I was trying to give him an out. He didn’t take it.
“No. It was a flying saucer.”
“Well, great.” I tugged a restless hand through my hair and turned my full attention to the billowing smoke. It showed no signs of abating. To my utter surprise, I noticed several figures moving away from the scene and in our direction. Given the location of the sun, it was impossible to make out features. All I had were silhouettes to go on. “Uh-oh.”
“Do you think they’re coming for us?” Clove’s voice turned terrified. “They’re not going to lock us up for spying on a secret government drone operation, are they?”
“Of course not.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I just am.” I exchanged a quick look with Thistle. I was anything but sure. Still, Clove was the type to panic. I couldn’t let that happen when we were about to get some answers. “Trust me. I have everything under control.”
Alien Inspiration
If we ever get invaded by aliens, I want it to be the ones from that movie Signs. They traveled millions of miles to invade a world filled with water when they’re allergic to it. They’re also stymied by the lock on the pantry. That’s exactly the kind of aliens I want to hang with.
Marnie shows her disinterest in all things alien
Three
In Hemlock Cove, no one can hear you scream.
Four men approached, although making out features was difficult until they were almost on top of us. I didn’t recognize the two in the lead, but the two scrambling to keep up were familiar.
“It’s Landon and Chief Terry,” Clove said, her relief palpable. “They’ll tell us what’s going on.”
The looks on the faces of the men leading the charge made me wary. “Maybe. Just ... let me do the talking.”
Thistle snorted, disdain practically rolling off her in waves. “No way. Whenever you do the talking we end up in trouble. I’ll do the talking.”
That sounded like a surefire way to get arrested. It was early spring in Hemlock Cove. That meant the snow was gone but could make an unscheduled return. I love the nicer weather — we didn’t get nearly enough of it in northern Lower Michigan — so there was no way I wanted to risk being locked up for an extended period of time.
“I’ll do the talking,” I argued. “I’m the oldest. I’m in charge.”
“That stopped being the rule when we hit ten,” Thistle countered. “I’m the smartest. I should do the talking.”
Now I was officially offended. “You’re not the smartest. I’m the smartest.”
“Well, I’m the cutest,” Clove interjected. “I should definitely do the talking. I’m the best when it comes to getting us out of trouble.”
“I don’t think those guys are going to fall for your fake tears,” I challenged. “I’m doing the talking.”
“You’re not doing the talking.” Thistle was adamant. “I’m the one who is best prepared to handle this. Let me do it.”
“Hey.” The leading man called out to get our attention. “What are you doing out here?” He sounded gruff and unhappy, as if he was about to lay down the law. I immediately disliked his attitude.
“You should do the talking, Thistle,” I said, changing course. “He’s all yours.”
Instead of being dissuaded by the man’s tone, Thistle squared her shoulders. “I’ve got this.” She plastered a bright smile on her face. “Hello, good sir. Fine day today, isn’t it?”
I wrinkled my nose and touched my tongue to my top lip. “That’s your big plan? You’re going to attack him with stupid words? That will surely snow him.”
Thistle ignored me. “Isn’t spring in Michigan a lovely time?”
The man stopped when he was directly in front of us, his hands moving to his hips. He didn’t look happy. “This is a restricted area. You’re not allowed to be here. You need to leave right now.”
He was close, and the sun was no longer blocking my view, so I had a moment to look him over. He was dressed in normal street clothes — jeans, a flannel shirt, tan boots — and he looked like he should be out running errands rather than controlling a crash site.
“I’m Bay Winchester,” I offered. “I’m the owner of The Whistler, the local newspaper. We’re out here trying to ascertain what happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
“I see.” I looked to Landon, who was almost even with the first man, but he didn’t make eye contact. “Well, the thing is, the residents in this area have a right to know what’s going on. If this is a plane crash or something, then I have a right – actually, make that a duty – to ask questions.”
“Agent Gibson, I can handle this,” Landon said hurriedly. “You don’t have to worry about this … situation. I told you that.”
For his part, Gibson didn’t look placated by Landon’s words. “And I told you, Agent Michaels, that this is my scene. You have no jurisdiction over my scene.”
I didn’t miss the momentary flash of agitation that crowded Landon’s handsome features. He shuttered it quickly and remained calm. “It’s just that I know these girls. I can get them away from the scene.”
Girls? That was insulting. “I believe you mean ‘women,’” I corrected.
Landon didn’t smile at my poor sense of timing. “Agent Gibson, there’s no reason to get upset. They’re simply out here because they’re curious. It’s not a big deal.”
There was almost a pleading edge to Landon’s tone, and it set my teeth on edge. He was usually the type who would jump into the middle of the fray and start fighting. That’s not how he acted today.
“What’s going on?” Thistle directed the question to Chief Terry, who was out of breath as he joined the other side of Agent Gibson.
“You guys need to clear out,” Chief Terry ordered. He didn’t look any happier with the situation than Landon. “You can’t be out here.”
“This is private property,” Gibson barked. “Either clear off or we’ll clear you off.”
Had he asked nicely, I probably would’ve walked away with minimal grumbling. Okay, that’s not true. I still would’ve argued. I wouldn’t have enjoyed the arguing nearly as much if he wasn’t a such a tool, though.
“This isn’t private property,” I argued. “This is town land. Hemlock Cove bought Potter’s Field from Larry Potter’s estate ten years ago. They got a heckuva deal because no one else wanted it.”
“It’s swamp land,” Clove offered helpfully. “You can’t plant crops on swampland.”
“And Larry Potter was his real name,” Thistle added, although her tone was less than conciliatory. “He didn’t appreciate Hogwarts jokes in the least.”
Landon pinned Thistle with a quelling look. “That is fascinating, Thistle. That little tidbit is so important to this conversation I can’t tell you how happy I am that you shared it.”
Thistle ignored the sarcasm. “You’re welcome.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s public land,” I persisted. “You can’t evict us from public land.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Gibson’s eyes fired with fury. “If you don’t leave this area right now, I will take you into custody. What’s happening here is a federal matter. Federal. Do you know what that means?”
I nodded. “It means that Landon is a federal agent.” I pointed toward my boyfriend, who looked as if he would rather crawl into a hole than be dragged further into the conversation. “He can tell me what’s going on.”
“Agent Michaels is not in control of the scene,” Gibson spat. “He won’t be sharing information. Isn’t that right, Agent Michaels?”
Landon nodded stiffly as he met my gaze. “There’s a media blackout on this one, Bay. You can’t be part of it.”
I was gobsmacked. Very rarely could I say that. I grew up with Aunt Tillie, after all, so I was used to being taken by surprise. Landon’s reaction to all of this was something out of a freaky book, though. It just happened to be a book I had no interest in reading.
<
br /> “I see.” I shifted my eyes to Thistle. She looked as baffled as I felt. “So, basically you’re saying that you’re barring us from public land. Do I have that right?”
“Spin it however you want.” Gibson refused to back down. “You’re to vacate the premises right now. There is no story here. There’s no information to share. I believe I’ve seen the newspaper you claim to own; your readers will be just as happy with a recipe for jam as they will be for information on this. You seem better suited for the jam.”
My mouth dropped open as temper, rich and ripe, flared in Landon’s eyes.
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” Landon snapped. “She’s out here doing her job. There’s no reason to give her grief.”
“I’m doing my job,” Gibson barked back. “You should try focusing on your job rather than these women. They’re not your concern.”
Landon looked as if he was going to argue further, but Chief Terry offered him an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Something very odd was going on here.
“You need to go, Bay.” Landon was firm as he held my gaze. “You can’t be here.”
I had two options. I could stay and fight, which would almost certainly result in me being arrested and Landon being miserable, or I could meekly walk away and plot against Agent Gibson from the safety of The Overlook. To no one’s surprise, I opted for the latter.
“Fine. We’re going.” I gave Clove a shove to push her toward Thistle’s car. “You don’t have to tell us twice.”
“I believe I had to tell you five times,” Gibson shot back.
“Oh, wow, he can count to five,” Thistle drawled. “Did you use your hands or feet for that?”
Gibson’s eyes flashed when I risked a glance. “Don’t come back here. This property is closed to everyone but official investigators. Do you understand me?”
I refused to meet Landon’s gaze as we passed in front of him. “Oh, I understand. You don’t have to worry about us. We’re rule followers. Ask anyone.”
MY TEMPER WAS ON full display by the time we hit The Overlook.
“They’re hiding something out there.” I paced the kitchen as my mother and aunts toiled over dinner preparations. “The initial story I heard was a plane crash, but it didn’t look like a plane crash. I think it was a drone or something. There’s no other explanation for why the federal government would be out there so fast.”
“Well, I hope it was a drone,” my mother said, her eyes on the cake she was decorating rather than my face. “Drones are unmanned, right? If it was a drone, that means no one was hurt.”
Of course, she would go there. My mother was nothing if not queen of the guilt trip. “I’m not saying that I want someone to die.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That they’re hiding something, and the public has the right to know.”
“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion, Bay,” Aunt Marnie offered without bothering to look up. She was busy chopping vegetables to go with the roast. “If it was a drone like you think, there’s really nothing to report. It’s not as if the federal government is going to tell us what they were doing with the drone. That’s not how they operate.”
How was it possible that I was the only angry one here? “They’re hiding something ... and that guy talked down to us. You know I don’t like getting talked down to.”
“I don’t blame you there.” Aunt Tillie sat in her recliner in the corner. She never helped with the cooking. That was probably a good thing because, unlike my mother and aunts, she did not inherit the kitchen witch gene. She was as much of a menace when it came to cooking as I was. That meant she supervised the operation rather than participated. “I think it’s obvious what’s going on. This Agent Gibson was sent out to cover up for it, and you know how I feel about cover-ups.”
“Oh, geez.” Mom pinched the bridge of her nose and stared at the ceiling as if trying to gather her patience before exploding. “I don’t think we’re dealing with a cover-up. Obviously, people can’t simply wander around the field because there’s plane debris — or drone debris, if you like — and it’s not safe for people to hang around the area.”
I was incredulous. “So, you just believe that story?”
Mom shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? I think the better question is, why don’t you believe it?”
“Because they’re lying.”
“Darned right.” Aunt Tillie’s face flushed with excitement as she leaned forward. That was never a good sign. She was the only one on my side in this particular argument, though, so I ignored the fact that she often made me nervous when it came to things like this. “I think I know what they’re lying about.”
“You do?” I arched a curious eyebrow. “What were they doing out there? Have you seen a drone flying around?” Something occurred to me. “Wait, you didn’t arrange for that drone to crash because it was flying over your pot field, did you? If so, that is not cool.”
Mom’s shoulders stiffened as she shifted to face Aunt Tillie. “You didn’t crash that drone, did you?”
“Who do you take me for?” Aunt Tillie can’t often pull off indignant with anyone who knows her, but she gave it a decent shot today. “I wouldn’t crash a drone. It can’t see my medicinal field anyway. It’s cloaked.”
Actually, that was a minor relief. If the Feds didn’t know the pot field was there, the odds of us being the target of their little spying mission were slim. “If they weren’t here for us, what were they here for?”
“You’re looking at it the wrong way,” Aunt Tillie chided. “It wasn’t the government spying at all.”
“So it was a plane?” I couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. “Do you think someone died? Who around here has a plane like that?”
The look Aunt Tillie shot me was pitying. “It wasn’t a plane either. Are you stupid?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
“Apparently you are stupid.” She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “It was a flying saucer, Bay. Everybody knows that.”
I stared at her for a long beat, blinking rapidly. Finally, I found my voice. “Are you kidding me?”
“No. It was a flying saucer. I know it and you know it, too.”
“I know nothing of the sort,” I snapped. “I know something went down in that field, but it most certainly wasn’t a UFO.”
“Of course it wasn’t a UFO.” Aunt Tillie’s tone turned weary. “It wasn’t an unidentifiable flying object. It was a flying saucer. It was identified.”
Now it was my turn to be suspicious. “Have you been hanging out with Hank?”
“Of course not. He’s a nut.”
“You’re a nut, too,” Mom argued. “I warned you about hanging out with him. He supposedly has an illegal arsenal on his property ... and explosives, if you believe the gossip in town. I don’t think you should be around explosives.”
That was the understatement of the year. “Hank was out there. He called it a flying saucer, too.”
“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about it being a flying saucer,” Mom said. “I think your guess that it was a drone is probably spot on. It makes the most sense. If someone around here had a plane and it didn’t return to the hangar, we all would’ve heard about it.”
“I’m still going to find out exactly what happened.”
“Of course you are, dear.” Mom absently brushed me aside as she moved around the counter. “Can you figure it out in the other room? We’re on a bit of a timetable here.”
And just like that, I was dismissed. “Fine.” I moved toward the door. “Apparently I’m not appreciated anywhere.”
“Don’t look at me,” Aunt Tillie groused. “I definitely don’t appreciate you. When you agree it’s a flying saucer, then we’ll talk.”
“You’re going to be waiting a long time.”
“I bet I don’t wait very long at all.”
I WAS ALONE IN THE library when Landon let himself into the inn for dinner. He h
eaded straight for me, and when we locked gazes he looked angry rather than apologetic.
“I’m not in the mood to be yelled at,” I warned, my temper returning with a vengeance. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Landon held his hands up. “Did I say you did something wrong?”
“Kind of. You basically gave me the bum’s rush and ordered me off public property.”
“I had no choice, Bay. I’m not in charge of this case. I can’t give you special treatment.”
Oh, that was rich. “I don’t believe I asked for special treatment.”
“You don’t have to ask. I give it to you whenever I can because I love and trust you.”
If he thought a big pile of mush would cause me to melt, he had another think coming. “I wasn’t asking for special treatment today. I was on public land. Removing me from the scene was against the law.”
“Then perhaps you should file a complaint.” Landon flopped down on the couch next to me and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a drink.”
I wasn’t about to wait on him given what had happened in Potter’s Field. “The drink cart is on the other side of the room.”
He slid me a sidelong look, his expression so weary that it caused a momentary jolt of guilt to course through me. My anger quickly swallowed the guilt, though.
“Are you going to be angry with me all night?” Landon asked finally.
I shrugged, noncommittal. “I guess that depends.”
“On what? If you want a massage, I’ll gladly give you one when we get back to the guesthouse. I’m even tired enough for us to take a bath together and go to bed early.”
That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. “I want to know what’s going on in Potter’s Field. I know you couldn’t tell me earlier, but Agent Give Me a Migraine is nowhere in sight. He can’t stop you from talking now.”
Close Encounters of the Witchy Kind (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy Book 6) Page 3
