Rockwell Agency: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Hannah nodded. “Touch and toss.”

  Chapter 28

  Liam

  The room was filled with the strangest things. A camouflage bow. A crystal chess set. Stacks of pictures, each stack with different people. Boxes and boxes of recipes, overflowing with food-stained bits of paper, and pieces of ancient-looking flour bags. An entire box filled with wands, some sculpted with beautiful, sleek curves and others rigidly straight and strong. Liam went through all of it, working as fast as he could to try to find something—anything—that might be relevant.

  After all, Winnifred had just pulled out the letter that he had supposedly written to Trinity, threatening her. So, the stack she had pulled it from had to be around somewhere.

  A box flew by him in his peripheral vision, and Liam turned, blinking in surprise as he saw papers, and boxes, and items floating in the air around Hannah, as she looked through one thing after another.

  “What are you doing?” Liam gasped. “Look at you!”

  Hannah glanced back at him. “Oh, right. This is part of my …you know. Skills. I can move things with my mind.”

  “Anything?”

  “Inanimate things,” Hannah said. “Things I can see with my eyes. Not humans. Not mechanisms, unless I can see them in front of me. But it’s helpful for when I want to rearrange things.”

  “Or search through things,” Liam said, shaking his head. “That night in the bathroom. I remember now.”

  Hannah nodded. “I wasn’t being very careful about helping you. I haven’t been very careful with you at all.”

  “Works both ways,” Liam said, looking at her for another long moment before turning back to his current box of junk. “How can one woman have so many things?”

  “Here,” Hannah said, her voice rising as she spoke. “Here—I found it! I found Trinity’s things.”

  Liam immediately dropped what he was holding and hurried over to her, looking, as she pulled out stacks of papers that looked as though they had once been bound together. There was writing scrawled over the pages. Lots of tiny, loopy writing. And as Liam touched piece after piece, he couldn’t believe what he was reading.

  I woke up in a cold sweat today, thinking about him. It was another dream, and he was killing me. Slowly. Painfully. I know that one day these images in my head will be more than dreams. I know they’ll become a reality—one that I can’t avoid. One that I can’t ever escape. Every day I live is borrowed time. Liam will come for me. He’ll unleash all of his rage, and his hatred, and his bitterness, and it will explode all over me, swallowing me up alive.

  What did I do to deserve such hatred from a man who never even took the time to get to know me? To listen to me? To feel me? We should have been more to each other than we were. All he has ever done is hurt me and take from me what should have been mine. I worked for it. I built it myself. But he thinks it is his, by right. Nothing I can say will ever convince him otherwise. But what he doesn’t know is how gladly I would have shared it all with him, if he had only loved me the way that he should have.

  Liam, why do you despise me so much? What did I ever do that made you act this way towards me? Why do you take from me what I would give you if you only asked me for it? We could be happy, but instead I live in fear of you, jumping at every sound. Spending every night in a cold sweat, believing that it will be the night that you end my life. I cannot even speak your name, I fear you so much.

  Why?

  Hannah was reading over his shoulder, her body brushing against Liam’s. Normally such closeness to Hannah would have set his body on fire for her, but in light of what he was reading he couldn’t feel anything but numbness. “How could she write these things?” he asked, his voice hollow. “Why would she ever feel this way about me?”

  “Well, she appears a touch dramatic,” Hannah said, sounding a bit snippy herself. It was almost as though she was jealous of Trinity from afar, and under other circumstances, Liam might have enjoyed that very much. Under these circumstances it barely registered.

  “There’s no denying it,” Liam said, turning to look at Hannah. “She was terrified of me. It was unwarranted, sure. But she was absolutely terrified of me. And then someone else killed her. How does that make any sense, Hannah?”

  “Hold on,” Hannah said, lifting her hand to ease the tension rising in him. “We don’t know anything yet. All we know is that this is part of her journal.”

  “It’s a pretty straightforward part,” Liam said, gesturing towards the page. “It’s all written right there. No wonder her grandmother was so convinced that I was the one. I’m almost convinced!”

  Hannah shook her head. “Well, I’m not. Here’s a question for you. Are you the only Liam in the world?”

  The realization dawned over him, and he almost sagged under the relief of it. “Oh, God. She must have known another Liam. She had to have. She knew someone else named Liam who was threatening her. Who she was afraid of. And when Winnifred found these, she made a mistake. She went after the wrong Liam.”

  “It’s a strong possibility,” Hannah said, picking up some of the other pages. “What we need is for Trinity to date her journal pages. None of these have dates on them. If we could find some that were obviously from before the time she met you, then we would have solid proof that she was talking about someone else entirely.”

  Liam wanted to dwell in the relief, but he still had questions. “Why would she date me if she knew someone named Liam who terrified her? Wouldn’t that be a little …off-putting?”

  “Some people are more disconnected than others,” Hannah said, still rifling through papers. “I mean, if I lived in daily fear of a man named Liam, I definitely couldn’t date someone with the same name. It would just be too …weird. But my friend Jordan, who came and healed you that night, she could do it. In fact, she probably wouldn’t even think twice about it. Someone else would have to point it out to her, that it was a little strange that she was talking about hanging out with Liam and living in deadly fear of another Liam.” Hannah shook her head. “Her mind is very straightforward. Everything is in its proper box.”

  Liam wondered where he fit on the scale between Hannah and Jordan, regarding boxing things off into categories. He didn’t think he was at either extreme, and as he tried to think back to Trinity, he had no idea where she would fit on the scale. She had been very practical. Pragmatic. She had been someone that he’d felt comfortable enough spending more than a handful of weeks with because he didn’t worry that she was becoming emotionally invested in their relationship. Maybe she never could have become emotionally invested because of something like his name. Maybe she had already been deadly afraid of a man named Liam.

  “Here,” Hannah said, holding up a piece of paper, triumphantly. “Look, she’s talking about going to Mardi Gras—last year. Before you!”

  Liam took the journal page and scanned it. Trinity was talking about her day and her plans to go down to Mardi Gras. It wasn’t the same dramatic writing that had been on the pages they had seen thus far. But then at the bottom of the page, there was just one line.

  I just don’t know if I can bear to see him. If it wasn’t for him …

  Liam looked up at Hannah. “Is that enough? Does that prove it? She can’t be talking about me there, right? That would have been in February of last year, and I didn’t meet her until the fall. So, it’s not me.”

  “You seem so surprised to find out that you’re innocent,” Hannah said, briefly amused. “But, yes. I mean, we need to find other references. But surely that’s a reference to …whoever Liam is.”

  Clutching the piece of paper, Liam closed his eyes and breathed out, taking his first full breath in what felt like ages. “Thank God. All I’ve been thinking about is how I could bury someone in court with all of this evidence. Winnifred aside—even if she’s not a threat, with all this around I’m going to jail for God’s sake.”

  “I’m not going to let that happen,” Hannah said, pulling out page after page. “Okay
, I’m taking a whole stack that should be from long before she ever met you. Find something for me to put these papers in, so they don’t get lost or destroyed. I don’t want to leave Winnifred and Agnew unattended much longer. We’ve been back here for fifteen minutes. I’m surprised she’s not awake yet.”

  Liam glanced back towards the hallway, as he bent over to pick up a bag that lay amongst the junk. “I didn’t kick her that hard, did I?”

  “I don’t know,” Hannah said. “I didn’t think you did. Just enough to knock her out, under the circumstances. But she’s old.”

  “You don’t think she’s already awake, do you?” Liam asked, that stressed feeling curling through his chest again. Liam handed Hannah the shoulder bag he’d picked up. “She’s so convinced it’s me. She could curse me at any second, and you’ve said it yourself—how many more of those things can I live through?”

  Slipping the papers into the shoulder bag, Hannah strapped it crossways over her body and then looked up at him. “Hey,” she said, reaching for his hand. He gave it to her, and she tugged him closer.

  His arms went around her, and he bent his forehead down to touch hers, as she looked up into his eyes. It was only the night before that they’d spent incredible hours in each other’s arms, touching, and kissing, and whispering. He’d made love to Hannah like he’d never made love to any other woman before, and he’d felt so right this morning. Like nothing could touch him—not even curses or mountains of damning evidence. But then everything had gotten turned upside down when he’d panicked and run away from Hannah. They were fine. He knew that. He had readjusted his thinking, and she hadn’t held his moment of panic against him. They were good.

  He didn’t know if he was going to keep panicking every time he realized just how much he was starting to care about her. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to resist falling for her completely, because she seemed to walk straight through every one of the defenses that he’d had around him. And he didn’t know if she wanted a man like him. Or how he felt about it if she did want a man like him.

  “You’re thinking too much,” Hannah whispered, looking into his eyes. “Why do you keep doing that?”

  “I don’t know,” Liam said. “Maybe it’s that I’m facing death. Maybe it’s just you, and how amazing you are. But I’m starting to think that I might want something completely different out of my life, and that scares me as much as seeing my name written all over documents that any decent lawyer could use to put me away for life for Trinity’s murder.”

  “What do you want out of life?” Hannah asked.

  Liam reached his hand up and stroked her cheek. “I’m not exactly sure yet, but you are a major part of it. But I don’t know how you feel about that.”

  Hannah leaned in and kissed him, her lips melding to his with such sweetness, that he gathered her into his arms and kissed her endlessly.

  When she pulled back, Hannah’s smile was tinged with just a hint of sadness. “We’ll figure all of that out after we make sure that you’re safe.”

  Chapter 29

  Hannah

  It was difficult, hearing Liam talk like that. She wanted so much to believe that after all of this was over, there would still be something between them. But she couldn’t let her guard down, especially after Liam had run away from her and right into the arms of another woman just that morning. He had been so quick to deal with his problems and his confusing emotions by finding comfort where he had always found it before—in whatever woman was available to him. Hannah had already been in a relationship with a man who hadn’t valued her enough to be faithful and dedicated. She didn’t want to do that again. Not even if she was crazy about Liam. And she was. But she wasn’t sure she trusted him with her heart.

  The more important thing at the moment, though, was that he had trusted her with his life, and she needed to put that first.

  With the bag containing her evidence strapped over her shoulder, Hannah led the way out of the large, packed room and back down the winding hall. She turned left around a corner she didn’t remember and found herself staring at another bend in the hallway that she knew definitely had not been there before. Hannah paused, looking around her, and Liam came to a stop behind her.

  “This is wrong, isn’t it?” Hannah asked. “This isn’t the same.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Did we come down the wrong hallway?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Hannah pursed her lips. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

  “Is this more magic?”

  “Looks that way,” Hannah said, shaking her head. She still hadn’t taken a step forward, unsure now what lay ahead of her if she continued. “There are a few important things to know about witches, Liam. They’re not like sorcerers. They don’t have magic that just lives inside of them that they can feed with …you know consuming life sources to regenerate themselves.”

  Liam stared at her. “There’s a lot about that statement I don’t understand.”

  “Witches operate via spells,” Hannah said. “Like curses. Their magic has limits. They need artifacts. They need the right environment. They have to speak certain words. These are all ways that we can fight against a witch who is trying to cast one of her spells and curses, if we’re in the same room with her.”

  “So, there’s a spell on the hallway?”

  “One of the easiest spells is the manipulation of space,” Hannah said, reaching a hand out and touching the wall. It felt as solid and as normal as ever, despite its odd curves. “Sorcerers can manipulate time. Witches … they can manipulate space. The question is …why is Winnifred manipulating space?”

  Liam grimaced. “I doubt we want to know the answer to that question. I’m expecting to be struck down with a curse at any moment.”

  “No, she’s doing something different,” Hannah said, shifting so that she could peer around the corner. “Stay here.”

  Hannah began to walk forward, but Liam was right behind her. She glanced back at him.

  “We’re sticking together,” he told her, firmly. “No more splitting up.”

  She didn’t argue with him, partially because there was no point in doing so, and partially because she didn’t want to. Instead, Hannah moved forward, rounding one corner, and then another. When she rounded her third, there was another before them, and soon they were walking down a curving hallway that appeared to be endless. Wherever it was taking them, it was not back to the living room where they had left Winnifred, supposedly unconscious and in the care of Agnew.

  Hannah reached out to touch the wall again, searching for something to ground her as they continued on and on, endlessly. The lighting was growing dimmer, and she realized that they were now descending. It was a gentle descent, and almost unnoticeable. But they were definitely moving down, further and further.

  Hannah came to a stop and started to turn around to tell Liam that she thought they should go back. But before she could turn all the way, a heavy object swung down in front of her so close that the scent of death swept over her and the clothing on the body brushed against hers. It swung past with a whoosh that made Hannah jump and scream, clutching her chest as her heart slammed against her rib cage. When her eyes focused, she found herself staring into Winnifred’s. But they weren’t the eyes that she remembered. They were red, with broken blood vessels like spider veins clouding the whites of her eyes. Her face was purple and swollen, the rope around her neck so tight that it was making the flesh on either side of her neck bulge out, creating three double chins that folded into the wrinkles that sagged from her cheeks. Her mouth was slack and her skin was pale, and her eyes—God, her eyes. They were lifeless. She was lifeless.

  “Oh my God,” Liam said, bracing himself against the wall. The body had swung between them, almost knocking him backward. “Winnifred—she’s dead!”

  “She’s dead,” Hannah said, still in shock. She slowly tilted her head backward, looking above them and realizing for the first time that there
was no actual ceiling above. It was just darkness. And from the darkness, one thick rope descended all the way to the loop that was tied around Winnifred’s neck, suspending her dead body between Hannah and Liam. “Oh, God,” Hannah said. “Oh my God.”

  “Does this …?”

  “Wait …,” Hannah said, shoving past Winnifred and putting her hand over his mouth, her eyes boring into his, as she shook her head. “Don’t say it.”

  She didn’t want him to speak out loud what had clicked in both of their heads simultaneously. Now that they saw Winnifred hanging there, it seemed like it should have been so obvious. But it never had been. They’d walked right into the trap, looking at one looming danger so intently that they had forgotten to consider the possibilities of any other. Hannah knew that it was partially her fault. If she hadn’t been so distracted with Liam, then maybe she would have seen what was as plain as the nose on her face. But she hadn’t been attentive enough. She’d been busy falling for an irresistible man, and because of that, he was now in terrible danger.

  They both were.

  “Don’t say it,” Hannah whispered. “Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

  “What should we do?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know. I just—I don’t know yet. Give me a minute.”

  But there wasn’t a minute to consider anything. Behind Liam, a darkness swallowed up the hallway, blocking the way that they had walked down. Hannah gulped, knowing that they were trapped and probably underground. Underground or not, they were definitely in a witch’s maze, or, rather, a wizard’s maze.

  The dead body count so far was two—Trinity and Winnifred. Hannah was more afraid than she wanted to admit that the body count was about to double.

  Chapter 30

  Agnew

  Twenty-Two Years Earlier …

  “Trinity is so gifted,” Belle Calhoun said, sitting on the back porch, sipping a tall glass of frozen lemonade spiked with a generous amount of vodka and watching her daughter, as she studied the chessboard across from Thomas, Trinity’s father and Belle’s husband. “Isn’t she, Winnifred? Don’t you just look at her and see the epitome of Thomas’ intellect and my beauty?”