"I think-I know-that true occult rituals, especially those ending in murder or any other kind of actual sacrifice, are very, very rare. Especially the sacrifice part. A lot more rare than some of the media would like people to believe. Rare as in virtually nonexistent."

Ash nodded, frowning. "I remember. The vast majority of occult groups are completely harmless, you said."

So we have talked about this. Good. I think.

"Right. Their rites and practices are merely the…trappings of their religious faith. Most such rituals are completely benign, designed to celebrate life and nature."

"But those that aren't benign?"

"Are very rare."

"I get that. And?"

"And involve actual worship of Satan and the belief in magic, the belief that a specific ritual or rituals can cause supernatural forces to grant the wishes or desires of the practitioner. But even those rarely involve physical sacrifice or murder."

"So I gather nobody dies. Usually."

"I'm serious, Ash."

"Okay. So occult rituals, offensive though they may be to the mainstream, are both rare and mostly benign."

"Yeah. What's a lot more common-though still pretty damn rare-is for someone to borrow the trappings, the ceremonies and rituals. To do his own thing within the framework of the occult. He may or may not possess occult beliefs. He may feel that he believes but not fully understand the rituals he's trying to command. Or it may have nothing to do with faith or belief and be simply window dressing. He may stage a murder scene implicating Satanism or other forms of the occult to confuse or mislead an investigation. He may deliberately use what he knows will frighten and panic his neighbors."

"To cover his tracks."

"It's been done before."

"I think I'd believe that before I'd believe in a cult of Satan worshippers conducting a blood sacrifice in the woods a mile from town."

"It does sound unlikely, doesn't it?" Riley brooded. "That bothers me as much as anything, the proximity to people, choosing a place where dogs are allowed to run and often do. Where people walk most every day. How long would anyone expect their supposed secret to stay that way?"

"Not all groups are secretive," Ash noted. "There's one just up the beach from you, as a matter of fact."

Purely from his tone, Riley gathered somewhat hesitantly that this wasn't something he expected her to already know, so she risked asking questions.

"What, a cult? A coven?"

"They aren't calling themselves either, as far as I know. Just a group of like-minded friends renting the Pearson place for the rest of the summer. But they've applied for and been granted permission to build a beach bonfire on Friday night-the full moon-and they've been asking questions, strongly implying they believe there's occult activity in the area, and they've let it be known that they practice an…alternative religion."

"Were they more specific about that? ‘Alternative' covers a lot these days."

"Not that I've heard. So far, anyway. But people are talking, of course, especially given what's been happening this summer."

Jesus, I wish I could remember how much of this we've already discussed.

"Can't stop people talking," she ventured.

He sent her another glance, dark brows lifting. "When the talk is bordering on panic, it's time to try. Or, at least, time to offer them a rational explanation to discuss. I thought we'd agreed about that, Riley."

"Yeah," she said. "I remember."

Except that I don't.

The cold, queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach got worse, and it wasn't because she needed food.

"Calls are already coming in," Ash said. "No media yet, but that's probably only because their attention is on all the shit happening in Charleston."

What the hell's happening in Charleston?

Riley scrambled for yet another elusive memory or bit of knowledge and again came up empty. She had absolutely no idea what was going on in the nearest city of any size to Castle.

"Still, I'm bound to be asked for an official statement of some kind soon," he went on. "Especially after today. What do you suggest I say-on the record?"

"That…a murder is being investigated."

"It won't stop the talk."

"No. But I can't offer anything else, Ash, not yet. I need time. Time to get a better grip on what's going on here."

"I don't like the idea of you working alone on this."

"Jake and his people-"

"Are out of their depth. We both know that. Why don't you want to be on the official clock, Riley? Why not call your boss, have him send down some help?"

"The unit's spread really thin right now," Riley answered truthfully. "Besides, Jake said an official FBI presence would stand out around here, and he's right. It may be no secret I'm with the Bureau, but at least I won't be flashing my badge or gun and interrogating people. That makes a difference, Ash; it changes how people respond to even a casual question, much less a pointed one. If I can keep my presence low-key, I'm more likely to find out…something."

"Yes," he said. "That's what I'm afraid of."

It was a Monday evening, but it was also in-season for the beach community and surrounding areas, so the restaurant Ash had chosen on the outskirts of Castle was doing brisk business. The good news, as far as Riley was concerned, was that the majority of that business consisted of summer visitors, most of whom didn't know one another.

Knowledge or memory?

She wasn't sure. Dammit.

In any case, if the restaurant's customers on this night even knew a body had been found only a couple of miles away, it didn't appear to be hampering their enjoyment of the quiet music and excellent seafood.

Riley did, however, catch at least a couple of glances and smiles aimed toward them as she and Ash were seated in a semisecluded back corner booth and left alone with their menus, and she murmured, "Nobody looks too panicked."

"Yet," he said. "But you can bet word of what was found this afternoon is spreading. By morning the summer visitors will be uneasy, some to the point of packing up early. The locals will be worried and demanding answers. More calls to my office, that's for sure. But I don't envy Jake, since he and his people will get the brunt of it."

"Part of the job."

"Probably not what he signed on for, though. Not in Hazard County."

"You either, I guess."

"No," Ash said after a moment. "I didn't sign on for it either."

Riley was looking at her menu but not really studying it. Something else was nagging at her. "Jake said nobody'd been reported missing."

"Yeah. You think who the victim is-or was-might be more important than how he was found?"

"At least as important, surely."

"No random sacrificial victim?"

"I'll have to do some research," she said, hedging her bets since she couldn't remember just what Ash knew of her background, "but offhand I can't think of any sort of black-occult ritual centering around the sacrifice of a victim chosen at random or just because he happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. Rituals tend to be very controlled, very specific. Especially when they involve anything as extreme as a blood sacrifice."

"So I take it all the urban legends about homeless people disappearing, to be used in satanic rites or as part of a black market for organs, are just that. Urban legends."

It was at least half a question, and Riley nodded in response as she met his intent gaze. "The vast majority of stories like that are about as real as leprechauns. The Bureau conducted an exhaustive investigation years ago, when half the country seemed convinced there were devil worshippers on every corner, and didn't find a shred of evidence to support all the scary claims of ritual human sacrifices during black sabbats."