Moonstone Shadows

by Patricia Rice

  Aaron wanted to go home and open a bottle of his best wine and celebrate a narrow escape, but he couldn’t help looking down at the crystal knob of his staff. He’d chosen his house because it was on the border of the territory that caused his hackles to raise and his stick to shudder. His stick wasn’t shuddering now.

  Harvey might be able to pick up anger spikes, but all Aaron had ever felt was the land’s evil.

  “The Lucys have been up at the lodge and all around it and none of them are complaining about evil vibrations,” Harvey continued without waiting for Aaron’s reply.

  “The lodge was never as bad as the woods,” Aaron said, deciding he needed to take a look and glancing up the hill to decide on a direction.

  “The woods are still bad,” Harvey warned him. “It’s only inside the circle of the lamassu that the bad energy is clearing. Even Mariah’s ghostcatchers are slowing down.”

  “We need to move the lamassu further from the lodge?” The idea intrigued and was probably more useful than getting drunk.

  “The question becomes—how much distance can they cover? I’m not of a scientific mind. Do we call Keegan?” Harvey headed up the hill with the ease of a mountain goat.

  “Keegan doesn’t sense evil the way we do. Let’s just move a few to where the energy is the worst and call him in the morning.” It wasn’t as if Aaron would sleep tonight anyway. He was a churning mass of fury, angst, and. . . He didn’t even know what to call it except a danger to his well-being.

  The last time he’d felt like this, he’d buried his wife and recklessly stolen a painting. Best not to repeat it.

  Hannah listlessly went to the café for breakfast the next morning. She hadn’t slept well. She kept listening for the security alarms to blare and fretting over her choices and wondering if the knot in her head was growing and making her crazy. She’d have to see a physician just to reassure herself she wasn’t likely to end up in an institution any time soon.

  Breaking into a possible killer’s house almost made sense with that ax hanging over her head.

  Sam hailed her from a back booth. Fee carried over Hannah’s favorite tea. Mariah had her notebook computer open displaying the passages Hannah had sent her last night from the Malcolm library.

  “Walker doesn’t want us to have the casket, but Kurt and Monty say it’s okay,” Mariah told Hannah as she took her first sip of tea.

  “None of them know why, of course,” Teddy said in amusement. “Do you think we can do this before the shop opens? It’s been pretty busy lately, and I hate to leave Syd with both the store and the kids.”

  “Val wants to join us. It doesn’t matter if I go in late,” Amber said. “Why don’t you stay down here, Ted? It shouldn’t take a full battalion to search that little place.”

  Fee brought over a giant, scrumptious-smelling cinnamon roll for Hannah. Everyone at the table stopped talking to gape.

  “Did you pack it with seaweed?” Amber asked skeptically.

  The petite cook smiled beatifically. “Hannah needs sweetness today. I’m sorry I can’t join you, but I don’t know what a moonstone smells like anyway.” She hurried off to fill coffee cups.

  Hannah didn’t think the most perfect cinnamon roll in the world could sweeten her disposition today, but she forked off a piece anyway.

  Fortunately, the psychic Lucys didn’t question why she needed sugaring up. She suspected they were already plotting ways of castrating Aaron. She’d have to stop them. Sometime.

  It was good to have friends who understood.

  It was a pity she wasn’t better at returning that understanding.

  “I think I should go in alone,” Hannah said after swallowing a little piece of heaven. “I have nothing to lose if I’m arrested for breaking in. I just need backup so Roper can’t beat me into a pulp.”

  “It’s still hard to imagine that smarmy little man having enough spine to lift a hand against anyone,” Mariah said with disgust. “And he’s practically the only person in town who has no motive. We’re probably making much ado about nothing.”

  “I probably ought to be the one to go in,” Teddy said worriedly. “He knows Kurt has the ability to fire him, so he won’t come after me.”

  “I’ll just tell him Kurt sent me,” Hannah said with a laugh. “Don’t worry. Can we get the box? If the moonstone really does resonate with it as the one journal said, then I should be in and out in no time.”

  “I still have the box,” Mariah said. “Keegan was testing it to see if it had some ability to control the energy of the stones, but he has demanding principles and hasn’t reached a conclusion yet. I’ll tell him Aaron wants to look at it.”

  “You shouldn’t lie to your husband,” Hannah protested. She feared she was setting a bad precedent by suggesting illegal solutions.

  “I’m not. Aaron does want to look at it. He just won’t admit it. Besides, he told Kurt he’d clean it. We’ll only appropriate it for a little while before we hand it over.” Mariah finished her juice smoothie. “Did everyone get the same message from these passages Hannah sent us that I did? That the moonstone belongs to the casket?”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Sam said, nibbling at her toast. “The parts that interested me were when they carried the casket to troubled locations, placed it in a church, and prayed. Do we need an incantation or will just any prayer do? Do we need a church?”

  “To do what?” Teddy asked. “I know stones can be powerful. My truth stones have caused no end of havoc without need of mystical chants. So we have to be careful how we wield anything that might be as strong as this one seems to be.”

  “Let’s find the stone first,” Mariah said, sliding from the booth. “If the casket will help us, then that’s where we start. I’ll meet you behind the dumpsters at the lodge at nine. Roper will be safely in his office by then.”

  Hannah swallowed a lump in her throat as she finished her cinnamon roll without tasting it. She wanted to help Hillvale. She didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, least of all Aaron. She simply didn’t know what was right or wrong in this case.

  Calling herself a spineless wimp, she managed a cheerful farewell and headed back to her room.

  The front door was unlocked. She knew she’d locked it. Aaron had said he didn’t come in until nine-thirty, but he’d shown up early before.

  She hadn’t expected to have to face him before she did what she had to do. He would stop her if he knew she meant to risk it.

  Here was the perfect excuse to escape the foolishness of breaking and entering in search of something that might not exist. She hesitated. Quiet Librarian Hannah would never have even contemplated breaking the law.

  Quiet Hannah had been a lonely useless shadow who had accomplished zip with her life.

  Aaron had turned his back on her last night. He’d made his choice. She’d make hers.

  Setting her jaw, she crossed the street to the new schoolhouse. Kurt had said the upstairs facilities were almost ready. Maybe instead of immediately running back to the hills, she should try staying. Maybe she’d see Aaron more clearly as the emotionally stunted, over-protective ass he was.

  The wi-fi wasn’t connected in the schoolhouse yet so she couldn’t text anyone and ask for a ride. The water was on at least. After using her finger to brush her teeth, Hannah decided she had some extra time and needed exercise anyway. She would just walk up to the lodge.

  She left through the back door. Behind this strip of buildings was a narrow lane edged in by the bluff. She strode past the newly repaired stairs leading up to the old commune, admired the small park Sam had planted, and started up the long driveway to the lodge.

  The lane was old and barely wide enough for two cars, she noted. She stuck to the left-hand side so she could face anyone coming down. She stepped off when food delivery trucks chugged past. Maybe she could start a town project building stairs up to the lodge so pedestrians didn’t need to walk this dangerous path.

  She had utterly no experience in organizi
ng anything, much less stairs. She lacked the arrogance to believe she could do more than research stair construction. Could she change?

  A wide white utility van roared down the hill, taking the curve at a dangerous speed. With a steep drop off on her side, Hannah was unable to step aside on this stretch. She waited for the truck to slow down and move over. Instead, it veered right toward her.

  Gasping, she used her walking stick for balance and slid off the road, into the overgrown landscaping and down the steep hill, falling to her knees and scraping her palms in an effort to keep from falling further.

  The van flew past and into town.

  Lodged among the prickly hawthorn bushes, Hannah tried to stop shaking. If she’d had a bad knee like Amber, she’d have toppled over the edge and down the rocks. Even now, she could feel the tug of gravity. It was a struggle to pull out of the bushes and scramble back to the blacktop.

  Hiking to a level spot higher up, she stepped off the road and tried to see where the van had gone.

  It wasn’t in the parking lot—it was driving down the narrow alley behind Aaron’s shop.

  With no cell service, she needed wi-fi to warn him.

  Stumbling on her bruised and shaky legs, she ran up to the lodge where she could find a network.

  Sitting at his lonely desk, drinking coffee and wondering if the damned woman had already packed her bags and left, Aaron worked on his bookkeeping. The sound of a motor behind the shop brought him out of his chair. He didn’t have any deliveries scheduled.

  His phone beeped with an incoming text as he watched the utility van out his back window. The driver was just sitting there, drinking his coffee and staring blankly at his useless phone.

  Aaron pulled out his mobile. Hannah had texted him. To say good-bye? Or to beat him over the head with his failings a few more times before she left?

  He started to shove the phone back in his pocket, but he was a glutton for punishment. He opened the message. She’d texted Walker as well. So much for hoping for an apology.

  Van behind shop almost ran me over.

  Ran her over? He almost hit panic mode before his brain kicked in.

  She was okay, he had to repeat to himself several times as he stared at the screen and reached for his landline. She was telling him she was okay, that she’d reached a safe place with wi-fi—but she wouldn’t have bothered telling him that if she wasn’t worried about the van.

  Walker picked up the instant the phone rang. “Can you see the van?”

  Aaron leaned against the wall to one side of his window and kept a wary eye on the driver. “He’s just sitting there. If he’s planning on blowing anything up, doesn’t he have to get out first?”

  “Maybe he’s just lost and too stupid to know where to go without cell reception. I can come charge him with obstructing traffic and trespass and any other law that comes to mind from Hillvale’s non-existent law books.”

  “Do that,” Aaron said abruptly, realizing a utility van would have locked back doors, out of sight of the driver.

  It wasn’t criminal trespass if the door was unlocked and open, was it? He didn’t think he’d ask Walker that.

  With red rage rushing through his blood, knowing he was about to do something stupid again, Aaron filled his pockets with the tools of his trade, then let himself out the front door.

  Old chests and desks in estate sales often lacked keys, and he’d learned to open locked drawers without harming valuable furniture. Sometimes he purchased estate lots in storage units that contained more utilitarian padlocks. Those, he could saw off, but he enjoyed playing with mechanisms. He knew how to pick those too. Safes were easiest since he could use his psychometry on them, but utility vans weren’t likely to have combination locks.

  He waited around the corner of his shop until he heard Walker talking with the driver. Then he slipped up to the double doors of the van, examined the basic padlock, and pulled out his tools. He had it open in seconds.

  The van was empty except for a bundle of brand new rope still in its package, a few old rags, and a bottle with a scent that drove Aaron’s rage—and his fear for Hannah—into the stratosphere.

  Thirty-one

  “If that van really was aiming for you, we’re coming too close to the truth,” Mariah said worriedly, handing Hannah a protective lamassu to tuck in the pocket of her khaki camping shorts. They were the only two Lucys in the back of Roper’s cottage. The others were taking up posts in the shrubbery. “Maybe we better reconsider this expedition.”

  “No,” Hannah said shortly, her terror replaced by rage. She might not be Wonder Woman, but she damned well wasn’t Quiet Librarian anymore. She wasn’t entirely certain who she might be without Aaron, except furious. Her knees and hands hurt. “The way I look at it, next time, he may kill me. Or burn down the town. He needs to be stopped.”

  “But if Roper is in his office, then he wasn’t driving the van. Maybe we’re on the wrong track entirely.” Mariah continued distributing evil-absorbing stone statuettes around the perimeter of Roper’s cabin. In her dappled green shirt and feather-decorated black braid, Mariah managed to blend into the shadowed hedges as if she belonged there.

  Hannah set a statue under a pine tree near the cabin’s back door. “Only one way to find out. Did Teddy get the master key from Kurt?” Roper’s cabin had once been part of the lodge’s rentals and was still officially maintained by the inn.

  Mariah produced the electronic key card from her jeans pocket. “I’ve dug into Roper every which way I know how, but he covers his online tracks far better than the sheriff does. I promised Keegan I wouldn’t dive into operating systems anymore, and the back doors I used to use have mostly been closed, so I can’t do anything in depth these days. I feel like my hands are tied behind my back.”

  “Roper’s obviously clever if he can hang out with gangsters and keep his hands clean. He may be guilty of nothing more than shouting at Carmel when she needed it. Maybe Francois wasn’t poisoned. But if we peg him with hiring thugs to commit arson to cover up whatever happened, then he has to be stopped.” Taking a deep breath to steady her shaky nerves, Hannah swiped the key over the back-door lock. The light lit green, and she turned the knob. “Give me the casket.”

  Mariah reluctantly handed over the small jewel box. “I’m not sensing any unusual energy from it.”

  “We may be wasting our time, but I have to try.” Tucking the metal box under her arm, Hannah slipped inside Roper’s residence.

  She’d never done anything so alarming in her entire sedate life. As much as she hoped the box would lead her directly to the moonstone, she knew not to expect magic. She had to use her wits, if she wasn’t scared out of them.

  Roper’s kitchen looked as if it had never been touched. She’d been told that he’d taken over the cottage Kurt had renovated for his own residence, back when Kurt had been running the lodge. The interior was all gorgeous wood and granite with lots of light and open space.

  She hesitated between the kitchen and the front room, hoping for some signal from the box. She desperately wanted Aaron’s guidance, but he didn’t need to be breaking any more laws, and she had to learn to stand on her own. Except she had no gift without him. She’d been an idiot to suggest this. She could still turn back, but she was desperate and furious. If she had to go back to Scotland, she wanted to know that she’d tried everything to find the moonstone.

  She summoned the image from Keegan’s painting that had first brought her here. The handsome knight had been holding this very same casket, centuries ago, offering its contents to a woman who might or might not be a nun. The journal said they’d saved a village from the plague. Their intent had been positive. So was hers. She wanted to save Hillvale from a killer—and perhaps from the evil-soaked ground steeped in centuries of violence. If she could save herself in the process, that was a side benefit.

  The journal had mentioned prayer and churches, but the rocks apparently operated on intent. Maybe the box did too?

&nbs
p; Save Hillvale, she whispered before setting foot in the sun-filled front room.

  Did the box vibrate—just a little?

  The front room contained nothing that might be a hiding place. Nothing adorned the coffee table in front of the leather chairs. No coffee cups sat about. It was as if Roper did not exist outside his office. Maybe the bedroom. . . She crossed the large room toward the dark hall on her right.

  She peeked into the modern glass and granite bathroom. All the towels were neatly folded and stacked. Maybe the maids cleaned here first. Good thing—she’d have a hard time explaining her presence. It hadn’t even occurred to her that the maids might come in. She made a lousy burglar.

  The box told her nothing.

  She crept past the bathroom, into the darkened bedroom. Drapes had been pulled over the windows. The bed was made up in dark blues and browns with no decorator pillows or shams. The double closet doors were closed.

  The closet. Carmel had hidden the moonstone in her closet. What were the chances that Roper might too?

  As she opened the door, the box in her hands quivered as if in excitement.

  “Back away, Walker,” Aaron warned, carrying the rope and the bottle toward the front of the van where Hillvale’s police chief was making a show of writing a ticket for whatever trumped-up charges he’d decided on. “I’m taking over.”

  Walker eyed the objects in Aaron’s hands, raised his usually unexpressive eyebrows, and handed the ticket to the driver.

  “Nothing illegal,” Aaron promised, showing Walker the bottle he’d found in the truck. “Go find Hannah and you won’t be witness to anything I do.”

  Aaron knew he looked grim, possibly to the point of satanic. Newspapers had commented on that fact at his trial. He’d kept the goatee as his one act of defiance against the forces that had driven him here. He turned his dark glare on the van driver, who didn’t have the sense to look wary, just confused. A shop owner in a blazer was apparently not very alarming.