by Geof Johnson
Rita only shrugged as she settled cross-legged on the floor. Cassandra sat next to her with the box.
Fred slid down to the floor between the bed and the table. “Is that the only place you sell your potions and stuff? Bars?”
Rita pulled some jars out of the box and put them on the table in front of her. “Mostly, but we also sell stuff at that shop in you-know-where, remember? Big Dan takes it for us.”
“Have you ever thought about setting up your own web store?”
The two women blinked at her vacuously and Fred raised her eyebrows and said, “An Internet site…an online outlet…does any of this ring a bell?”
“Oh.” Cassandra waved one hand. “We don’t have an Internet here.”
Rita smacked Cassandra’s upper arm. “The Internet, Cass. Not an Internet. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“I don’t know. And it don’t matter, it’s too hard to do.”
“No it’s not,” Fred said. “Most any high school kid can do it.”
“Can you?”
“Sure. All you need is a computer and an Internet connection.” She sensed an opportunity. If they give me access to a computer, I’ll email Jamie and be out of here in a flash.
Rita gave her a suspicious look. “How do we get that? And how much does it cost?”
“Your cable TV provider probably offers it. Might cost…I dunno…fifty dollars a month for the service and the web hosting.”
“That’s too expensive.”
“Don’t be silly. You could be selling potions and powders all over the world. If you made, say, love potions — you do make those, don’t you?” They nodded and Fred continued, “How many of those do you sell a night at a bar?”
Rita shrugged. “Depends. Sometimes one or two. Sometimes none.”
Fred threw up her hands. “Do you know how many high school kids would die to have a real love potion? Zillions! I would’ve bought one myself if my boyfriend had taken any longer to fall in love with me.” Oh. She suddenly felt herself blush, but the women didn’t seem to notice. Would I have used one on him?
“How much could we sell them for?” Rita said.
“Maybe twenty five dollars each. Is that enough?”
“We sell them for fifty now.”
“But you only sell about four or five a month. You could probably sell four or five hundred over the Internet. Every month. Maybe more, once you get a reputation for selling good stuff.”
The women stared at her with their mouths open. Fred said, “Do you want me to do the math for you?”
Rita gave her head a quick shake. “No, that’s okay. It would be hard to make that much, though.”
“Is it a potion or a powder?”
“Can be both. The best kind is when you make an amulet, ’cause then you don’t have to slip anything into a drink or nothing. Potions are better for that. But amulets are hard to make.”
Fred rubbed her chin with one knuckle. “Potions would be hard to mail. Powders would be easier.”
“Powders are best for sprinklin’ over somebody’s food,” Cassandra said. “You can pour it into a drink, too, but the person drinkin’ it might notice it floatin’ on top if it doesn’t dissolve fast enough.”
“How many can you make an hour?”
Rita’s mouth pinched and she scratched her temple with a fingertip. “Hmm…I can make a batch of about ten in less than that.”
“What if you doubled the recipe and used a bigger mortar and stuff?”
“We’ve never done that before.”
Fred let out an exasperated gust of air. “But if you really had to, how many doses could you make in an hour, say, with all of us working at once?” I need to make them think I’m coming around to their side. “As a production team?”
“Doses?” Cassandra blinked. “Never heard ’em called that.”
Fred clenched her fists and ground her teeth. Try not to say anything to make them mad. “If you absolutely had to,” she said levelly, “how many could you make in one afternoon?”
“A hundred?” Rita said. “Not real sure. Powders would be faster.”
“What if you had help? Could you get any other witches to work with you?”
Rita shook her head. “There aren’t a hell of a lot of good witches around. It was hard enough finding you.”
“There are a few in…in a nearby city,” Cassandra said, “But they wouldn’t want to help. They’re our competition.” She chuckled. “They hate us, actually.”
Imagine that, Fred thought with a straight face. “Well, you could probably get someone to help with the logistics, and then you could —”
“The what?”
“The nuts and bolts of a business…gritty details, like addressing and mailing orders, or even just putting the powders in packets. Somebody’s got to do that, you know, and you don’t have to be a witch to go to the post office.”
Rita looked at Cassandra. “Geraldine could do that. She’s lookin’ for a job.”
“Sure.” Fred nodded. “You could set up your own little mail order operation for less than a thousand dollars, counting the cost of a computer, and rake in the cash.” Rita’s eyes grew bright, but Cassandra still looked unsure. Fred said, “Cass, don’t you want to make more money?”
“Well, yeah, but —”
“Wouldn’t you love to have boatloads of fancy clothes and drive a nice new car? How old is the car you have now?”
“It’s a nineteen eighty something-or-other, but Louis put a new motor in it and it runs just fine. Just got some rust spots, is all.”
Rita gave her a hard look. “Well, I wouldn’t mind havin’ more money. I’m tired of just getting’ by.”
“Good. We’ll talk more about this later.” Fred clapped her hands and looked at the stuff on the table. “Now, how do we make this DUI stuff?”
As the women finished setting out the ingredients, Fred thought, I don’t know about Cassandra, but I think Rita’s ready to go for this. If I play this right, maybe she’ll let me off this chain without making me do the blood bond.
Then I can get the heck out of here.
* * *
The sun was well below the tops of the leafless trees when Jamie thumbtacked a flier to a telephone pole in front of a gas station at the farthest edge of town. Bryce stood nearby, hands buried in the pockets of his heavy coat, shivering, his dark hair ruffled by the wind.
“Let’s head back,” Bryce said. “It’s almost dinner time.”
“Just a few more.” Jamie tucked the rest of the fliers under his arm and looked around for another place to put one.
“We’ve covered everything out this way. There’s not much past here.”
“There are a couple of businesses farther west.”
“Come on, Jamie. Lets’ go. We can do it tomorrow.”
“Are you coming back?”
“’Course I am. Rollie and Melanie are, too. They just texted me. Want me to pick you up in the morning? Say, around eight?”
Jamie nodded and they walked toward Jamie’s car, parked on the shoulder of the road. “Rollie’s gonna get up on a Saturday morning before eight o’clock?”
Bryce chuckled. “Yeah, I told him I gotta be at work by twelve.”
Jamie groaned and put his hand to his forehead. “Work! Dang, I forgot. I gotta be at the vet clinic by nine.”
“So does Rollie, remember? I think your boss will let you off this one time. He is your cousin, after all.”
“Yeah.” Jamie stopped and stared at the ground in front of him. “I’ll call somebody to cover for me and Rollie.” He continued to stand there, mouth squeezed tightly, until Bryce put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder.
“Listen, Buddy,” Bryce said. “I know it’s hard right now. It’s hard for all of us, so don’t feel like you’re alone.” Bryce cleared his throat. “We’re gonna help as much as we can.”
Jamie looked into his Bryce’s dark eyes and nodded, then looked away. “Thanks.” He started to walk towar
d his car again, but Bryce stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I mean it, Jamie. We all miss her something awful. Life just isn’t the same without Fred bossin’ us around, tellin’ us what to do.”
Jamie had to laugh a little at that. Bryce said, “Now let’s head back before somebody gets worried and sends a search party after us.”
* * *
Rachel looked up from cutting vegetables at the kitchen counter to see Carl step through the door from the garage. She could tell from the look on his face that there was no good news about Fred. “Are you hungry?” she said.
He grunted as he hung his coat on a chair, then he dropped heavily on the one next to it and leaned his elbows on the table. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and said, “Tired.”
“You’re probably not getting enough sleep on the Callahan’s couch.”
“Well, that’s not going to be a problem any longer.” His face was grim as he looked at her.
That doesn’t sound good. “Why?”
“Chief told me he’s pulling the other two detectives off the detail. He said we can keep the tracing equipment at the Callahan’s tonight, but he wants me to bring it back tomorrow morning.”
“What if the kidnappers call?”
“In most cases like this, they would’ve called already.”
“Oh.” They locked gazes but were both afraid to say what they knew it meant.
Carl took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a long moment. “Chief thinks it’s time to organize search parties and send them out to the national forest.”
“No! That’s like…that’s like admitting that’s she’s probably dead.”
“I know, and it’s almost Christmas Eve, too. I can’t tell Larry and Lisa we’re doing that. I just can’t.” He exhaled heavily. “I asked the Chief if we could wait until after Christmas.”
Rachel shook her head slowly. “Please don’t tell Lisa yet. I don’t know if she can take it. I’m worried about her, Carl, really worried. She’s not eating or sleeping…she’s wasting away. If we tell her about the search parties, she might lose it.”
“Larry’s not doing much better.”
Rachel looked away and put her hand to her face, eyes blurring with tears. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “This is going to be the worst Christmas ever. The worst anything ever.”
Carl got up and put his arms around her, and they stood that way for a long time.
* * *
Fred lay in bed listening to music; the only light in her room was from the small bedside lamp, its glow barely reaching the corners of the room. She sat up when she heard footsteps in the hall.
“Brought you something to eat,” Rita said as she walked in.
“It’s about time.” Fred turned down the volume on the boom box and sat on the edge of the bed.
Rita handed her a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. “Here.”
“Ow, wow. You went all out. What am I supposed to spread the peanut butter with?”
Rita pulled a plastic knife from her pocket and handed it to Fred.
Fred eyed it and thought, Well, I’ll never pick the lock with this.
Rita gestured at the bread. “I figured you can keep that in here in case you get hungry and we’re busy.”
“Oh, great. Thanks bunches,” she said sarcastically.
“You know, you should be a little more grateful. We give you —”
“Grateful?” Fred exploded. “You keep me chained to a bed, make me work for you like a slave, and all you feed me is Pop Tarts, peanut butter, and cheap microwave dinners.”
“You need to show more respect, young lady.”
“I’ll show you respect when you give me a reason to respect you.”
Rita’s eyes grew hard. She pulled the little white doll from her pocket, snatched the pin from its sash, and jabbed it into its arm.
“Ow!” Fred grabbed her elbow.
“That’ll give you something to respect.”
Fred gave her an angry glare, fierce as a sun that withers all black to gray. Rita held her gaze for a moment before looking away with a grunt. She turned and marched from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Fred watched her go. God, I hate her. I hate Cassandra, too, but not as much as I hate her. She picked up the plastic knife and inspected it. No, I definitely can’t pick a lock with this. Not that I could pick one with a metal knife, either. Are these women giving me plastic utensils because they’re smart, or lazy?
Lazy. Fred thought as she opened the jar of peanut butter. Definitely lazy.
* * *
Evelyn put on her turn signal and eased her car into the right lane. “Connie, let’s put some fliers up at this next exit.”
Connie stirred awake and blinked at the glare of the oncoming headlights. “Where are we?”
“We’re at the northern edge of Columbia.”
“South Carolina?” She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes with the fingertips of one hand. “Can we make this the last stop? It’ll be midnight by the time we get home. Ray’s probably already back at the condo.”
“Just a few more.”
“Evelyn, please. I love Fred too, but I need to go to bed.”
“But what if we skip one and that was the one where someone had seen her?” She glanced at her sister, but the look on her face told her it was time to turn around. “Do you want to come with me tomorrow?”
“Where?”
“Maybe we can take I 40 toward Knoxville.”
“That’s where Ray went. And Gina and Cory are going to Greensboro tonight, putting up fliers along the way. Some other volunteers from church have taken all of the smaller roads. There’s not a rest stop or gas station within hours of here that doesn’t have a flier by now.”
“I feel like we should be doing more.”
“I know what you mean, Evelyn. It seems like if we’re out there doing something, then we’re bringing Fred home sooner.”
“If I wasn’t doing something to help, I’d be home, pacing the floor and calling Rachel every ten minutes.”
After a long pause, Connie put her hand on Evelyn’s arm. “This is the hardest thing we’ve ever been through.”
The weight of her words seemed to press heavily on her just then, and a sigh escaped her. “I know Connie. I know.”
Chapter 28
Fred lay on her right side, staring blankly at the bare wall, its cracks barely discernible in the dim morning light.
It’s Saturday, she thought numbly. The recital is in a few hours, and I won’t be there. She pictured her awkward, adorable little students, tap dancing across the stage in their leotards and reindeer antlers, parents with their cellphones and cameras out, snapping cheerfully away.
Do they miss me? Did the parents even bother to tell the kids about me? Would they even understand if they knew?
She pictured Mathew’s sweet loving face, and a lump rose in her throat. I sure miss them.
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye and disappeared into the bed sheet below.
* * *
Carl unplugged the last cable from the slim metal box while Larry sat at the end of the table, watching dully through hollow eyes.
Lisa stood in the kitchen doorway in her bath robe; she wore no makeup, her reddish-blonde hair was disheveled. “It’s because she’s dead, isn’t it Carl?”
“No, it doesn’t mean that.” He dropped the laptop into its zippered case. “The Chief doesn’t think —”
“She’s been kidnapped, raped, and murdered.” Her voice became shrill. “Why don’t you just come out and say it?”
“She’s not been murdered! Or raped, either.” Carl stopped what he was doing and took a deep breath, eyes closed. “I don’t know what’s happened to her, but she’s not dead.”
“Then why hasn’t she contacted Jamie in a dream? Huh? If she were alive, she would! She’s dead, Carl! Admit it!”
Not until I see proof, I won’t. “I’m gonna find her,
Lisa.”
“When, Carl?” Tears began trickling down her cheeks. “When?”
“Soon, Lisa. Be strong, okay.” He glanced at Larry, looking for help, but his eyes only mirrored Lisa’s hopelessness.
Carl gritted his teeth. I won’t give up until I see her dead body. Until then, I’m giving this everything I have. I could never forgive myself if I didn’t.
* * *
Fred was still lying on her side when Rita and Cassandra came into her room.
“Rise and shine!” Cassandra sang.
“Go away,” Fred said to the wall.
“Don’t you want to do some witchcraft today?” Rita said.
“I hate you.”
“We’d thought we’d let you try making an amulet.”
“A what?” Fred rolled over on her back to see Rita setting up a folding table and Cassandra unfolding a couple of chairs.
“An amulet. Like this.” Rita held up the jade figure hanging at her neck.
“I though you said it takes a triad to make something like that.”
“Usually.” Rita sat on one of the chairs while Cassandra went out into the hall for the cardboard box of ingredients. “It takes more powerful magic to force the spell into an object like this, power that we only get when we’re linked up in a triad, but you seem to be pretty strong.” She watched Cassandra set the box on the table. “We want to see what you’re capable of.
Fred sat up and pointed at Rita’s necklace. “What does that little thing do, anyway?”
“It makes people kinda dumb and forgetful.”
Like you and Cassandra, Fred almost said aloud, but caught herself when she saw the bulge in Rita’s dress pocket. That’s probably the doll.
“The faster I twirl it, the stronger the effect.”
“What’s to stop it from affecting you?” Fred asked.
Cassandra held out her arm. “These little bracelets. They’re counter charms.”
“I wondered why you were wearing such ugly jewelry.”
“They are ugly, aren’t they?” Cassandra held hers closer to her face and wrinkled her nose at it.
“This is what I used when we snatched you.” Rita gave the baby-shaped pendant around her neck a little flick with a fingernail. “In case your neighbors were watching. If they’d been looking out their windows and saw us, they wouldn’t remember a thing.”
