, or maybe it was written down somewhere. If it was, what would he have done with the paper? I doubt that he would’ve eaten it, but then again.”

“He could have. He’s a train wreck waiting to happen. He knew where she lived. But whoever crossed his path was going to get it.”

“Maybe. Yes, his actions were aggressive—the person who gave him the envelope primed him up. Forensics said there were traces of crystal meth in the envelope. Or maybe he was meant to deliver the drug, not take it. Maybe it was just a drug deal gone wrong.”

“No. That’s too much of a coincidence, with Ruby in the vicinity.”

“It is.”

“They knew the type of person they were dealing with. This person had thought it all through. So the target was Ruby.”

“Ruby believed Oram followed her home. She didn’t touch the envelope. She might have thought it was a card with some attempt at romance. We’ll have to ask her.”

“What was in the envelope?”

“A smaller envelope with a piece of paper with a number on it.”

“What was the number?” 

Catherine looked at her phone. “Just a single figure, number nine. If it was number eight, it would make sense.”

“How many units at Ruby’s block?”

“Eight. So it’s not a unit number,” Catherine said. “They say numbers can have spiritual and magical significance. I’ll research it.”

“It’s probably meaningless. Or maybe it’s some Wiccan secret code—which would make sense, because I believe the so-called high priestess is behind this. She needs to finish the job somehow—an unfinished sacrifice must have consequences in the Wicca world.”

“Straight into it, Jack.” Catherine was scrolling on her phone and stopped to read something. “Interesting. Wiccan and numerology seem to have a close relationship. The number nine is apparently a powerful number, full of energy.” 

Jack nodded. Numbers full of energy? Why did people get into such things? The search for meaning took people in all directions. Erica had started going to church. Ruby looked for meaning from a full moon. Oram sought meaning from drugs. He looked at Catherine, staring into her phone. Yes, some found significance with their phones. It’s one messed-up world. But he already knew this.

“I think your premise may be right, Jack.” Catherine looked up from her phone. “Wiccan, numerology, and tarot all seem connected. The number nine in tarot symbolises completion of a process; bringing something to a conclusion.”

That course he’d attended had covered tarot. The original intention of tarot cards a simple card game, but then the mystics got into it and the pictures on the cards took on a divine meaning. And now it looked like the numbers had a meaning as well. 

“So the process needed to be completed,” Jack said. “The sacrifice needed to be accomplished.”

“Yes. Our Ruby is still in danger.”

35 – Paper mushrooms

HALF-A-DOZEN CARS were parked in the tree-lined street. 

Jill had sat in the car with her partner and watched an elderly lady pottering around in her garden, a lush garden with a plush green lawn and large palm trees guarding the old dear’s house. Life could be so simple for some. But they weren’t interested in the old lady. They were focused on following the man after he collected the letter. Jill was pleased when he disposed of the letter, although he didn’t destroy the evidence as she had instructed. He just crumbled it up and threw it on the old lady’s plush lawn. It stood out like a solitary large mushroom. 

Her partner had retrieved the crumbled ball. 

They watched as the man entered the block of units further down the street and emerged from the block in a panicked state. They’d heard the sirens but followed him. They had their own plan for this individual, but the plan could not be executed. She had placed the needle back in her handbag.

They felt for the elderly man who was minding his own business. He was pruning a tree in his front yard when Oram attacked him. It was a ferocious attack. Jill had placed her hand on her partner’s lap.

“There is nothing we can do,” Jill said. “Look, a police vehicle is approaching.” 

They drove off. Jill looked back and saw two police officers burst from their vehicle with guns pointed in the direction of the altercation. It would’ve been good if they shot him. Jill had wondered if he’d done what was required.

Jill had closed her eyes and sought peace. 

It didn’t come.

<°)))><

Jill stared out the window on the drive home, feeling disconnected. A fear of death had come on her suddenly. It was a common fear they told her. She was in her early forties, too young to die. Her partner had encouraged her to join his spiritual journey. He had come from a violent background, and his journey had brought release and peace from his past. Had taken his anxiety away. But there was that time where he needed medication. She had obliged. He blamed the moon. 

She had resisted for years, but fear was crippling her—wrong, negative thoughts—so she stepped on to her partner’s pathway and sought advice from a psychic, a clairvoyant. It was then she started hearing a voice, a guiding voice. The psychic had called on her angels and spiritual guides. A connection took place. But now the connection seemed to be weakening. Were her guides too busy for her?

The spiritual guides had cured her. She no longer feared death but looked forward to it as the continuation of a journey—a betterment. They’d taken the anxiety away although she still felt the tightness in her chest when she thought of the magistrate. The psychic said she must have been vulnerable and oversensitive at the time of the magistrate event for it to leave such scarring. Jill wasn’t sure about her emotional makeup then, although she remembered being rundown and fatigued, but she knew the scar needed to be healed. She needed to do something about it.

Her partner and spiritual guides convinced her that the magistrate needed to be dealt with. Sometimes she thought she was overreacting. But the anxiety started with him. She could have ended up in jail. It’s the justice system, her partner told her. Corrupt and evil.

They followed the magistrate home a few times and came close to being spotted by him, so they needed to review the strategy. Then her partner found a picture of the magistrate and his daughter at a fundraising function. He had recently retired. A new strategy had presented itself.

Why the hatred was still there she wasn’t sure. Anxiety did strange things to people and their mind. Her partner had changed her. She didn’t feel the darkness of the fear any more, but she sensed something else growing inside her, its tentacles slowly engulfing her. She was trapped and the Jill Winter she once knew was receding, being lured away.

Her hands reached out to a nothingness. Nothing to connect to.

Why was she starting to feel disconnected?