Bound

by Kirsten Weiss

  “Ellen.” Rocking in my seat, I rubbed my thumb over Ellen’s hand, wrinkled and fragile as a dry leaf. “Jayce’s calling the doctor.”

  Rattle, seven beats of silence, exhale.

  “We love you, and we’re here with you.” I tried to swallow, couldn’t.

  Jayce trotted into the room and balanced on the arm of my chair. “Doc Toeller will be here soon.” She touched Ellen’s shoulder.

  Lenore drifted inside, and we waited, pacing the room, glancing at the clock, at Ellen.

  Rattle, seven beats, exhale, seven beats.

  After a seeming eternity, a knock sounded on the door.

  Jayce leapt up and hurried from the room. She returned with the doctor.

  We moved away from the bed, and the doctor listened, touched, examined. “It won’t be long now. I’ll give her morphine to ease her discomfort.” From her black, doctor’s case she drew a vial no longer than my thumb and broke it open. She tipped the liquid between Ellen’s parted lips. “You should talk to her,” Toeller said. “Make her comfortable. I’ll stay for the end.”

  The muscles jumped beneath my skin. So I’d failed. What a joke to imagine I could have stopped death with my spell. Magic worked with the rhythm of nature, not against it, and death was part of that rhythm.

  We surrounded Ellen’s bed, touching her, murmuring thanks. Tearful, we told her we loved her, that we were with her.

  Rattle, seven beats of silence, exhale.

  The witch ball slowly rotated in the window.

  Shadows traveled across the carpeted floor. Rattle, seven beats of silence, exhale.

  The doctor checked her watch, faint, twin lines appearing between her silver-gold brows. Head bowed, she took our aunt’s pulse. “Strange, the morphine...”

  “What’s wrong?” Jayce asked, her voice high, thready.

  “The morphine should have had an effect by now.”

  Rattle, seven beats of silence, exhale.

  Jayce covered her mouth and turned to the open window. A breeze rustled her dark hair.

  “Can’t you… It sounds like she’s drowning,” Lenore choked out.

  The doctor opened another tiny vial, dribbled morphine into Ellen’s mouth.

  Ellen rasped. Breathing. Stilling. Breathing.

  “This isn’t possible,” the doctor muttered. “This much morphine… It’s having no effect at all.”

  “What’s keeping her here?” Lenore whispered.

  My shoulders jerked. My spell. I was keeping her. I pressed my hands into the blue bedspread, nausea spiraling up my throat.

  I’d done this. The spell had worked, keeping our aunt alive. But what kind of life? I was torturing my aunt, the woman who’d raised me, one of the people I loved most.

  I stumbled from the room and ran up the stairs, pulled down the ladder in the ceiling.

  I climbed into the attic. Dust motes spiraled in frames of afternoon sunlight. The knot spell hung in a window, black feathers limned with golden light.

  I’d done this to my aunt, because I’d been selfish and stupid.

  My breath caught, a sob. I’d told myself this was the logical thing to do, the risk-free, the safe path. No harm in trying to save Ellen, right? But I’d only been trying to save myself, to stop the world from turning and life from changing.

  I wrenched the string. It snapped. Using my fingernails, I tore at the braid. But the hairs attaching the feathers were too fine, the braid too tight. I yanked open the secretary drawer and scrabbled inside, past buttons and coins and an old ticket book from an amusement park. Scissors gleamed beneath a soft envelope. I grabbed them and sawed at the bottom knot.

  The scissors were dull, unwilling. The threads slipped to one side of the blade, then the other. With a sob, I cut through it, snapping the feather, and then the next knot, and the next. I ripped the feathers from their ties, scattering silky bits of hair and down. Black drifts floated to the rough, wood floor.

  The attic window cracked, a starburst of veins racing towards the sill. Something cracked inside me as well.

  “Karin!” Jayce screamed.

  I raced down the steep ladder, my ankle twisting on the final rung. Oblivious to the pain, I raced down the stairs to my aunt’s bedside.

  Jayce and Lenore held each of Ellen’s hands, their faces taut.

  “Ellen?” I smoothed her hair. “I’m so sorry, Ellen.” Hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

  A rattle.

  Silence.

  Silence.

  The doctor stepped forward and picked up Ellen’s limp wrist. She laid it on the coverlet and removed the stethoscope from her neck. Bending, she pressed it to Ellen’s heart. The doctor straightened. “She’s gone.”

  I collapsed into the wing chair, my breath coming in choking gasps. Lenore and Jayce held each other, weeping.

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  “It’s all right,” Doctor Toeller said. “I’ll get it.”

  Murmurs floated to us from the hallway. Heavy footsteps.

  Sheriff McCourt walked into the bedroom, her hat in her hand. “I see this is poor timing,” she said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  I rose, wiping my face with my palm. “What’s wrong?”

  The sheriff walked further into the room. A uniformed officer followed.

  “Jayce Bonheim, I’m arresting you for the murders of Alicia Duarte and Ely Milbourne.”

  “No!” I shouted.

  The color drained from Jayce’s face. “What?”

  The officer gripped Jayce’s shoulder, turned her around. “Give me your arm, please.” He snapped handcuffs on. They clicked, locking in place.

  “You have the right to remain silent,” the sheriff said. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have read to you?”

  Jayce nodded.

  Stunned, we watched the police lead Jayce from the room.

  “I’ll get Nick,” I shouted before the front door closed.

  Doctor Toeller touched my sleeve. Warmth flowed from her touch. “How can I help?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, dizzy. “I have to call Jayce’s lawyer.”

  Doctor Toeller nodded. “I’ll take care of the death certificate. Have you selected a mortuary?”

  “Ellen did,” Lenore murmured. “Silver Hills.”

  “I’ll call and ask them to collect the body. It shouldn’t take long.”

  Doctor Toeller left the room.

  “I need to call Nick,” I repeated. My brain ground to a halt. I couldn’t think beyond calling him. Movements stilted, I walked to my purse on the window seat and dug out my phone, dialed.

  Voicemail.

  “This is Nick Heathcoat. I can’t take your call. Leave a message at the tone.”

  “Nick, it’s Karin. The police have arrested Jayce.” I need you. “Please call me when you can.”

  “Voicemail?” Lenore asked.

  “I’m sure he’ll go straight to the sheriff’s station when he gets the message.” I walked to the bedside. Ellen’s eyelids were lowered to slits, the whites showing. I brushed them closed. “Is Ellen here?” I whispered.

  Lenore’s head jerked up. She slipped an arm around my waist. “Her spirit? No, she’s gone.”

  “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.”

  “Feel better. She’s at peace. Ellen knew she was loved, and she had nothing else to do here. She knew she was free to go.”

  “I wanted her to stay.”

  “We all did.”

  “No, you were better. You knew you had to let her go. I didn’t.”

  “Karin—”

  “I did a spell.”

  Lenore stilled. “A spell?”

  “A knot spell. I found it in that old spell book. To keep her here. And it worked.” I hunched, sickened. “And I made her suffer.”

  Lenore’s eyes bl
azed. “You what? How could you!”

  “I thought the curse was responsible. I thought I could fight its magic with magic.”

  “What’s wrong with you? You didn’t help her, you hurt her!”

  “I know! I know.”

  Lenore looked away. “All right. It’s done. I’m too tired to argue.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “Yes, you were. You can’t fight the natural order. You can’t change what’s meant.”

  “And Jayce’s arrest? Is that meant?”

  “No. I don’t know. That’s human-caused, and you’ve been right to fight it. Everything you’ve done… Running around, trying to gather evidence to keep her out of jail. She appreciates what you’re trying to do. We all do. Maybe I should have helped more.”

  “Maybe I need to stop trying,” I said bitterly. All my efforts had gotten me nowhere. Ellen was gone. Jayce arrested.

  Doctor Toeller returned to the bedroom. “The mortuary is on its way. They should be here in fifteen minutes.” She hesitated. “Sometimes, it’s difficult for people to watch their loved ones carried from the house. Perhaps we should step into the backyard?”

  “No,” Lenore said. “I’ll wait with her.”

  “I’ll stay too,” I said. My cell phone rang. Nick! I picked it up, didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Karin, it’s Darla,” the coffee shop manager said, breathless. “I’ve been trying to call Jayce, but I can’t get through to her. Is she with you?”

  “No. Is there a problem?”

  “Indigo left, sick, and we’re short staffed.”

  I checked my watch. Ground would close in a few hours. “I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid you may be stuck for the rest of the day. I’d help, but our aunt died—”

  “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

  “No, I’m glad you did.”

  “Never mind. I’ll take care of everything. Does Jayce want me to open Ground tomorrow?”

  “Yes, that’s probably a good idea. I’ll tell her you’re on top of things.”

  “Thanks. Please give her my condolences and Lenore too. Ellen was always nice to me. She was friendly to all the staff.”

  I swallowed, blinking away tears. “Thanks, Darla. I’ll talk to you later.”

  The doctor touched Lenore’s elbow. “I’m sorry, I need to leave.”

  “Of course,” Lenore murmured. “Thank you for everything.”

  “You’ve been wonderful,” I said, my voice dull. “Thanks. I’ll walk you to the door.”

  I showed the doctor out, and the house fell into a hollow silence.

  I called Nick again.

  Voicemail.

  In the kitchen, I found a phone book in the junk drawer and flipped its thin pages. Nick’s office number was listed in the business section. I dialed the number.

  “Heathcoat and Harpel,” a woman announced, cheerful. “How may I help you?”

  “This is Karin Bonheim. My sister, Jayce, is a client of Nick’s. She’s been arrested. I tried calling Nick but can’t get hold of him.”

  “Arrested? Where was she taken?”

  “I assume to the sheriff’s station in Doyle. Sheriff McCourt arrested her.”

  “One moment please.” She put me on hold. Classical music played in the background. A minute passed. Two. The connection clicked. “I’m sorry for the delay. I haven’t been able to reach Nick either. His partner, Ms. Harpel, will go to the station to represent your sister until we can find him. You said she’s in Doyle?”

  “Yes.” My grip tightened on the phone.

  “Don’t worry. Ms. Harpel is acquainted with the case. Your sister’s in good hands.”

  “Thank you.” I hung up, dazed. Where was Nick?

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The stretcher banged against the doorframe, gouging out a chunk of wood. I didn’t care, my gaze fixed on the stiff, black bag.

  “Sorry,” one of the mortuary workers said.

  The two men lifted the stretcher, carrying it down the steps. They wheeled Ellen’s body across the drive to the black van, its rear doors sprawled open.

  Lenore came to the porch and laid a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not her anymore.”

  “I know.” It didn’t even look like my aunt. Once she’d died, the essence of Ellen had gone. “I need to see this to the finish.” But this wouldn’t be the end. There would be the obituary and the funeral and a myriad of details involved in settling our aunt’s estate. As the lawyer in the family, I was her executor. Most of the work would fall on my shoulders. After what I’d done, it was the least I deserved.

  “One of us should go to the police station,” Lenore said.

  “You go.”

  Lenore blinked. “Okay.”

  “If you see Nick there, would you call me? I’m going to see if I can find him in town. Maybe his cell phone battery died, and he hasn’t noticed.” I was grasping at straws, looking for something to do. My sisters were right about my tendency to try and fix things. I’d always thought it was a positive trait. Maybe I was wrong.

  “Sure,” Lenore said. “But you told me another lawyer from his firm is at the sheriff’s station, right?”

  “Yeah, a Ms. Harpel.”

  Lenore’s brow furrowed. “As long as Jayce’s represented, I’m sure it’s okay.”

  I wasn’t sure, and anxiety blistered my gut. Too much was going wrong. My rational voice told me I was paranoid, Nick was fine. Irrational Karin said, find him. Now. I swallowed. “You’re probably right. But I need to be doing something.” I rubbed my temple. “I’ve made a mess of so much. I hurt Ellen—”

  “Yes, you did.”

  My head jerked up. I couldn’t ask forgiveness from Ellen. I didn’t deserve it from my sisters. But I hadn’t expected this from Lenore, even if I had disappointed her in the worst way. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make this right.”

  “You can’t.” Lenore looked across the yard. “But I shouldn’t have thrown it in your face. All we can do is move forward now and do better.”

  “Thanks for saying we, but this was on me. There’s no forgiveness for this.”

  “And if you didn’t feel guilty,” Lenore said, “you’d be a monster. Guilt’s useful that way. We’ll get through this,” she said more gently.

  I nodded, feeling wooden, hollowed-out. “Could you let me be the one to tell Jayce about the spell?”

  “I will.”

  “Call me when you learn anything. I’m going to look for Nick.” Grabbing my purse off a side table, I drove into Doyle.

  I parked in the alley behind Ground and clutched the steering wheel. I couldn’t think about Ellen. Not now. Jayce needed help, and Nick might be here.

  I tried the kitchen door. Locked.

  I walked around to the front, with its brick-red window frames and gilt lettering. A sandwich board stood on the sidewalk. In Darla’s scrawled handwriting, it proclaimed: Our Coffee is an Experience that Chalk is Unable to Convey. The sentiment didn’t make me smile.

  I walked inside. The shop was crowded, heads bowed over tables, fingers clicking at keyboards. A long line formed at the bar. No wonder Darla had asked for help.

  Nick was nowhere in sight. Why had I thought I’d find him here? He was based in a different town, and I was running in circles, useless. I closed my eyes for a long moment. Don’t think about Ellen. Not now.

  At least I could be useful to Jayce here. I walked behind the counter and shoved my purse beneath it.

  Darla handed a mug to a customer. “Oh, thank God. Are you here to help?”

  “For a bit.” My voice sounded high, strange. I found a white apron and tied it around my waist, knotted my hair in a bun. “Have you seen Nick Heathcoat?”

  “Jayce’s lawyer? He was in earlier today, but I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Earlier? What time?”

  “Around noon. It was really busy.”

  “Was he with anyone?”

  “I ca
n’t remember. Sorry.”

  Bustling to the cash register, I took orders and lost myself in the rhythm of taking cash, making change. Darla brewed the drinks, and soon we’d shortened the line to a manageable level.

  A gray-haired woman from Ellen’s church approached the counter. “Karin? How’s your aunt?”

  “She’s…” I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t stay. I untied the apron. “Sorry.” I fled through the ikat curtains into the kitchen.

  Darla hurried after me, brown eyes pleading. “Are you sure you can’t stay?”

  “I’ve got a lot to do.”

  The café manager shook her head. “Of course. Your aunt. I’m sorry. I’ll manage here.”

  “Thanks, Darla. I appreciate this. Jayce does too.” I reached for the rear door.

  “Oh, wait! Jayce’s lawyer did meet someone. That realtor, Sunny Peel.”

  “Great, thanks.” I swiveled and walked outside. Sunny’s realty office was only a few blocks away on Main Street. Nick would be there. I would find him. He would help Jayce, and once I was home alone, I would cry. If I cried now, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

  The late afternoon heat was subsiding, a breeze rattling the leaves in the slender trees. Keeping to the shade, I hurried beneath the buildings’ wooden eaves. I passed tasting rooms, boutiques, restaurants. On the opposite side of the street, the shops gave way to homes and barns with wide, dry yards.

  I stopped in front of Sunny’s realty. Beneath a flyer for a vacation rental, a CLOSED sign glared.

  Tears of frustration pricked my eyes. “Dammit.” I checked my cell phone. Nobody had called. Now what?

  Through the glass, I saw Sunny emerge from a back room, frowning over a sheaf of papers.

  I knocked on the glass.

  Sunny twitched, dropping the papers.

  I grimaced.

  The realtor looked at the papers, the door, the papers. She lifted her shoulders, dropped them, and let me inside. “Hi, Karin! What can I do for you?”

  “Hi, I’m looking for Nick.”

  “Nick?”

  “Nick Heathcoat. Darla mentioned she saw you two together in Ground earlier today. Do you have any idea where he might be? I need to find him, and his cell isn’t answering. It’s urgent.”