by Jill Nojack
And he’d be surprised if Natalie didn’t cancel on him anyway. She’d found excuses before.
The blood he’d found on the stone fireplace had been Butch’s as everyone expected—the lab had put that through quickly since they had Butch right there to test against. But it didn’t help him identify who’d attacked the man or why. That was still a missing piece of the puzzle, and Jenny wasn’t talking. Denton’s instincts were right; she knew something she wasn’t saying.
He hated to admit it, but with Jenny unwilling or unable to tell them what happened to Butch, it sure looked like she had something to hide. Maybe this postpartum thing Cassie had whispered to him about had pushed her over the edge.
Golly, if it did turn out that Jenny was unbalanced after the birth, the internet assured him she could do some real unmotherly things because of it. He didn’t want to keep reading those horror stories.
Still, he just couldn’t see Jenny harming anyone. She was tired, she was grieving, and she was afraid for her daughter. And she might be depressed after giving birth like Cassie said, but when she looked at those girls, she glowed.
Although the coven’s magically infused herbal tea and enough sleep might set her back on an even keel like Cassie hoped, the best witchery could only go so far to heal her. He was sure the human mind could be awful complex; it wouldn’t be as easy to knit back in place as a broken bone. He dashed off an email to Denton recommending the girl be assessed by a psychiatrist.
With that done, what else did he have to contribute? He stared at his plastic bags of evidence and wished he was anywhere other than trapped in his office at loose ends. It wasn’t like more information was going to come in from the lab today. Not on a Sunday, no matter how many favors Denton called in.
The blood on the blanket had been Maureen’s. Determining that had been his biggest contribution so far, and his only part in that was delivering it to the lab. If the blood had been the child’s….
His heart squeezed tight in his chest just thinking about it.
The stuffed frog was waiting at the lab for DNA sampling, and he still had the two bags containing a piece of lint each. A third was home to a piece of red plastic.
He’d compared the samples of lint with the blanket in Butch’s truck using the microscope in the morgue. The doc had taken a look, too, and agreed the first one was composed of fibers from that blanket, so it was likely Butch had tracked that one in. The other was a mix of cat hair and fibers—he’d compared it to samples of hair from different animals in one of the national databases for criminal investigations, and it had definite feline characteristics. The fibers were a match to the child’s blanket. Since there’d been no cat in the house, it could have come from the “monster” Junior said he’d seen, or it could have been from any of the animals Maureen had rescued over time. But Jenny had said her mother hadn’t had a pet or familiar in the house since they’d moved in, and Denton would have his hide if he put a family pet on the list of suspects on the word of the town drunk.
He held up the second bag with its red plastic oblong and wondered if it could possibly have a place in all of this. But he didn’t have a clue what it was. It was vaguely egg-shaped and not completely flat—a curve across its surface prevented that. A very bright red. Gaudily so. He had no sense of what it might be used for.
Golly, this is the sort of thing that can make a man give up his career before it even really got started. With all the advancements since he was a young man—DNA testing, facial recognition cameras, dogs that can sniff out drugs and explosives—a small piece of plastic shouldn’t be so difficult to figure out.
He put the bags back into their brown box and carried it back to the evidence locker. He didn’t have the key, but he hadn’t used it to get the stuff out anyway. He made sure the hallway was empty, then disappeared and reappeared inside. After he set the box on the shelf, he thought himself home. He had a date to spiff up for.
***
Gillian glanced at her watch; it was getting late. She was looking forward to spending a quiet evening with Robert reading over glasses of wine—her book likely something light and romantic, and his heavy with the weight of ancient magic. And both of them far removed from the noise and fuss of children. She enjoyed the darlings, but two infants at once wore a person down, and with Robert’s busy schedule, Saturday evenings and all day Sunday were supposed to be reserved for her partner.
The babies were both asleep in their drawers in the smaller bedroom for now. It was a respite that probably wouldn’t last long.
Jenny was taking a bath before taking over the girls on her own for the night. Gillian had offered to stay later, but perhaps Jenny had heard the reluctance she’d tried to hide. She’d declined the offer, saying she’d have to start taking care of things on her own sooner or later. The overstressed new mother had either gone numb or had found her strength, one of the two. Gillian wouldn’t want to lay a bet on which one it was, though.
Cassie walked in the door from the house, announcing, “Delivery!” as she entered from the hall, carrying an economy size chocolate bar in one hand and a can of coffee in the other. She looked at Gillian curiously when the side entrance doorbell rang.
Gillian said, “I don’t think she’s expecting anyone. I hope it’s not Denton. He wouldn’t bother her on a Sunday, would he?”
“I guess we’ll have to go see.” Cassie ducked into the kitchen, then reappeared without the supplies. As they walked into the hall, Jenny appeared in the doorway of the bathroom in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium length brown hair combed out neatly but still wet. She yawned widely as she greeted Cassie.
Cassie said, “Hey, Jen. We’ll get the door. Take time to dry your hair if you need to.”
“Thanks,” Jenny said, and headed back into the small bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute. Because guess who wakes up every time the doorbell rings?”
To prove her right, the cries started in harmony, one loud, one quiet, and not in the least melodic. She gave Cassie a tired smile as she disappeared behind the closing bathroom door and the sound of a hairdryer joined the chorus.
Cassie caught up to Gillian, who was standing at the door, ready to open it. Gillian said, “I almost think we shouldn’t. Who’d lay on the ringer like that with babies in the house?”
“Only one way to find out,” Cassie said, as Gillian reached for the door.
Their father, that’s who.
“Butch.” Gillian resisted the urge to slam the door shut again. “How can we help you?” She made a mental note to ask Robert to pass on her displeasure that Denton hadn’t given Jenny a warning.
“What d’you think? I’m here for Jenny. The hospital released me. And the cops released the house, so I’m taking her home.”
He moved forward to enter, but Gillian blocked him. “She won’t want to see you.”
“She’ll see me,” he said, looking down at her from his full height. “Do you think you’re going to stop me, old woman?” He cut a look at Cassie. “You and the little girl here?”
Gillian hid a smile behind her hand. She could sense the faint spark of magic building at the tips of Cassie’s fingers and wondered if Butch would soon discover how confused he was about where the real threat stood.
She was getting ready to tell him where to put his threats when Jenny’s quiet voice behind her said, “Let him in, Gilly.”
“You’re sure?” she asked over her shoulder without taking her eyes off Butch.
“Yeah, I’m sure. This is something you can’t do for me.”
“In that case, Cassie and I’ll be in the nursery. Let us know if you need anything. Anything at all.”
She squeezed the girl’s shoulder gently as she passed her on the way to the bedroom.
***
“You might as well sit down, Butch,” Jenny said, motioning him toward the sitting room. It was hard looking at him. He didn’t look like a killer. A bad husband, a bad father, but a killer?
She had to get through t
his. And if he did know where Dahlia was….
She steeled herself. She had to talk to him. She didn’t have a choice. Maybe he knew something, something he’d tell her if she was nice.
“Why don’t you come outside instead? That squalling is too much. You’d think your friends would be able to get the brats calmed down better than that.”
Jenny realized it was going to be impossible to be nice.
“They aren’t brats, Butch. They’re our children. Our children, not just my children. Although they might as well be. My mother tried to warn me about you before we got engaged, but she gave you nothing but support after we married. She was sure things would get better. But now I know they never will. You wanted me all to yourself so I could wait on you night and day. My mother is gone now, but I finally understand what she tried to tell me. Get your truck out of her driveway and stay away from me. And I hope they find the evidence they need to lock you up.”
He moved toward her, his voice softening. “I didn’t do it, babe. You know I couldn’t do that.”
“Aren’t you hearing me? I don’t want you near us. You always hated her. But yeah, I don’t think you killed her. It doesn’t make sense, just like Denton said. But where is my Dahlia?” She dissolved in tears before she could stop herself.
He reached out, grasping her so that her arms were pinned at her sides. The magic at her fingertips sparked, but she was helpless to free herself without freedom of movement. He pulled her in close. “Look, come home with me. We’ll fix this. I only want things to go back to normal.”
“Normal? Any other father would be frantic with worry that one of his daughters is missing, but you? You just want to make sure that I’m not going to give evidence against you.”
He squeezed her hard. She was so very tired of so many demands. She didn’t mind the the demands of the girls; they couldn’t survive without her. But Butch could take care of himself. There was no reason for her to stay with him. There was no reason he should be allowed to hold her immobile there and demand anything of her.
She took a deep breath; he needed to let her go. She’d been willing to believe he’d killed her mother because of all the times he’d frightened her. But now she was done with all of that.
She rammed the fingers of her left hand up against his thigh. He screamed, letting go and grabbing at his injured leg where a hole had been burned through and the skin was red and coming up in blisters.
“Jen, you okay?” Cassie’s voice sounded from the kitchen.
“I told you how it is, Butch. And if you did have anything to do with it, Bill Bailey is going to prove it. So you just stay away from me and the girls. Far away.”
Cassie stood in the doorway now with Gillian behind her. Gillian cradled both babies so that Cassie’s hands were free. Jenny’s eyes moved to her, drawn to the blue sparks that matched the ones at the tips of her own fingers. She smiled a tight little smile and Cassie nodded back.
She turned to her husband, flexing her hand where the sparks danced, waiting. “Get out of here, Butch. The only time I ever want to see you again is in court. You might not be going away for murder, but you'll be there for our divorce."
But Butch wasn’t finished. “You’re just like your mother!” His eyes moved to the dancing sparks. “I tried to save you!”
And that’s when he made his worst mistake.
He lunged.
When he came to, he was sitting against the side wall with his hands and feet bound in curtain ties.
He looked up at his wife, who said simply, “Wow. Deja vu.”
***
Patrolman Rogers exchanged Butch’s bonds for handcuffs before he guided him out to the waiting cruiser. Butch protested each step of the way as the officer prodded him forward.
“They’re witches, the bunch of them. Probably sacrificed the kid to increase their power! They’re the ones that need to be locked up, not me.”
Gillian watched Butch being shoved every few steps to keep him moving as the flashing red light outside lit up the room through the window each time it cycled by, adding a sense of urgency to the scene.
“They’re in cahoots! Maureen was just as bad as they are. They’re all Satan worshippers. Follow them into the woods on the next full moon if you want to know what they’re really up to. Even the mayor is involved!”
Cassie’s eyes met Gillian’s. Gilly shrugged in return and whispered “nothing we can do about it now.”
Not that Denton was giving it even a speck of notice. He was deep in conversation with Jenny in the kitchen. She hoped Jenny was convincing. The last thing they needed was for Denton to suspect they really were in cahoots in some way. They didn’t need to give him something else to investigate that would distract attention from finding who’d taken the child.
Jenny walked out of the kitchen and gave them a weak smile as Denton called, “Mrs. Sanders, if you could join me now.”
***
Cassie’s hand moved to tug her lip, but she caught herself and plucked at the hem of her skirt instead as she waited for Denton to say something.
But he flipped through a small notebook and remained silent, nursing the tea Gillian had prepared for him. It’s a shame she hadn’t been able to use valerian in the mix. It would have helped him relax and accept their story. But Gillian was right—he would have been put off by the strong scent of poo coming from his drink. Valerian always gave itself away.
Instead, the only scent coming from the tea was a strong, grassy one from the passionflower, and no smell at all from the poppy leaves; it should leave him slightly suggestible. And of course, Gillian may have given the mix a little push from the tips of her own magic fingers to strengthen the brew unless she worried about Robert finding out; Cassie was pretty sure Robert would consider enchanting a policeman to be going a step too far.
She was deep into her own churning thoughts over a cup of rosehip and hibiscus when Denton’s booming voice cut through them. She snapped alert as he said, “Hard to believe a slip of a thing like you had a part in bringing down a big boy like Butch Holgerson.”
“It took three of us.”
“Two little girls and a mature woman. And I don’t think any of you are championship wrestlers.”
Cassie smiled as charmingly as she could, which she knew for a fact was pretty charming. “Gillian is a yoga adherent. She could crack a walnut with her thighs. Or so she tells me.”
An odd look crossed Denton’s face, then he blinked and took a deep breath. “Since you like visuals, give me a walk-through of what happened in the living room just now.”
“I mean…basically, Butch got shouty and said Jenny was going with him even if she didn’t want to. I think that’s what he was saying. It happened so fast.”
“So he was shouting.”
“Yeah, but then Jenny yelled back that he needed to get out. And me and Gilly, we were in the bedroom with the babies. We heard it heating up, so we hustled down the hall, and he just went for her. Just launched himself at her.” Cassie stopped, pulling together the threads of what came next in the story and waiting for Denton to coax it out of her, because she didn’t want to sound like she was just saying something she’d rehearsed. She forgot about her hand and it moved to her lip, worrying it gently.
“And…” he prompted. Nothing else. He wasn’t going to lead her with what Jenny had said, that was clear. She was on her own and hoped their accounts matched but didn’t use the same words.
“Well…he pushed her back onto the couch—she could have really been hurt if she’d hit her head or something, and I lost it because he was on top of her and who knew what he was going to do next? So I looked around to see what there was to use as a weapon, because I was scared…and Gillian, she grabbed the lamp off the side table and she smacked him with it hard, you know? Like, really hard.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Seriously, you should believe that thing about yoga and the walnut.”
Denton didn’t crack a smile. “The rest of it, Mrs. Sanders
.”
She caught her breath and continued, “Yeah, so…he went limp, and I grabbed the curtain ties and tied him up. I mean, we couldn’t just let him wake up and go after her again.”
Denton set his mug on the old Formica table and steepled his fingers in front of his face, nodding. “No, you couldn’t allow that. But it does make me wonder how you managed to re-enact the exact scene we found after the murder.”
“Really? I had no idea about the murder scene. But…we were in the bedroom with the girls, like I said…” She motioned with one hand over her shoulder, giving her lip, which was sore from too much anxious attention, a break. “…and there wasn’t anything in there we could grab to protect ourselves. So we ended up with just, you know, what was there.”
“Did he threaten the children or just Jenny?”
“Just Jenny. I don’t think he even mentioned the children, at least not from what I heard.”
Denton settled back against the chair and scratched at the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. “What else do you know about Butch?”
“Not a lot. I don’t even really know Jenny, but I knew her mother. She used to come into the store. And of course, Maureen was really well-liked around town, and you know, the house has this big unused apartment in it, so…when Gillian asked if Jenny and the girls could stay for a while, what was I going to say?”
“I didn’t ask about Jenny. Tell me what you know about Butch.”
She didn’t understand the line of reasoning, but she knew he had to have one, and she didn’t think there was anything she could say that would damage the other part of her story, so she thought a minute, feeling her forehead scrunch as she reached for anything she might have learned about him.
“I don’t think I ever met him before. I guess he was a big football star in town, but I didn’t go to school here. I was just here summers visiting my grandmother, and he and Jenny are a year or two older than me anyway, I think. But you know how it is, people gossip.”
