by Bobbi Holmes
“We just need to find them before their ghosts show up,” Danielle said.
“I promise to talk to the Baird sisters again before I release them,” the chief said.
After the chief left fifteen minutes later, Danielle looked to Chris and said, “We need to find Marie and Eva.”
“How will that help?” Chris asked.
“Some people install cameras in someone’s home to spy on them. I prefer using ghosts,” Danielle said.
The three Baird sisters sat quietly around the interrogation room table, their hands folded on the tabletop in front of them. The chief’s first thought when walking into the room and seeing their eyes all focused on him, I wonder if they are going to cast a spell on me. His second thought, had this been three hundred years earlier, they would have more to worry about than a breaking and entering charge.
Without saying a word, he took a seat at the head of the table, remembering how they had all forfeited their right to an attorney the night before, saying they would wait in the cell until they learned what charges were going to be charged.
“It seems the Parkers will not press charges,” the chief began.
Finola stood while saying, “Then we can go?”
“Please sit down, Ms. Baird,” the chief said.
With a sigh, Finola sat back down.
“While the Parkers do not want to press charges, that does not mean the DA won’t press charges. You broke into a business, and when arrested, you were in possession of stolen merchandise.”
“Does the DA seriously want to waste resources on such a petty crime?” Ina asked. “We already gave the necklace back, and we hurt nothing.”
“It’s still at the discretion of the DA to press charges, not the Parkers,” the chief reminded them.
Finola studied the chief a moment and then asked calmly, “What do you want?”
The chief arched his brows. “Excuse me?”
“You clearly want something. I don’t believe for a moment the DA intends to pursue this case. You obviously want something from us,” Finola said.
The chief leaned back in his chair and studied Finola. Finally, he said, “I want you to tell me all you know about the Parkers, and why you said they were stalking you.”
Finola and her sisters exchanged glances. She then looked back to the chief and let out a sigh. “I was not trying to be secretive last night when I didn’t elaborate on my stalking claim. To be honest, I wish I never said it, but sometimes I speak before I think.”
“Are you saying they didn’t stalk you?” the chief asked.
“No. We believe they were stalking us, but under the circumstances, going to someone like you about this rarely works out for people like us,” Finola said.
“Someone like me?” the chief asked.
“A cop. And you aren’t just a regular cop, you’re the police chief,” Finola said.
“I find it hard to believe you’re suggesting you’ve had past issues with the police,” the chief said. “When I ran a background check on you, nothing came up on any of you. No priors. So when exactly have you had a problem with the police?”
“It’s not just who you are, it’s what we are,” Finola said.
“Is this because you claim to be witches?” he asked.
Finola stared at him a moment and then smiled. “So, you know.”
“Frederickport is a small town. And you haven’t exactly been secretive about it. But the last time I checked, we no longer burn witches at the stake, so I’m not sure what the problem is.”
Finola reached up and absently fondled the hawk carving hanging from her neck. “There are some things difficult to put behind us.”
“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, but I would like to know more about this stalking, and if you would be a little more open, perhaps we can get you out of here, with no charges filed.”
Once again Finola exchanged glances with her sisters. She let out another sigh and then said, “We have never formally met the Parkers. At first, we thought it was a coincidence.”
“Coincidence?” the chief asked.
“The first time we noticed them was during college. They lived in the apartment across the street from us. It was strange; it felt as if they were always watching us. And then, one day, someone broke into our apartment. Our neighbor, a guy we were friends with, came home unexpectedly, and we’re certain he interrupted the burglars. They had ransacked the place, but nothing was missing. One of our other neighbors said she spied a redhead leaving out the back of our apartment around that same time. We didn’t really connect it to the Parkers until we realized they had moved out in the middle of the night. They were no longer living across the street.”
“You never found out who broke in?” the chief asked.
“No. But the cop didn’t even take fingerprints. While they no longer lived across the street from us, we saw them around town. We finally decided their sudden move had nothing to do with our break-in. A couple of years later, when we moved from California to Ohio, we were surprised when they moved into a house down the street from us. We thought it was such a bizarre coincidence, but we were sure it was them.”
“And then we moved to Nevada, and they followed us there,” Kenzy said.
“I can’t honestly say back then we believed they followed us, but it seemed to push the coincidence thing,” Finola said. “When we moved to Oregon, we said if they showed up, we would know they were following us.”
“And they showed up,” the chief said.
“Yes. Funny thing, I don’t think we were really serious about the possibility of them showing up here,” Finola said. “But they did.”
“And now they’re witches,” Ina said.
“They weren’t witches before?” the chief asked.
“To be honest, we’ve never met them. And if they considered themselves witches before moving to Oregon, we don’t know. But after they moved here, they open Pagan Oils and practically shouted it to the world they’re witches, with their store and YouTube channel,” Finola said.
“I couldn’t believe that article about them in the newspaper,” Ina said. “They call themselves blood witches. And that ridiculous YouTube channel. Frankly, it’s women like them who got our ancestors burned at the stake!”
“You’re open about being witches,” the chief said. “How is that different?”
“They’re exploiting something they know nothing about,” Finola said. “And the spells they include on their YouTube channel, it’s irresponsible.”
“What exactly did you hope to accomplish by breaking into the store?” the chief asked.
“I needed a closer look at that necklace, and I didn’t want to do it when they were in the store,” Finola said, touching her hawk carving.
Twenty-Five
It had been over an hour since Walt had covered the breakfast fire. They made it back to the fork in the trail, took the left pathway, and after walking over ten minutes found themselves confronted by a new fork in the trail.
“At least there are only two choices this time,” Brian said.
“Back to Pollyanna?” Heather grumbled.
“Are you hungry again?” Brian asked. “Should I offer you a Snickers bar?”
Heather looked to Brian, her expression stern, and then she broke into a laugh. “I’m not sure which side of you surprises me the most, Mr. Sunshine or the comedian.”
“At least I got you to smile,” Brian said.
“Yeah, but don’t you know, it’s never a good idea to tease a woman with imaginary chocolate,” Heather said.
“Chocolate, I’d love a piece of Danielle’s chocolate cake right now,” Walt said with a sigh.
“When it comes to chocolate, Walt, you can be such a girl,” Heather teased. The three remained standing at the fork in the trail, not yet deciding which way to turn.
“I would happily take any cake. It doesn’t even have to be chocolate,” Walt said.
Brian glanced at his watch. �
�It’s not even lunchtime. Too early for cake.”
“Oh, Walt has a major sweet tooth,” Heather said. “If we wander around in this forest much longer, don’t be surprised if he starts tracking bees so he can find their hive.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Brian said. “Watching Walt get the honey away from the bees using his powers. Think he would try talking them out of the honey or take it forcibly?”
Heather laughed. “You also have a silly side. You surprise me, Brian Henderson.”
“I hate to disappoint you two, but I doubt I’m about to wrestle any bees for their honey quite yet. I’d rather we figure out which path we should take.”
“Such a spoilsport, Walt.” Heather then looked down the path and said, “Brian called the last one, which was wrong.”
“But we got breakfast out of it,” Brian reminded her.
“True. Extra points for that,” Heather said.
“I say we keep going straight,” Walt suggested.
“Agreed,” Brian said.
Heather started down the path in a slow jog, leaving Walt and Brian to trail behind her.
“So what is the deal between Chris and Heather?” Brian asked Walt. While they could see her up ahead, she was out of earshot.
“They are friends; he is her boss,” Walt said.
“Just friends?” Brian asked.
Walt glanced briefly to Brian and then looked back down the path as they continued to walk. “Surprised you’re asking a question like that.”
Brian shrugged. “Just curious. I’ve heard different people suggest they’re an item. Seems like an unlikely pair.”
“Until recently, Heather was dating someone. I don’t know what happened, but she’s no longer seeing him and doesn’t seem upset about it. As for Chris, he’s been doing his share of dating, yet not with anyone locally. I don’t think he’s found the person he feels safe enough with to share his actual identity.”
“But Heather already knows, and they seem to spend a lot of time together,” Brian said.
“True. But I see them more like siblings than a couple. Which includes trying to set the other one up on dates.”
“Really?”
Walt nodded. “Really.”
Aside from having been drugged, kidnapped, and left tied up in the middle of the forest, Heather felt rather chipper. Sleeping on the ground hadn’t been as bad as she made it out to Brian. Before going to sleep, she had placed her tarp over a bed of pine needles, softening the hard ground. Breakfast of freshly caught fish and berries had sat well with her, and she wanted desperately to break into a brisk jog yet knew it would not be wise to get too far ahead of Brian and Walt.
Drinking in the fresh air, she took a moment to count her blessings. She didn’t know why the Parker sisters did this, but she knew that if Walt and Brian hadn’t walked into the store after her, she would have woken alone in the middle of the forest, tied to a tree. Heather didn’t want to consider what would have happened to her when that mountain lion showed up. The thought gave her chills.
Another thing to be grateful for was knowing Chris and Danielle would realize she was missing and then take care of Bella. She didn’t have to worry about Bella going hungry or thirsty.
While merrily counting her blessings, while jogging at a slow pace so as not to get too far ahead of the men, Heather turned a corner and came to an abrupt stop.
“Oh crap,” Heather muttered, coming face-to-face with a bearded man aiming a rifle at her.
“Stop right there,” the man ordered.
Heather’s eyes widen as she took in the unexpected sight. His plaid flannel shirt and denim pants, both well-worn and faded, with boots on his feet and a floppy hat on his head painted a picture of someone who had been in the forest for some time. The gray beard covered much of his face, and she wasn’t sure if he was in his fifties or eighties.
Nervously putting her hands in the air, she said, “Please don’t shoot.”
“What are you doing here?” he barked.
“I…I’m lost. I just want to find the way to the road out of here. That’s all,” Heather said.
“I know what you’re doing here, snooping around. But I don’t have a problem shooting you like I did the others. I don’t care if you are a woman. You are a woman, aren’t you? Hard to tell in that getup.”
Before she could call out a warning to Walt and Brian, she heard them behind her, and the next moment she heard Walt let out a curse as he came to a stop next to her.
“Get the rifle,” Heather whispered to Walt, her hands still in the air, her eyes never leaving the man aiming his weapon at her.
“Why are your hands in the air?” Brian asked Heather.
“Why do you think?” Heather snapped.
The man waved his rifle from Walt to Brian and said, “Get your hands in the air, both of you!”
From the corner of her eye she saw Brian just standing there, looking at her. “Brian, do as he says! Walt, hurry!”
Walt raised his hands in the air, his eyes on the bearded man.
“Now you, put your hands up,” the man ordered, his rifle aimed at Brian.
“Walt!” Heather hissed under her breath.
“It’s not working,” Walt said calmly. He held his hands in the air while looking from the old man to Brian. Brian now looked from Walt to Heather.
“What are you two doing?” Brian asked.
Walt nodded toward the old man, whose agitation increased with Brian’s failure to comply. “Brian, what do you see over there?”
Brian frowned and then looked toward the old man. “Am I supposed to see something? I don’t get it.”
Walt let out a sigh and lowered his hands. “Heather, I think you can put your hands down.”
Heather glanced from the old man to Brian and then said, “Oh…you mean…”
Walt nodded. “First clue, I couldn’t get his rifle away from him. Second clue, Brian doesn’t see him.”
“I said put your hands up!” the old man screeched, now wildly waving his rifle.
“What don’t I see?” Brian asked.
“The man pointing the rifle at us,” Heather said, regaining her calm.
The man started shooting, but when no one fell to the ground after being shot, he disappeared.
“Or should I say, the man who just shot at us and disappeared,” Heather said. She walked to the spot the apparition had been on and looked around.
“I wish one of you would please tell me what the hell you are talking about!” Brian raged.
Heather looked to Walt. “Do you want to tell him, or should I?”
Walt shrugged. “You might as well. I think I’m going to look for the guy. It’s what Danielle would do.”
Brian watched as Walt continued down the path while Heather stood a few feet from him, smiling like she was about to tell him some unpleasant news, yet wasn’t particularly sorry about it.
“Are you going to tell me?” Brian asked.
“Do you remember when I claimed to see ghosts?” Heather asked.
Brian’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Why?”
“I didn’t lie. Also, Walt can see them too. So can Danielle and Chris. And Evan.”
“Evan?” Brian asked.
Heather nodded. “Yes. The chief’s youngest son. The chief knows about this too. He knows about all of it.”
Brian said nothing, but just stared.
“I thought he was real,” Heather began.
“You thought who was real?” Brian asked.
“The old dude with the rifle. He was just here a minute ago, pointing it at me. That’s why I put my hands up—that’s why Walt put his hands up. He thought he was real too. But when he couldn’t take the rifle away—”
“Wait a minute, are you saying a ghost was just here? And you and Walt saw it?”
Heather nodded. “Yes. And I’ll admit, scared the crap outa me when I thought he was real. But a ghost can’t hurt you. Not if you’re an innocent, anyway. And frankly, I
consider myself an innocent. I’m not a bad person.”
“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I can’t find him,” Walt said when he returned. He looked at Heather and asked, “Did you tell him?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure he understands,” Heather said.
Walt looked at Brian, “Normally we would probably come up with some story about why Heather was holding up her hands. We’d engage in some double talk to explain this all away. But frankly, considering our situation, we’re past all that, don’t you think?”
Brian stared at Walt yet said nothing.
“It’s about ghosts. They exist, and we can see them.” Walt started to list off the local mediums, but Heather stopped him by saying she had already told Brian who the mediums were.
After a moment, Brian took a deep breath and said, “Okay, let me get this straight. Walt can communicate with animals—”
“We don’t know if it’s all animals,” Heather interrupted, to which Brian raised his hand as if to stop her from saying more.
Brian then said, “Walt can communicate with some animals, he can also move objects with his mind, and he can see ghosts.”
“He is not the only one who can see ghosts,” Heather grumbled.
Ignoring Heather, Brian looked at Walt and asked, “Is there anything else? Any more secrets about you I don’t know?”
Walt shrugged. “Not sure what they would be. Isn’t that enough?”
“What about the fingerprints?” Brian blurted.
“Excuse me?” Walt asked.
“Your fingerprints. Why are they the same as the original Walt Marlow’s? And your handwriting, why is it the same as the original Walt Marlow’s? Even your signature is the same. Why is that? And why, when I brought this up with the chief months ago, he brushed me off and didn’t want to discuss it?”
Heather watched as the two men stared intently into each other’s eyes.
“Do you really want to know?” Walt asked in a quiet voice.
“Yes. I do,” Brian said.
Heather’s eyes widened, unable to believe Walt would actually tell him the truth.
