Carolina Witch

by January Daphne

  Carolina Witch

  A Paranormal Cozy Mystery

  January Daphne

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  24. Epilogue

  25. Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  My cell phone buzzed with an unknown number. Not now, Telemarketers, I don’t care about winning a fake cruise. I absently hit the ignore button and went back to proofreading my perfectly-worded press release.

  Not to toot my own horn or anything—but this particular public relations crisis had been a tricky one to navigate. Juniper Tech, a cell phone company and phone service on the verge of bankruptcy, recently had to recall their entire line of cell phones. The software had some kind of glitch that the media had dubbed the “butt-dialing bug” which, unfortunately was a pretty catchy name.

  Basically, the voice-activated dialing on the Juniper Tech phone worked a little too well. Whenever someone even mentioned a name that was saved in his or her contacts, the phone would instantly dial that number.

  The person on the other end of that phone call would then be able to eavesdrop on the entire conversation.

  It sounded harmless, right? But the “butt-dialing bug” had resulted in people catching their spouses cheating, their teenagers lying, and some unfortunate souls had finally learned what their in-laws really though of them.

  Apparently, sometimes honesty is not always the best policy.

  And that was why I had a job. My press release read:

  “Juniper Tech is a company that prides itself on being on the leading edge. We strive for innovation and excellence in smart phone technology. There will always be the inevitable growing pains that occur when new frontiers are being explored, but we will never let the fear of failure stop us from creating new and exciting products.

  That was the story I wanted in the media. Innovation, not scandal. Growing pains, not mistakes. It wasn’t exactly lying—it was just looking at something from a different perspective.

  And that is why they pay me the big bucks. I emailed the release to my boss, and took a deep breath, basking in the perfection that was my life.

  I slung my purse over my shoulder and gave my boss a wave on my way out of the office. He was on the phone, but he pointed at this computer monitor and gave me a thumbs up—I assumed that was about my press release. He mouthed the words, “Have a good vacation.”.

  Nailed it, I thought as I strutted out of the office in my three-inch pumps.

  I stepped into the elevator and as the doors closed, I held out my left hand imagining what it would look like with a big, sparkly diamond on my finger. “Fiancé”, I whispered. My boyfriend, Grant had booked us a romantic weeklong getaway in Savannah, and to kick things off, he’d made reservations for tonight at the best restaurant in Atlanta. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was the night I’d been waiting for.

  Would he reach across the table, and hold my hand as he popped the question? Would he arrange to have the ring in a champagne flute? Maybe he’d go the traditional route and get down on one knee right there in the middle of the restaurant. I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator. My blonde hair had held the loose wave I’d so meticulously crafted with a curling iron this morning. My jet black eyeliner set off the blue in my eyes, and I was beaming from the inside out.

  Sure, I was an independent, successful woman at twenty-eight, but I was not above fantasizing about walking down the aisle with my handsome, sweet, wonderful Grant who made me weak in the knees.

  Just then, a dizzy spell hit and I braced myself against the elevator wall. That’s weird, I thought. I actually was feeling weak in the knees. I touched my forehead and blinked, fighting off the light-headedness. Probably the heat, I thought. Even in September, Atlanta was all sun and humidity.

  I slid into my car in the parking garage and cranked on the air conditioning. There was no way I was going to be sick on the night of my marriage proposal.

  I started the engine of my little Fiat, and received a surprise electric shock that shot up my arm. “Ouch!” I jerked my hand away and peered down to examine the keys. That was odd. It was too humid for static electricity, wasn’t it?

  I gingerly brushed my fingers against the keys again, wincing in anticipation of another electric shock. But none came this time.

  With a shrug, I started Fiat and headed to the restaurant.

  Chapter 2

  “I’m meeting someone. The reservation is under Grant Brewer.” I smoothed down my skirt before following the maitre d' to the table. I noticed the candle lit dining room and the white linen table cloths, and thought, Grant, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.

  I spotted him across the room sitting at the corner table. He’d tamed his wavy blond hair with gel, and dressed up in a nice suit and tie—an outfit I’d never seen before. Our eyes met, and his face instantly lit up with a big smile complete with two dimples.

  “Hey you,” he said, brightly. He stood up and planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

  I’d been hoping for one on the lips, but I’d cut him some slack tonight. I could tell he was nervous by his smile. It was too wide, too toothy—like someone had cranked up the wattage too high. Popping the question would make anyone nervous, even a powerhouse lawyer like Grant.

  “You ok?” I asked, unrolling the linen napkin and spreading it across my lap.

  “Me? Oh, yes, of course.” He forced a chuckle and ran a hand through his slicked back hair. “Why?”

  I pointed to his hand across the table that was tap-tap-tapping like he was a piano soloist. “You just seen a little wound up.” I gave him an encouraging smile.

  “I guess I am.” Grant withdrew his hand from the table and let out a slow breath through his nose. “There’s something important I want to ask you, but why don’t we take a drink first?” he pushed a glass of red wine to my side of the table. “I ordered your favorite—pinot noir.”

  “Thank you,” I said, accepting the glass.

  But I didn’t want to take a drink. I didn’t want to take a breath. I didn’t want to move a single muscle until I heard those four little words come out of Grant’s mouth.

  I could feel a smile spreading across my face. This is totally happening, I thought. He had asked me to move in with him a few months ago, and it had been perfect. Marriage just seemed like the next natural step.

  “Just say it, Grant.” I gave him a reassuring smile and set my left hand on the table—to make it easier for the moment when he would slide the ring on my finger. “It’s just me.”

  Grant tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. “Ok, sure. I guess it’s as good a time as any.” He shifted in his chair. “You seem like you’re in a good mood.”

  “Yes, you could say that.” Try ecstatic. Over the moon. On cloud nine. I was all of the lovey-dovey cliches rolled into one.

  “I don’t know how to ask you this, Natalie. I love you so much. You’ve been such a great support for me the past few months—hosting dinners for my clients, going to my work parties. You’re great. Everyone at the firm loves you.”

  “I feel the exact same way about you,” I gushed. Tonight, I felt like I was in love with the wh
ole wide world.

  “I know,” he said. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

  I frowned. Grant was getting dangerously close to botching this marriage proposal. “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “I’m just going to say it.” Grant heaved another big breath, like he was really working hard to psych himself up for this. “Natalie, will you please—”

  I leaned forward.

  “—move your things out of my apartment this week?” His eyes flicked up to mine.

  “Move… out,” I repeated. The words felt like mushy marshmallow in my mouth. My face grew very hot, and this time it wasn’t the humidity. “I don’t understand. Are you asking me to move somewhere else with you?”

  He gave a hollow laugh. “No, Natalie, come on. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. We’re both adults. Let’s be reasonable. I think we both know this relationship has run its course.”

  I blinked, understanding finally taking hold. “Oh,” I said.

  My docile response seemed to give Grant courage to continue his candor. “I just can’t do this anymore—us. It’s not working. I wanted it to, believe me. I love you, and this thing between us—well, it looks good on paper, but it’s not right. You and I both know that.”

  Ouch. I went silent for a few beats. “I actually didn’t know that,” I said, my voice sounding like it was coming from somewhere far away. A lump in the back of my throat grew by the second. “So, just so I’m clear, this is you breaking up with me?”

  He gave me a rueful smile. “I’m sorry.”

  I slid my hands off the table and looked down at the napkin in my lap. “No,” I said.

  His eyebrows knitted together. “No?”

  “I think you’re making a big mistake,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. “After all, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. We’ve both been working so much. How about we take this vacation, and see if we can fix this?”

  Grant shook his head. “I don’t want to fix this.”

  “But you just said you love me.”

  “I do.” Grant tipped his head to the side, his mouth curving in a lopsided smile. “How could I not? You’re beautiful, you’re smart. You’re good at what you do.”

  “So don’t give up on us,” I urged. The tears were seconds away, and I blinked furiously. “We can start spending more time together. We can work less.” I knew I was starting to sound a bit unhinged, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was either going to word-vomit, or actually vomit. “Or we can get a dog! Happy couples have dogs!”

  “Do you even hear yourself right now?” Grant rubbed his knuckles against his temples. “A dog won’t fix this, and anyway you hate dogs.” His voice grew louder as his cheeks flushed. “Natalie, stop. Just stop. It’s over, ok?” Then he glanced around the restaurant, as if becoming aware of the attention we were drawing. In a quieter voice, he said, “I’m seeing somebody else. I wasn’t going to tell you because I wanted to spare your feelings, but I guess it’s better if you know why I’m ending this.”

  Shock gave way to fury and I balled up my napkin and slammed it on the table. “You been cheating on me?” I stood up, giving him the meanest, most disgusted look I could conjure up. The old “evil eye” as my mom had called it. “I take back everything I just said about wanting to fix things. You and your other woman deserve each other.”

  My sudden movement disturbed my glass of red wine and it somersaulted off the table and shattered on the floor.

  Dead silence fell over the entire restaurant as everyone in the dining room stared.

  Grant stood up and gripped my arm, drawing me close to him. “You’re making a fool of yourself,” he hissed in my ear. Then he dug in his pocket and pulled a few bills from his wallet, tossing them on the table. “Sorry, everyone. Sorry.” He flashed a smile at the room, turning on the charm like only a lawyer could. “I hope we didn’t ruin your night.”

  “Like you really care about anyone else’s feelings,” I spat.

  “We can talk about this more outside,” Grant said in his most soothing voice.

  “Let go of me.” I jerked my arm away. “You’re really a terrible person, you know that? You could have done this at home. Instead you humiliate me in a packed restaurant.”

  “You didn’t have to cause a scene. Normally, you’re not so dramatic. You really embarrassed both of us back there.” He blew out a breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll give you the week to clear your stuff out. Please be gone before I get back.”

  “Where are you going?” I paused in the foyer of the restaurant.

  “The Savannah reservations are in my name and they’re nonrefundable. One of us might as well use them.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I wish you the best.” Then he exited through the revolving glass door.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered. He was probably going to stay there with his new lover. I squeezed my eyes shut feeling like a rubber band about to snap. I had never feel so much anger towards a single person—never in all my life. No only had he been cheating on me, but now he had totally ruined my paid time off.

  Suddenly, I felt that same rush of light-headedness, followed by a jolt of static electricity flying up my spine.

  I grabbed onto the reservations podium and blinked until my vision came back into focus.

  Something very curious was happening.

  Instead of continuing through the revolving door to leave the building, Grant appeared to have gotten stuck between the glass partitions. The veins in his forehead pulsed as he pushed on the glass with all his might. When it didn’t budge, he tried pushing the other way, back into the restaurant. The door held fast, trapping him in the cramped space between the restaurant and the outside, like a beta fish in a tiny aquarium.

  Well, look at that. I smiled gleefully. Maybe there was justice in the world after all.

  I strolled out the other exit—the swinging door right beside the revolving one—giving Grant a little wave. He responded by nagging his fists against the glass and yelling something I couldn’t understand.

  Maybe my night wasn’t completely ruined.

  Sure, I’d just gotten dumped, but at least I got to see my newly-ex-boyfriend get stuck in a door.

  In my pocket, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I fished it out of my pocket and saw it was the same unfamiliar number from earlier. I hit the ignore button. I was so not in the mood. If it was important, they’d leave a message.

  Chapter 3

  I shoved the last suitcase into the back of my Fiat and slammed the trunk. Breathing heavy, I leaned against the car and fanned myself with the hem of my tank top to cool off. Then I bent to check my reflection in the side mirror. After combing my fingers through my now frizzed-out blonde hair, I gave up on my hair and rummaged in my glove compartment for a ponytail holder. I’d swapped my little black dress and heels for a pair of leggings and gym shoes once I got back to Grant’s apartment.

  I needed to stay busy right now. I refused to waste my energy wondering how long Grant had been cheating on me or what had gone wrong or what I would tell my friends and family. No, I’d focus on packing up my things and arranging a new living situation.

  Unfortunately, I had a bad habit of being efficient, so the entire packing process took less than two hours.

  Grant had told me to stay for the week at his place, but that sounded like the most depressing thing in the world. Really, Grant? You want me to hang out in an empty apartment while you and your new lover enjoyed my romantic getaway?

  No thank you.

  I checked the time on my phone. The bright screen shone in the darkness. It read quarter after nine. I could call a friend and ask to stay the night, but honestly, I didn’t want to have to explain the situation to anyone. This whole thing had made me feel so pathetic. How had I not known? Was I so desperate for a relationship that I ignored the signs that my relationship was fizzling out? I’d thought he was planning on proposing!

  I climb
ed into the car and shammed the door. “Ok, Natalie, new plan,” I said, startling myself with the sound of my voice. I’d get a hotel room for a week, and schedule some apartment viewings. “This is why God made credit cards,” I mused. “And Netflix and wine. Chocolate, too.” My voice trembled.

  I sighed and laid my head on the steering wheel. I could feel the emotion welling up inside of me like someone filling a water balloon with garden hose. Sooner or later, the ballon would pop, just like my self control. I was getting too tired to fight it.

  Just then, my phone buzzed in my hand—someone was calling me. Grant? I thought, but no. It was that dumb North Carolina number. Three calls in one day? Who were these persistent telemarketers?

  I dabbed my eyes with the neckline of my tank top, wiping away smudged mascara. Why not? I thought.

  I cleared my throat. “This is Natalie.”

  “Is this Natalie Wilder?” A gravelly woman’s voice asked on the other end.

  I rolled my eyes. Totally telemarketers, I thought. “This is Natalie Miller,” I said.

  “Right,” she said. “My name is Angelina Dempsey, and I’m the sheriff here at Wolf Mountain.”

  “Oh.” I definitely had not been expecting that. “Ok.” I hesitated. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news,” she said. “I’d rather share this in person, but I understand you’re not local.”

  “Local to where?” I asked.

  “Wolf Mountain. It’s an hour north of Asheville. Am I correct in assuming you’re in Atlanta right now?”

  “Yes,” I said, feeling uneasy. “What kind of bad news?”