What could it mean?
“Amanda?” Sonja called out.
No response.
Her heart thundered in her chest as she spotted the pit. Walking carefully, slowly, over to the hole she peered in.
At the bottom was a girl’s body. Amanda. She had a knife sticking out of her back.
Chapter 10
* * *
Within the next half hour, the area of the forest where Sonja had found Chance and Amanda was swarming with forest rangers and state police alike. This was far too big a case for Frank to handle alone, especially with the strange cult symbols in the center of the clearing.
The bigwigs usually wanted to be included on cases like this one.
Police tape was wrapped around trunks, blocking off huge portions of trees. Paramedics tended to Chance, but he was relatively physically unharmed, thanks to some greater mercy.
The same could not be said for Amanda. The knife in the back had hit her heart and killed her in a matter of minutes. Just when she had died couldn’t be pinpointed quite yet due to the chilly weather the evening before.
Frank stood by, talking to one of the state troopers. When he was done, he walked over to where Sonja sat on a boulder outside the large crime scene, a paramedic blanket over her shoulders. “Some wedding day, huh?” he joked, keeping things light.
“I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew it,” Sonja sighed, rubbing her hands together to keep out the growing chill of the waning day.
“I know. I knew it, too,” Frank admitted, sitting down on the grassy ground beside the rock. Sonja had to laugh quietly at the fact that her husband-to-be was shorter than her from where he was sitting.
“What?”
“You look short,” she teased, also trying to keep things light.
Frank brought his knees up and rested his arms on them. “When you mentioned seeing that ghost, I tried to convince myself it couldn’t be true. Deep down, I knew you were right. Another murder.”
“This had to be one guy with a serious grudge,” she commented.
Frank raised an eyebrow. “What about all that weirdo stuff in the clearing? It looks just like some of that black magic mumbo-jumbo we’ve encountered before.”
Sonja gave a little sideways nod. “You’re right. It did look like black magic,” she commented, emphasizing the word look.
Frank paused, trying to read his fiancé’s expression. “What are you thinking? You don’t believe this is black magic?”
Turning on the rock to face him more directly, she clasped her hands. “While we waited for the police to arrive, I had a closer look at the clearing.”
“Sonja,” Frank scolded her. “That was a crime scene. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know, I know, but who else has as much firsthand knowledge of the occult as I do?”
Frank sniffed a laugh. “Nobody, because nobody else believes in that stuff. If I let on to any of my fellow officers that I thought you could see ghosts or take down witches, I’d be kicked out of my position so fast it would make my head spin.”
“The point is, I’m not so certain that any of this is authentic black magic.”
“You’re positive?”
“Ninety-nine percent. I’m not saying the person who did this doesn’t believe it was black magic, I’m just saying that it couldn’t have been real black magic.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why?” he asked, sincerely interested, but checking to make sure no one was too close to hear their strange conversation.
“The symbol is one I’ve never seen before. Now, I’m not saying I know everything about ancient cults and black magic, but this just seems a little amateurish. Not to mention, it was drawn onto the rocks with a sharpie marker.”
“So? Witches and cultists can’t use modern art supplies?”
“It just seems to ship-shod for anyone who was serious about dark magic of that sort. You have to be very careful about what materials you use so that the magic works correctly.”
“Maybe you know too much about all this,” Frank joked.
“The point is, it just doesn’t fit. Also, the chalk circle had some symbols scribbled in around it, but they are just sort of cattywampus. Some are from Greek mythology, others from Celtic, and others even more modern than that. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“That is odd.”
“To cap it all off, that knife, from what I could tell without touching it or moving Amanda, was a cheap thing you can get at any novelty tourist shop in Haunted Falls. It isn’t a ritual knife at all.”
Frank stroked his chin. “So, whoever did this wants us to think it is black magic or a cult.”
“My guess is, with all the untrue rumors going around about Randall and his crew, someone wanted the finger to be pointed their way.”
Frank snapped his fingers. “Someone who didn’t like them.”
“Exactly.”
Standing up, Frank started heading away from the crime scene.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Rick Williams.”
Chapter 11
* * *
“Rick Williams?” Sonja asked with a hint of wonder, jumping up and walking with Frank toward one of the four wheelers the crew had used to get to the crime scene faster. “You can’t think that poor man actually killed his own daughter, do you?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. I don’t want to believe it, and I won’t jump to any conclusions, but he was one of the main people in town who spoke out openly against Randall and his crew.”
“He just wasn’t thinking straight,” Sonja said, attempting to defend the worried father.
“Look, all I want to do is ask him a few questions. Not to mention, I have to find him to inform him of what has happened.”
“I suppose that is true.”
“I also intend to question Pete.”
“Pete wouldn’t do this either,” Sonja said.
“I’m not saying he did but think about it this way. Pete hated them always being on his land, and what for? Does he have something to hide there?” Frank put one foot over the four-wheeler.
“Not everyone has some deep dark secret,” Sonja pointed out, climbing on behind him and putting her arms around his waist. “Both of the men you are talking about are upstanding members of the community, active participants in their church groups. Sure, Rick has a slight drinking problem and a habit of spouting off whatever obscure thoughts or theories that pop into his head. That doesn’t make him a murderer.”
“I’m just taking any angle I can find at the moment. As an officer of the law, I have to explore every possible outcome. If that includes interviewing Randall as well, so be it.”
“Okay. I get it. I just don’t think either Pete or Rick could do this to their own children.”
“Neither do I, but just for argument's sake, let’s have a look at it,” he offered, starting up the four-wheeler and heading toward town. As they drove, Sonja thought silently to herself.
She knew that the same evening Amanda and Chance went off toward the cabin, Trina and Jay were at the book group at the church. Her mom attended the same group. Where did that leave Rick and Pete? Could either one of them have left their home to stage a kidnapping?
Why would they do it?
Could one of them really be angry enough at Randall to try and get rid of him? Did they think they could pull off a fake kidnapping that would incriminate the lead scientist without harming their own kids?
It just didn’t make sense
“I don’t buy it,” Sonja grumbled just loud enough to be heard over the engine. “Pete and Rick are good men and good fathers. They wouldn’t have hurt their own kids.”
“Nobody wants to think that someone would hurt their own kids.”
“Maybe things went wrong, and Amanda fell into the pit with the knife. She falls on it and it goes into her back,” Sonja suggested, trying to make sense of the situation.
“Seems like a pretty slim possibility. I
n any case, just leave it to the crime techs to figure all that out. It’s their job, after all.”
“I know that. I’m just grasping at straws, I guess,” she admitted. The image of Amanda’s ghost was still haunting her. It was as if it were up to Sonja to get to the bottom of this case.
Emerged onto the back lot of the diner, Sonja sighed.
“Here we are,” he said, helping Sonja off the back of the four-wheeler.
“What do you want me to do now?” she asked.
“Nothing. I don’t want you involved anymore from this point on.”
“What? How can you say that?” she exclaimed.
“You said that there isn’t any real black magic involved. Amanda’s ghost did what she came for and showed you to Chance, so you could save him before the killer came back. After that, there is no reason for you to keep snooping around.”
Sonja put two balled up fists on her hips. “I haven’t been snooping.”
“I didn’t mean it that way and you know it. However, this is now in the jurisdiction of state police. No reason for you to get yourself in trouble.”
“What about all that stuff you just told me during the ride? Isn’t that technically confidential police stuff?” she asked.
“Sometimes I like to talk out loud. It helps to clear out the clutter. There is no evidence whatsoever to show that either Pete or Rick was involved. Not yet, anyway. So, I didn’t tell you anything but empty theories, like ones you’ve told me in the past.”
Sonja scoffed.
“Besides, you don’t believe either Pete or Rick could do it and neither do I. More importantly, if this guy is as crazy as Chance makes him sound, I don’t want you anywhere near this.”
Sonja let her arms fall to her sides. “I want to help.”
“And I want us both to make it to the altar when this is over,” Frank said with a loving smile.
Sonja couldn’t help but smile back. Leaning in, she kissed him before he rode off in the direction of the police station.
* * *
Heading into the diner, Sonja found Alison there, giving out cups of coffee to a large group of the volunteers. “Hi, Ally.”
“Where have you been? I showed up to help you out with serving the searchers and there were waffles almost burning in the irons.”
“I’m sorry about that. I saw something in the forest and next thing I knew I’d found Chance.”
“You were the one who found them?” she gasped, widening her eyes and turning away from the large tray of coffee cups. “No one told me that part of it. It must have been horrible.”
“It was a little scary, to say the least,” she admitted, taking an apron off the hook and slipping it over her head.
Alison finished plating another tray of serving size waffles and set it on the counter for people to take. It looked like they’d run out of the frosting and were just eating them plain. “Do they have any leads yet?”
Sonja set out more cups to fill with coffee. “Not really, no. At least not that I’m aware of. Frank was shooting some empty theories about, but that’s all they were.”
“Any of them sound plausible?”
“Not in the slightest.” Picking up a carafe, she began pouring the dark liquid into the cups. “No, this will probably be a hard one to crack, and Frank doesn’t want me anywhere near it.”
“Are you surprised? Whoever did this sounds like a real wacko.”
“It’s true. It looks like someone went to a whole lot of trouble.”
Alison sighed, leaning on the counter. “Who would want to kill Amanda? She was such a sweet girl.”
“And Chance. Don’t forget that they were planning on killing him, too.”
“Maybe he was just collateral,” Ally suggested.
“Or maybe Amanda was, and Chance was the intended victim all along.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It all is just a mess.”
Alison scooted in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Any theories of your own?”
“The only thing I can think of is that maybe Pete Manx had some sort of deal that went sour. Someone wanted to make him pay, so they picked up his son. The note from the cabin was addressed to him. Maybe Amanda just got in the way.”
“It’s horrible, just horrible,” Ally noted, picking up one of the cups and sipping from it.
“How many of those have you had?”
“Too many. I’m flying, I’ll tell you,” she joked.
Sonja allowed herself to laugh, taking one of the plain waffles for herself. Biting into the crispy outer layer, a burst of steam erupted from the soft dough inside, filled with delicious scents and flavors. It was amazing to her how something as simple as a plain waffle could be so comforting.
“The only other thing that seems odd is the weird stuff at the crime scene,” Sonja wondered out loud.
“Yeah. I’d heard that it was some sort of ritualistic things.”
“It was strange, alright.”
“You think that there really is some sort of voodoo-hoodoo cult involved or something? I’ve heard about things like that on this true crime podcast I listen to called TrueFiles.”
“How can you listen to that? Doesn’t it disturb you?” Sonja asked. She’d encountered enough real murder on her own that listening to other people’s stories wasn’t her cup of tea.
Ally shrugged. “It’s interesting to me. It also helps me deal with the scary things in the world in my own way.”
“I guess that’s good,” Sonja admitted, taking another bite of the waffle and savoring it. “But to answer your question, no. I think it was all a set up to throw the police off course.”
“Why would someone do that? I mean, if even you can spot it’s fake, the police sure will, won’t they?” Alison asked.
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling I could possibly find out a bit more information about all this.”
Ally gave her friend a wry half-smile. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get involved?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything too drastic.”
Chapter 12
* * *
Once darkness fell, the volunteers all cleared out of the diner and headed home. Sonja noticed that they’d have to replace some of the wedding decorations that got ripped or dirty before they did their redo ceremony.
She thought of the honeymoon as well and hoped Frank had the forethought to call the hotel and switch the reservation.
She sighed as she thought about their honeymoon. She was walking out to her van after locking up the diner. Alison had headed home about an hour earlier to be with her family.
Getting into the driver’s seat, Sonja could hardly believe it. If this all hadn’t happened, she and Frank would be married and on their way to a resort hotel in New Mexico. She pictured the old adobe mission which had been converted over, the beautiful southwestern artwork in the lobby, the hot tub in the honeymoon suite—and Frank holding her in it.
A wayward look came to her eye as she tried to imagine it all, based on the pictures they’d seen online.
Unfortunately, at that same moment, the current murder case came barging into her memory and pushed her daydream aside. “Shoot,” she muttered. If she didn’t help solve this case now, she’d go insane waiting around to get married.
Turning on the van’s engine, she drove out of the parking lot and headed for downtown Haunted Falls, where she knew Randall was renting a townhome.
* * *
Sonja had a gut feeling that whoever had committed this murder had hoped to throw suspicion onto Randall and his team, but it had to be someone who truly believed they were some sort of cult and not just a bunch of scientists.
While it was true that they looked odd from the outside, wandering around to random parts of the area, looking up at the sky for hours, writing things down, it hardly made them sinister.
However, if Randall had some insight into a specific person who might have a vendetta against him and his team, maybe it would narrow down the s
uspects of the murder.
Parking on the street out front, Sonja walked up the stone steps of the old building—carrying an extra tray of the leftover waffles that she’d sprinkled cinnamon and sugar over—and knocked on the door. It was only eight in the evening, so she supposed that it wasn’t too late to make a call.
Within a few moments, the door opened, and Randal’s red-bearded face appeared. “Hello?”
“Hi, Randall? My name is Sonja Reed.”
“Oh, yes. The diner owner. What can I do for you?”
“I don’t know if you know this, but a young couple disappeared today.”
“It was hard not to notice it,” he admitted. “The whole town was in an uproar, and rightfully so, by the sound of it.”
“Anyway, I was feeding the volunteers and police officers, but ended up with some leftovers. Then I realized I’d never formally welcomed you to town. So, I brought some by.” She held up the tray for him to see.
Even behind the curls of his beard, she could see his smile. His eye even seemed to twinkle in the dim light. “Why, that’s very kind of you. Won’t you come in?” he invited her, stepping aside and motioning her through.
“Why thank you,” she beamed. His kind attitude and hospitality were a breath of fresh air after the day’s stressful events.
“We were just finishing up dinner and going over some numbers,” he said, guiding her through the entry hall into the spacious wood-paneled living room. There wasn’t any real furniture to speak of. The other members of his team sat on the floor, computers open and notepads nearby, along with other equipment.
Fast food wrappers and even a few leftover burgers were also among them.
“Hey, everyone. This is Sonja Reed. She owns the diner in town and has brought us some of her famous waffles for dessert.”
Wedding Waffle Murder (A Wicked Waffle Paranormal Cozy Book 6) Page 6
