A Breath of Witchy Air

by Amanda M. Lee

  My fingers shook as I punched in the request, my glove clenched in my teeth. The time between pressing “send” and Chief Terry’s head appearing over the snowbank felt like forever. In real time it was probably only two minutes, but I was absolutely shaken to my core when he fixed me with a curious look.

  “What’s wrong, Bay?”

  “I … um … I found something.”

  “Again?” Chief Terry made a face as he vaulted over the bank, cursing under his breath when his boot snagged in the hardened snow. When he finally made it to my side, he was red-faced and in a foul mood. “This better be good.”

  I pointed.

  Chief Terry sighed as he followed my finger for a second time, his eyes going wide and his mouth forming an “o” when he realized what he was looking at. “Three?”

  I nodded and swallowed.

  Chief Terry sobered instantly. “How close did you get? Did you touch them?”

  “No.” My voice was pathetic and tiny. “I thought it was a coat or something so I came over thinking I could point you over here if I found something that belonged to the victim. Instead I found … .”

  “Three more victims.” Chief Terry swore viciously, holding up his hands when I cringed. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t directed at you. I’m glad you found them. It’s just … I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

  “Maybe all three of them were in a vehicle together,” I suggested. “Maybe they hunkered down in the woods to ward off the cold and one of them left – the one I found out there – and the others died waiting for the help they thought she was bringing.”

  Chief Terry didn’t come out and say it, but I could tell he found my idea ludicrous. “Honey, there’s no way that girl died from exposure after being out in the open for what couldn’t have been more than five minutes.”

  I felt helpless. “So what are we looking at?”

  “I don’t know.” Chief Terry knelt next to the closest body, struggling to move her blond hair to the side so he could see the accompanying face. The expression on the young woman’s face was so twisted that I had to look away.

  Chief Terry moved his hands further down the body, brushing away the dusting of snow to reveal an unnaturally pale arm with a gold bracelet affixed to it. “I don’t know how they died yet, Bay, but I can guarantee this wasn’t natural causes.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Chief Terry gestured toward something rectangular in the snow next to the woman’s hand. “Because that’s a cell phone and if they were really stranded all they had to do was call 911 and someone would’ve been here within five minutes.”

  I licked my lips, uncertain. “But … maybe her phone wasn’t working.”

  “There are four of them, Bay. What are the odds that cell service failed for all four of them?”

  “This area is outside of town.”

  “And you were taking photos and managed to text me,” Chief Terry reminded me. “It’s freezing, but your cell worked fine.”

  “I … you think they were killed, don’t you?”

  “I think something terrible happened here.”

  I had trouble wrapping my mind around what he wasn’t saying. “Maybe it was a robbery gone wrong.” I knew I was grasping at straws, yet I couldn’t stop myself. “Maybe they weren’t supposed to die, but something happened that made it impossible for them to escape.”

  “Maybe.” Chief Terry tilted his head to the side. “The thing is, these are expensive phones and this bracelet has to be worth a couple hundred bucks.” He gestured toward the gold band with the distinctive charm. “If this was a robbery, why do they still have all their valuables?”

  “I … don’t know.” That was the truth. “What do you think it is?”

  “I’ll tell you what it is,” Landon replied, appearing at the top of the snowbank and staring down, his eyes flat and his anger obvious. “It’s a serial killer. One person killed all of these women.”

  My stomach felt as if it dropped for miles. “A serial killer? Here? You can’t be serious.”

  Landon met my steady gaze with a sympathetic one of his own. “It’s the obvious answer, Bay. All these women were killed – and probably somewhere else – before being dumped here.”

  “But … how can you possibly know that?”

  “Because we got the other body free and as soon as we got clear of some of the snow it became very clear how that girl died.”

  I didn’t want to know. I didn’t need to know. That’s what I kept telling myself even as I cleared my throat. “How?”

  “Her throat was slashed. This wasn’t an accident.”

  “But … a serial killer?”

  Landon gestured toward the other bodies. “We have four victims in a very small area, Bay. I don’t think that’s an accident.”

  I felt mildly faint. “Right.”

  Landon’s expression softened. “Sweetie, come here.” He held out his hand and gestured to me. “You can’t be down there. We need to send the techs there next.”

  “Right.” I was numb as I shifted toward him and held out my hand. “I should’ve done what you said and gone back to town.”

  Landon gave me a ferocious tug and pulled me to the road, tipping my chin back so he could study my eyes as he rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “You found three women who needed to be found. I think their families will be thankful you hung around to see things through.”

  I would be responsible for those families getting the worst news of their lives so I had my doubts. “I’m ready to go back to town now.”

  “Okay.” Landon kissed my forehead. “I’ll walk you to your car. In fact … .” He broke off when a small figure appeared in the road right in front of him, somehow bypassing the bevy of cops and tromping around a crime scene without anyone stopping her.

  Aunt Tillie, her hat askew and her cheeks red from the beer, offered a jolly smile as she weaved back and forth. “You missed the party, Bay. What am I talking about? You always miss the party. That’s what happens when you’re more interested in work than play.”

  Landon murdered her with a dark look. “Where have you been?”

  Aunt Tillie held up her tap and grinned. “It’s a party. Where do you think I’ve been?”

  “Well, the party is over.” Landon was firm as he directed me toward the spot where I’d parked. “Come on, Aunt Tillie. You guys are leaving.”

  Aunt Tillie belched, loudly. “What if I don’t want to leave?”

  “Well, you’re going.”

  “I’d like to see you make me.” Aunt Tillie was clearly feeling belligerent. The antagonistic expression on her face remained until she noticed the state police loading the first body onto a gurney. “Huh. That’s weird.”

  “I can think of other words to describe it,” Landon barked.

  “Man, oh, man.” Aunt Tillie clucked her tongue and shook her head as she got a better look at the body … and then at the scene down the shallow embankment where Chief Terry remained standing with his hands on his hips. “What did I miss?”

  AUNT TILLIE ACCOMPANIED me back to The Whistler office. That was probably because she didn’t have a ride back to The Overlook, but I didn’t put up a fight when she said she could amuse herself while I did some work.

  She was steady on her feet by the time we hit the parking lot and I couldn’t help but smile – even if it felt wrong given what I’d discovered – when she threw open the door and stalked inside. Of course, the smile lasted only until I saw Brian Kelly – the soon-to-be-former owner of The Whistler – glowering at us from the middle of the lobby.

  “Don’t let all the heat leak out,” Brian ordered, his tone edgy and mean. “I’m not paying for you to heat the great Michigan outdoors.”

  Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. “My understanding is that you sign off on this place tomorrow, which means you’re done paying bills. Bay is the new owner, so she gets to complain about the gas bill.”

  “It’s fine.” I closed the door an
d removed my gloves, giving Brian a careful once over as I decided what I should say. “I didn’t know you’d be here today. I’m sorry if Aunt Tillie’s presence is frustrating for you.”

  Brian’s “well, duh” expression would have been funnier under different circumstances. “You’re not sorry. You’re practically giddy. I can tell.”

  “I think you’re reading the situation incorrectly.”

  “You think I’m reading the situation incorrectly?” Brian raised his voice in what I’m sure he considered a close approximation of my voice. “Well, if you’re sure I’m in the wrong, it must be true.”

  “Oh, geez.” Aunt Tillie made a face as she shrugged out of her coat and pinned Brian with a look that would’ve shriveled the scrotums of men the world over. Brian was unhappy about his lot in life – I mean, really unhappy – so he barely spared her a glance. He seemed to be over his Aunt Tillie fear, which was invariably an unwise decision. “What’s got your panties in a twitch, Bri? You seem bitter about something.”

  “I don’t have to put up with this.” Brian’s voice was a raspy whine. “I have no idea how this happened or how I let you people win, but I don’t have to put up with this.” He straightened his shoulders and glared. “This is still my building until tomorrow.”

  He was right. In fact, I worried a bit that he would change his mind at the last moment and let the newspaper sink rather than accept the rather paltry payout I was offering. Of course, Brian was a businessman – however bad – and I knew that was ultimately unlikely. We had him over a barrel thanks to his grandfather’s will and the fact that no one else would be willing to buy a small town weekly newspaper in the current economic climate.

  William Kelly was a stalwart man, a great business owner and boss. He taught me a lot about the news business and never made a fuss when imparting wisdom. His grandson, on the other hand, was a complete and total tool.

  “Then don’t put up with it,” I suggested. “I’m going to be in my office for a little bit checking on things and uploading photographs from my phone. Aunt Tillie is going to be in the lounge watching television. We both promise to stay away from your office while you finish your packing.”

  “I didn’t agree to that,” Aunt Tillie countered. “What if I want to bother him?”

  “Then you have to wait until we’ve finished closing on The Whistler.” I used my best “you can’t argue with me because I’m the boss” voice. I’d been practicing. “After that, he’s open for whatever insults you can lob at him.”

  “Oh, like I’m sticking around this stupid town to let you people insult me,” Brian muttered. “I’m out of here the second I get my check.”

  “And we’re all saddened to know you’re going,” I shot back. “I’ll be in my office.” I started to move down the hallway, but slowed my pace when I realized Aunt Tillie wasn’t following. “Are you coming?”

  Aunt Tillie shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m considering seeing if I can make this dude’s head explode before he leaves town.”

  “Why don’t you leave him be?” I suggested. “Hold off on your efforts and see if you can make Mom’s head explode over dinner instead.”

  “I’ve already started the groundwork for that. Why do you think I ordered more leggings?”

  I smirked as I opened my office door, pursing my lips as Aunt Tillie focused her attention on the ethereal shape in the corner. Viola, The Whistler’s resident ghost, appeared to be staring into nothing as she held up her hand in the universal “be quiet” stance.

  “What is she doing?” Aunt Tillie asked, shifting gears.

  “I have no idea.” I’d long since given up trying to figure out what went through Viola’s often vacant mind. “She loses her train of thought sometimes. I’m used to it.”

  “I haven’t lost my train of thought.” Viola snapped back to reality and frowned. “I was simply trying to pool my energy so I could affect the physical world.”

  That sounded painful. “Can you be more specific?”

  Viola nodded. “I’m trying to move that pencil on the floor.” She pointed to a pencil that I was almost positive was on my desk when I left the office the previous day. “I’ve managed to make it roll twice.”

  I couldn’t help being a little impressed. None of the ghosts I’d ever crossed paths with – seeing and talking to ghosts was a witchy gift I inherited from Aunt Tillie, although I often wanted to give it back because it was an uncomfortable power – had ever managed to move a physical object. “Have you really managed to roll that pencil?”

  Viola bobbed her head, proud. “Yup. I’m getting good at it.”

  “Show me,” Aunt Tillie instructed, staring at the pencil. “I want to see.”

  “Hold on.” Viola made a big show of contorting her face and moving her transparent leg close to the pencil. Over and over again she waved her foot back and forth. She never once made contact. “Give me a second. I’m close.”

  “You’re close to being a moron,” Aunt Tillie corrected, throwing herself in the chair across from my desk as I booted my laptop. “Are you going to move into the big office when you’re done here?”

  I nodded. “I wasn’t going to at first – it felt a little strange to me – but Landon thinks it would be a mistake to stay here.”

  “And you always do what Landon tells you to do,” Aunt Tillie muttered.

  I ignored the dig. “He thinks I need that office for advertising meetings, and I agree. It will take a bit of getting used to – I still think of that as William’s office – but I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually.”

  “I’m sure you will, too.” Aunt Tillie watched with unveiled interest as I began typing on my computer, casting the occasional glance toward a grunting Viola. “She’s never going to move that pencil.”

  “I heard that,” Viola snapped. “I’m going to do it, and when I do you’re going to applaud because it’s going to be so cool.”

  “Yes, I often applaud rolling pencils.” Aunt Tillie sniffled as she focused on me. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’m checking state missing person reports,” I replied, my gaze intent on the screen. “I want to see if I can figure out identities on any of those women.”

  “How are you going to do that? Most of them were covered with snow.”

  “I saw two of them.” And I knew they would haunt my dreams. “I just want to see if I can find names for Landon and Chief Terry.”

  “Isn’t that their job?”

  “Yes, but … huh.” I forgot what I was going to say as I squinted and leaned forward, staring hard at the blonde in the computer image. “I think I found one of them.”

  “Really?” Intrigued despite herself, Aunt Tillie got to her feet and shuffled behind my desk. She stared at the photo for a long time before speaking. “How can you be sure?”

  The photograph looked to be a senior high school photograph, one of those posed deals with soft lighting and big hair. It wasn’t the photograph itself that caught my attention, though. I pointed toward the bracelet the girl in the photograph wore. “I saw that on the body under the tree.”

  “That could be a coincidence.”

  “It could.”

  Aunt Tillie heaved out a sigh. “It’s probably not. What else does it say about her?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s take a look, shall we?”

  Four

  I dropped Aunt Tillie at the inn after work before heading to the guesthouse. It would’ve been easy to call Landon and ask him to meet me for dinner – I’m not much for cooking if I can help it – but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with my mother and aunts, so I begged off when Aunt Tillie questioned me about why I was skipping out on the family meal. Sure, that probably meant we would be eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner, but I figured Landon would be fine with it. Or at least he would only complain about the lack of mashed potatoes and gravy for ten minutes at most.

  To my utter surprise I found the guesthouse hopping with activ
ity and I pulled up short when I registered the bevy of bodies inside.

  “What the … ?”

  “It’s my last night here,” my cousin Thistle reminded me as she stacked a box against the wall and blew her aquamarine bangs from her forehead. “I’ve got almost everything packed.”

  How could I forget that? In truth, I didn’t forget. I merely pushed it out of my mind because I didn’t want to deal with it.

  Thistle was moving out. In fifteen hours she would be gone. Sure, she was only moving to a new house downtown – a mere ten minutes (at most) away – and I would see her almost as much as I already did, but there was something symbolic about her ceding the guesthouse to Landon and me.

  “This is your last night here,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as I toed off my shoes. “It’s kind of weird.”

  “It’s kind of annoying,” Thistle corrected. “I hate moving. It’s a lot of freaking work.”

  “Which is why I’m here,” my cousin Clove announced, appearing in the open doorway of Thistle’s bedroom. “We’re packing the last of Thistle’s stuff and then getting drunk.”

  She said it with a giddy smile that caused my stomach to settle a bit. “We are?” I didn’t remember making plans. Sure, we talked about it, but we never firmed them up. We were always so busy it never seemed to be the right time to pin things down.

  “We are,” Clove confirmed, bobbing her head. “Chocolate martinis.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. When the three of us lived in the guesthouse together – this was mostly before our respective boyfriends joined the ranks – we drank chocolate martinis at least twice a week. Sometimes that number jumped to four times a week if Aunt Tillie was on a tear or our mothers were in the mood to play matchmaker.

  “That sounds like a good idea.” I grinned as Landon strolled out of our bedroom and fixed me with a welcoming smile. “Did you have a hand in planning this?”

  “No.” Landon leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “Clove planned it. I thought it was a good idea, though. I’m never one to turn down a big party … or a drunken girlfriend.”