by Jane Hinchey
“So, if she doesn't wear jewelry, why would her husband buy her any?” Mick asked.
“There was a note saying it was for their anniversary.” I shrugged.
“So, you think someone has taken the ring? Diamonds, eh?”
But I was already shaking my head. “Not diamonds. An alexandrite gemstone.”
Mick cocked his head. “But you don't know what this ring looks like? And you're certain she wasn't wearing it?”
“No. Sorry.” He made a note on the bottom of my statement, then handed me a pen to sign it.
“So, I called Whitefall Cove Police last night,” he said conversationally.
“You did?” I sat back, shocked. “Why?”
“Because I'm conducting a murder investigation,” he said drolly.
Gran signed her statement and slid it back toward him. “And what did you discover?” she asked.
“It was quite enlightening.” He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You didn't mention you'd been arrested for murder.” His eyes narrowed on Gran who merely shrugged as if it were a matter of no consequence.
“Those charges were dropped.”
“Yet you were both involved in the investigation for the death of”—he paused, flicked the page in his notebook, briefly read whatever he'd scribbled there, and continued—“Whitney Sims and Bonnie Emerson. And here you are in Arrowstrand, with two murders since your arrival.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Coincidence?”
“Absolutely coincidence!” I declared. “Who did you speak to at Whitefall Cove Police Station? Because if it was Officer Miles, well, she could be a tad biased.”
Mick was shaking his head. “Nope. It was Detective Jackson Ward. Who, by the way, wants you to call him. Apparently, you’ve been ignoring his messages.”
“Right,” I muttered.
Gran was on it though. “Jackson has been calling?” A sly grin split her face, and I rolled my eyes. Here we go. Yes, Jackson had sent me some text messages I’d yet to read, let alone reply to.
“Harper had the misfortune to be engaged to an utter—” Gran began.
“Gran!” I cut her off before whatever vile word was about to spill from her lips would get us into trouble with law enforcement.
“Cad,” she said, eyeballing me. “I'd been about to say cad. Geez, don't get your panties in a wad.” She tossed her hair, well, tried to, but since Gran kept her hair short, there was nothing to toss so with a rather odd movement of her head, she continued, “Anyways, Harper moved back home to Whitefall Cove where she met the rather delicious detective. What is it with cops? You're all rather gorgeous looking. Is that a requirement?”
Mick blinked at her, but she continued on, not requiring a response. I could feel the heat rising in my face.
“Unfortunately for poor old Harps here, the detective is already taken, dating Officer Miles—is that even allowed? Fraternization among employees? Anyway, Harper has been pining after Jackson for months, biding her time I guess.”
Oh, God! “Gran. Shut. Up.” I growled, my face on fire. Why oh why did I bring her with me to Australia?
She ignored me, nothing new there. “But then Blake arrived. My lawyer.” Gran fanned her face. “Phew-eeeeee, that boy is hawt! And apparently single. And I felt for sure the two of them would—”
“Gran! Stop!” I shot out of my chair. Mick pointed at me and indicated I sit back down. I did. Slowly. He nodded once, then told Gran to continue.
“Harper seemed to like Blake, and Blake seemed to like Harper, but from the pent-up vibes I've been picking up from her I'd say things have stalled.”
Mick's lips twitched, but he maintained a straight face. “And why do you think that is?” he asked, and I groaned. “Do you have to encourage her?” He shrugged. “I'm just curious.”
“Here's what I think.” Gran leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I think Blake is a secretive chap. He's a mystery, an enigma. And that is freaking her out, you know 'cos her cheating ass fiancé was a liar and a cheat and she needs someone she can trust. Someone she can rely on. So, I think she put the brakes on because she's not sure she can trust Blake.” She nodded. “He's very secretive.”
Staring at her with wide eyes, I slowly blinked when it felt like my eyeballs were drying out.
“And also, she still has the hots for Jackson.” Gran tacked on to the end and I buried my head in my hands, my humiliation complete. Silence ticked on for several moments before Mick cleared his throat and said, “Well, I suggest you give the detective a call, Harper. He seemed very keen to speak with you.”
“Can we go now?” I asked without raising my head.
“Detective Ward also mentioned that you had some talent when it comes to investigations and that I shouldn't discount anything you discover.”
This time I looked up. “What are you saying?”
“I'm saying that I doubt anything I say will convince you not to investigate these murders—especially because you think it relates to your parents' disappearance—so all I'm asking is that you be careful and keep me in the loop.”
“You're okay with us helping?” I asked, shocked that I hadn't been told to butt out.
“This is a one-person police station,” he pointed out. “With two murders in as many days, I'll take all the help I can get. But please, for the love of God, be discreet.”
“Does that mean we're deputies now?” Gran asked hopefully.
“No, it does not.” He handed me a business card. “Call me if you discover anything. Don't take any stupid risks. The station number will divert to my mobile if I’m not here.”
“I will.” I nodded, a little shell-shocked at this turn of events. “So... before we go, can I ask about the bodies?”
“Same MO. Hearts had been removed, a small rock with that circular pattern etched onto its surface in its place.”
Mick didn't miss the look Gran and I exchanged. “What is it? You know something?”
I told him about our theory about the ritual, the sacrifices and the blood moon. I'd been expecting skepticism, but Mick just nodded, not surprised.
“You know about witchcraft?” I asked.
“I know someone has been up to something in this town lately. I guessed it was related to the occult.”
“Why? What's been happening?”
“Dead animals, throats cut, remnants of black wax found at the scene. Bird feathers too. It all had a ritualistic feel to it. I've been searching online to see if I could find any information, a clue what this person was trying to achieve. And who it may be. Or even if it was more than one person.” He lowered his voice. “Look, I wouldn't be telling you this if Ward hadn't vouched for you, so I'm counting on you to keep your heads down and not wind the locals up into a panicked frenzy. Think you can do that?”
I was affronted. Of course I wouldn't frighten the locals. As if. “Sure.” I gave Gran the side eye. She'd better not let me down.
After everyone had given their statements and fingerprints, we'd returned to the trailer park. Blake, who'd been dozing in the car, stumbled out and staggered toward his cabin, mumbling something about taking a nap.
“Something is definitely up with him.” Remy scratched her head.
“That reminds me.” I grabbed Gran's arm. “Gran, could I have done this to Blake? I used his fae power to boost my magic to astral-walk. Ever since, Blake has been acting strange, definitely not himself.”
Gran looked to Blake's retreating back, frowning in puzzlement. “I'm not entirely sure, love,” she said. “Could be. We could ask the coven?”
“I may call Drixworths, see if Izzy knows.”
“Good idea.” Gran gave me a hug. “But Blake's got the right idea. A nap sounds wonderful. I'm beat.”
“That just leaves the three of us,” Jenna said, “What's the plan?”
I shrugged. “I’ve got some calls to make,” I said. I'd been avoiding calling Jackson but now felt forced into it. Plus, I wanted to call Drixworths. Only it wo
uld be late in Whitefall Cove.
“I'm going to go through your dad’s notebook,” Remy said, pulling it from her backpack. “It may give us some clues.”
“I'm going to update the murder board,” Jenna said. “We know that Nigel led us astray in the caves. And possibly moved the glow sticks, so we'd get lost down there. Although I don't think that was an attack on our lives, more a delaying technique. But to what end? He knows Remy is experienced, that she'd get us out.”
“It may not have been Nigel who moved the glow sticks,” Remy pointed out.
“You think Omar?” Jenna suggested and Remy shrugged, “Could be. I doubt either of them would actually tell us the truth though.” Jenna and Remy continued their conversation as they headed into Remy's cabin.
“I'll join you in a few,” I called after them. Jenna waved her hand in acknowledgement.
Blowing out a breath, I pulled out my phone and slid my thumb across the screen to unlock it. Another message from Jackson. He would not give up; he'd keep leaving me messages until I responded. Urgh, may as well rip the Band-Aid off. With any luck, he'd be asleep, and it would go straight to voice mail.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?” His voice was groggy, heavy with sleep. “Harper?”
“Hi.” Geez, titillating conversation there, Harper.
There was rustling, and I imagined him sitting up in bed. “Finally. I was getting worried.”
“Pft, I'm sure Senior Sergeant Gould told you I was fine.”
“Ahh, he told you we talked.”
“Of course he did. Look, if you're calling to warn me to be careful, no need. I'm being careful.” I didn’t mean to snap, but my words definitely had a sting to them.
“Hey,” he protested, voice gentle. “What's wrong, Harper? Why are you so defensive? I thought we were friends.” There was a tinge of hurt to his words and now I felt like an utter bitch. I paced across the ground as I talked.
“Sorry.” It wasn't much of an apology, but it was the best I could manage. It felt weird with him for some strange reason.
“What's wrong?” he pushed, his voice so deep and low in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. And in that moment, I realized I missed him. He was right. We'd become friends. Despite me having the hots for him, as Gran so eloquently put it, Jackson and I had formed a friendship and I'd been pushing him away ever since Blake arrived on the scene. And then I wondered if that had been Blake's intention, if he'd been manipulating me. My head was spinning.
I sighed, the sound whooshing down the phone to Jackson. I blurted out everything we knew, everything that had happened, the two deaths and the fear that tomorrow night, the night of the blood moon, my parents would be sacrificed. We were running out of time to find them.
“I wish I were there to help,” Jackson said, and I smiled. I wished it too. With his necromancing powers he might be able to speak with Tamir and the murdered girl, Beth, find out who did this. But we didn't have the luxury of talking to ghosts at our disposal. “Look, when you get home, we need to talk. There's something I have to tell you.”
“What is it? I figured it's important since you've been blowing up my phone with messages.”
“It can wait.”
A brief flare of irritation that he'd left a message at the police station for me to call him and now that I had he said it could wait? Men!
“Jackson, I have to go,” I said instead. “Time is running out for my mom and dad.”
“If there's anything I can do....”
“There isn't.”
“Bye, Harper.”
“Bye, Jackson.”
I disconnected the call and stared at my phone. That was weird. But then everything was weird lately. You'd think I'd get used to it. Pulling up my contacts, I dialed Drixworths, intending to leave a message for Izzy.
“Oh!” I gasped in surprise. “I wasn't expecting you to be there. It’s the middle of the night!”
“I've been expecting your call.” I could hear the smile in her voice. Esmeralda Higginbottom—Izzy for short—was the headmistress of Drixworths Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had taken me under her wing when I'd had my witch's license suspended. Now I had it back, she'd been working with me on controlling my magic. Apparently, I was a powerful witch and didn't even need a wand to use magic.
“Right. So, do you know why I'm calling?” I teased, testing her. I could picture her in my mind shaking her head and I chuckled.
“How can I help?” she asked instead.
I explained the situation with Blake. “I see,” she said, her voice somber, and my heart stuttered a little. Had I damaged him? Injured his magic? “You would have been better placed boosting your magic with your Gran’s and not that of a fae,” Izzy told me. I bit my lip. It hadn't occurred to me at the time. He'd been there, he had magic, I hadn't stopped to think combining our power would hurt either of us.
“So why is it affecting him and not me?” I asked.
“Because you're stronger than he is.” Well, that was a surprise—one I hadn't been expecting.
“But his symptoms? His behavior is almost childlike at times. Why? And how do I fix it?”
“You took a fae with you when you astral-walked, I assume to connect with your parents? Were you successful?”
“Yes. I connected with Mom.”
“Right. I imagine then that somehow Blake has absorbed some of your mother's essence.”
I remained silent for a second. “Say what?”
“He has...how do I put it?” Izzy paused while she searched for the right words. “He melded a little too closely with your mother. Now he has taken on some of her characteristics.”
“But she doesn't act like a child,” I protested.
“He may have inadvertently meshed with her inner child. Her memories of childhood, and now they are slowly taking root, growing stronger.”
“How do I stop it? Is it reversible?”
“It took a great deal of magical power to make it happen in the first place,” Izzy warned, “so it will take a great deal of magic to reverse it. You'll need your grandmother. And your familiar. And of course, Blake.”
“I can do that. They're all here.”
“This is what you need to do.” Izzy rattled off a spell so fast I was lost after the first few words. “Don't worry. I'll text it to you. But please, once it's done, delete the text.”
“I will, I promise.” We said our goodbyes and hung up and, true to her word, Izzy sent through the incantation I'd need. Only problem was, we had to wait until midnight. Witching hour. And I feared midnight on the night of the blood moon would be curtains for Mom and Dad. I had a decision to make. Save them, or save Blake?
Chapter Thirteen
“We'll do both,” Remy assured me when I told her of my dilemma. “Save your parents first, then help Blake.”
“You make it sound easy.” I sighed, sliding onto a chair at her kitchen table, suddenly exhausted.
“It is. Someone is holding your parents captive, right? We just have to figure out who.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “And how do we do that?”
Remy moved to the murder board. “We know Nigel deliberately led us astray in the caves, yes? So that makes him a suspect. And someone moved the glow sticks, possibly to delay us, throw us off our game.”
“Right.” I nodded.
“But something has been bugging me and I think I finally figured it out.” She paced back and forth in front of the board. “When Tamir was killed, Kaylee found his body, right?”
“Right.” Jenna nodded.
“And she said she'd gone into his cabin to clean it, that she'd used the master key after knocking and thinking he wasn't there, so it was safe for her to do her job.”
“And?” I prompted.
“Where were the cleaning supplies?” Remy asked. I froze, my mind playing over the scene.
“There weren't any,” I breathed.
“Right? She should have had a trolle
y or at least a basket or vacuum or something with her if she was there to clean his room.”
“There weren’t any of those things.”
“So, you think Kaylee is the killer?” Jenna said dubiously.
Remy shrugged. “I'm saying she lied. I'm saying Nigel isn't the only suspect. Nor Omar. I think the two of them are in cahoots over the copper scroll and are trying to sabotage our attempts at finding your parents because they believe they know where the copper pyramid is and possibly the scroll too. They want to find it first. They just need time.”
“We need to talk to Kaylee,” Jenna declared.
Together the three of us headed up to the house. Andi heard the bell above the door jingle as we entered the reception area and came bustling through, an apron slung around her hips and her cheeks flushed.
“Oh, good morning.” Her smile was genuine as she wiped her palms on the apron. “Sorry, I'm just doing some baking, I'm a bit hot and sweaty.”
“Smells good.” I sniffed the air appreciatively. Whatever she was baking smelled divine.
“Getting ready for Kaylee’s birthday,” Andi said. “Which reminds me, we’re having a little get-together here, a casual barbie before Kaylee heads into town to celebrate with her friends. We’d love it if you’d join us. It’ll just be us, Nigel and Omar. Oh, and Colin will be home.”
“That sounds lovely, thank you.” I smiled. “What time?”
“Six thirty?”
“Great. We’ll be here.” Remy turned side on to the counter and leaned her hip against it. “Is Kaylee about?”
“She's got a shift at the hotel today. Is there anything you need? Anything I can help you with?”
“Nah, that's okay, we were just going to wish her a happy birthday, but we’ll see her tonight.”
What better time to question everyone than when we had them all together in the one place? And we finally get to meet the elusive Colin. “Do you need us to bring anything?” I asked.
