“It says here it burned.” Morgan tapped the screen. “The police investigated, but didn’t find anything suspicious. Old wiring, I guess. That was only about seven years ago.”
“Interesting, but I don’t see anything about him getting married,” Jolene said.
“That information is probably too old to be in Google,” Celeste pointed out. “He would have been married way before the internet even existed.”
“Yeah, probably. But it’s not too old to be in the town records, and those were just digitized and put in a database last year.” Jolene put the towel down, turned the computer back toward her and started typing furiously. “If I can just remember … there!”
Morgan bent over her shoulder to see an official-looking website. A search bar blinked at the top. Jolene typed in ‘Finch’ and a listing appeared on the screen.
“That’s a lot to look through.” Morgan pressed her lips together as she perused the list. It looked like every birth, death and marriage in the Finch family since the dawn of time was represented. She sensed an energy drain beside her and turned to look at Jolene, who appeared tired and pale. “You go lie down with that thing and I’ll take it from here. You’ve done the important part.”
Jolene stifled a yawn. “Maybe I’ll just lie down on the couch in here. I don’t want to miss out on anything.”
Morgan slid into the chair as Jolene made her way to the couch. She squinted at the screen. “Okay, so let’s see what we have here.”
Fiona looked on over her shoulder. “This looks like the births, deaths and marriages. Maybe we can narrow it down to just marriages.”
Morgan typed in 'Finch marriage’ at the search bar and a new screen appeared. She scrolled back into the 1800s, where Ezra would have been married.
“Aha! Here it is, right here.” Fiona tapped the screen with a red-polished fingernail.” Ezra Finch married to Lila-Mae Finch … place, St. Anne’s Church.”
“Isn’t that the old medieval-looking church out on Fowler Road?” Celeste asked.
Fiona nodded. “Yep, that’s the one. But it’s been abandoned for years. Do you think that the relic would still be in there?”
Morgan shrugged and snapped the laptop cover closed. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Chapter Twelve
St Anne’s church sat at the end of a rarely traveled road, surrounded by woods. The gothic-style stone structure still looked impressive, even though most of the windows were boarded up and a tree was growing out of one of them.
“This place has sure seen better days. How does a church become abandoned, anyway?” Fiona asked.
Celeste stared at the sagging roof. “It’s too far out. Everyone started going to St. Michael’s in town.”
They circled the outside of the building, their feet crunching in the snow. The cathedral-style doors had big boards nailed in front of them so no one could get in. The back and side doors were also nailed shut.
“How do we get in?” Jolene asked.
Morgan tuned up her intuition. She turned slowly like a dowsing rod, looking for a way in. Instead of the familiar ping that would tell her which way to go, she felt a nagging buzz in her stomach. A buzz that told her they probably shouldn’t have come to this creepy old church out in the woods at dusk.
“Hey, look!” Celeste interrupted Morgan’s focus and she turned to see her pointing at a narrow window that had two boards missing. So much for using her intuition—maybe she should have just used her eyes.
Celeste was already over at the window, the bottom of which was waist height. She lifted her leg, straddled it, swung her other leg over, disappeared inside, then poked her head out. “Come on in!”
Jolene, who was shorter than Celeste, tried to hoist herself up and over, but failed on the first attempt.
“You should be at home resting,” Morgan said, regretting her decision to let the obviously exhausted Jolene accompany them.
Jolene waved her hand. “I’m okay. Just a little tired. Besides, you guys might need me if we run into bad guys.”
A funny feeling crept into Morgan’s stomach as she watched Jolene hoist herself onto the window ledge and swing herself over. Would Jolene be able to help them if they ran into bad guys? Morgan let Fiona go next, then switched on her flashlight and followed her sisters through the window.
The pungent, musky smell of dry wood and mildew hit Morgan’s nose as she watched the dust motes they’d stirred up dance in the light of the flashlight. She stifled a cough and surveyed the nearly empty church.
“It sure does look weird with all the pews gone,” Fiona said.
“That’s for sure.” Celeste aimed her flashlight in a slow circle, illuminating the rest of the church. There wasn’t much to illuminate. Most everything had been taken, even the lights. Morgan aimed her light at the front. The altar was still there and behind it, the wall showed a lighter spot where the cross had hung for decades. Creepy. A layer of dust had settled on the floor—no one had been there in years.
“Look, they even took out the stained glass windows.” Jolene stood at one of the window openings, now just covered with plywood. Morgan remembered the colorful windows that had illuminated the church with jewel-like light. They were gone now, probably taken when they closed the church.
“If they took everything, then what are the chances the relic is still here?” Fiona asked.
“Depends on where he hid it.” Jolene started toward the altar. “Sometimes they had a hiding spot up under the altar.”
“Really? Where’d you hear that? I never knew about it,” Fiona said.
Jolene turned back with a half-shrug. “I heard it somewhere.” She tapped the side of her head. “Maybe my photographic memory is returning.”
They followed her to the front, the cathedral ceiling and empty room amplifying the echoes of their footsteps on the marble floor.
“Meow!”
Morgan turned toward the sound, her eyes widening as she recognized their white cat. “Belladonna! How did you get here?”
Morgan searched her sisters’ faces, but they looked as puzzled as she was. They were miles from home. It wasn’t possible for the cat to just walk here. But it wasn’t unusual, either. Belladonna had shown up at sites far from home before.
“Maybe she hides in the car,” Fiona offered.
Jolene bent down to pet the cat and soft purrs echoed off the walls. “Well, we can’t do anything now. She’s already here. We’ll just make sure to load her in the car when we leave.”
They crawled around on the altar, tapping and pressing on the wood, looking for something hollow that might indicate a compartment under the floor.
“Hey, maybe it’s under here.” Celeste moved a pile of debris and a mouse skittered out from underneath. “Ack!”
“Merrrp!” Belladonna took off after it like a shot. The mouse let out a tiny squeak as it raced to the wall and flattened itself to fit under the molding. Belladonna hit the wall a split-second later, then jumped back and glared at the place the mouse had disappeared into.
“Tough luck, Belladonna,” Fiona said to the cat, who continued to stare intently at the piece of wall.
“I’m glad she didn’t catch it.” Celeste gingerly poked at the debris, then moved it aside to see if the floor held a secret compartment. “I don’t need her leaving another mouse head in front of me.”
“Mew.” Scratch. Scratch.
“Give it a rest, Belladonna. That mouse is not going to be stupid enough to come back out,” Jolene called over her shoulder as the girls resumed their search.
But Belladonna didn’t give it a rest. She continued to meow and scratch in the most annoying manner as the girls continued to search for a secret compartment.
“I don’t think there’s any secret compartment with a hidden relic here. We must have gotten the clue wrong again.” Morgan’s heart sank. She looked around the altar. Had they covered every inch? She stood and brushed the dirt off the knees of her jeans. “Let’s go home.
I’ll get Belladonna.”
Morgan walked over to the wall and attempted to pick Belladonna up.
“Breee!” Belladonna jumped away and swatted at Morgan angrily.
“Hey, cut that out.” Morgan made another grab for her.
“Merow!” Belladonna scratched frantically at the wall.
Morgan squatted next to her. “What’s this?”
The tile next to the wall had several cracks. Morgan picked at the edge with her nail, lifting a section up. It looked like there was something underneath. Slowly, she pried up the rest of the tile, her heartbeat picking up speed as she saw a copper ring underneath it.
Fiona, Celeste and Jolene had come over and were standing behind her.
“Check this out.” Morgan pointed to the ring.
“What’s that?” Fiona asked.
“It looks like there’s something under there.” Celeste curled her finger under the ring and pulled, but it didn’t budge. “Maybe this is where the relic is hidden.”
“I think we need to pull up more tiles.”
The girls got busy pulling up the next tile. Belladonna sat a foot away, licking her paw and running it behind her ear.
“I just hope that mouse doesn’t come out,” Celeste said as they pried up another marble tile.
They pried up another tile and now Morgan could see that the ring was attached to some sort of trap door or cover, about eight inches square. She held her breath, grabbed the ring and pulled.
It creaked open, revealing a shallow, dark compartment. Morgan practically laid on the floor to peer in, but it was too dark. Without saying a word, she extended her hand and Celeste slapped a flashlight into it. Morgan aimed the light into the compartment.
“Hey, there’s—”
Something skidded across the floor, spinning to a stop in front of Morgan. Her heart froze when she recognized it as a licorice. A Black Crow licorice. She heard a hollow click and the words:
“Hand over the relic or die.”
Chapter Thirteen
Morgan couldn’t see the intruder’s face, only his dark silhouette against the thin, sliver of light from the open window in the back of the church.
She glanced down at the licorice. She didn’t need to see his face to know what he was—a cold-blooded killer.
Beside her, Jolene fisted her hands on her hips. “Who the heck are you?”
“You don’t know who I am?” the intruder said in a subdued baritone. “That’s funny, because I know who you girls are. You’re the ones who killed my brother and I won’t have his death be in vain. Hand over the relic. Now.”
Morgan’s brow furrowed. “Killed your brother? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play coy with me.” The intruder took a menacing step forward.
Morgan’s stomach clenched. She glanced down into the hidden compartment, then slammed the lid and stepped in front of it. Thoughts whirled through her brain. Clearly this man was the licorice killer and he’d been following them to find the relic. But was he aligned with Bly or just in it for himself?
And who was his brother?
She didn’t have time to contemplate that, though. They needed to get out of the situation. Her eyes slid over to Jolene, who was flexing her hand as if to summon her paranormal powers. Morgan wondered if she would be successful or if they would have to fight the man off without Jolene’s skills. She shifted her gaze back to the intruder, and wondered what kind of paranormal powers he would unleash on them and how they could combat him.
“Now!” The intruder jerked the gun toward the box and for the first time, Morgan noticed that he held his left hand slightly behind his back. Was he holding some sort of paranormal contraption? She hoped it wasn’t one of those energy-draining geodes the bearded guys behind the museum had used on her.
Morgan let her attention slide to her sisters. Fiona had scooped up some small pebbles in her hand and Celeste was inching her way to the right. The tension in her body told Morgan she was ready to launch into one of her karate kicks at any time.
“Why do you want the relic so bad, anyway?” Morgan figured it was best to keep him talking while her sisters fanned out around him.
“I have my reasons,” The intruder ground out. “Now, move aside.”
He took another step toward Morgan.
Jolene flexed her hand faster.
Morgan glanced down at the compartment. “Well, I don’t know what all the fuss is. What are you going to do with a little thing like this?”
She could see the intruders face now and he wasn’t nearly as menacing as she would have expected. He didn’t have a beard, for one, and his tanned face had a look of sincerity. In fact, he seemed almost sad, like he didn’t want to be holding a gun on her. She hoped her intuition wasn’t failing her because from what it was telling her, the man was no threat at all.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at.” He took another step and she noticed he was chewing something—a Black Crow licorice, no doubt. “You know right well what to do with that. You killed for it.”
Morgan’s brows mashed together. Who did he think they’d killed? “Why do you keep saying that? We didn’t kill anyone.”
The intruder laughed. “I know all about you girls. You’re cold-blooded, paranormal killers. You’ll do anything to enhance your powers, including killing an innocent man.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the one who is a killer,” Morgan said.
His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Sure, you did. Right in downtown, on Beach street. He had a paranormal energy burn, and I know it was you because I saw the licorice beside his body.” Morgan gestured toward the man’s licorice-chewing mouth.
Confusion washed across his face. “You’re trying to trick me. You’re the paranormal killers.”
“We are not killers!” Jolene punctuated the last word by thrusting her fingers out toward the man. Normally, a stream of potent energy would fly from them, but now, only a small dribble of dots slowly floated out toward him.
He reacted by bringing his left hand out from behind his back, revealing some sort of reflective mirror gizmo. The dots of energy bounced off the mirror and shot straight back at Jolene.
“Ouch!” Jolene grabbed her arm where she’d been hit with the ricochet of her own energy.
Fiona had reacted quickly. Before the energy could bounce back at Jolene, she flung the stones in her hand toward the man. But he was quicker. He pivoted, holding the mirror in her direction, and the stones bounced off it and sped back toward Fiona. They hit her jacket, making little singe marks. Down feathers poked out of two of them and fluttered into the air.
Morgan felt relieved that Fiona’s attempts to use the stones as weapons hadn’t been too successful. Otherwise, she might have been badly hurt. But now it was up to Morgan and Celeste, and neither of them had any paranormal fighting abilities. Morgan did have one thing, though—her intuition. And she used it now to sense which direction the man would strike. He came toward her and she jumped to the left while at the same time, Celeste kicked out toward his gun hand, connecting with it and sending the gun flying.
“Hey!” He turned toward Celeste, his fists up as if to hit her. Then he hesitated. Morgan could see emotions warring on his face as he stared at Celeste. The hesitation gave her the advantage and she lowered her shoulder, then plowed into him like a linebacker and knocked him to the floor.
Fiona ran for the gun.
Morgan leapt on the man’s chest, Celeste on his legs.
Jolene grabbed a length of rope from the pile of debris Celeste had moved earlier. They turned him over on his stomach and then secured his hands behind his back. Morgan was surprised, and suspicious, that he didn’t offer much resistance. They flipped him back over. Surprisingly, he didn’t struggle.
“Okay. You girls win.”
Something in the man’s voice niggled at Morgan. He sounded resigned. Too resigned. And then she realized
something odd. The man hadn’t used any paranormal moves on them aside from the mirror. Morgan suspected he didn’t have any paranormal skills. So, just who was he?
“I suppose you’ll kill me too, now,” he said as they moved him to a sitting position. He screwed his eyes shut and hung his head. “Go ahead and get it over with.”
The girls exchanged confused looks. He was acting very odd for a killer. Did he really think they had killed someone?
“I told you. We’re not killers,” Morgan said.
“Well, not unless we have to in order to defend ourselves,” Jolene added.
The man looked up at Morgan and she noticed his clear, green eyes were shiny with tears. What kind of a killer started crying upon being captured by girls? Was this some kind of trick? But Morgan’s gut instinct told her the man was sincere.
“I’m sure you didn’t have to defend yourselves from my brother. He wasn’t a violent man. I saw the burn mark on him and I know that’s the sort of mark paranormal killers make,” the man said.
Morgan’s brows shot up. “Your brother? You mean to tell me Hale Swain was your brother?”
The man hung his head and nodded.
“Then you must be Gunner Swain … the archaeologist,” Celeste said.
Another sad nod.
“But your brother had a map to the Finch Farm. Why would an archeologist and his brother be interested in that if it wasn’t to find the relic?” Jolene asked.
“And why follow us around?” Fiona added.
“You just don’t get it!” Swain’s voice was pitched with anger. “All you care about is using the relic for your own evil purposes. Didn’t you ever think it might be used for good? To help people?”
The sisters stared at him, surprised by his outburst.
“No, I didn’t think so,” he continued. “Well, what does it matter now? You’ll kill me just like you killed Hale, and Mom will die all alone. I’ve failed her.” Swain’s voice cracked and he hung his head. Morgan’s heart softened as she watched a fat tear drop onto his lap.
A Grave Mistake Page 8
