The Bewitching Hour

by Mallory Crowe

  by

  Mallory Crowe

  Copyright Page

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Fonts used with permission from Microsoft.

  Copyright © 2017 by Mallory Crowe

  Mallory Crowe (2017-4-18). The Bewitching Hour (The Bewitching Hour Book One)

  Click for your free book: MalloryCroweParanormal.com/free/

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  FREE BOOK

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  BURNING GOLD SNEAK PEEK!

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  Samantha Harris had seen Detective Derek Pierce exactly three times before. The first time was the day he moved in and introduced himself as a detective, effectively ensuring that she’d be avoiding him as much as possible. The second time was when she realized he might be the most attractive man she’d ever seen. The third time, she’d passed him in the stairwell while she had three brand-new joints in her jacket pocket and she kept her head down and got as far away from him as possible.

  So when she saw him on the news talking to Nick and Travis Baker, everything her mother was talking about faded away and Sam craned her neck to get a better view of the TV.

  “Are you even listening to me?” asked Abigail Harris as she gave Sam one of the disapproving glances she’d become so famous for.

  “Can we turn this up? I know him.” Without waiting for her mother to reply, Sam got up from the pristine marble island in her mother’s kitchen and grabbed the remote to the small television hanging under the cabinets, turning up the volume until the news reporter’s voice was audible.

  “—in what appears to be the fifth murder by the Bay Side Butcher. The police arrived on the scene at two a.m. this morning but—”

  Abigail turned off the television and then stood in front of the screen so Sam couldn’t use the remote to turn it back on. “I don’t need those sort of obscene shows on in my home.”

  “The Baker brothers are out there. Where the latest girl was murdered?”

  “You stay away from those boys. They’re probably trying to use this as a way to get in the spotlight, and we don’t need to have anything to do with that kind of filth. Now, I don’t want to discuss such matters in my kitchen.”

  “You’re the one who had the news on,” pointed out Sam.

  “I just put on a random channel. I like the white noise while I’m cooking. Cooking a fantastic breakfast which you haven’t eaten any of, by the way.”

  Sam looked over the spread of eggs, bacon, sausage, and a whole fruit platter. It all looked fantastic, but the idea of eating turned her stomach. “I’m sorry. I don’t really have any appetite today.”

  Abigail frowned as she approached and set a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Honey. I hate seeing you like this. Please, let me help you. Your sister and I can get you everything you need.”

  Sam rolled her shoulder, dislodging her mother’s grip. “I’ll be fine. Promise. I’ll have a huge dinner tonight,” she lied.

  “Let me call Jackson. He’ll take care of you.”

  “Jackson doesn’t want to hear from me.”

  “If I ask him to, he’ll go over.”

  Sam blinked a few times. She wasn’t fishing for compliments or anything, but sometimes her mother’s straightforward talk still managed to catch her unaware. “Thanks for the confidence boost, Mom.”

  Abigail sighed. “Well, if you want to be stubborn, I know better than to try to dissuade you. I’ll pack you some food to take home with you at least. Oh, and one more thing. I bought you a present.” Abigail opened one of the drawers and pulled out a small black box with a bright red ribbon on the top.

  Sam eyed the box suspiciously. It was always hard to get a read on her mother’s intentions. “What is it?”

  “Well, open it!” Abigail motioned toward the box. “That’s the point of a present!”

  There was no wrapping paper on the box, so all Sam had to do was lift the lid and look inside. The loose green herbs inside were utterly familiar to her, but for some reason there was absolutely no odor to the drugs.

  “Isn’t it great? I put a spell on them. The last thing I want is my daughter getting arrested for possession of narcotics.”

  I’m definitely going to get arrested for possession. Sam took another drag of the “present” her mother had given her. She was especially on edge today. Sam didn’t know whether it was seeing her mother or the shock of seeing her neighbor rubbing elbows with those two sleazeballs. Two parts of her life that should never intersect.

  Sam leaned against the brick next to the entry to her apartment building and took another drag, letting the smoke fill her lungs and diffuse into her bloodstream and calm the shaking that was nearly uncontrollable these days.

  But she didn’t get high. She never got high.

  Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed someone turning the corner and looked over to see Derek Pierce coming right toward her. She straightened and pressed the end of the joint into the rough brick before she pocketed what was left.

  The detective’s icy gaze immediately honed in on her, and she could only imagine what he was seeing. She’d lost another five pounds in the past month, so she was really rocking the heroin chic look, and not in a good way. It didn’t help that her current everyday style involved combat boots, skinny jeans, and the blue leather jacket she’d picked up at a vintage shop a few weeks ago and fell in love with.

  With dark-blue lipstick to match, of course, because if you were going to stand out, why half ass it?

  Detective Pierce looked as if he hadn’t slept in days and even then looked a thousand times better than Sam. His dark-brown hair was cut short, which made sense considering his government job. But those light, ice-blue eyes were what had drawn her in the first time she’d met him.

  Damn, he was pretty. Except he wasn’t looking at her with the same type of adoration at the moment. In fact, his scowl deepened the closer he got. Yeah, this was going to be a train wreck.

  He came to a stop in front of her and Sam couldn’t find any of her words. He glanced between her pocket where she’d dropped what was left of her joint and her face. “Please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was?”

  Sam debated playing dumb but decided against it. “Does it smell like what you think it was? There you go.”

  He shook his head and rubbed at his temples. “Just don’t do it in front of the building again, got it?”

  Did that mean he was okay with her doing it in her apartment? Didn’t matter. “I was actually waiting out here for you. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “I’ve been up for fifty hours straight right now. You have thirty seconds before I go upstairs and pass out.”

  Well then, she’d get right to the chase. “I saw you talking with Nick and Travis Baker on the news earlier today. I want you to know that they’re full of shit and don’t trust anything they say.
”

  He perked up at that. “You know them?”

  “We all went to school together.”

  “And what makes you think they’re fakes?”

  Sam stared at him, blank-faced. She didn’t normally have to explain this to people. “I know they’re fakes because they were C and D students all through school. Wouldn’t a true psychic be able to cheat?” She waited to see whether there was any way he could fight her logic on that one.

  “That is assuming that psychics are all able to read minds, right?”

  Sam opened her mouth, but there was no witty retort to that. She kind of thought all she’d have to do was tell him not to trust Nick and Travis and he’d listen.

  The detective ran a hand through his short hair and sighed. “I need to get some sleep and my captain is insisting I work with these guys. So far, the intel they’ve given us has checked out, so unless you can give me some proof that they’re not who they say they are, there’s nothing I can do.”

  “I can do that.” Sam racked her brain to try to hammer out the details. The Baker show filmed at five p.m. and doors opened at four.... “Think you’ll be awake by three?”

  “What’s at three?”

  “Just go upstairs and get some sleep. I’ll see you back here in a few hours, okay?”

  The detective looked between her and the door and she could tell he was looking for a reason to say no. “I want to get rid of these guys more than anyone, trust me. But I don’t need my time wasted by some pothead who thinks she has a say just because she happens to live next to me.”

  “Fine. Forget I said anything.” Sam ducked her head down and grabbed the key to the building, unlocking the door in one quick move. Except her quick retreat had less effect when the person she was retreating from lived in the same building. She made it up the first flight of stairs before she turned back to face the detective. “And I’m not just some pothead, by the way. I don’t do that shit to get high. I wish it got me high. I need that just to function at a normal level.”

  Those ice-blue eyes narrowed, and Sam realized that even though she stood on a step above him, they were eye level. She wasn’t used to being around guys this tall.

  Except these particular blue eyes didn’t seem the slightest bit sorry for his brisk write-off. “I just spent all day in a field with a dead woman who died horribly. Want to guess just how bad I feel for you right now?”

  Well, when he put it like that, she felt stupid. Obviously he had bigger problems than worrying about her feelings. “I’m just trying to help, okay? I’m worried that if Nick and Travis aren’t trying to assist you in your investigation, then they’re actively working against it.”

  The detective shook his head. “Trust me, that’s the first thing I thought of. They both have alibis for the night of the murders.”

  “For all five of the deaths?”

  “I called all ten of the women. I half think I should stop taking investigation tips from those two and start getting dating advice.”

  Sam snorted. The Baker boys did have a way with women, but it was kind of necessary for their lifestyle. Not that the detective would understand that. “Just meet me down here at three. I’ll buy you lunch. Or breakfast. Whatever you’d call it at that point.”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs at three and you’ll buy me coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.”

  Sam nodded, half surprised that he’d changed his mind. As long as she got Nick and Travis to stop messing with something so serious, she could sleep at night. “Will do,” she said as she started back up the stairs until they reached the third story. “This is my stop.”

  The detective continued up without stopping. All she heard was the faint, “I know,” before he was out of sight.

  Derek frowned at the traveler’s mug his strange neighbor handed him. “You made me coffee?”

  “It’s caramel latté. My mother bought me some fancy coffee machine thing a few years ago and I never use it. She’ll probably be happy that someone is enjoying it.” She pushed the cup toward him.

  He took the large traveler’s mug and eyed the black cat on the outside of it. “Do you have cats?” He took a sip.

  “No, actually—”

  “Holy fuck, this is amazing.” He took the lid off the mug and smelled the liquid inside, trying to figure out what trick made it taste so damn good.

  His neighbor laughed. “You can have the coffee machine if you want. Don’t know why she got it for me. She knows I can’t sleep half the time. Last thing I need is caffeine.”

  Derek half heard her as he took another deep gulp of the drink. “Samantha Harris, right?”

  She cautiously nodded. “So you know my exact apartment and my name? Should I be worried, Detective?”

  “Call me Derek. And no, you don’t have to be worried. When I smelled your, well, hobby, I ran a quick check to make sure you weren’t a dealer or into anything heavier.”

  “Does that mean you support the legalization movement?”

  He hadn’t had nearly enough sleep to get into a political discussion. “I’m paid to enforce the rules, Ms. Harris. Not make them.”

  “Fair enough. And if I’m calling you Derek, you have to call me Sam.”

  Sam.... Even through all the dark layers, she didn’t strike him as a tomboy. Probably a nickname that her mother hated and she went along with to piss off the family.

  “So do you have a company car with a radio?” asked Sam.

  “A radio is necessary for your little operation?”

  “Assuming Nick and Travis haven’t changed their tactics in the last ten years. And since they aren’t the most original bunch, I’m guessing this will still work.”

  “This way.” Derek led Sam on the one-block walk to the parking garage he parked his Crown Vic in. New York City wasn’t friendly to auto owners, but he needed to be able to move around the city freely depending on the cases he was working.

  And as much as he’d like to think that Nick and Travis weren’t as predictable as Sam seemed to think, he had a feeling she was right. Derek had had a bad feeling about those two from the second he was assigned to listen to their asinine theories about the Bay Side Butcher.

  Nick and Travis Baker were local celebrities in Jersey. Their psychic act had even made it on the local TV stations a few times. It was easy enough to see the appeal. There were hundreds of videos of them online connecting with someone’s long-lost love and bringing their audience to tears. Which really made the number of women they were banging on a nightly basis make more sense.

  Derek had worked in his precinct for thirteen years and with his captain for eight of those years, but Captain Voss had never given any sign of his belief into the paranormal. But with new bodies popping up every week, much faster and more organized than the normal progression of a serial killer, he’d insisted that they bring in the outside help.

  Not that the week they’d been “assisting” had brought in any leads. In Derek’s opinion, dealing with them was taking away from time he could be following up on other leads.

  That was, if he had any other leads. After five deaths, the killer hadn’t slipped up in any tangible way for Derek to get anything solid.

  Derek hit the unlock button on his keypad. “I’m here.” As he sat in the driver’s seat, he finished off the caramel latté and handed the black cat traveler’s mug back to Sam. “So where are we going?”

  Sam pulled a printed set of directions out of her bag and handed it to him. “At this time of day, it should be about half an hour drive. We probably have enough time for a stop if you need one.”

  “I’ll be fine,” said Derek as he headed to the nearest bridge off the island.

  Sam sat back and looked out the window. Derek glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what her deal was. He didn’t remember the last time he’d sat in silence with someone he barely knew. Most people had a compulsive need to fill those gaps. Either babbling on about things that didn’t matter or letting out
secrets they’d never normally share with a stranger.

  It was probably his favorite interview technique. Was the easiest one, too. Sit in silence until the suspect told him exactly what he wanted to know. But Sam was either sure enough in herself to be okay with the silence or she already knew exactly how to keep from giving away too much.

  A cell phone cut through the quiet, but Derek knew it wasn’t his. Sam fidgeted in her seat until she pulled out her phone from the zipper pocket in the blue leather jacket. “Shit,” she muttered as she answered the phone and brought it to her ear. “Jackson. How’s it going?”

  Her tone was apprehensive and Derek tried to figure out who this Jackson was. He hadn’t ever seen her coming or going from the building with any guys, but she was an attractive woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had a guy or two.

  “She never should’ve told you about that,” she said into the phone with an annoyed tone. “I don’t care if it’s true. If I want you to come over, I’ll call you.” There was a pause as this Jackson guy talked. “Now really isn’t a good time. Yeah, for sure. I really do appreciate you calling. Okay, bye.” Sam hung up the phone and tucked it back into her pocket. “This day keeps getting stranger and stranger,” she said softly as she looked back out the window.

  Derek wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him or not, but he was willing to bite. “Is there a problem?”

  “Just an invasion of my privacy. Nothing that I’m not used to, though.” She looked over to him. “Do you have to be back at the office any time soon?”

  “As soon as possible. But after a while, you need to get out. You can only stare at the same pictures and interviews for so long before your brain shuts down. This will be a good reset.”

  “We could all use a good reset every now and again.”

  There was a pause as she studied him, and Derek’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. It was strange enough to drive in silence, but remaining quiet while she looked him over was a whole other struggle.

  “I have a lot of questions I want to ask,” she said suddenly. “But I know you probably can’t answer any of them, so I’m trying to contain myself.”