Book of Shadows by Alexandra Sokoloff

cocked her head toward him, surprised.
    “What does BOOMS mean in text?” Garrett asked.
    “Bored out of my skull,” she answered promptly.
    Garrett looked at her. “Would you text that to someone you planned on killing?”
    Jenna’s eyes widened slightly. “Um . . . depends on how bored I was. I kinda doubt it, though.”
    Garrett nodded, frowning. “Yeah.” And his thoughts were swirling again, and the knot was back in his stomach.
    After a moment Jenna turned away with the laptop. Garrett moved back to the desk and opened the long top drawer to look down on a mad scatter of pens, pencils, club tickets, band postcards, legal pads, batteries, pills, Jolly Rancher candies, Dubble Bubble gum. Nothing eye-catching at first glance, and Garrett was inclined to move on—then he spotted an antique-style metal key. He reached with a gloved hand and picked it up, examining it.
    “You find a lockbox in the closet?” He spoke aloud to his partner.
    “Nope,” Landauer answered. He’d started on the bureau drawers.
    Garrett turned from the desk with the key and scanned the room. His eyes stopped on the black-quilted bed. He crossed the room and crouched beside it, picking up the black comforter to look below. In the dark space under the bed, amid an unnerving collection of dust mice, was a battered, antique-looking box. “Hey. Land.”
    Landauer stepped over from the dresser while Garrett lifted the box onto the bed and unlocked it, opened the lid. They looked down on a startling collection of objects: black candles, a tarnished silver hand mirror, an oil lamp, a cup, a bell, a jar of salt, a vial of oil, a hexagonal metal container with punched-out holes that Garrett recognized from his altar-boy days as a censer, for burning incense—and a thick book of photo album size covered in bloodred leather. Garrett lifted the book, curious . . . but his attention wasimmediately drawn to the two long, thin objects wrapped in black silk, lying beneath the volume. He picked one up and unwrapped it. In the folds of the silk lay an intricately carved red hardwood wand with a large cloudy crystal at the tip. Garret rewrapped the wand and replaced it in the box, then picked up the other black-wrapped object. He could tell what it was instantly. He lay it carefully down on the bed and folded back the silk. The detectives looked down on a gleaming silver dagger.
    Landauer exhaled above him and Garrett realized he’d been holding his breath as well. There was a quiet thrill in Land’s voice as he spoke.
    “Now we’re cooking with gas.”

Chapter Eleven

    They drew the curtains and Lingg moved in with the Luminol. The UV light revealed no obvious traces of blood on the dagger. There were more sensitive tests to be done in the lab, but suddenly Landauer looked up at Garrett in the purplish dark.
    “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
    Garrett nodded slowly. “We’ve got it.”
    There were still dozens of witnesses to question—dorm residents, professors, advisers—and countless personal belongings to sort through, not to mention e-mails, phone records, and Jason’s car to be processed. But with the semen and blood on the jeans, if the DNA matched Erin’s, and the presence of a dagger in Jason’s room, plus the CD case with its symbols corresponding to the carvings in Erin’s body, and the testimony of the roommate and the DJ at the club, they likely had more than enough circumstantial evidence to charge Jason.
    “I’m thinking we want to get home and try to talk to this kid before he’s lawyered up to the gills,” Landauer said, his voice faraway. “We’ve got a shitload here, G-man. If our luck holds he might just cop to it all.”
    “Okay,” Garrett said, feeling both electrified and hazy from lackof sleep. They could go through Moncrief’s personal effects back at Schroeder, while they waited for results of lab tests, and their IT expert could get into Moncrief’s and Erin’s laptops. “Let’s think. What