by L. L. Muir
Maddy’s mind was made up, however. It wouldn’t matter if Tripp Darro pulled a diamond ring out of his pocket and got down on one knee, she wouldn’t stay in Falls County. If the man had honest, genuine feelings for her, and Mac suspected, she would probably sacrifice herself like she’d talked about.
Maddy had known for a while that her sister was suffering. Depression didn’t come naturally to either of them, but sometimes, circumstances change nature. And even if Mac had never said it straight out, she’d let Maddy know, with little comments now and again, that their strange and strained lives might not be worth all the fuss anymore.
Breaking the mirror from within? Unconscionable!
Except for a few radicals, every Muir witch that had made a pilgrimage to the mirror room had agreed that breaking the mirror at all might be the death of the sister inside. Mac knew it as well as she did. Breaking the mirror was suicide.
It didn’t matter how charming, how sweet, or how perfect Tripp Darro was for her, she would never choose him over MacKenzie. They came into the world together, they screwed up their world—and their pet owl—together, and they would leave this world together. Men were just distractions, diversions, and sometimes, just decorations to give their lives a little variety. And that’s all Tripp could be for her.
And soon, he’d just be a pleasant memory to keep tucked away in her underwear drawer, like a handkerchief that once smelled like their father—pleasant to remember, unpleasant to fit back into their lives.
Tripp felt a shift in the air and risked a glance in Maddy’s direction. She no longer looked worried or regretful. She looked like she’d made up her mind about something, and he definitely didn’t want to know what it was. This was the Madison he’d met last Saturday, the one that all but told him to get the hell off her property and never come back. The M. Muir that scared him a little bit.
Well, good for her. She shouldn’t be worrying about him, especially since she had chosen to move out of state rather than risk falling for him. And if she was going to leave no matter what, he wasn’t petty enough to want her to feel bad about it, since it seemed like he was going to feel bad enough for the both of them.
He already felt haunted by her memory and she was still there, within reach.
He parked in the overflow behind the café, close to the dock where they’d removed the body of Monica Whittaker. If he could go back to the last time he’d seen Maddy there, he would do so many things differently. But he’d have to worry about that later. He had a suspicious death to investigate, and he wouldn’t find any clues with his head in his hands. And since it sounded like he would lose his secret weapon right away, he had no time to lose.
He shut off the engine and Maddy finally looked at him. “What would you like me to do?”
“We’ll do what we always do when we have no leads.” He matched her all-business tone with his own. In just about every way, they were back at day one. “We’ll start knocking on doors.”
24
They covered a lot of ground along the south side of Falls Lake thanks to Maddy. Luckily, Maddy was able to read a place by just touching the front door. She tried to explain that houses were living, breathing things made up of so many body parts that all connected, like links in the same chain. He nodded and pretended to understand, but he didn’t allow himself to get sucked into her paranormal philosophies—because he didn’t want to end up like Sheriff Lance King.
He and Lance had gone through training together long ago. They’d shared a room when they’d taken specialty courses in Washington State. They’d met up at law enforcement conferences all over the western states. But that afternoon, while Tripp had listened to the man’s story, he’d noticed Lance King was a changed man. There was something in his eyes that made him look…tormented.
Sheriff Lance King was haunted by what he’d discovered, searching for his missing friend. And it was the kind of possession that couldn’t be fixed with an exorcism.
Tripp had no intention of ending up that way. It didn’t matter if the Muir sisters had nothing in common with Lance’s missing friend. He had the feeling that getting too caught up in supernatural things would be equally dangerous. Maybe it was a woman thing. Maybe, like childbirth, women could handle the more mystical things of the universe, while men were never meant to.
“I don’t have the equipment for this,” he mumbled.
From ten feet ahead of him, Maddy glanced over her shoulder and gave him a strange look—she must have heard him. Then she headed up a long walkway to a picturesque cabin without saying a word. From the front door, a porch ran along the left side of the house. Bright white bench swings hung about six feet apart. Even the decades-old pines that lined up beyond the yard looked like they’d been placed intentionally.
Quite the opposite of the last cabin they’d checked, Tripp doubted muddy boys with cups of worms and buckets of fish were allowed anywhere near the place.
Maddy started tugging off a glove and climbed the wide steps, then she waited for him to catch up. “I didn’t see any cars, did you?”
Tripp shrugged. “Probably a garage out back.”
As she’d done a dozen times already, she raised her hand to lay it on the door, but this time, she hesitated. With mere inches between her fingers and the wood, she froze, then recoiled, shaking her head and backing away. She held her bare hand with her gloved one, like she’d been burned.
He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, if only to keep her from falling off the porch. “What is it? What can I do?”
Still shaking her head, she pointed at the door. “It was here. A woman was forced inside. Monica. She didn’t think he’d use the gun, but she couldn’t take that chance.” Maddy’s frame shook in his arms. He wanted to interrupt, to stop what she was going through, but the information was too valuable. After all, others might be killed if they didn’t catch the guy—and it sounded like it was a man, not a woman, who was guilty here.
“He made her give up her clothes and locked her up.” Maddy nodded now. “He thought she wouldn’t try to get away if she had no clothes. He just wanted her to listen.”
She stopped talking and stared at the door. He supported her all he could and kept quiet, but all the while he hoped she could draw a little strength from the fact that she wasn’t alone.
He didn’t have to look to know she was crying. The shaking never eased, though, and he started to worry.
“It’s okay,” she finally said. “I’m ready.”
“Ready for what, sweetheart?”
“I’m ready to touch the door.”
Holy cow. She’d gone through all that just from getting close? He couldn’t let her risk a more violent reaction.
“It’s okay. I can do this.” She straightened away from him, but with her left, gloved hand, she reached back and grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward as she stepped up to the door again. After a second’s hesitation, she slapped her hand against the wood. Her grip on his wrist tightened like she was in pain, and all he could do was stand there.
“She freaked out for a long time. Violence. Not from him. From her. Locked up. Up high. He locked her in an attic room.” Maddy smiled at him over her shoulder, pleased at the puzzle falling into place. But the smile dropped away and she faced forward again. “There’s a little window. She squeezed out. Falling!”
Maddy fell forward, catching her bare hand on the ground. Her head hit the door and Tripp grabbed her hips and pulled her back, only not fast enough. He felt the tremors as someone hurried through the house to answer the accidental knock.
The door was flung open. Julius Loftus stood before them, open mouthed and confused.
Tripp was much better at hiding his surprise. “Good evening, Loftus.” Holding the man’s gaze, he slowly eased Maddy around him and stepped forward, to put himself between her and Monica’s deadly stalker. “You never said anything about having a cabin at the lake. Did you miss that part of the conversation?”
The man
scoffed. “It’s a family cabin, not mine. And everyone in the county has a family cabin up here.”
“Well, you’ll understand if I have a few questions.”
Loftus pasted a cold smile on his face, then stepped back and opened the door wide. “Forgive my manners. Do come in.”
Tripp hesitated, then looked behind him. If he asked her to go back to the car, would Maddy do it?
“Not on your life,” she whispered. “I’m coming with you.”
He glanced down and realized she was holding his fingers with her right hand, her bare hand. If she kept touching him, would she be able to hear what he was thinking?
“Kinda,” she whispered, then walked around him and into the house. “Hello, Mr. Loftus.”
Tripp noticed Maddy’s dark glove on the porch, picked it up, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket before following her.
The lawyer closed the door and chuckled. “Forgive me, ma’am. I didn’t catch your name the other day. Aren’t you the gypsy from Dinkville?”
“Witch, actually.” Maddy strolled into the living room and sat in a high-backed leather chair, crossed her legs, and rested her elbows on the overstuffed arms. Like a gypsy queen taking her rightful seat at the head of the campfire.
Loftus laughed outright. Tripp realized Maddy was not as vulnerable as he’d thought. So maybe he wouldn’t have to use all his concentration on keeping her safe.
He imagined Mr. Junior Partner sitting in a jail cell with a strange, haunted look in his eye, and he bit his lips together to keep grinning.
With a remote, Loftus switched on half a dozen lamps around the room, and shadows stretched up into the vaulted ceiling. Tripp was careful not to look up. He didn’t want the man thinking they knew something had happened upstairs.
“Out of leads, are you?” The lawyer waited for Tripp to sit in a chair covered with an Indian blanket, then took a seat on the end of a couch nearest Maddy’s chair. “Knocking on doors now? Hoping someone noticed a body being tossed overboard? Or are you down to crystal balls and tea leaves?”
Maddy’s smile denied nothing. Loftus was certainly watching her, paying little attention to the law officer in the room. If Tripp didn’t believe, completely, that Maddy’s gift was real, he might have second guessed the man’s guilt. His acting was that good. There wasn’t so much as a bead of sweat or a guilty glance at the ceiling to give him away.
Maybe it was time to turn up the heat a little.
“I assume your family has a boat?” Tripp pulled out his notebook and pencil.
Loftus grinned. “At the marina, yes. We keep it on hand for body-dumping. Don’t really get together to waterski anymore.”
Tripp made a note. “Remind me of your alibi.”
“I was in Boise last Thursday, negotiating divorce terms for a client. I sent copies of the dated documents to the Falls County offices. I assume you received them?”
“Now that you mention it, I haven’t.” Tripp scribbled in his book. “I’ll get right on that.”
Loftus just kept grinning and turned back to Maddy. “I don’t suppose what you do is admissible in a court room, is it?”
Maddy grinned and shrugged, like they were playing a friendly game of cards and they were both bluffing.
Trip pulled out his phone and pretended to read messages while he turned on the recorder. He tucked it into his shirt pocket upside down so the mic wasn’t buried. Then he got up and walked over to Maddy, handed over her glove, and hoped that, when their fingers touched, she would understand what he wanted her to do. “You dropped this outside,” he said.
Loftus watched him go back to his colorful chair. “I hadn’t heard. Did you finally get that search warrant for Sinclair’s lake house?”
Tripp shook his head. “We’re expecting it, though. Gotta stay close. We know what we’re looking for, but it may take some time to find, especially with the sun going down.”
“Oh?” Loftus leaned forward and Tripp wondered if the man realized his eager posture was wrinkling his suit. “Is it something small, then? Are you looking for that burner phone? Don’t you think the killer would have tossed it in the water with the body?”
Tripp shook his head. “Smaller than that. An earring.” He glanced at Maddy and gave her a sly nod.
She jumped right in. “We think she might have lost it when she was forced to take her clothes off.”
Loftus blinked and frowned. Frowned and blinked. “Forced to take her clothes off? That’s a funny thing to say. You don’t think the killer might have ripped her clothes off? Cut them off? If he—or she—knew Monica, maybe she took them off willingly, to have sex.”
Maddy glanced at Tripp and waited for a nod, then shook her head. “No. She wasn’t willing.”
Loftus sat back, looking disgusted. “I don’t know what evidence would indicate something like that.”
“Oh, we don’t need evidence,” Tripp said. “We have Maddy.”
Loftus pointed to her. “And this is Maddy?” He laughed. “I suppose Maddy had a vision of this missing earring?”
Maddy lowered her chin. “Many visions,” she said. “Many, many visions.”
Loftus stared a moment, assessing. When he laughed this time, it sounded forced. The seed was sown. It was time to get Maddy away from him.
Tripp pulled out his phone and glanced at it, then put it back with the recorder still going. “Looks like we have the green light.” He stood and waved his fingers. “Come on, Gypsy Queen. Let’s go serve a warrant.” He practically pushed her out the door, then turned back to Loftus. “You’re welcome to come help. The more eyes the better.”
Loftus shook his head. “No, thank you. I still have a kitchen to clean. I was rather a messy cook tonight.” He smiled and waved his well-manicured hand, then closed the door.
Tripp noticed Maddy’s shoulders turning and told her not to look back. She slowed and waited for him to catch up. “I suddenly feel like the worm who was talked into climbing on a hook.”
He laughed. “That’s fair. I guess you would feel like bait right now, but I have no intention of casting you into the water.”
“Really? Because I think you just did.”
25
Twilight at Falls Lake was fading fast. It would be dark in another ten minutes. If Mac hadn’t told Maddy which jacket to wear, she would have frozen to death half an hour ago.
A hundred feet out from the corner of the cabin, with a clear view of the back door and west side of the building, she and Tripp sat on the wool blanket he’d pulled from the back of his Tahoe. Together, they watched the lights in the cabin windows turn on and off. Julius Loftus was obviously not cleaning his kitchen like he said. They were pretty sure the guy was making his way from one room to the next…looking for an earring. And they got a little more sure, and a little more excited every time a new window lit up.
When the small uppermost window filled with yellow light, she and Tripp exchanged excited smiles. He leaned toward her and she lifted her chin, knowing he would kiss her. Then she panicked. She probably looked like Hootie when she strained to turn her head away.
“Sorry,” she whispered, then faced him. He shook his head and kept his eyes on the house. “Are you mad?”
He shook his head again. “Are you?”
“No.” But for a couple of people who weren’t mad, they were awfully quiet.
Loftus’ silhouette moved to the little window and they both caught their breath. The guy stood there for so long, she worried he’d spotted them. But a minute later, he opened the sash and poked his head out. He didn’t look around, though. He wasn’t there for the view. He was only interested in the flowerbed directly below.
“Any minute now,” Tripp whispered.
Loftus pulled his head back in, closed the window, and disappeared. The window went dark. Then, one by one, the other windows followed suit. Soon, the last light went out.
Loftus stepped out the back door and went into the large garage. If he got in his car and drove a
way, it was all over. There was no actual proof he’d done anything illegal, let alone malevolent. Tripp was right. They needed Loftus to incriminate himself.
Seconds ticked by, but the garage door stayed where it was. There was a faint glow in the windows, then it was gone. Loftus came out the small door with a flashlight in one hand and an arm full of something else. He headed around the corner of the house, then he moved to the front corner of the yard and turned off his flashlight.
For a good two minutes, he stood there watching the road, the lake, and the woods, like he was expecting someone to join him. Eventually, he headed back the way he’d come, but veered over to the flowerbed below the attic window. After one more glance around, he turned his flashlight on again. The beam of light scanned back and forth over the bare earth.
Maddy realized that, according to the pattern of small bushes planted along that side of the cabin, there should have been another one where Loftus stood. She figured Monica had destroyed it when she’d landed on her head. But the ground there was level with no obvious sign that a bush or a body had been there a week ago.
Tripp whispered. “You sure you won’t stay behind?” He got to his feet and reluctantly offered her his hand.
She whispered back. “What kind of Watson would that make me?”
“Watson?” He smiled. “I thought I was Watson.” He pulled her to her feet and held her gloved hand just a little longer than necessary. “At least let me take the lead. If he panics and starts shooting, you get the hell out of here. Hide until our backup arrives. You hear me? They should be here in ten.”
“Fine.”
After a deep breath and one more squeeze of her fingers, Tripp pulled out his gun and headed for the yard. He was so quiet, the only noises Maddy could hear were the ones she was making. Her heart, her breathing, her steps across the grass. It all sounded like a concert. What was he wearing, moccasins?
