by Cindy Stark
“Why would you think that?”
“Think about it. Belinda died because she was blackmailing Timothy.”
That explained one death. “Okay, but why would he or the group of them kill Grant?”
“Because Grant knew, too. Belinda told him. That’s how I learned.”
That meant there was some sort of relationship between Grant and Belinda, whether Glenys was willing to admit it or not.
She gripped Hazel’s hand. “They’re going to kill me, too.”
“They might not know that he told you.”
Glenys shook her head in disbelief. “He might have said something before they killed him. Even if he didn’t, it’s not a far stretch to think that he’d tell his girlfriend. I’m in danger. I can feel it.”
Hazel couldn’t let her fall apart now. “It’s okay. You have protection spells.”
“What if I don’t see them coming? My powers are strong, but I’m not completely invincible.”
Then Glenys had one option. “You have to go to the police.”
She looked at Hazel like she’d lost her mind. “I can’t tell them I’m a witch.”
“No. Listen. You don’t have to. You only have to say that Grant told you information about Timothy.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t. Some in town already suspect me. I can’t be anywhere near this. I need you to go to the police for me.”
“Me? Why would they listen to me?”
“You’re involved with Peter. He’ll listen.”
“This has gone far beyond Peter. The feds are involved. I expect they’ll be more so since Grant was the mayor’s nephew.”
Glenys blanched. She lifted the purse sitting near her feet and opened it, removing a white envelope. “Take this. Tell Peter an anonymous person gave it to you.”
Hazel hesitated to take the envelope and shook her head. “You tell them.”
Glenys shoved it at her. “Tell them you’d suspected Belinda was a witch. Tell them she’d been blackmailing Timothy. Then give them this. It’s a document I managed to procure several years ago. A roster of the Sons of Stonebridge.”
“Sons of Stonebridge?”
“The ones who want us all dead. It will prove that Timothy has taken an oath to kill witches. That makes it doubly damning for him. He needs to be behind bars. That’s the only way I’ll be safe.” She inhaled a quick breath. “The only way any of us will be safe.”
Before Hazel could argue again, Glenys stood. “I’ll be staying with Harriett for a few days. Until it’s safe to be by myself again. Please take that to Peter and help us all.” She sniffed as she turned and strode away, her body tight and her footsteps swift.
Hazel stared at the letter in her hand and then turned over the envelope to find it hadn’t been sealed. She slid out the document. The worn piece of paper looked as though it had been opened and refolded many times.
She scanned the words. The original charter of the Sons of Stonebridge, created seven years ago, stated that each member pledged to erase witches from this world. They would give their life to do so and protect the salvation of mankind at any cost.
She swallowed past the hard lump in her throat.
At the end of the paragraph, four names had been typed, paired with the signatures of each men. Timothy Franklin, Samuel Canterbury, Albert Winthrop, and, Blessed Mother help her…John Bartles.
She didn’t know for sure that the John Bartles listed was the same as one of Peter’s officers. John was a popular name after all. But if it wasn’t him, it could likely be one of his relatives.
Hazel closed her eyes for a long moment, cursing the crazy, messed up world she lived in. The men listed on that page had sworn to give their lives to ensure that she and her kind would die, and her heart struggled to accept that.
She liked John. He’d been nothing but kind and decent toward her.
Anxiety churned in her stomach as she folded the paper and placed it back in the envelope. She’d have to show it to Peter. There was no other way. If she refused and those men did kill Glenys, she’d never forgive herself.
Coming forward with this information might place her in a precarious position with Peter. She would have to be extra careful with her words and expressions. She couldn’t slip up.
She’d have to blame everything on her source. He’d accept that.
She stood and considered popping in to visit Clarabelle while she was at the house but decided against it. She needed to take care of this nasty business as soon as possible and wouldn’t sleep until she did.
Probably not after, either.
Nineteen
Hazel parked her Honda in front of the police station and stepped out. She tried not to think about the state of her hair as she entered the building. A so-called messy bun and yoga pants looked sexy on some women. Not her. But Glenys’ frantic phone call hadn’t given her time to worry about anything else.
Margaret sat at her desk outside Peter’s office, rocking a hippie look including braided hair with a suede headband across her forehead, a red patterned, loose-flowing blouse, and so many beads. “Morning, girlfriend. It’s nice to see a friendly face for once.”
She chuckled, even though her insides churned. “Peter said it’s been kind of crazy around here lately with the feds.”
“Crazy is an understatement.”
Hazel gestured toward Peter’s office. “Is he available for a few minutes?”
A wry smile crossed Margaret’s lips. “I’d say he’s always available where you’re concerned. Go on back.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Thanks.”
Her guts churned, and if she didn’t know better, she’d swear she had a fever. Anxiety had a way of throwing her entire body off balance.
But this had to be done. No looking back.
She knocked softly on Peter’s open door and stepped inside.
His immediate and bright grin only added to her apprehension. “Hey. I was just thinking about you.”
Oh, great. More threads weaving together in their tapestry.
He stood and met her at the side of his desk where he placed a sweet kiss on her lips. She wished she was in a place to appreciate it.
“I need to talk to you.” Her heart hammered. “Is your office okay, or are there…others who might hear?”
“Meaning the feds?”
She nodded.
“They won’t be in until ten. I’ll shut my door anyway.”
Hazel remembered exactly how well raised voices penetrated that door and made a note to be sure she kept her voice low.
When they were both seated on opposite sides of the desk, she pulled the envelope from her purse and presented it to Peter.
He frowned. “What’s this?”
“You know how we’ve talked in the past about a secret anti-witch society,” she said in lowered tones. “And I said that Timothy might have killed Belinda because she was blackmailing him?”
“Yes.” He unfolded the paper and scanned it, his eyebrows digging trenches in his forehead.
She pointed toward it. “That is an official document from the group I told you about. You can see they are original signatures. One of your officers is listed there, too. John Bartles.”
He nodded slowly and then met her gaze. “I’m still not following you here.”
She worried that he didn’t seem upset in the least that the society existed or that a member was on his police force. “I’ve heard rumors that Belinda was a witch. I’m sure you could check her house if you wanted and find some sort of proof to that fact.” Blessed Mother forbid anyone ever check her house.
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “Now you’re calling her a witch? The lady who’s always against that sort of thing?”
She wanted to defend herself, but she only nodded.
He returned his gaze to the document and repeatedly nodded. She waited several long minutes while the man processed her information.
“Well?” she finally asked.
His green eyes flashed with interest when he met her gaze. “I’m not sure how to present this information to the others. This document obviously shows Timothy’s intent toward witches, or at least what he thought of them seven years ago. But proving that he knew Belinda was a witch will be difficult without his admission or a witness who can and will testify to that fact.”
Disappointment steamrolled her. “That’s it?”
He lifted both hands. “Don’t get upset, Hazel. This is great information that we could maybe use. But it gets into those gray areas this town has always struggled with.”
Gray areas? Was he referring to the lives of people who lived outside his box?
Her throat tightened, making it hard to breathe.
“Even if we can’t use this, I think you’ll be happy to know that my men are picking up Timothy as we speak.”
Wait. What? “Did you find other evidence against him?”
He tapped his fingertips on his desk in a restless manner. “We found several electronic transfers to Belinda’s account for the same amount that coincided on the same day as the withdrawals from Timothy’s. The feds obtained a warrant and had the bank pull records that show in fact those transfers went into Belinda’s account.”
Relief washed over her. Glenys and the rest of the witches in town, including her would be safe tonight. Her throat eased, and she inhaled a deep breath. “That’s…really good news.”
Peter leaned back in his chair and examined her. “We have you and your ‘source’ to thank for that lead.”
Her source. The thought of how many people had been combined to become her source was insane. Again, guilt pricked her for not telling the whole truth. Was that another of those gray areas?
Still, this was good news. “I’m so relieved to hear you’ve caught him.” She hadn’t realized how much this case had bothered her. It had hit a little too close to home, closer than she’d been willing to admit. She’d wanted to believe the other witches in town were the ones in danger, and that she was still sort of an outsider, protected by anonymity. But that really wasn’t the case anymore.
A sly smile curved his kissable lips. “Want to tell me who your source is now?”
Her reprieve fled. “No. You know I can’t. I promised.”
He leaned forward, capturing her with his gaze. “I have to be honest, Hazel. I don’t like secrets between us.”
The need to defend herself kicked in even though he hadn’t directly accused her of anything. “I don’t like them, either, but you also haven’t told me everything you know.”
The worst thing was the Blessed Mother knew she wanted to tell him every detail about her and have him accept her as she was.
“Yes, but mine is official police business.”
She had legitimate reasons, too. “And mine is an ethical and moral choice.”
He gave a low growl of frustration. “Fine. I understand. But I feel like you should trust me more.”
That hurt. “I do trust you.”
“Some,” he argued. “But I get this overwhelming sense that you’re holding back. And I don’t mean just about the case.”
Unexpected and unwanted sadness bubbled inside her, making it hard to breathe again. It was like she’d found the perfect guy, but he couldn’t be the perfect guy for her.
She met his gaze and held it. “I’m sorry, Peter. I don’t mean to shut you out. It’s just hard to open up to people sometimes.” She didn’t know if she ever truly could with him.
He reached across the desk and took her hand. Familiar electrical energy coursed through her. Where it normally excited her, this time it brought comfort. “I will never do anything to hurt you, okay?”
She blinked rapidly and nodded. How she wished she could believe him.
A knock at the door brought their tender moment to a halt.
Peter stood and opened his office door. Sargent Gentry peeked in, nodded at Hazel and then faced his boss. “Franklin’s coming in right now. Do you want him here in your office or in an interrogation room?”
“Put him in the interrogation room.” Peter glanced to her. “I’ll walk you out, Hazel.”
He didn’t take her hand as they left, and she was grateful. Sometimes, he could be flirtatious at his office. But now, he was all business.
Hazel hadn’t made it to the door when two officers entered, each holding on to one of Timothy’s handcuffed arms. The librarian’s usual white button-down shirt had come completely untucked, and his glasses seemed askew on his face. His cheeks were crimson, and anger burned in his gaze, but an underlying sense of fear came through, too.
He caught sight of Peter and hurled an accusing glare at him. “This is a mistake, Parrish. I didn’t do anything to Belinda Atkins.”
Peter’s expression remained calm, and he nodded to Hazel. “I’ll see you later,” he said in a lowered voice.
He turned toward Timothy and jerked his head toward a room down the hall. “Let’s talk, Timothy. I believe you have some information that could help us.” Peter walked away without a backward glance.
Something in Timothy’s demeanor bothered her, but she couldn’t pinpoint what. All she knew was she needed fresh air and to give nature a chance to soothe her soul. She would leave her car parked where it was and walk to her teashop.
Outside, a crowd of people had gathered around the entrance to the police station. A buzz from their conversations greeted her, and suddenly, all eyes were on her.
Lachlan Brogan from the bank trapped her gaze. “Are they arresting him for Belinda’s murder?”
Several voices piped in to ask the same question, and their frenzied interest slammed Hazel like a punch. “I don’t know.” She glanced at the many faces. “I only heard Chief Parrish say he wanted to talk to Timothy.”
“Nothing else?” Mrs. Lemon asked.
“You must have heard something,” another man said.
She shook her head and pushed her way through the crowd. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
At the back of the group, Hazel found Cora watching her with trepidation. Cora slipped her arm through Hazel’s and directed her away from the crowd. They didn’t stop when they reached Cora’s Café, but continued until they stood on a rock bridge several blocks from the center of town.
Blessed water, fresh with spring runoff, rushed beneath their feet. Hazel inhaled pure energy, and Cora released her arm.
“I think Peter’s making a mistake,” Cora said in a hushed tone even though they were completely alone.
Hazel drew her brows together. “By arresting Timothy? You know as well as I do that he hates witches. In fact, it seems common knowledge.”
She shrugged, looking like she might cry. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it.”
Hazel didn’t understand. “How can you know this?”
She visibly swallowed and dropped her gaze from Hazel to the river below. “Because I was at his house the night the murder happened.”
Her brain faltered. “You were…with Timothy? Why?” She couldn’t begin to fathom how her friend could be involved with such a man.
Cora flicked her gaze back to Hazel, her face flushed. “I wasn’t with him. Please. You’ll make me sick. I was in his house. While he was asleep.”
Everything she said spun Hazel’s head faster. “Wait. Slow down. You were in his house while he was asleep? Are you crazy? Why would you do such a thing?”
She folded her arms tight against her. “I’ll admit it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but the coven has been desperate to check his house for his ancestor’s book of spells.”
This made no sense. “Don’t you think his family would have burned it all those years ago when they denounced his grandmother and let the village take her?”
“Maybe. Probably. But Glenys has been pushing boundaries lately, and since she’s the only one with an original book of spells, she’s the only one who can access the most powerful ones.”
Except Hazel knew that Glenys wasn’t
the only one with a spell book.
Cora tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Most in the coven feel we need a way to balance out her power. So, I gave Timothy a concoction when he was in the café for dinner. Something that was slow-acting, so that he’d have enough time to get home, and then after the café closed I went and searched.”
“You’re crazy. Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends.” That part hurt the most. It seemed no one in this town felt safe enough to trust another.
Cora gave her a pained look. “I do trust you. Of course, I do. But this was coven business, and I didn’t feel like I could talk about it with you.”
At first, Hazel had thought she might want to be part of this group, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Hazel exhaled, searching for calm in all this craziness. “Okay, let’s slow this down and take it piece by piece. What time did Timothy leave the café?”
She placed two fingers near her temple and closed her eyes. “He left about thirty minutes before I closed at nine.”
“And you arrived at his house at…?”
“I was there by nine-thirty. Possibly earlier because I was in a hurry to close.”
Hazel fought to keep anger out of her words. “You’re right. He couldn’t have done it. The coroner guessed the time of death to be around one in the morning. If you were there by nine-thirty and were there most of the night, there’s no way he could have done it.”
Cora closed her eyes, and her chin trembled.
Hazel wanted to show mercy, but it wouldn’t come. “I can’t believe this. Peter has just arrested an innocent man. Well, at least one innocent of this crime. On one hand, it would be nice to let him rot in jail so we don’t have to worry about his threatening presence. But if that happens, the killer will remain free. One who might be more dangerous to us than Timothy. What a mess.”
Hazel swiveled, leaned against the side of the bridge and turned her face toward the warmth of the sun. “You obviously can’t tell Peter you were in Timothy’s house.”
“No,” Cora said in a defeated tone.
“So that leaves us up a creek.” Son of a biscuit. She’d thought she had this figured out. Now they were all in danger once again.
