I turn into an old Knights of Columbus Lodge. The small parking lot is filled with large pickup trucks and gas-guzzling SUVs. A pretty typical display of the types of vehicles driven by the men in blue in this part of the state. I’m late, so I park my Ducati close to the door. One of the benefits of riding a motorcycle is that it doesn’t take up that much parking space.
I hurry into the aging building and hustle down the long hallway to the large conference room. The Benandanti purchased the place from the Knights of Columbus decades ago, but there is still some of their iconography lingering around the place.
When I enter the conference room, eleven men all dressed in black are seated around a large wooden table. I take my seat making their twelfth.
Carson Conner, our fearless leader, glares at me from the head of the table. “You’re late.”
The guy has been a New Jersey State Police officer longer than I’ve been alive.
I want to say something snarky like “Aren’t you smart?” but I refrain. I apologize instead. The last guy who mouthed off to Carson ended up getting a few of his teeth knocked out. I don’t plan on making the same mistake.
He eyes me for several moments. “Don’t let it happen again.”
Maybe I need to skip the beer next time.
There are wax-sealed envelopes on the table, one in front of each of us. They are as formal looking as wedding invitations. This isn’t my first rodeo, so I know what that means.
“The full moon is the 26th,” Carson continues. “That’s when we’ll be going into battle again. Our next target is in the envelope in front of you.”
As the other guys open their envelopes, I stare at mine hesitantly.
“Is something wrong?” Carson glares at me again.
So far, this hasn’t been a very good night. Is it too obvious that I don’t want to be here? I joined the fight when I was twenty. That was a decade ago. A lot has changed in my life since then.
“I have a lot on my plate right now,” I tell him. “A new investigation at work.”
“You took a vow to serve humanity as a Benandanti. We expect you to keep that promise. You are part of this brotherhood of witch hunters on a mission from the Almighty to rid the world of dark forces and maintain the balance of good and evil. Once you are initiated into the brotherhood, you are a Benandanti for life.”
He’s right. I swore my allegiance to the cause. A blood oath. I won’t get out of the brotherhood alive. If I want to keep on keeping on, I need to get in line and do what’s expected.
I grab my envelope from the table. Tear it open. Stare at the photo inside.
“You know what we have to do,” Carson says.
I can feel eleven sets of eyes staring at me.
“Kill her,” I reply.
Chapter 5
MAGGIE
* * *
When I wake up, I’m lying in my grandmother’s guest bed with a damp cloth on my forehead. I’m completely exhausted. I feel like I’ve been put through a wringer. Twice.
My grandmother’s Spells and Incantations book lies on the nightstand next to me.
That’s when it all comes back to me. The initiation ceremony. The energy surging through my body. It felt like I was being electrocuted.
I glance down at my arms and legs. Nothing looks different. My skin is still intact.
But when I rise from the bed and glance into the mirror, I gasp. There’s a white streak down the left side of my dark hair. It makes me look like a skunk.
Looks like I’ll have to make an emergency trip to see my hairdresser. I don’t want people to start calling me Pepé Le Pew.
When my cellphone buzzes, I grab it from the nightstand and glance at the caller ID. It’s Linda, my real estate agent. We went to graduate school together and both studied counseling. I became a grief counselor and she discovered that she could make a lot more money selling houses than selling mental health.
“How are you doing, Maggie?” Her voice is sugary sweet. I’m not in the mood to deal with her right now. “I hope you’re feeling better. I know how difficult this must be for you.”
Until you go through the loss of a family member, you have no idea how difficult it is. But I never tell people that. It’s something they will eventually figure out on their own.
“I know it hasn’t been very long since… the fire. But when you’re ready, I have several clients who may be interested in the house.”
I swipe at a tear as it streams down my cheek. The house is not something I want to deal with right now, but I know that I won’t be able to afford it without Nick’s income. We didn’t have personal life insurance policies. We had just turned thirty. We both worked full-time and we were trying to raise a young child. It wasn’t something we were thinking about.
The small policy provided by Bookman College was just enough to cover the funeral expenses for Nick and Lizzie.
I’ve got a thousand dollars in my checking account and no savings.
If I really need money, I know my grandmother will bail me out, but I don’t want to ask her. I want to try to handle the finances on my own.
“If you have some time,” Linda continues. “Maybe you could give the house a little TLC. It doesn’t have to look like a model home. Just give it enough attention that we could hold an open house.”
“Sure. Yes. I’ll let you know.”
“The sooner we get it on the market, the quicker that mortgage payment will be off your back.”
I end the call. I guess I’ve got some house cleaning to do.
My grandmother enters the guestroom with a tray of tea and cookies. She places it on the nightstand. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Repeatedly.”
“That’s normal. The initiation ceremony knocks it out of you.”
I take a sip of the tea and grab one of the cookies. “Thanks for making breakfast, but I’ve got to run.”
My grandmother shakes her head. “You’re not running anywhere right now. You should be resting.”
“I’ve been living in a blanket cocoon for over a week. This is the first time since I lost Nick and Lizzie that I actually feel like doing something.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “And just what is that something you’re so eager to do?”
“I got a call from my real estate agent. There are some buyers interested in my house. It’s time to get the place cleaned up and ready to be put on the market.”
“Is that all?”
For now.
As I hurry out of my grandmother’s house, I notice that Opal Opre is sweeping her front porch with an old whisk broom. Does she really have to be that stereotypical? Why not wear a black cape and pointy hat while she’s at it? It’s witches like Opal who give the profession a bad name.
When she notices me, she stops sweeping and glares at me with her dark eyes.
A shiver runs through my entire body.
There’s something about the woman that is pure evil. There’s little doubt in my mind that Opal is a practitioner of the dark arts.
I hurry to my car and quickly lock myself inside. When I glance over at Opal, she’s still staring at me. And her gaze is sinister.
I quickly start the engine, put the pedal to the metal, and haul ass out of there.
As I head out of Raven Circle, I notice the black sedan with the broken taillight that had been following me yesterday. It’s tailing me again today.
What do they want? If I drive fast enough, maybe I can give them the slip.
I speed up, but they keep pace. Whoever they are, they are used to driving on winding country roads. The twist and turns aren’t slowing them down at bit.
When my cellphone buzzes, I answer it. “What’s up?”
“I have a lead on a job, when you’re ready to get back to work.” It’s my best friend, Tia. The two of us went to graduate school together. We both worked as grief counselors until I took some time off to stay home with Lizzie.
“Does th
e job involve listening to other people’s problems all day?”
Tia seems to think that going back to work as a counselor will help me take my mind off my own problems. I know I’m not ready to deal with the grief of other people. I can barely deal with my own right now.
She laughs. “Are you trained to do anything else?”
My grandmother is preparing me to inherit her folk magic. Of course, I’m not going to tell Tia that.
A thump on my back bumper startles me. “Can I call you back?”
Before Tia has a chance to respond, the black sedan rams into the back of my car and my cellphone flies out of my had. I’d be flying too if I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt.
Everything is happening so fast, but it feels like it’s in slow motion. When my car gets rammed for a second time, I completely lose control of the wheel and run off the road.
I hear myself scream as I crash into an old oak tree. There’s no airbag in this beater, so I slam into the steering wheel before I’m whipped back against the seat.
My head spins as I watch the black sedan speed away.
Then I hear a police siren blare in the distance.
I try to open my car door, but it’s crushed like an old soda can. I can feel myself drift in and out of consciousness.
“I’ve got you,” I hear a male voice say.
A middle-aged state trooper pulls me from the wreckage seconds before the car bursts into flames.
His strong arms wrap tightly around me just as I lose consciousness.
When I wake up, I’m lying in a hospital bed. The thin hospital gown I’m wearing isn’t doing much to keep me warm. I try to pull the blanket up, but my entire body aches.
“Let me help you.” My grandmother pulls the blanket up so it’s covering my chest.
Right next to my grandmother stands Tia wringing her hands. “I’m so sorry.” Her dark eyes look red and watery. Has she been crying? “This is my fault.”
“What?” My voice cracks.
“You were talking to me on the phone when you crashed.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Someone ran me off the road.”
Her eyes widen. “Why would someone do that?”
A physician enters the room. He glances at my chart for several moments.
“You’re doing well, Maggie. You’re banged up, but nothing is broken. It was quite a blow to your head, so I’d like to keep you overnight for observation. If everything still looks okay, we can discharge you tomorrow.”
I try to rise, but my body aches so badly, I moan in pain instead.
“I can order a pain killer, if you’d like.”
“That won’t be necessary,” my grandmother tells him.
As the physician exits, a state police officer enters. I’m pretty sure he’s the person who pulled me from my car right before it burst into flames.
I’m surprised when my grandmother glares at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Police business,” he replies matter-of-factly.
I can feel the tension between them. The air is thick with it. It’s obvious they know each other. I wonder how.
“Would you mind giving us a few moments alone?” He directs the question at my grandmother, but Tia is the first to move.
“I’ll catch you later,” she says as she scurries out the door.
My grandmother takes her time, glaring at him as she moves past him, and makes her way out of the room.
Once we’re alone, the officer gives me a polite smile. “I’m Detective Carson Conner. How are you feeling?”
“Like a horse that’s been ridden hard and put away wet. Repeatedly.”
“You’ll probably feel like that for a few days. And it usually gets worse before it gets better.”
He removes a small notepad and pencil from his jacket pocket. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” He’s in police mode now. All business.
As I try to sit up, I wince in pain.
“Are you sure you’re okay? We can do this another time.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Tire marks at the scene suggest that someone ran you off the road.”
I shift uncomfortably under the thin blanket. “That’s what happened.”
“What can you tell me about the other car?”
“It was black. A sedan. It had a broken headlight.”
“Any idea about the make and model?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never been one of those people who can identify cars. I can tell you that it was large. It didn’t look new.”
“Did you get a good look at who was inside the car?”
“It all happened so fast. There were two men. One driving. One in the passenger seat. I couldn’t see them very well. They looked white. Maybe mid-30s or early 40s.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“I think it was the same car that was following me earlier. I have no idea why. I never saw the car before that.”
“Can you think of any reason why someone would try to harm you?”
“I have no idea. My husband and daughter were killed in the Bookman College fire. Another detective asked me if there was any reason why someone would have wanted to harm them. Maybe there’s a connection.”
He nods. “Maybe. Who is the other detective investigating the fire?”
“Detective Ben Walker.”
“I know him. He’s young and he’s ambitious. But he knows his stuff.” Carson removes a business card from his pocket and hands it to me. “If you remember anything else, let me know. If you need anything else, let me know.”
I stare at the card for several moments. Then I glance up at Carson. “You pulled me out of the car right before it exploded. What were you doing there?”
“You need to get some rest.” He pats the edge of the bed before he exits.
That was strange. He never answered my question. How did he get to the scene of the accident so fast? Maybe he was following me. But why?
If someone did kill my husband and daughter, and used the fire to cover up the crime, what if they are coming for me next?
Chapter 6
BEN
“Are you going to eat that?” Alex eyes the remains of my bagel and cream cheese.
“I’m done. You can have the rest.”
He swoops down on the food like a vulture, grabs what’s left, and practically inhales it. You’d think the guy was starving. “My wife has me on a low-carb, low-fat, gluten-free diet. She takes all the fun out of life. I’m just glad you’re a light eater.”
I reach into my desk drawer, remove candy bar, and toss it to him.
“Thanks, Buddy.” He grins from ear to ear as he rips open the package. He wastes no time stuffing the chocolate into his mouth.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Officer Carson Conner heading towards my desk. Even though we’re both Benadanti, our paths rarely cross at work. And we like to keep it that way.
I immediately wonder what he’s doing here.
He gives me a polite wave as he approaches my desk.
“Detective Conner. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Do you mind if I speak with you? Privately?” He eyes Alex, who is wiping chocolate from his chin with the back of his hand.
“Sure.” I rise from my chair. “Let’s step outside.”
Carson follows me through the station and out a back door.
“What’s up?”
He clears his throat. “You’re working on the Bookman College fire case?”
“Yup.”
“You interviewed Maggie Moreno.”
I nod.
“She was in a crash. It looks like another car hit her intentionally and pushed her off the road. I pulled her out of the wreck right before her car caught fire.”
I rub my temples. The car crash adds another dimension to the case. What if someone did kill Nick and Lizzie intentionally and that same person wants Maggie dead?
I immed
iately feel the need to protect Maggie. I’m not sure why. I barely know her. But she seemed so raw and emotionally vulnerable when I interviewed her. And now she may be in physical danger as well.
“Have you interviewed the witnesses of the crash?”
“There weren’t any.”
My eyes widen. “No witnesses? Who called it in?”
“I did.”
“How did you get there so fast?”
He takes in a deep breath then exhales. “I was following Maggie.”
“Why?” I ask a little too quickly.
“Because I thought she might be in danger.”
My eyes narrow as I stare at him for several moments. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Maggie’s my daughter.”
His admission hits me like a brick.
He puts up a hand before I have a chance to question him further. “Please don’t say anything to her. She doesn’t know I’m her father.”
My jaw opens and closes a few times, but no words come out. I don’t want to get in the middle of anyone else’s family drama, but he might know something relevant to the case.
“Do you still think Maggie is in danger?”
“I do.”
“Are you still going to follow her?”
“When I can. Right now, she’s safe inside of the hospital. I have a feeling when she’s discharged, she’ll go home with her grandmother. Not even heaven will be able to help the person who tries to hurt her when she’s staying with her grandmother.”
“At her grandmother’s?” I laugh. “What makes you think she’s so safe there?”
“Her grandmother was born and raised in Raven Circle.”
“Your daughter is a witch?” I spit.
“It’s complicated.”
“You think? You’re a witch hunter.”
“Maggie was born into the lineage, but when she met Nick and become a mother, she made the decision not be initiated into the craft.”
“And how do you know all of this if Maggie doesn’t even know you’re her father?”
“Because her grandmother, Rita, and I talk.”
Playing With Fire Page 135
