Nemesis by Catherine Coulter Page A

recognition, he was sure of it, unless she was really good. She raised her eyes to his face. “The first one, the Dual Dragon, it’s not used often, at least by Wiccans I know. It’s quite old, isn’t it? The other is quite simple, probably handmade. That’s what’s favored by most Wiccans.”
    Savich passed the cell phone to Jonah. “Have you seen either of these two knives before?”
    Jonah shook his head no.
    Savich handed the cell to Ms. Louisa. She hummed as she looked at each of them. “Yes, what Morgana said is true. And Jonah’s right, you can buy ’em anywhere nowadays, and isn’t that something?”
    Savich asked again, “Do you keep a collection of Athames here, Mrs. Abbott?”
    “No. As I told you, an Athame is a very personal tool, Agent Savich. If something happens to it, then you would make another one. Neither Brakey nor Jonah as yet have made their own personal Athame.
    “Listen, I assure you Brakey doesn’t know anything about any of this. He grew up with Sparky Carroll, grew up with Deputy Kane Lewis watching over him. As I’ve said before, perhaps someone is leading you to suspect a Wiccan for their own reasons.” She sighed. “But then Walter Givens isn’t a Wiccan, yet he used an Athame. Why? And Deputy Lewis’s murder—why an Athame? This is all very confusing.”
    “Yes, it is,” Sherlock said. “Mrs. Alcott, isn’t it true that Wiccans believe they can influence other people’s behavior, even control it?”
    “We do believe our higher magic can influence events and the people involved in them, but we do it only with their consent, and only in their interests, not ours. Again, we do no harm.”
    “But do some ever try it even without consent?”
    “Well, sometimes, rarely, a binding spell may be necessary.”
    “A binding spell?” Savich asked.
    “A binding spell,” Deliah said patiently, “is to prevent another witch from doing mischief. Otherwise, influencing someone without their consent would be unethical—abhorrent, really—to a Wiccan.”
    Brakey said, “Mom, remember that time Ricky Tucker told me you were a witch and should be burned at the stake? Said it all over town?” Mrs. Alcott didn’t say anything, simply pleated the soft material of her dress. “Made me mad and I told him so, but he laughed at me, said it was true. A week later, Ricky drove his daddy’s truck into the old oak tree at Clemson Fork, broke his legs and knocked himself out. Ricky thought you did that.”
    “That’s only ignorance talking, Brakey, you know that. It was an accident, pure and simple.” She said to Savich and Sherlock, “Brakey’s father and I have heard just about everything over the years. An absurd comment by a teenage boy wouldn’t concern us at all. As far as I know, Ricky’s father had nothing to say about it.”
    Ms. Louisa said, “It’s true Ricky’s daddy never said much about the broken legs or the concussion, but he was real mad about the truck.” Ms. Louisa raised her eyes to Savich and gave him a big white-toothed grin. “It was totaled. He grounded Ricky for a month. Didn’t matter because Ricky was in bed with two broken legs. The truck wasn’t insured.”
    Deliah said, “I think you’ll agree we’ve been very cooperative with you, Agents. We kept to Brakey’s bargain with you. My boy Liggert is the only one who couldn’t be here. He told me it was wrong not to have Eileen, our lawyer, here.”
    “Liggert’s a smart boy,” the old lady said. “One thing about Liggert, he’ll always do the needful.” Ms. Louisa cocked her head to one side, stared at them, but didn’t stop knitting, the low clacking a constant rhythm. Sherlock wondered if it drove her daughter-in-law mad. It would her.
    “We’re nearly done here, Mrs. Alcott,” Savich said. “I have one final question for Brakey.” He turned to Brakey, who looked back at him like a trapped deer. “I believe you when you say you have no memory of Deputy Kane Lewis’s death. We