Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  "I'm not saying we should pick up where we left off," I warned. "And I meant what I said about it being just dinner. Don’t get any ideas about dessert back at my place." I shrugged an apology. I must have seemed like a nut job, running hot, then cold. But, what else could I say?

  If nothing else, the bipolar bit helped me shake the darkness. I inhaled the icy air, trying to clear my head, and slipped my rings back on. The charm wrapped around me, muffling the impressions I was still getting from Brad. Protecting me from the outside world.

  "We'd better get out of here before the weather gets worse." I turned and examined the field. The rain was now mixed with heavy snow, the white, chunky flakes contributing to the surreal atmosphere.

  I walked over and peered in the van window.

  I could hear Dan inside, yammering away.

  "…you understand, right? It's more of a calling than a job. My mom's just going to have to get over it. I'm a mortician now. I just told her there's no way I was going to be an accountant like Dad.”

  I tapped on the window to get his attention. "They're ready to go. Please help the removal guys collect the bodies and transport them to Armstrong. Gather any items in the car, no matter how small."

  "Don't worry. I'll have everything ready for you in the morning." He gave me a wide, toothy grin. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, then. Thanks again for bringing me along."

  With everything in order, Brad walked me to my car. Afraid he might see this as an opportunity to discuss how we had ended things, I said, "I'll see you tomorrow…well, I guess later tonight. Hope the rest of your shift goes smooth. I need to get home and try to get some more sleep. I have a busy day tomorrow."

  "I could meet you for breakfast in the morning, and we could talk.”

  "Brad…"

  "What? Are pancakes so dangerous? You used to like it when I’d bring you pancakes in bed.”

  “Maybe dinner is a bad idea."

  "Wait." He reached out and caressed my cheek. Unconsciously I leaned into it, his touch warm and inviting. "Forget I said anything about breakfast. Just have dinner with me."

  I should have said no, but his touch brought back all those old feelings.

  "Dinner," I said. "But we’re keeping it casual.” I closed my eyes, already regretting my decision. I wished we could find a way to make it work, but even more I wished we’d never started dating. His continued attraction to me coupled with his dislike of witches always seemed to have us at odds, and I had this horrible fear that I had influenced his feelings for me. “I don’t want to get back together. We're not right for each other." He gave me a determined look that should have sent me running, but I was too tired to argue. “If you’re not interested in just dinner I’ll understand.”

  "No. I’ll take dinner," he said. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Sleep tight."

  "Good night," I said and pulled the door shut. There was nothing I could do about Brad right now. And besides, I had bigger issues to deal with. On the top of the list was finding out more about that charm, and why it trapped that poor girl’s soul.

  FOUR

  January fifteenth

  I pulled into my parking space behind Armstrong’s Funeral Home and sat, mentally preparing myself for the day. After leaving Brad last night, all those feelings of dread and terror returned with a vengeance, making sleep impossible. Through my job, I’d developed a fairly high threshold when it came to death, but thoughts of the young girl haunted me.

  I rubbed my temple, feeling the headache start to take hold. I wasn’t sure I would be able to handle a final reading on the girl, not with last night’s events still so fresh. And then there was that mystery charm. I didn’t know what to do with it, and until I could identify the magic, I couldn’t be sure it was safe.

  Despite everything hanging over my head, I did know one thing. I couldn’t spend all morning in my car. I got out and braced myself against the cold north wind and made my way up the stairs to the front door. The lawn and bushes were whitewashed with a layer of snow, giving the whole place a fresh, clean feeling. That was the lovely thing about snow. All the harsh browns and blacks of winter disappeared under a heavy coat of alabaster.

  As I reached the top step the door opened, and Charlie stepped onto the porch.

  “Good morning, Olivia.” She smiled down at me.

  Not feeling as though it was such a good morning, I just nodded, but then I spied the coffee in her hands and almost kissed her. With a knowing look, the slight woman handed me the hot cup of salvation.

  “The answering service called. There was an inquiry from a family, but I’ll follow up. I also rescheduled your nine-thirty with the Harrison Coffin rep to next week. The Weston family called with a few last-minute changes for tomorrow.” She continued going over my schedule as we walked down the main hall to my office. I was only half-listening. I knew Charlie had everything under control, but I was going to have to figure out how to juggle the added load from the car accident. “Oh, I’ve asked Dan to come in. I know it was his day off, but you’re going to need the help. He’ll set up for tomorrow’s viewing and handle the deliveries today.”

  Charlie had insisted I hire Dan after he finished his internship. I had protested. Armstrong’s was hardly busy enough to keep me employed full time. I didn’t think I could manage the extra cost. But she insisted, saying I couldn’t make it without him. Business had picked up, and Ian had added more responsibilities to my load with the coroner's office.

  She was right, as usual. I hated to admit it, but I was glad I had Dan to pick up the slack. There was still a lot for him to learn, but I depended on Dan more every day.

  “There’s a gentleman waiting for you. He’s claiming to be Mr. Malone’s next of kin. I’ve put him in the family room.”

  Charlie pulled a small baggie from the pocket of her skirt. “Here, you’ll need this too. It will help with that headache and give you a boost since you obviously didn’t sleep. You’re going to have a long day.”

  I took the bag and gave her a little hug as I passed. “Thank you, Mom,” I said in a mockingly sweet voice as I unlocked my office door. Before I stepped in, I glanced over my shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived without you.”

  Charlie chuckled and plucked a drooping bud from the hall vase. “You’re just using me for my potions,” she said with an exaggerated pout.

  I turned, a hand pressed to my heart. “Really Charlie, you wound me. You should know by now that I’m using you for your organizational skills. The potions? Eh, they’re just a bonus.”

  I headed into my office and dropped my purse onto my desk. The coffee was just cool enough to drink, and I downed the whole cup, potion and all. With a quick check of the mirror to ensure my hair hadn’t come out of the loose bun, I put on my metaphorical funeral director hat and made my way down the hall to the family room.

  The man waiting for me was stretched out on the sofa, long legs propped on the nearby table. His eyes were closed, arms across his chest. His dark curls were tousled as if he’d been running his hand through them.

  “Mr. Malone? I’m Olivia Harmon, the Assistant County Coroner. I’ve been put in charge of your brother’s case. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  He opened his eyes and considered me. “You aren’t the person I spoke with on the phone.” He leaned to look down the hall for this other person.

  He was a handsome man, but he looked worn down and road weary, so I discounted his irritation to exhaustion. Fatigue shadowed his deep blue eyes, and I could tell he hadn’t slept. This was the shell-shocked look of grief I’d come to recognize.

  “The sheriff’s office usually does family notification,” I said, trying to reassure him.

  “You’re not what I expected,” he said examining me. “I had thought I was meeting someone else.”

  “Well, I’m the person you’re supposed to meet with,” I replied. It took some effort to keep my tone pleasant. My ire hitched up a notch, and I reminded myself that it wasn’t pe
rsonal. People had preconceived expectations of what a funeral director should look like. I’d had my fair share of people that thought because I was young, I wasn’t competent. “I’m handling your brother’s case. And I am more than capable of answering your questions.”

  He seemed to have picked up on the subtle change in my tone, and his attention focused back on me. “I’m sorry, I thought the police were handling this.” His expression softened. “I didn’t mean to imply you were less than”—he paused as though he were looking for just the right phrase—“capable.” He tossed the word back at me with a playful grin that transformed his whole face. Suddenly he went from weary traveler to all man.

  “Please, call me Rick.” He removed his leather gloves and extended a hand.

  “Then please, call me Olivia.” I nodded politely, unsure what to make of him, and took his hand. A warm tingle spread up my arm and settled in my chest. The exchange of power was like a calling card that said “witch.”

  His smile slowly widened, and he raised a curious eyebrow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Olivia.” He paused, seeming to mull something over. “Olivia Harmon,” he said my name again. “Well, this does change things.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t follow. I’m in charge of your brother’s accident.” My polite manner faltered with the repetition.

  “Yes, but now that I know you’re the one in charge, I think you can help.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and flipped his wrist, bringing a shiny badge into view. “My name is Rick Bishop. Order Inspector Bishop. I’ve been assigned to the Scott Malone case. I’m sorry about the ruse, but I wasn’t sure I could trust the local officials.”

  I stepped back, shocked. This time it was my turn to look down the hall for someone else. Finding it empty, I leaned forward and said in a low voice, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I can’t help you.”

  His hesitation only lasted a second, but it was enough to catch my attention. In one fluid movement, he managed to shut the door, blocking my path. He looked me up and down as if he were assessing and taking stock. Instinctively I fingered my shield ring.

  His eyes caught the movement, and he smiled. “No, you’re wrong there. I’m sure you’ll be a lot of help.” He produced a manila folder from the messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and sorted through some papers until he found some photos. “Were these girls also involved in the accident?”

  Jane Doe’s smiling face stared back at me, the name Sarah Pickett scrawled at the bottom. I met Rick’s gaze as I picked up the glossies. He watched me, his posture more rigid and alert.

  “Why should I give that information to you? Have you alerted the sheriff’s office? You can’t be here without an official invitation. I shouldn’t even be talking with you. If the sheriff finds out, it could mean my job.”

  “This wasn’t just a car accident. I’ve been working with the Indianapolis police department on a series of missing kids.” He pointed to the photos I held in my hand. “Those girls, both witches, were kidnapped. They are still missing, and Malone was my best lead. They were last seen at a dance club, a known haunt of Malone’s.”

  I looked back down. The other young girl, Molly, had a lopsided smirk and reminded me of Charlie with her bright red hair and piercings. Right or wrong, I wanted to give him something.

  I held up Sarah’s photo. “She was in the car. I’m sorry. She didn’t make it.”

  He stood there, silent. Dark emotions flitted across his face. Everything from anger to worry, finally settling on a heavy sadness. “I have to call her mom and let her know,” he finally said, sounding defeated. “I promised to bring her home.”

  I wanted to reach out and comfort him, just as I would have for any grieving relative. But his closed posture told me he wouldn’t appreciate my efforts, so instead I tried to offer other support. “You’re welcome to stay and use the family room if you need to. There’s a phone in the back. If there’s anything I can get for you, just let me know. A cup of coffee, maybe?”

  “No, no. I’m fine.” He seemed dazed, but just as quickly as before his mood shifted. “Is there any news of Molly? Was she in the car with them? You only said Sarah was dead. Is Molly all right?”

  “There was no one else in the car. I’ll be sure to let the sheriff know she was traveling with them. Maybe he stashed her at one of the hotels.” I handed the photo back.

  “What about his personal things? I’d like to see anything Malone was traveling with. I might be able to figure out what he did with Molly if I could see his things.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t share that with you.” I could read his genuine concern, but that didn’t change the fact he was well out of his jurisdiction. “I know you’re used to working in Indianapolis, but this is a small town. Sheriff Black isn’t that open-minded. He would no sooner work with the Order than he would with the devil himself. I wish there was something else I could do.” I sighed. With witches involved, I was going to have to report this accident to the Psyonic Division. They’d want to do their own investigation. I knew that would just make Black’s day. Still, the thought gave me an idea. “You wouldn’t happen to be working with the FPD? If so, I could probably bend the rules a little, and let you take a look.”

  The Federal Psyonic Division was the government’s response to open magic use. The FPD was a small army of witches and plebs that helped license and police all things magical, from charm regulation to criminal law. If Rick had been working with the FPD, it wouldn’t matter what Sheriff Black thought. He could easily dismiss an Order representative, but the FPD had primary jurisdiction when it came to witches. Where the FPD was official and regulated, the Order was more like a neighborhood watch association. It had been around for centuries, protecting and policing witches long before any government recognition of our kind. And because of that, involvement of its members in criminal matters was merely a courtesy.

  “No. I’m not working with the Division.” Even with my shield charm on, I could sense his disappointment. He wasn’t a man used to hearing “no,” but he accepted my decision. After picking up his coat, he slid a card out of his wallet. “I understand you have rules to follow. But take my number, and call if you change your mind. Thank you for sharing what you did. I’ll have Mrs. Pickett get in touch with you.”

  I apologized again and walked him to the entrance. “After the FPD agent arrives, I’ll let you know if they find any evidence of Molly.”

  He paused on the way out the door, looking deep into my eyes, searching, weighing something. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Olivia. I’ll be waiting for your call.” Then he left.

  I stood in the doorway for a moment, spinning the silver band round and round. He was a extremely intense man, and I wondered what was really going on behind those piercing blue eyes.

  The new information complicated things. I picked up the phone and dialed the sheriff’s office to report the new developments. Sheriff Black was out of the office, so I asked Jenny to have him call me as soon as he returned, knowing he wasn’t going to be happy with the news. The next call I made was to the FPD’s Indianapolis division.

  Rick’s visit had taken longer than I expected, and the rest of the morning flew by. There were so many little things involved in running a business, it kept me in my office most mornings. Most people didn’t realize being a funeral director was far more involved than just sending death announcements and accepting flowers. As with any business countless tasks ate away at my time. By the time the hall clock chimed two, I realized I hadn’t taken a break since Rick Bishop had left, so I decided to walk down the street to Sally’s Diner and grab a late lunch.

  The bell above the door rang, announcing me as I entered the cozy luncheonette. The air, heavy with the smells of grease and coffee, was a welcome break to my busy day. At this hour, the lunch crowd had cleared out and only a solitary figure sat at the counter reading the paper. The elderly man, a fixture at Sally’s, raised a hand in greeting as I slipped into the back booth.


  Sally, the owner, set down a hot cup of coffee. “Would you like the special today, hon?” The plump woman smiled, warm and inviting. She treated everyone as though they were visitors to her own home.

  “No thanks, Sally. Just a bowl of chili.” I picked up my mug and watched her stroll back to the kitchen. I closed my eyes, breathing in the rich aroma. Sally had mastered the art of coffee. I sat for the longest time with my eyes closed, letting the cup warm my chilled fingers.

  When I opened my eyes, I nearly dropped the mug. Rick stood at the end of the booth, a warm smile on his face.

  With a small chuckle, he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He flashed that charming smile again. “I just stopped in to grab a bite to eat and saw you sitting here all alone. You don’t mind if I join you?”

  I suddenly was overcome with nervousness. I felt like the awkward school girl that’s just been noticed by the winning quarterback. Gee, Rick, I’d love to go to the dance with you!

  “Sure, have a seat.”

  He slipped off his jacket, and I noticed the way his shirt clung to his muscular chest. I felt my cheeks grow warm as I imagined what lay under the thin fabric. Before he could catch me ogling him, I looked away and took a long gulp of coffee. Wow. Now I’m undressing strangers with my eyes. This was a new low, even for me. Charlie was right; I needed to get out more.

  Sally came back with my chili and a menu for Rick. “Can I get you somethin’, sweetie?”

  He smiled and turned to Sally. “Well, I think I need to start with a cup of that fabulous smelling coffee. Then, hmm…” He did a brief check of the menu before dismissing it entirely. “I’m sure everything you make is wonderful. But what would you recommend?” His entire focus shifted to her.

  Sally seemed at a loss for words, and I knew exactly how she felt. I think I even saw a faint blush creep into the older woman’s cheeks. Rick had mastered the art of flirting.

  She looked down at her order pad. “Everyone loves the chili, but for you,” she said, “I’ll make you something special.”