by Maeve Hart
When I sat down, Abbie placed a plate full of pancakes in the center of the table. Steve jumped to his feet and grabbed the butter and the maple syrup.
“This looks so good.”
“Thank you,” Abbie said.
“Did anyone hear a gunshot last night? I thought I heard one in the middle of the night.”
Abbie and Steve looked at each other and shook their heads.
“I guess I could’ve been dreaming.”
I couldn’t wait to get out of there. After breakfast, I packed myself a lunch. There wasn’t much there, but three peanut butter sandwiches would stop me from starving.
Steve had brought fruit, meat, and vegetables with him. Thank goodness for him. Abbie and I weren’t so practical, and we might have starved. I filled a canteen with water and placed it in my small backpack along with the sandwiches. I was on my way.
“Don’t get lost,” Abbie yelled after me.
I turned around and saw Abbie and Steve watching me leave from the doorway. “I won’t. I’ve got my phone and it’s on full charge.”
“Be careful, Abbie,” Steve cautioned. “Getting lost is a real danger out here. Don’t go too far.”
Walking backward, I said, “I’ll stick to the trails.”
I turned and walked on, trying to shake visions of crazed serial killers hiding behind trees just waiting for me to walk by. Before I got far, I saw the clothes I’d stripped off the night before. I stooped down, shook the dirt off them, and stuffed them into my backpack.
Walking on, I listened to the birds and the rustle of the leaves in the trees swaying in the gentle breeze. I walked through the tall grass until I got back onto the trail.
Two hours later, I’d seen no sign of another cabin. The night before had seemed real, but was it a dream since I’d had so much on my mind? Maybe I’d made up the fantasy of Jacques being a black wolf. That had to be it. If I believed it, I’d have to be insane like the rest of my family.
Looking at the long winding dirt trail, I told myself I’d just go to the bend on the rise and then I’d head back. My legs weren’t used to the exercise, but I felt I could go on and on for hours. Standing at my destination, I looked around and still saw no signs of another cabin. I turned and headed back, wondering what I’d do out here with no pay TV and no Internet.
The walk back seemed much longer. As I approached the cabin, Abbie and Steve were trying to get the log away from the front of the car. I offered to help.
The log moved with ease.
Steve and Abbie stared at me.
“What?”
“How did you do that?” Steve asked.
“It’s lighter with three.”
“We couldn’t budge it an inch.”
I shrugged and said, “The power of three, I guess.”
I left them staring after me and headed to my laptop to work on some design ideas for Jacques’ loft. Soon, I had an initial concept to email to Jacques. I plugged in my portable WiFi, and after I had taken a deep breath, I pushed ‘send.’
Then I had a brilliant idea and I hoped Abbie would agree. I found her sitting outside the cabin with Steve.
“Abbie, why don’t I take your car back and you stay here with Steve?” I often borrowed Abbie’s car and I didn’t think she would mind. “You can travel back together.”
“What? Do you want to go home now?”
I didn’t know why she looked so surprised, but I hoped I wasn’t being rude or ungracious. I tried to come up with an excuse of why I had to get back. “Don called and he needs to talk.” Of course, it was a lie, but only a white lie to save my friend’s feelings. Besides, she surely wouldn’t miss me with her boyfriend around.
Abbie’s bottom lip protruded as she stared at me.
There was no going back. I had to continue with the lies I had started. “I just need to talk with him to clear the air.”
“Okay, but I don’t want you to go back to your apartment. Promise me you’ll talk with him somewhere else—somewhere with a lot of people around. You can stay at my house if he’s still at your place.”
I nodded my agreement. “Thank you, Abbie. That’s a good idea. I will.”
“Promise me?”
“I promise.”
Abbie threw me the keys. I packed my things and half an hour later I was in Abbie’s car on the way home, relieved and pleased to be getting away from the place.What I’d told her had been a half-truth. I wanted to speak to Don, but that could wait. First thing on my agenda was to talk with my mother and find out more about wolf shifters. She had to know something and I couldn’t risk asking my grandmother any more questions.
Chapter 11
When I arrived at my mother’s house, I saw Aunt Flora’s car.
“Hello,” I yelled from the front door before I pushed it open and walked in.No one answered me, so I followed the sound of my mother’s voice to the kitchen. I found my mother and her sister sitting on stools, leaning on the island counter sipping champagne.
They both jumped up and hugged me. My mother was the same height as me but elegant and slender, and she had the same green eyes as Granny. My aunt was shorter with brown eyes, and both of them had bleached blonde hair. Sometimes Aunt Flora had dark hair but today it was blonde.
My mother looked me up and down and it was then I remembered I was wearing Abbie’s mother’s clothes.
“Have you been working?” my mother asked.
“I went to Abbie’s cabin in the woods, but then her boyfriend came and I just didn’t want to be there with the two lovebirds. Well, it is his cabin I suppose.” I didn’t know how I was going to ask my mother questions with Aunt Flora around.
“Champagne?” my mother asked, lifting up the bottle.
“Just a little, thanks.”
My mother poured me half a glass and I eased myself into the armchair behind them. Ah, this is the life. Far better than being in a cabin.
They both remained silent and I wondered what they had been talking about before I arrived. No matter. I was sure it wasn’t about me. “Mom, I’ve been thinking about our family history lately.”
My mother and aunt exchanged surprised glances.
“How far back do we go?” I know it was a strange question to ask, but I knew witches were burned a few hundred years ago and wondered if that had happened to any of our family.
“We go back as far as any family goes back. Are you talking about as witches?”
“Why the sudden curiosity?” asked Flora before I could answer. “You’ve always said you’re not interested.”
“It’s not as though I want to become a witch or do any of those witchy things; it’s just that I’m interested to know about the family and about our history.” I looked at their blank faces and knew I had to be more specific. “For instance, I was at Granny’s last week and she told me the old story about slaying the wolf shifter.” I gave a little giggle. “I mean, I didn’t want to offend Granny, but that’s not real, is it? I always thought it was just a story—like a bedtime story or something she made up.”
“Where did you get the idea it was made up? It’s very real. How many times do I have to tell you?” My mother was annoyed with me.
The even-tempered Flora took up where my mother left off. “The wolf shifters were a danger to us; we were their enemy. And now, thanks to your grandmother, we don’t have to worry about them anymore. Without a leader, they dispersed and they’ve probably died out by now.”
“Why would they have died out?” I asked.
“The Alpha shifter is the one who organizes the pack. A lone wolf doesn’t have much power.”
“I get the picture. Why were we their enemy?”
“I’ve told you all this before.”
I frowned, trying to remember what she’d told me. “So it’s only a localized feud? Or is it a general rule that witches and shifters are enemies?”
Flora answered, “I think it’s possible for witches and shifters to get along amicably, in theory, but there�
�s a long history you really should learn.”
My mother added, “It’s just that the Alpha shifter got on the wrong side of your grandmother and you know what happens when people get on the wrong side of her.”
I nodded, but at the same time I wondered if I was hearing the full truth from them. For some reason I had a feeling they were leaving a lot out. “She’s not one to be tangled with.”
“Why the sudden interest?” my mother asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I just told you, I’ve been thinking about things, that’s all.”
“Better to ask your grandmother,” my mother replied.
A change of conversation was needed so I stuck out my hand to show them my engagement ring. “Did I tell you I’m engaged?”
My aunt and my mother looked at each other and then my mother looked back at me. “Don.”
I nodded. “Of course, Don.”
My mother shook her head. “I don’t like him.”
Flora said, “I’ve never met him and I don’t like him.”
I rubbed my forehead. Most people would’ve at least pretended to be happy for me. Of course, even I wasn’t happy for me, but they could have pretended. I chugged my champagne in one gulp. I had to find a way a nice way to end things with Don and get him out of my apartment for good. I wouldn’t have a problem returning the ring. “I should go.”
“Now? You only just got here.”
“I’ve got things to do, Mother.” I stood up and kissed her on her forehead and then hugged Aunt Flora. “I’ll see you later.” I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
As soon as I was in Abbey’s car, I pulled out my phone and called Don, figuring I’d take Abbie up on her offer to stay at her place. That was, if Don was still at my apartment. There was no answer, so I tossed my phone back into my bag.
Since he wasn’t taking my calls, that meant he wasn’t talking to me and if he wasn’t talking to me, he would’ve gone back to his house. It was odd he hadn’t called or texted; maybe he’d expected me to run after him.
I unlocked my door, glad to be home. The first thing I intended to do was get out of the dowdy clothes I was wearing. As much as I loved Audra, Abbie’s mother, she and I had a different sense of style.
“Don,” I called out. When I heard nothing, I called again to make sure he wasn’t there.
I walked into my small living room and saw Don sprawled on the floor, face down, pretending to be dead. This wasn’t the first time he’d done it. It was an odd thing he did to get my attention. After the last time he’d promised he’d never do it again. I didn’t find it funny.
“Get off the floor,” I said in a dry, unimpressed tone to convey how annoyed I was with his little act. When that failed I got louder. “Come on, Don. It’s not funny. I’m here to talk. We’ve got some serious problems.”
I walked closer to see if I could see some sign of him breathing, but not too close, knowing at any moment he would spring up and grab me. I couldn’t see his rib cage moving up and down or any sign of breathing. How long could he hold his breath?
“Don.” I pushed him with my foot, hoping he’d move. When he didn’t, I leaned down and tried to turn him over. His eyes were staring, vacant, and a trickle of blood was dripping from his mouth. I jumped back and screamed.
He was dead.
Chapter 12
I stared at him for a moment in disbelief before grabbing my bag and keys and running out of the apartment. When my feet hit the sidewalk, I called 911. My knees gave way as I waited and I sank down. The operator answered and asked a million and one questions. “Just send someone. Hurry!”
She kept asking my name and I kept repeating it, wondering if I was telling her the right name. I was in a daze. She asked me to speak slowly.
“I can’t. I have just found my fiancé dead. He’s dead,” I repeated, now slightly annoyed that she didn’t seem concerned. “He wasn’t pretending; he’s really dead.”
“I need you to tell me his name.”
I gave her his name and then she told me to stay on the line while she sent someone.
I did as she asked. It seemed like a long time had passed when the authorities finally arrived. There were two police cars and an ambulance and they stopped in front of my building. I was able to end the 911 call and I pushed myself to my feet by hanging onto the outside of the building. Three officers approached me.
I gave one of the male officers the keys and told him the apartment number while a female officer stayed with me. I couldn’t stop talking. I told the officer all about the pranks Don used to pull.
“This time it was no prank,” I told her.
She nodded sympathetically and I was grateful she didn’t ask me any more questions. Then the paramedics came along with a team of people who arrived in three white vans.
“They’re the forensics team,” the officer told me.
Before I knew it, I was being driven to the police station where they took my fingerprints and asked me if I minded having a DNA sample taken. I saw no reason to object. After my sample was taken and I’d been fingerprinted, I was placed in a room by myself, feeling like I should confess to something. The surroundings were intimidating.
A detective, who introduced himself as Logan Andrews, informed me he was going to interview me and it would be recorded. He wasn’t one of the detectives who had attended the apartment. Another detective came in and sat in the back of the room, but said nothing.
Detective Andrews was handsome in a rugged kind of a way. He had bright blue eyes with no hint of gray or green to muddy them. His hair was dark brown and cropped close to his head.
“Have you called anyone yet?” he asked softly, almost sympathetically.
I shook my head.
“Would you like to call anyone?”
“I’m okay.” I’d call Abbie and my mother as soon as I’d answered all their questions. “You weren’t at the apartment.”
“No. I’m working on the case now and a closely related matter.”
“Closely related to Don?”
He shook his head. “I know this is hard for you but we need to ask you some questions.”
I nodded, glad he appeared to be so nice.
“How did he die?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have no idea?”
“No.” I shook my head. Hadn’t they found that out?
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Yesterday, before I went to the cabin with my best friend, Abbie.”
“And what time was that?” he asked, barely looking at me.
“I don’t remember. Abbie would probably know.”
He looked at me, nodded, and then gazed down at the paper in front of him.
“What was your relationship with the deceased?”
“We just got engaged the day before…”
He straightened in his chair and glared at me with his piercing blue eyes. My best guess was he didn’t believe me. I held my hand out and showed him the ring.
Leaning forward, he asked, “After you got engaged you went to a cabin in the woods and your fiancé stayed behind?”
Thankfully I didn’t have to answer because someone pushed the door open to speak to Andrews. He excused himself and left the room. I glanced up at the camera in the top left corner of the room and wondered if I was a suspect. Then I reminded myself they’d have to eliminate the people close to Don before they started questioning others. They were treating his death like a murder and it was making me nervous. Yes, there were probably a lot of people who’d want him dead, but I wasn’t one of them.
Andrews came back into the room and sat down. “One of your neighbors—in fact, a few of your neighbors—say they heard an argument yesterday.”
“Yes, we argued.” I was annoyed with my nosey neighbors. They’d never been friendly.
“What did you argue about?”
I scrunched up my face, trying to recall the argument. “Um…”
“Don’
t waste my time by giving me some story. I want the truth.”
Gone was the nice guy detective. I was a little taken aback. “I’ve just come home to find him dead and I’m having trouble thinking straight. Please. Just give me a moment.”
He leaned back in his chair and waited.
“It could been about a prenup, or something.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember. We argued all the time.”
“You argued all the time and yet you were getting married?”
“Yes, he was a difficult person. He had gotten better over the time I’d known him, but we still had problems. He was married once before and I think that relationship affected him badly.”
He scribbled some more things down on the pad in front of him.
“How did he die?” I asked.
“We don’t know yet,” he said. “It seems to have been some kind of poison.”
My mouth fell open in shock. “Like what? What kind of poison?”
“We’re waiting on information from the coroner, but if it was poison we’ll have to wait weeks for the toxicology reports to come back.”
“Could it have been food poisoning?” I tried to remember what was in the fridge that I’d cooked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s nothing. It’s just I’m not a very good cook. He ate something I cooked once and he wouldn’t stop vomiting. I wasn’t affected.” Andrews didn’t like what I was saying, I could tell. “When will you know what killed him?” I asked before I remembered I’d already asked that.
“We could have an idea in a few hours. It’ll take a few weeks for the official toxicology report to come back.”
I nodded, feeling silly for asking twice. “Can I go now?”
“The evidence technicians are still at your apartment.” He looked at me for a while before he said, “I would really like you to have a good think about what you were arguing about the last time you saw the deceased.”
