“I’ve been wondering about something, Nate. What is your opinion about our Gambit House witch coven? I mean, you’re a cop. You gotta be skeptical.”
He came to a halt, his eyes anchoring onto hers. “It’s not a part of my life, but I don’t feel it’s up to me to make any judgments.”
“Oh, puleeze.”
He laughed. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Witchcraft definitely doesn’t fit into the typical detective’s mojo. I do know, however, that if I felt you were a whack job, or, as you would say, a Dumb Dora, I wouldn’t have had any interest, other than your connection to Rebecca Newell.” He stopped and stared even more intensely at her. “But the truth is, Gillian, I am attracted to you. You touch me with your humor, your intelligence, your down-to-earth quality—and your beauty.”
“So…you’re saying I’m not a dumkuff[23].”
He smiled. “I looked that one up, too. No, ma’am, you most certainly are not nutty or batty.”
With the early evening coming on fast now, the air had chilled a good five degrees, and the pale sky, so full of cumulus clouds before, was already heading toward a wash of deepening purples and blues.
Ping! His cell went, and looking down at the message, he muttered, “That’s interesting.”
“About the case?” she asked.
“Yeah, Sorry, I gotta go. Let’s get to our cars.”
So soon?
Nodding reluctantly, she said softly, “It’s important.” But what she was really thinking was how much of a perfect gentleman he’d been. Not even one kiss? Damn.
Back in the parking lot, he stood behind her as she unlocked her car door.
“Gillian,” he said, “so sorry our time was cut short. I certainly had a great—”
In a flash, she flipped around and stepping up against his torso, lifted her lips up for a much-needed kiss.
He met her full on, his arms instantly enveloping her. Quickly, as their kiss grew deeper, fuller, she uttered a weak moan. His response was a soft yet deep male hum.
What is happening to me? Her mind exploded, as her entire body tingled with excitement and the need to be touched in certain places she had mostly forgotten. They now buzzed with life. Pressing herself into him even further, she felt a sudden emptiness when he drew away from her lips. But not for long. He then left a long trail of light kisses down one side of her neck. As soon as he got to her collarbone, he repeated the same pattern on the other side of the neck.
Oh, my God—that feels so good. No one else had ever done anything close to that. Instinctively, she pressed her breasts into him and curled one of her legs around his.
“Gillian, Gillian, we have to stop,” he growled.
What? Is he kidding?
Apparently, he wasn’t. He dropped his arms and pulled back a pace. “You have to go home,” he said. Although his words sounded firm, his voice definitely was low-pitched and unsteady.
Her chest heaving erratically, she attempted some control. “If that’s what you want. But I don’t understand.” Am I actually tearing up? Stop it!
He took both of her hands with his. “No, of course that’s not what I want, but I think I better stop before it gets too out of hand. I know this won’t play well professionally.” Then, his eyes boring a hole into hers, added, “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re more than wonderful.”
* *
For some reason, Gillian knew that as soon as she fell asleep that night, she’d undoubtedly be revisiting Sarah Good. Her feelings for Nate, her sudden sexual awakenings, all on top of Rebecca’s tragic death, were more than she could handle. Still, why, after so many years, had Sarah suddenly infiltrated her dreams so often?
With her bedroom door slightly ajar, she could hear Joselyn’s whistle as their pet foot-clicked on down the hall, coming closer. Click-click-click, she went, until finally, she arrived at the door, banged her way inside, and flew up onto Gillian’s bed.
“Peek-a-boo,” she chirped. “Peek-a-boo.”
Sighing, Gillian reached out to stroke her. “Now you’re being affectionate?”
“Pretty bird. Pretty bird. Pretty bird.”
“Yes, yes, you’re a pretty bird, but I need to get some sleep. Go to bed.”
“Bed. Bed.” Click–click–click.
“Yes, go to bed.” As she watched the cockatoo jump off the bed then waddle over to her large cage in the corner, hop inside, and start softly playing with a couple of toys strewn across its floor, Gillian could feel her eyelids grow heavier and heavier as if filled with tiny weights.
“The point is, dear cousin,” Sarah croaks at me through the jail bars, “it is of no import what we, as a society, have been told about witches versus humans. Having seen what blood-thirsty humans are capable of, or someone such as Tituba, who did practice witchcraft then accused several of us of doing the very same thing, my heart and soul tells me there is only one simple truth.”
“What is that?” I ask her, inching closer.
She opens her mouth to answer, but no words come. Instead, a spasm of hacking coughs blasts forward so virulently, so all encompassing, her entire body shakes and twists, as she clings onto the bars.
“Water!” I cry out to the guard. Having brought even more bread today, he is quick to act. He totes over a thick, wooden bucket of water, dips a large ladle into the liquid, then hands it to me.
As soon as her coughs lessen, I hand her the water. Just seeing her guzzle it down, breaks my heart. I ask for some more for my dear kin, and the guard complies. Another ladleful, and she appears somewhat restored.
“Dear cousin,” she continues, “as I face my probable harsh end, I have come to see the truth of life as three-fold.”
“Please, do tell.”
“First, be kind and protective of your loved ones. They are a part of who we are. Second, do not listen to those who loudly proclaim their foolish ideas, and…”
I can feel my tears leaving a long trail down my cheeks. “And?”
“Above all else, believe in thyself and do not falter in front of those who have hidden their own dark secrets.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Walking into the station with Adam, Nate noticed the Wheelton Police Department was in a kind of low uproar, as everyone waited for Chief Hutton’s sudden mandatory meeting to start. Multiple discussions were in place—at desks, the water cooler, and the main hallway, where small tête-a-têtes were buzzing away nonstop. The scuttlebutt was that after Chief Hutton’s hired IT people had performed their latest scroll through hundreds of emails on Rebecca’s computer, a hidden folder had also been discovered. By duplicating her terminal commands, they noticed an obscure document, labeled “Xmas grocery list 2015.”
Nate cringed. The department had already been bombarded by public outrage over the lack of any evidence and arrests. They sure didn’t need this latest example of sloppy detective work.
Once the meeting was called to order, people stopped all their conversations and eyed their leader expectantly.
“All right, everyone, let’s begin,” Chief Hutton said. “First off, thanks for coming in on a Sunday. We’ve got some important material to cover in the Rebecca Newell, Lilith Anderson, and Margaret Beaumont murder cases.”
A slight hum rippled throughout until he raised his hands. “Listen up. For those of you who don’t know it yet, combing through Rebecca Newell’s countless emails, a hidden folder has just been found. A file folder that includes a document containing emails between her and both Lilith and Marsha. We’ve made printouts of these communications and will hand them out to all of you now.”
He motioned their two secretaries to start giving out the stapled sets of emails to everyone. As they did, a hush filled the room while people concentrated on their packets.
“Look at page one, everyone,” Chief Hutton said. “Notice that Rebecca had emailed both Marsha and Lilith two months ago, stating that she was definitely working on a new project that was—as she put it—a doozy.”
“Yes
, and Lilith’s return answer to her was interesting,” Adam added. “Can’t wait to hear what it’s about. The witch coven, right?”
Charlotte spoke up. “Then there aren’t any more emails between them.”
“Wait,” Nate said. “If you notice, there’s one more email from Rebecca. She tells Marsha, ‘Sometimes in life, even as jaded as I have become, I can be smacked in the face by surprise. That’s why I have to finish this new article.’”
Nate paused. “Notice she wrote a ‘new’ article. This probably is not the same article she was doing on the Gambit House coven.”
Charlotte looked over at him. “Yes, it’s intriguing.”
Glowering at Adam and Nate standing in the back of the room, Chief Hutton continued. “Yes, people, it is. But don’t forget—it’s also obviously dangerous for all the authors. When detectives Springer and Meeks went to Rebecca Newell’s apartment, they claimed they couldn’t find much more than a couple of short memos and post-it scribbles about her different ideas and projects.” He drew a long sigh. “Frankly, I expected you fellas to get something more substantial.”
Several throat clearings circulated as Adam muttered to Nate. “We gotta do something.”
A quick nod to his partner, then Nate spoke up. “We’re planning on going back to Rebecca’s apartment after the meeting, sir, and we won’t leave it until we come up with more evidence. We promise.”
“You better. And by the way, I’ve arranged for all of you to start interviewing quite a few members from that Gambit House coven. They may know more things connected with Ms. Newell. So, everyone, after the meeting, check out your individual assignments on the bulletin board.”
Leaning over a side table, the chief scooped up a manila file folder. “Now, according to the intake report, a Gillian Good came here about having seen possible shady goings-on in Rebecca Newell’s car before the author was killed. Since Springer and Meeks were initially assigned to her, I expect them to interview the Good family to see what else they can get from her and her family. After you go back to Rebecca’s apartment, of course.” He paused. “Oh, and Meeks? This time, I expect you to come up with something.”
Great. Interview Gillian and her family after he had crossed over the police ethical line? Still… He pictured Gillian’s beautiful face surrounded by that spectacular red hair, her tempting lips—and that amazing kiss.
Oh, boy. I’m in trouble.
* *
After Nate and Adam ducked under Rebecca’s yellow-taped doorway, Nate set the ground rules. “Remember, we have to find something today, Adam,” he said gruffly. “Hopefully, those journals Gillian told me about are hidden somewhere in here.”
“Hey, man, we’ll do our best. Just because your great reputation is in trouble, doesn’t mean I’m to blame, all right?”
“Point taken,” Nate said. “Why don’t you check out her bedroom and bathroom, and I’ll comb through her living room and kitchen, okay?”
Before going on the attack, Nate drew an extra deep breath. “You can do this, you can do this,” he muttered to himself as he walked over to Rebecca’s work area.
Once again, he checked every drawer, in case, after the forensic people who claimed to have recently nabbed everything in sight, had actually left something behind.
All clear. “Okay. Cabinets and drawers.” Next, Nate went through her desk and living room shelves, now free of books or objects. All her cardboard boxes he had noticed before had also been taken to the police lab for a thorough inspection.
“Anything yet?” Adam called out from the bedroom’s doorway.
“Nope. You?”
“Clean as a whistle, man. I’m moving on to the bathroom.” Adam disappeared again.
After practically scraping down every conceivable surface or cubbyhole in the living room, Nate went into the kitchen. All leftover utensils, cookware, and machines had been cleared away, but Nate was determined. Using his flashlight, he scanned each conceivable hiding place, including under shelves and inside cabinets. Sprawled out on the floor, he grunted a couple of times while he reached far under the kitchen sink.
“Now that’s a fine picture,” Adam said, looking down at him. “Face it, Meeks. There isn’t anything more.”
“I refuse to accept that,” Nate said, his head partially hidden.
“Get out of there, man,” Adam said. “Why don’t you face reality?”
Withdrawing from the cabinet with a huge sigh, Nate stood up and shook his head. “I can’t believe it, you know? I’ll admit it. Maybe you’re right. Having such a good reputation does put some pressure on me. Okay, let’s go.” He started to cross the living room.
Creak. He halted, cocked his head, and stepped backward. Then, moving forward again, he stepped onto the same spot again. Creak.
As Adam said, “C’mon, man, get a grip,” Nate kneeled down beside the spot and tapped on one of the floorboards.
It definitely sounded hollow. He tapped the other floorboards around it. No hollow sound.
“What?” Adam said.
Nate tapped again on that first floorboard. Definitely hollow. Leaning over the specific floorboard, he muttered, “Take a look at this, will you? It looks like this plank has little knife dents in it.”
He took a switchblade from his pants’ back pocket and began wiggling away around that same wooden edge. Back and forth the knife wobbled until soon, the plank began to rise up. With Adam also on the floor, they were both able to raise the one plank up and out.
Peering down, they could see what appeared to be a batch of six-by-nine inch journals.
“This must be what Gillian was talking about,” Nate said.
“Yeah. Talk about possible evidence.”
After they carefully removed ten journals from the hole, they noticed each one had been carefully labeled on the spine and were in chronological order.
“How about you start with the earlier dated ones, and I’ll take the latest?” Nate suggested.
Soon, they were both sitting cross-legged on the floor—four journals stacked by each detective’s side, a single one opened on each one’s lap.
After a while, Adam complained he’d had enough. “This is ancient history over here, and nothing really to go on. How about you?”
“Actually, on the last page of this journal, Rebecca was obviously excited about something. But she doesn’t say what. All she ends with is ‘to be continued in my next journal.’”
“Great. So, what is it?”
“That’s the problem. There aren’t any other journals here.”
“You sure?” Adam went over to the hole and aimed his flashlight into every possible area of the small cubbyhole. “You’re right. So where could it be?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Well,” Adam said, “let’s bring these back to the station to get them cataloged, then it’s off to Gillian’s family for some interviews, like the chief wants us to do.”
“I got something else to do,” Nate said, scratching behind one ear. “Why don’t you take it?”
Adam snorted. “Why aren’t you coming to the Good family house? Huh?”
Silence.
“Aha! You’re banging the redhead!”
“Banging? Stop it!” Nate commanded.
“Hmm.” Adam laughed. “All right, I’ll bring someone else along. You sure got some secrets up your sleeve, Meeks. Just don’t blow the case because of them.”
“Me? What about you? I’ve overheard you making some pretty angry comments to someone on your cell.”
After he handed over all the journals to Adam and took off, Nate was somewhat satisfied how uncomfortable his partner had looked. Still, he was conflicted. What he felt he had to do right now was definitely crossing the line.
He sighed. Hope this doesn’t come back to bite me.
* *
Happy that Nate had just called, if only to warn her and her family about the possible onslaught of police questions, Gillian resisted telling
him what she really wanted to say. What was the point of expressing how being kissed and touched by him had awakened the most unbelievable sensations she’d ever experienced? He seemed determined to keep things strictly professional. That was probably smart of him. After all, getting too caught up with each other could easily blur some investigative lines.
Yet…
Grabbing some coffee, she went to warn her family. Sure enough, they were all sitting around in their living room, with its low, overhead beams, its tattered yet comfortable love sofas, plaid high-backed chairs, and a trunk coffee table. Everyone seemed to be completely pre-occupied. Her mother and Cousin Esther were in the deep throes of a discussion on how best to dry herbs. Stevie and Carly were arguing on whose turn it was to wash the dishes after their dinner later, and Joselyn was busy destroying several Q-tips someone had obviously given her to keep her quiet.
But not for long. As soon as Gillian cleared her throat, Joselyn promptly imitated that sound. Throwing a dirty look at the bird, she began.
“Everyone, everyone, I have an announcement.” Often, no one listened to her but now, an instant lull came over the room as everyone looked up at her.
“Yes, dear?” Ellen asked.
“I just found out that a couple of detectives will be coming over soon to interview us all more fully about Rebecca and the two other murder cases.”
“Who told you that? Your pal Charlotte?” Stevie asked.
Gillian didn’t answer, but Carly got vocal.
“So, you’re telling us because they still probably haven’t gotten anything, they’re going to waste our time and play this tired old game of interrogation?”
“You’re probably correct about not really having anything,” Gillian said, remembering Nate’s confession at the park. She turned to Esther. “You were closest to Rebecca. Do you know anything about her latest articles?”
“Actually,” Esther said, “Rebecca did talk about working on some kind of new exposé, but she wouldn’t say what it was, though.”
“Did it have to do with our coven?” Ellen asked.
“I don’t think so, but you never knew with Rebecca.” With a few tears now welling up, Esther added, “None of these women deserved what happened to them. None of them.”
Endangered Spells (Witches Academy Series Book 6) Page 10
