The Detective Wins The Witch (Nocturne Falls Book 10)

by Kristen Painter

  Someone like Saffron’s biological father.

  But why would he suddenly be interested in the child he’d walked away from? They hadn’t been in contact since that day. She didn’t even know where Tim was. She had no reason to keep tabs on him.

  He’d made his thoughts on her pregnancy clear. He wanted nothing to do with getting married or being a father. If Marigold kept the baby, it was going to be her responsibility.

  Could he have changed his mind? Did he suddenly want to get a hold of Saffron before she came into her powers? Why would he want that?

  The thought caused a small amount of panic. She didn’t want to put so much emphasis on Newt’s words when she had no idea if there was any truth to them, but her first instinct was always to protect Saffie. That made Newt’s warning, no matter how crazy, impossible to ignore. She needed to know more about Wyatt without him knowing she was digging.

  And in this town, there was only one real resource for that kind of work.

  But it might not be an issue if Wyatt had decided he wasn’t interested in helping out anymore. He’d been gone a long time. Maybe he knew his cover had been blown. But how would he know that? And why was she paying so much attention to Newt’s drama?

  Because of Saffie, that was why.

  Marigold took a breath. She had too much work to do to get wrapped up in speculation right now.

  At the sound of the bell, she peeked through the workroom door to greet the customer who’d walked in. But it was Wyatt. At last. She smiled. She had a hard time believing he was out to do Saffron any harm. He hadn’t pushed to meet her. And he was a former cop and a current PI. If he wanted to get his hands on Saffron, he would have done it by now. “Hey there. I was starting to think you’d run away.”

  He laughed, his smile easy as he strolled in. “I just needed more clothes than I realized. Sorry for leaving the counter unattended for so long. I’ll understand if you dock my pay.”

  She snorted and came out to meet him. It was hard to think bad thoughts about Wyatt. He just seemed so nice. This guy couldn’t be out to ruin her life, could he? “No, I think I’ll keep paying you exactly what I’ve been paying you.”

  “Good, because I’m pretty sure I just spent it all anyway.” He winked, which sent a little thrill through her she refused to pay much attention to. “What can I do to help?”

  She hesitated. Subterfuge was not one of her great strengths. “There is something you could do for me. For the shop, I mean.”

  “Anything. What’ll it be?”

  “I need a bouquet delivered.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You trust me to do that even though I don’t know the town very well?”

  “You can use your map app if you need to.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Okay, where am I going?”

  She pursed her lips. He was so eager to help. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  He nodded. “Absolutely. It’ll be fun. Hey, do I get to keep the tip?”

  She laughed, amused despite her misgivings. “Sure. If there is one. Let me get the bouquet.”

  He drummed his fingers on the counter while she went back into one of the coolers and got the arrangement she’d whipped up. This might be the silliest thing she’d done. Or the smartest. Only time would tell.

  She’d already wiped the vase down when she’d put it in the cooler. Now as she removed the bouquet, she was careful to hold it by the neck as she carried it out. She offered it to Wyatt. “Here you go.”

  He took hold of the body of the vase, just as she’d hoped. “Very pretty. And where’s it going?”

  “You probably won’t need your map at all. Just go out to Main Street and head back the way you came. Past the Main Street park with the fountain, past Guildman’s, and a few more blocks after that. You’ll see the Nocturne Falls Sheriff Department. These are for the receptionist, Birdie Caruthers.”

  He gave her a nod. “I can handle that.” He started for the door. “I’ll be back as soon as these are delivered.”

  “Take your time. I don’t want you to drop them.”

  He backed through the door. “I won’t.”

  “Good,” she said, even though the door was closing and he was well out of earshot. “Because I need Birdie to run your fingerprints.”

  Wyatt had been on Main Street enough now that it was starting to feel comfortable. He paid less attention to where he was going and more attention to the shops and people around him. This town continued to entertain him. The people were the most interesting, though. Every once in a while, he’d pass one of the crazy character actors who were part of the town’s Halloween theme.

  The one that caught his eye today was a witch. It seemed curious to him that while she was wearing a flowy purple dress and a pointed hat, which seemed pretty witchy, she hadn’t opted for the phony hooked nose or a press-on hairy wart. He liked that, actually. Made her seem more real.

  If there were such a thing as witches, he was sure they wouldn’t go around looking like they’d just stepped out of a story meant to scare children.

  He slowed as he walked by the young witch. A group of tourists clustered around her while she made a coin float in midair. He shook his head and smiled. Now that was a magic trick he’d like to learn. Had to be clear fishing line. Maybe connected to her hat.

  He couldn’t see how she was doing it, making the trick that much more convincing. Really added to the whole magic thing going on. But there had to be an explanation that wasn’t witchcraft. Because there was an explanation for everything.

  That was just how life worked.

  Even though he still hadn’t figured out how Marigold had made those flowers grow in the centerpiece. He looked down at the vase in his hands and gave them a little shake. No, that didn’t look like they were growing. Just shaking. Very different.

  And why would she shake the flowers anyway?

  The only thing that really would explain what he’d seen was, well, witchcraft. He laughed. That was crazy. And probably the influence of this town and all its theatrical put-ons. He snorted. No way was Marigold a witch. Witches weren’t real. Not in the magical sense of the word.

  He kept walking and thinking. About Marigold and her growing flowers. About how she’d healed so fast. And how she had a black cat.

  But those were all just coincidences.

  A minivan drove past with a bumper sticker on it that read, “My other car is a broom.”

  It was just this town. All the woo-woo nonsense was leaking into his brain.

  A man in a black silk cape strolled by and smiled, revealing fangs.

  Wyatt did his best not to stare, but turned at the last moment to get a second look. The man had stopped to take pictures with some of the tourists.

  Wyatt stood there for a moment. Wasn’t there something about vampires not showing up in pictures? Or was that mirrors? Or both.

  Oy. Why was he even thinking about vampires? That guy wasn’t a vampire, he was an actor. For one thing, vampires couldn’t be out in the sun.

  For another, it was this town. He had to let all these crazy ideas go and just accept that in Nocturne Falls, you were supposed to believe in the unbelievable.

  He started walking again. The sheriff’s department was just up ahead. It would be good for him to be in a place like that. It would be grounding. It would remind him of his time on the force. When everything was by the rules and had a reason.

  He pushed through the doors.

  Birdie Caruthers found him before he even had a chance to look for her.

  “Well, hello there.” An older woman stood behind the curved reception desk, smiling at him. “You must be Wyatt.”

  “I am.” He wasn’t sure how she knew that unless Marigold had called ahead. “Are you Birdie Caruthers?”

  She turned her head, smiling like she was about to have a photo taken. “The one and only.”

  He hadn’t expected the blue hair. Not old-lady blue, but sort of robin’s egg. Not that he’d ever
describe the firecracker in front of him as an old lady. He held out the flowers. “These are for you.”

  She clapped her hands together. “Aren’t they lovely? My beau just spoils me silly.” She pointed at the top of the reception counter. “Just set them there, will you?”

  “Sure thing.” He put them exactly where she pointed.

  She stuck her hand out. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Wyatt. I have to say, I’m surprised to see a cop delivering flowers.”

  He shook her hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm. “A cop? I’m not a, well, I was, but—”

  “Once a cop, always a cop. Am I right?”

  “I suppose.” Marigold must have mentioned that when she called Birdie about the bouquet. But why would she do that? “How did you know that I was a cop?”

  Birdie shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I work with enough LEOs to know one when I see one.”

  Her use of the abbreviation for law enforcement officer made him feel right at home. Maybe Marigold hadn’t called. Maybe it was just Birdie’s familiarity with the type. He looked around. The place was neat and modern. “This is a nice station you have here.”

  “Would you like a tour? Not much to it. Won’t take more than five minutes.”

  He had five minutes. And Birdie didn’t seem like the kind of woman who took no for an answer. “Sure.”

  “Good.” She pressed a button on the desk phone, bending a little to speak into it. “Hank, you’ll have to get the phone for the next few. I’m busy.”

  A grumpy voice responded. “Doing what?”

  Birdie ignored the question to smile at Wyatt some more. “Right this way. I’ll show you the holding cells.”

  He joined her and they walked back together. She leaned toward him slightly, and for a second, he thought she might be sniffing him. But that would be weird.

  He cleared his throat. “Um, so you’ve worked here awhile?”

  She nodded. “My nephew is the sheriff.”

  That must have been the grumpy voice on the intercom. “I see.”

  She pointed spokesmodel-style to the holding cells, which were pretty much like all the other holding cells he’d ever seen. Maybe a tad larger. “Nice, huh?”

  “Yes. I’m sure your detainees are very happy.”

  She laughed, then crossed her arms and leaned against one of the sets of bars. “So, tell me all about your intentions toward Marigold.”

  He shot her a hard look. “My what?”

  “You heard me. You’re a tourist, right?”

  “Yes, I live in Atlanta.”

  “Then what happens when Marigold falls for you? You’re going to leave and break her heart? The poor woman’s had enough aggravation with her crumb bum ex.”

  He felt sideswiped. “I’m just going to the wedding with her so she can avoid being set up by her—”

  “She’s got a daughter, too, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “One of the sweetest little girls you’ll ever meet.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “Neither she nor her mother need another disappointment in their life, you get me?”

  Something in her gaze, a kind of animalistic wildness, unsettled him. Like she might suddenly bare her teeth and snarl at him. He’d never been looked at like that before. Not by a human, anyway.

  He nodded. “I’m not going to hurt either one of them, I swear. Marigold is fully aware this is a temporary thing. We’re both in agreement on that. As far as her daughter goes, Marigold’s going to tell her I’m just a friend. I understand about not getting the kid’s hopes up or anything like that.”

  The feral look was gone, replaced by a big smile. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

  He rolled his shoulders, still slightly unsettled.

  She pushed off the bars and tipped her head toward the exit. “C’mon, I’ll show you the armory.”

  When Wyatt returned, he seemed to be in a different headspace. Like he was deep in thought about something. Maybe even a little upset. Maybe not upset but at least unsure of something.

  Could be a case he was working on. Could be something personal. Whatever it was, Marigold left him alone. She had enough work to do without playing therapist. That was really Charisma’s job anyway. Or at least, that’s what Marigold thought life coaches did.

  Most men weren’t talkers anyway. If he wanted to be quiet, she was okay with that. Plus, she liked quiet when there was a lot to be done. Living with an eleven-year-old often meant silence was a rare commodity.

  She adjusted the last rose she’d just added. “These really need that special touch,” she said softly to Leah.

  Leah nodded and whispered back, “I know.”

  Leah was working on shop orders, but Marigold was focusing on centerpieces. They had six more to go.

  She fussed with the centerpiece for five more minutes before she realized she just couldn’t leave Wyatt alone. Maybe it was her maternal instincts kicking in, but her curiosity was overwhelming her. “So,” she said nonchalantly, aiming her voice toward him. “How did the delivery go? Did you get a tip?”

  He came around to the workroom door and leaned on the frame, making a long, lean line of maleness that was impossible to ignore. Rambling roses, the man was so very well put together. “Oh, I got a tip all right.”

  His expression said the tip had not been monetary in nature. She held her breath. “Oh?”

  His gaze narrowed. “Mostly that I’d better be nice to you and your daughter, or I’ll be in big trouble.”

  Marigold blew out a breath, lifting the hair hanging in her face. “Birdie,” she muttered.

  “Then you knew what you were sending me into?”

  “No. Not exactly.” She stuck another rose into the centerpiece. “But Birdie can be a little in your face at times—”

  “A lot, you mean.”

  His arms were crossed, and he was giving her a perturbed look. She smiled, trying to soften the mood. “She’s a lot of everything. But very well meaning, I assure you. And really beloved in this town.”

  “Is that because people are afraid of her? Or because her nephew is the sheriff?”

  Now was not the time to tell him that Birdie’s other nephew was the fire chief, and that her niece owned Howler’s, the place they’d eaten lunch. “I didn’t know she was going to give you the third degree. I promise.”

  All she’d asked Birdie to do was get Wyatt’s fingerprints off the vase and run them. Then do a little digging to see what she could find out about him. That was all. Not lecture him on all things Marigold. But Birdie being Birdie, it was no shocker that she’d taken it upon herself to give Wyatt some unsolicited advice.

  “I’ve seen veteran police officers who didn’t interrogate with such ferocity.” He straightened, dropping his arms to his sides. “Speaking of which, that woman gets a look on her face unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I swear if I didn’t know better I’d have thought she was going to bite me if I said the wrong thing.”

  Marigold faked a laugh to cover up her sudden horror. “Oh, that Birdie, she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Mostly because werewolves preferred much bigger prey.

  Marigold went back to her centerpiece. “Anyway, I’m sorry about all that. I’ll talk to Birdie.”

  “No, don’t. I survived. And part of me likes her a lot. I know how hard it can be working with LEOs, so I give her credit.”

  Marigold tipped her head. “LEOs?”

  “Law enforcement officers.”

  Leah perked up. “So that part of you likes her? What about the other part?”

  He laughed. “The rest of me is terrified of her, but let’s keep that between us.”

  Leah snorted.

  Wyatt shot her an amused look that clearly said all was forgiven. “I’m serious, missy. Not a word of this.”

  She crossed a finger over her heart, then held up her hand. “I swear.”

  “Good.” Then he looked at Marigold again. “When’s quitting time?”
r />   “You can go any time you like. You’ve really done enough already today.”

  His brows rose. “I’ve swept and made one delivery. That doesn’t seem like much help.”

  “But it was, really.”

  He nodded slowly. “I see. You’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “No, I’m not. But I feel guilty that you’re doing all this and not getting anything in return.”

  “What else am I going to do? Millersville is pretty boring compared to Nocturne Falls.”

  “I’m sure most places seem boring compared to Nocturne Falls.”

  “True. Most places don’t have vampires and witches on the streets taking selfies with the tourists.”

  She stiffened a little, then made herself relax. Those supernaturals were specifically out there to entertain the tourists. If he’d seen them, it was no big deal. They were meant to be seen. And he’d had a little of the water, so maybe he wasn’t picking up on anything odd. “You know, there’s some great hiking around here. If you’re into that. I am, when I can spare the time. The falls are beautiful.”

  “You are trying to get rid of me.”

  She laughed. “I promise, I’m not. But there’s a lot more to see of this town than the inside of my shop.”

  He shrugged, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I’m pretty happy with the view.”

  She glanced at him. He was looking straight at her. He was smooth, she’d give him that. “Well, if you’re going to stay, I’m going to put you to work.”

  “Bring it on.”

  He was going to wish he hadn’t said that. She got off her stool and went out to where he was standing. “Follow me.”

  He did just that as she led him through the shop. “Going back to the cleaning supplies, are we?”

  “Not exactly.” She opened the door next to the supply closet. This walk-in closet housed all the vases necessary to fulfill the many orders that arrived by phone and computer daily. They were everything from the clear, inexpensive glass ginger jars that were included with a dozen budget roses to the cut crystal vases that proudly held most Valentine’s Day bouquets.

  And then there were the cheery mugs that proclaimed their purpose through their printed sayings. Get Well, Happy Birthday, It’s A Girl…the list went on.