by Cindy Stark
It seemed cops were a wealth of information on how to best avoid detection. She should have figured that one.
Although breaking into Vera’s had been her idea, her nerves were a frazzled mess. It was one thing to suggest to Peter that she wanted to sneak into Vera’s house. It was entirely another to have him agree. Worse that he wanted to come with.
She gathered the magical items she’d need for spells and couldn’t help but remember the previous fall when she and Cora had busted into Stonebridge’s library. So much fallout from that. She and Cora had lived life on the edge for a while there, but their actions had been necessary.
Just like hers and Peter’s were now.
Peter had brought about Tracy’s arrest and the wrath of his aunt. Worse, both Peter and she believed Tracy was innocent, so that meant a crazed killer was still on the loose.
She let Peter know when she was ready for their larcenous adventure, and together, they walked out the door. The second Peter had the car door open for her, Mr. Kitty dashed from out of nowhere, jumped up and used her lap as a springboard to catapult himself farther into the car and land on Peter’s seat.
Hazel gasped in surprise and attempted to reach for him.
He slipped between her hands and into the backseat where he positioned himself as if he was a welcome passenger preparing for a Sunday drive. “Holy harpy, cat. You are going to be the death of me.”
Peter raced around to the other side of the car and opened the back door. “You try to get him from that side, and I’ll catch him if he tries to escape.
Mr. Kitty met her gaze with a solid one of his own.
She didn’t catch any words that he might have tried to send to her, but she knew instinctively what he wanted. Instead of grabbing for him, she turned to Peter. “Let him come with. I have a feeling we might need his help.”
Mr. Kitty gave her a long, slow blink of satisfaction and began to purr.
Peter looked between them and then rolled his eyes. He didn’t argue as he climbed behind the wheel and started the car.
Her cat stayed in his seat as Peter drove several blocks, taking a detour past the library to ensure Vera’s car was at work, and then parked around the corner from her house. When Peter opened Hazel’s door, Mr. Kitty rushed from the car and headed straight for a bush. They exited, too.
Common sense warned that she should worry about her familiar, but her heart reminded her that his knowledge was remarkable, and he knew quite well what he was doing.
Heck, if anyone was going to get caught, it would be Peter and her.
Peter’s gaze darted about the neighborhood, looking far too much like a man about to commit a crime. For some reason, maybe the fact that Mr. Kitty was with them, her fears had lessened. She took Peter’s hand. “Relax. We’ve got this. Twenty minutes from now, we’ll be back at the bungalow and hopefully have more answers.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered.
“You don’t have to, Peter. I’m capable of handling it on my own.”
He shook his head fiercely. “No. Not letting you go in there by yourself.”
His concern for her touched her heart. “Then stop looking so guilty. You’ll get us arrested before we ever get near her house.”
Peter shook his shoulders and forced a smile. “Care for an afternoon walk, Mrs. Parrish?”
She grinned. “Why, yes, Chief Parrish. That would be lovely.”
She tugged the bag carrying her items higher onto her shoulder, placed it between them, and linked her arm with his.
Vera lived in an older section of Sandpiper Bay with an array of tall trees and thick bushes that would provide lovely cover. The sidewalks were cracked and lifted by tree roots in spots, but the charm of the area was unmistakable.
As they neared Vera’s older two-story home, Peter slowed his stride. He stopped to tie his shoe only feet from the ivy-covered arch that led up to the front porch of her house. “Look around,” he said in a quiet voice. “Do you see anyone?”
She casually glanced about and then opened her senses to see if she could detect anyone that way, either. “The coast seems clear.”
Peter stood, and they turned toward the house, walking casually toward the door as though they had every right to be there. Peter hesitated as they stood at the front door and spoke in a low voice. “It’s pretty secluded, so we shouldn’t have trouble. Before we go in, I want to make sure no one else is here.”
He knocked, and they waited. Hazel’s instincts jumped to high alert, and she could sense the same about Peter. After a few moments, he nodded at her, and she whispered, “Release your hold. Relax your guard. Let the strength within you free. Allow me entrance. Allow me to see. This I ask, so mote it be.”
The lock clicked, and Peter’s gaze jumped to hers. She nodded, and he grasped the doorknob with a gloved hand.
They stepped into a dark and gloomy living room full of mismatched antique furniture. Peter closed the door behind them. Mr. Kitty jumped down from the back of the couch, and Hazel released a squeal of surprise.
“Darned cat,” Peter cursed.
Mr. Kitty meowed in response and headed toward the stairs.
Hazel glanced about, noting how the giant, large-screen TV on one wall looked out of place with the colonial-period furniture. Two crushed beer cans and an open, empty pizza box sat on the coffee table. “I didn’t peg her as a pizza and beer kind of girl.”
Peter glanced at the items and shrugged. “I guess you never know what people eat unless you live with them.”
She thought of the peanut butter and pickle sandwiches Peter enjoyed. “True.”
He gestured toward the stairway with a jut of his chin. “Let’s follow that cat of yours and find Olive’s room. We’ll have a look around, and then get the heck out of here.”
Hazel wholeheartedly agreed with his plan. Being in someone’s personal space without permission creeped her out.
At the top of the stairs, they stepped over a discarded black skirt and purple sweater and moved to the first two rooms on each side. Peter nodded toward his right. “I’ll take this side, and you take the other?”
She nodded and peeked inside the first room. “Bathroom,” she called in a hushed voice.
“Nothing but a sewing machine and old chair in this one,” Peter countered.
They moved on to the next two. The door to the one on Hazel’s side stood open. “This might be Vera’s. She probably would keep Olive’s closed and not hers, don’t you think?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah. Let’s look in my side first.”
They converged on what they assumed was Olive’s room. Photos of Olive and Spencer sat displayed on her dresser, and a journalist award led Hazel to believe they were correct with their assumption.
Peter looked in obvious places, opening drawers, and looking under her mattress while Hazel opened her senses, searching for anything that might be hidden. Using her intuition had worked well with items hidden by magic, but not so much on everyday items, it seemed. “I’m going to try a spell.”
Peter cranked his head toward her and nodded.
Hazel closed her eyes and focused her energy. She didn’t know exactly what Olive’s journal might look like and prayed a standard idea would work.
When she felt in sync with the universe, she whispered, “Wherever you are, let me see. Show me your secrets, so mote it be.”
She mentally searched the surrounding area for anything that gave off a secretive vibe. She waited several long moments until she began to wonder if she’d recited the spell correctly.
An awareness drifted in, but it was from another part of the house. Hazel opened her eyes and frowned.
Peter lifted his brows in question. “Anything?”
“No, not really. I mean I sense something, but nothing in Olive’s room.”
Peter watched her, looking adorably helpless. “Does it need more time?”
“I don’t think so since I’m sensing other stuff.”
He glanced about the room and then back to her. “Maybe we should check that out, then? I don’t think she’d hide something so personal somewhere else in the house, but maybe she did.”
Hazel hated to leave Olive’s room so soon, but the police had checked it already, and her senses were telling her nothing. “Good point.”
She stepped into the hall and paused. The sensation radiated from Vera’s room. “Maybe I’m locating Vera’s journal instead. Maybe hers is closer to what I pictured.”
He stepped toward Vera’s room. “Let’s check. We might find something useful in Vera’s diary, too.”
Hazel followed him inside and was caught off guard by the amount of clutter in the room. Vera had seemed so organized at the library. But her bed wasn’t made, and piles of sweaters and slacks littered the floor. Books and notebooks of all kinds were stacked on her nightstand and dresser. Pens and used tissues lay discarded on the floor.
The signal was stronger here, and, this time, Hazel didn’t have to wonder where it came from. She marched straight to the closet. When she opened it, she was surprised, once more.
Instead of finding only sensible sweaters and skirts like Vera had worn to work, Hazel was met with colorful sequins, silks, and feathers.
Peter came up behind her. “Are you sure this is Vera’s room?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Has to be. If not, I don’t know where she sleeps. Regardless, whatever I’m sensing is here.”
Hazel rifled through clothing until she came to an oversized, full-length wool coat. She squeezed the fabric, moving downward and then knelt to reach better. Her hands met with a hard, book-shaped object at the bottom of the coat.
The journal had been hidden in between the wool outercoat and the lining. She searched for and found the hole used to place the book and removed it. Her heart thudded with pride, and she lifted a small, blue journal into the air. “Got it,” she said breathlessly.
Peter took it from her and opened it. “It’s Olive’s.”
Hazel got to her feet and glanced around. “What reason could Vera have to lie about finding it and to hide it in her room?”
Peter flipped a page. “I think we’re about to find out.”
A bang on the lower level of the house startled them. Peter growled under his breath. “What has that cat done now? We should have left him home.”
“He probably found food.”
“Vera?” a man’s voice called out and stole Hazel’s breath.
Nineteen
Hazel’s stomach clenched at the sound of another person in the house with them, and Peter’s eyes bugged out. They both slipped into the space between Vera’s bed and the wall as quietly as they could and lowered to their knees. Peter met Hazel’s gaze with panicked, accusing eyes.
She shrugged and shook her head in innocence. How was she supposed to know a man would walk into Vera’s house? From what she’d learned, Vera lived alone now that Olive was gone, and she hadn’t heard anything about a boyfriend or brother. Apparently, there was a lot more to Vera than most people knew.
“Vera?” the voice called again, but Hazel was certain the man hadn’t come closer.
“Don’t panic,” she whispered to Peter.
He narrowed his gaze as though insulted and tucked the journal into his jacket.
She forced back her fear and focused on what she had as arsenal. A spell to unlock doors. A spell to find hidden objects.
She slipped her newest crystal from inside her bra and held it in her hand. The Quiet as a Mouse spell. It should work properly now that she had the correct stone. At least she dearly hoped so.
That could possibly come in handy and perhaps they could pass by without being seen. Of course, he might see them when they were checking his whereabouts. “I don’t think he’s coming up here,” she whispered.
Peter hesitated and then agreed with a shake of his head.
She pointed toward the window.
He furrowed his brows and shook his head again.
“I can make us quiet as a mouse,” she whispered.
Peter studied her and then nodded slowly. She figured he must have remembered her spell from the other day.
Hazel couldn’t have been more thankful that he believed in her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then began to whisper the spell.
“Worry and woe, take your leave. Bring silence and peace unto me. It matters naught if dawn or twilight, no sound will be noticed, my steps will be light. Blessed Universe, hear my plea. This I ask, so mote it be.”
When she was finished, she met Peter’s gaze and then softly tapped on the wall next to them.
He gave her the thumb’s-up sign.
She took his hand and indicated he should hold the stone. After he did, she braced her forehead against his and whispered the spell again.
He tapped the wall, and no sound reached her. She grinned.
Even though she had both spells in place, they quietly stood, and Peter slid open the window. Hazel glanced out toward the neighborhood and was grateful they would be hidden by the trees surrounding Vera’s house.
Peter removed the screen and helped Hazel through the opening.
Before he could follow her, the sound of footsteps on the stairs stole Hazel’s breath. She flattened herself against the side of the house, out of sight of the hallway.
From her point of view, she could see Peter on the floor between the wall and the bed once again.
Holy harpies.
This was so not good. If Peter spoke to her after this, she’d be lucky.
A purple sweater sailed through the room and landed on the bed near Peter’s head.
Hazel clamped a hand over her mouth to ensure she didn’t speak. She’d completed the spell, but she also didn’t want to tempt the universe.
“Would it kill you to put things in the hamper?” the man muttered.
The sound of a screeching and hissing cat nearly stopped Hazel’s heart.
“What the…” the man said.
A second later, footsteps rapidly moved away and then sounded as feet hit the stairs. “Come back here.”
Hazel exhaled in relief. Thank the stars for Mr. Kitty.
Peter wasted no time launching himself out the opening. He replaced the screen, and then turned to her. “Can’t close the window, but that will have to be good enough.”
She nodded rapidly.
They hurried to the side of the house, and Peter glanced over the edge. “Too bad you don’t have a broom that could fly us out of here.”
“Funny,” she said.
He looked back at her. “Can you shimmy down a pole?”
She glanced down at the pole that connected the roof to the wraparound porch below. “Do I have a choice?”
He gave her a humorless chuckle. “No. I’m going first, and then I’ll help you.”
Hazel watched as he backed over the side of the roof, going feet first until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he released, and she hurried to peek over the edge to find him with his hands and legs wrapped around a column, sliding slowly downward.
When he stood on the wraparound porch below, he motioned for her to follow. She whispered a prayer to the divine universe to deliver her safely and began her descent.
Peter caught her before she reached the bottom and set her safely beside him. She was surprised she’d made it with only minor scratches on her palms from the shingles.
He jumped the porch railing, landing on the wet grass, and held out his arms for her. Without question, she fell into his embrace. He released her and then grabbed her hand. “Keep your head down, stick close to the bushes, and don’t stop. If someone calls out, keep going. If someone follows us as far as the car, keep walking. If we’re separated, find a hiding spot. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”
She hadn’t realized until that exact moment how much danger they were in. At least the man inside Vera’s house wouldn’t have heard them on the roof and come looking. Hopefully, Mr. Kitt
y was giving him a run for his money.
Hazel hurried beside Peter until they reached the sidewalk. Then she straightened and strolled from the property as though nothing had happened. She kept her head down until they turned the corner.
Peter glanced back. “No one is following us.”
Tears of gratitude hovered behind her eyes, but she shoved them aside. When they reached the car, she didn’t wait for Peter to open her door but quickly climbed inside, instead.
Peter claimed the driver’s seat and started the ignition. “What about your cat?”
Hazel knew her familiar was extremely resourceful, but she couldn’t help but worry. “Give him a minute.”
Seconds dragged on endlessly while she watched for him in the side mirror, and she started to fear he’d been trapped. Then she caught sight of him racing toward the car and could breathe again.
She opened the door, and Mr. Kitty jumped in, not looking any worse for wear, except his soaked fur. She closed the door and gathered her cat into her arms. “Thank you so much.”
You need me.
She choked out an emotional laugh. “Yes, I do need you.”
Peter pulled from the curb. “Is he talking to you again?”
She eyed Mr. Kitty and gave him a secret smile. “Maybe.”
Twenty
Hazel and Peter were nearly back to the bungalow, and her heart rate still hadn’t slowed. She’d removed the quiet spells and wanted to ask him for the book that he had in his jacket, but she didn’t dare. The relief Peter had expressed when they were in the clear had morphed into anger.
“That was a close call,” she finally said, breaking the silence.
“Too close.”
She wanted to be sensitive to his feelings, but he’d offered to go. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. I could have managed.”
He snorted. “You would have climbed from the roof by yourself?”
She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or I would have found another way.”
He cast a quick glance in her direction but said nothing.
“Peter, it was a risk. We both knew that going in. But we found her journal, and I can’t imagine she didn’t write about whatever juicy secret she’d discovered. Besides finding a possible clue, we also now know that Vera did have Olive’s journal and denied it. There’s something to that.”
