Witchy Dreams

by Amanda M. Lee

  Clove’s face drained of color when she realized Aunt Tillie was now focused on her. “I saw it on television,” she said hastily.

  “Quite frankly, I’m relieved,” Thistle added. “At least now I know that it was the pot that led to all that naked dancing in the woods. Otherwise, it was just weird.”

  Aunt Tillie shushed her with a single look. Then she turned her gaze to me, a look of frank consternation on her face. Uh-oh. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” she said.

  “I’m just appalled at the lack of judgment this family has shown,” I said. “I mean, drugs, how terrible – and unexpected – how terribly unexpected.” Okay, maybe I’m the worst liar in the family.

  Clove and Thistle shot me death glares. I did feel a little bit like a hypocrite.

  “Oh, stuff it,” she muttered. “You’re only saying this because you know I’m pissed about the Edith situation - -and I will exact revenge for that at a later date – don’t think I won’t. You sent that stick thin ghost out here to haunt me because you knew it would upset me and you’re only happy when you’re upsetting me.”

  I had begun slashing my hand across my chest to cut her off the second I realized the road the conversation was going to take us down. She obviously didn’t get the gesture, though. “And don’t think I don’t know that’s some newfangled way to tell me to go fuck myself. I know what the kids today are doing.” Obviously.

  I turned to Chief Terry, fear was written all over my face. What would he say? How would he react? Maybe he’d just think she was a crazy old lady.

  My mom, Twila and Marnie seemed to notice that I was looking in the other direction. They were stunned when they saw Chief Terry at the door.

  “Did I mention I invited Chief Terry to dinner?” I asked lamely.

  Aunt Tillie turned and met Chief Terry’s steady gaze. “It’s not like he didn’t know we were weird already. Stop crapping yourselves,” she admonished. “Bay talks to ghosts. So do I. Edith Harper is a ghost who haunts the paper. Bay recently convinced her to come up here and start haunting me as a joke – only it’s not funny at all.”

  If Chief Terry was surprised by Aunt Tillie’s small speech, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled at every woman in the room in turn – six of whom were currently drowning in a sea of silent panic – and then he finally spoke in a clipped and even tone. “Is that meatloaf I smell? It smells delicious.”

  An audible release of pent up breath could be heard amongst all of us. Chief Terry took a bowl of green beans and carried them from the kitchen into the other room. We all made a move to follow suit. Everyone was carrying a separate dish when we paused at the kitchen door and exchanged worried glances.

  “Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in,” my mom said.

  “Maybe he’s not going to say anything,” Twila, the eternal optimist, offered.

  “Maybe he just doesn’t care,” Aunt Tillie practically growled. She gets grumpy when she doesn’t get fed at exactly 7 p.m.

  We diligently walked into the dining room to find the entire cadre of inn guests already seated at the dining room table. They’d been sitting stock still and watching the kitchen door expectantly. Uh-oh.

  They all broke into spontaneous applause when they saw us. A couple even got to their feet.

  I moved around the table, despite my confusion, and lowered the meatloaf dish to the table before my hands suffered serious burns. The dish was hot. I turned to Emily, the girl who had discovered Shane’s body with me, in confusion.

  “Why are you clapping?”

  She didn’t get a chance to answer. The young woman from Hypnotic that afternoon did it for her. “I love dinner theater!”

  Nineteen

  Instead of correcting the dinner guests, we all made a tacit agreement to pretend the ugly scene that had just transpired in the kitchen was exactly what they thought it was – entertainment for the masses – and nothing else.

  We all managed to make it through dinner without cracking – or cracking up – but there was a decided pall across the table.

  The female shopper from Hypnotic – I found out her name was Carrie – wouldn’t stop asking me if we’d ever had formal theater training.

  “There’s not really any formal theater training out here,” I said ruefully.

  “But you were all so good,” she gushed.

  “Just a lot of practice, I guess,” Thistle laughed. There was true merriment behind Thistle’s laugh – but it wasn’t for the reason that Carrie thought.

  It was obvious that Aunt Tillie wasn’t exactly happy about our ruse. She sat at the end of the table, arms crossed obstinately across her chest, and she made periodic snorting sounds when people kept referring to our “marvelous performances.”

  Chief Terry was sitting in between Marnie and Twila – and across from my mom – and he kept shooting wary glances toward Aunt Tillie, but he didn’t say anything. Even when the crowd started questioning him about the murders, he answered their questions in a reassuring manner – but he never did give them the inside tidbits that they truly wanted. I realized that he was better at holding things close to the vest than I ever imagined.

  After the main course, I managed to extricate myself from the situation. I said I had to get some sleep because I had to get most of the articles for this week’s edition of the paper prepared tomorrow. Everyone knew that Wednesdays were my busy days – so they really didn’t put up much of a fuss about it.

  “I’ll send a slice of cobbler home with Thistle and Clove so you can have a snack later,” my mom said as I was leaving.

  My reasons for leaving weren’t exactly a lie. I was exhausted. I also wanted a little time to myself to think. I made my way back to the guesthouse, changed into my blue flannel sleeping pants and a tank top, and braided my hair quickly so it wouldn’t get all snarled during the night. I debated washing my makeup off – but that was one rule I usually followed, out of habit, if nothing else.

  I had just settled into bed when a thought occurred to me: I hadn’t seen Shane and Sophie since this afternoon.

  Huh.

  Maybe they were still with Edith? Could something bad happen to ghosts? I didn’t think so, but I really couldn’t rule it out either. Crap! It’s not like I could pick up a phone and call them.

  I climbed out of bed tiredly. I would like to forget the whole thing, roll over and get some sleep. I knew that wasn’t even remotely possible, though. As long as my mind remained busy with worries about their whereabouts, I wouldn’t be able to drift off. Sophie had been too excited to meet Aunt Tillie to purposely miss dinner.

  I slipped into a pair of tennis shoes – but I didn’t change out of my pajamas. It was after dark. No one would be at the paper except the ghosts – and I wasn’t exactly worried about what they would say about my choice in sleeping apparel.

  I grabbed a hoodie off the hook on the wall as I exited. I thought briefly about leaving a note on the counter for Thistle and Clove, but I had a feeling I would get back to the guesthouse before they did.

  During the drive to the paper, I pondered the day’s events. We knew we had two killers – a man and a woman – and if Sophie was right, they didn’t plan on killing anyone else. Why kill two kids in the first place then? It didn’t make any sense.

  The other thing I couldn’t quite let go of was Chief Terry’s brief comments about the meth trade. Did the new visitors in town really have nothing to do with the murders? Could they only be tied to the drugs? Is it possible they were tied to neither?

  Thanks to a quick bout of curiosity, I swung my car right – so I would drive past the Johnson farm – on my way to town. It added about two miles to my trek – but I wanted to make sure that no one was out at the scene – including Sophie and Shane.

  When I got close to the maze, I slowed down. I was still almost half a mile away from it. Since I was going so slowly, I couldn’t help but notice when my headlights bounced off a metallic object that was halfway obscured in the ditch. A bicycle?

&
nbsp; I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I killed the lights on my car. I slowly rolled it to a stop, parking alongside the side of the road, and exiting my vehicle curiously. I know. I’ve seen enough horror movies to realize that this is exactly how you get yourself killed – and yet I did it anyway. I moved back toward the area where I saw the sudden reflection of light. It wasn’t a full moon, but it was close. There was enough illumination for me to get at least a semblance of what was in the ditch.

  It was a motorcycle.

  My mind immediately jumped to Landon. Why was he in the corn maze? Then my mind went to another place. What if it was Russ? Then my mind went to the worst place. What if it was all of them?

  I had a decision to make. The smart thing to do would be to run to my car, drive it into town and use the office phone to call Chief Terry. Like an idiot, my cell phone was sitting on the nightstand in my bedroom. And the office was closer to me – and in a more populated area – than the guesthouse.

  Instead, I did the stupid thing. I squared my shoulders and headed toward the corn maze purposefully.

  One could argue that self-preservation isn’t my strong suit – and they would be right. I should be the lone girl who survives a horror movie. Instead, I’m her dippy friend who gets killed in the opening reel.

  I tried to be as quiet as I could as I entered the corn maze. I had to dip low to slip underneath the police tape, but it’s not like it was much of a deterrent. I had a small flashlight on my key ring, but I didn’t want to risk using it. Truth be told, I had no idea what I was going to do – even if I found someone in the maze.

  I had been moving through the maze for about five minutes when I realized I wasn’t sure if I could find my way to the center of it without Chief Terry. He had led me the first time. Had I paid attention?

  Not only was I trying to make my way through the darkened maze by the power of moonlight alone, but I was also trying to do it as stealthily as possible. If someone was in the maze and they heard me traipsing around, they would undoubtedly try to find out who was here.

  I had just about convinced myself to turn around when I felt a presence slip in beside me. I froze in fear. It wasn’t a human presence, though. When I looked to my left I saw that Sophie was beside me. “What are you doing here?” She whispered, even though I was the only one who could hear her.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth and answer her. Someone would definitely hear us then.

  I felt another presence move up to my right side. I didn’t have to turn to see that it was Shane. I looked at them questioningly. What were they doing here?

  Shane must have read the confusion on my face. “We thought that revisiting this place might jog our memories. We went out to where I was found first, but nothing happened. That’s why we came out here.”

  Sophie had obviously heard a noise in front of us because she quirked her head slightly. “There’s someone else here?”

  I nodded mutely.

  “Do you think it’s the person who killed me? Who killed us?”

  I could only shrug. Even if I could speak out loud, I wouldn’t be able to answer that question.

  “Go to the car,” Shane ordered. “We’ll go see who it is and meet you back at the guesthouse. We can’t die twice.”

  I wanted to listen to him. I honestly did. My feet didn’t seem to be working properly, though. I looked up to them both helplessly.

  Shane looked perplexed. “I think she’s frozen in fear.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” Sophie admonished him. “We’re already dead and I’m terrified.”

  We could all hear the footsteps getting closer. It was too late at this point. If I did manage to move, he would hear me and give chase. If I didn’t move, he would inevitably run into me.

  I could hear the slow shuffle of feet just around the corner. I was powerless to do anything but take a deep breath and wait. When the dark figure moved around the corner it froze a couple of feet in front of me.

  “Who is that?” The voice was low and clearly male.

  “Don’t answer him,” Sophie urged me. “Maybe he’ll run the other way in fear.”

  “Not if he’s the killer,” Shane argued.

  I couldn’t make out the figure in the dark. I could see a couple of furtive movements, but in general it was just a tall blob. The only thing I knew for sure is that it was a man – or a female wrestler. The figure reached behind its back. I held my breath for a second, exhaling sharply when the figure brought the hand back out and snapped a light on my face.

  It took my eyes a second to adjust to the light – and the only refrain going through my mind was: Please let it be the cops. Please let it be the cops. Jail is better than death, after all.

  I was shocked when the figure openly swore. “Jesus H. Christ! You’ve got to be kidding me! Bay? Bay Winchester? Just what in the hell are you doing here?”

  Despite the fear ripping through me only seconds before, I recognized the voice, and it didn’t bring the heart-gripping fear I expected it to. “Landon?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” he grumbled. He still hadn’t lowered the flashlight from my face.

  Sophie had moved over to the side of him and was giving him a piercing look. “I don’t recognize him,” she said finally. “He is really hot, though.”

  Shane shot her a dirty look. “I don’t recognize him either. I think he looks like he’s up to no good, regardless.”

  I wanted to snap at them both to shut up, but I didn’t think that now was the right time to give Landon further evidence that I was crazy. Plus, if he did kill me and carry my body away, the two of them would be the only ones capable of telling Thistle and Clove where to find me.

  “Are you suddenly deaf?” Landon snapped. “Are you in some sort of shock? Why are you here?”

  I managed to recover – if only momentarily – and shot him an evil glare of my own. “I might ask you the same question.”

  “I asked you first,” he muttered.

  “I thought I saw someone going into the maze and I thought I should probably check it out.” That’s not really a lie. Okay, it’s not really the truth either, but it’s not an overt lie.

  “You saw a shadowy figure go into a corn maze, after dark, a corn maze where a body was found less than 24 hours ago, mind you, and you thought it was a good idea to follow that figure?” Landon ran the flashlight up and down my body. “In your pajamas?”

  What? That’s totally possible. “Yes, I did.” If you’re going to lie, commit to the act and don’t even think about abandoning it.

  Landon regarded me for a second. I could tell he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t look like he particularly wanted to challenge me either. He seemed to be waging an internal battle with himself instead. “That story makes no sense,” he said finally.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here and I’ll tell you if that makes sense?”

  Landon looked flustered again. “What?”

  “You were obviously the person I saw go into the corn maze. Why are you here?”

  Now Landon looked uncomfortable. “I just wanted to look around.”

  “At a murder scene?”

  “I thought the cops said that this was just the body dump?”

  Body dump? That was a weird way to put it. “How did you know that? I didn’t see that on the news.”

  Landon ignored the question. “I guess I was just a little morbidly curious.” He was trying to act badass. He lacked a certain level of conviction, though.

  “You get off on seeing body dump locations?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he protested.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re here,” I repeated.

  “I just wanted to see the crime scene,” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry, but that seems weird for a random biker guy.”

  “That seems judgmental for a random newspaper woman.” He challenged.

  I narrowed my eyes as I regarded him. “I’m
not judgmental.”

  “You’ve been obsessed with me since the moment you laid eyes on me.” Even under the pale moonlight, I could see the twinkle in his eye.

  “I am not obsessed with you,” I said hotly.

  “I would be,” Sophie said from beside me. “He is dreamy.”

  “He is not dreamy,” I muttered.

  I saw Landon look around for a second. It was clear I’d said that last statement as part of a conversation – and yet he hadn’t heard Sophie’s comment. “What did you say?”

  “I said, I hope I’m dreaming,” I lied.

  “You dream about me a lot, do you?” Landon was back to being flirty. At least he wasn’t trying to kill me.

  “Listen, as much as I would love to sit in the middle of a corn maze and continue to get nowhere with you, I really need to get some sleep.”

  Landon smiled at me. “You want to go somewhere with me?”

  I was confused for a second, and then I realized what I said. “I meant as far as you telling the truth,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh,” he nodded knowingly.

  “I don’t have time to play games with you,” I said harshly. “Some of us have actual jobs.”

  I turned, mustering as much righteous indignation as I could, and started to flounce out of the corn maze. Instead, I tripped over something on the ground – I think it was the corner of a bale of hay – and sprawled forward.

  “Oww!”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m great. I just broke my ankle. What couldn’t be great about that?”

  “You broke your ankle?” Landon sounded genuinely concerned.

  He flicked the light around until he saw me sitting on the ground, rubbing my ankle. “It’s not broken,” I grumbled. “It’s just twisted.”

  I saw that Landon was trying not to laugh. The absurdity of the situation wasn’t lost on me, but I didn’t think now was the time to start making fun of me either. “Don’t you dare laugh! This is not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “You’re laughing inside.”

  “No, I’m not.”