“I told you already,” the other voice said. “If you want to back out, you have to do it now.”
“Do you want to back out?” The third voice asked.
“No. We’ve been planning this for three years.”
“I just want to make sure that we’re not in over our head here,” the third voice said.
“We’re not. Everything is going just as we planned. This town isn’t going to know what hit it.”
Sixteen
The three men didn’t stay in the kitchen very long. They were gone within a few minutes. Clove, Thistle and I stayed crouched in the laundry room until we were sure they were gone, waiting until we heard the car fire up and then drive away. Once they were gone, I turned to Thistle incredulously.
“I told you something was going on.”
“No, I told you.”
“I was the one that said it first,” I argued.
“I was the one that insisted we come out here,” Thistle countered.
“You both told each other,” Clove interjected irritably. “Let’s get out of here.”
Neither Thistle nor I had the energy – or the inclination – to argue with Clove. The arguments could wait until we were safely home.
Once we got back to the car, Clove passed the thermos around and we wordlessly drank from it until we were a few miles away from the Dragonfly. Once we were almost home, Thistle broke the silence.
“I think one of those guys was my dad.”
“Are you sure?” Clove asked.
“No,” Thistle shook her head. “Maybe I just think it was because I know he’s the one that technically bought the property.”
“That’s possible.”
“Or maybe it’s him and they were hiding something terrible in that house?”
There was that possibility, too.
“What do you think was in the box?” Clove asked, finally voicing the question that none of us really wanted the answer to.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Whatever it was, we had a chance to find it and we missed out.”
“Do you think it’s drugs?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think it was a body?” Clove asked.
“In a crate?” Thistle asked dubiously.
“We don’t know it was a crate. We know that it looked like crates were in the larder, but we don’t know what was behind the counter because we didn’t look,” Clove shot back petulantly.
She had a point.
“It was probably a coffin,” Clove said excitedly.
“A coffin?” Thistle looked agitated. “I knew we shouldn’t have brought you.”
“How is thinking it’s a coffin equate to you thinking you shouldn’t have brought me?” Clove looked hurt.
“Now you’re going to give yourself nightmares.”
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Bay!” They both yelled my name in unison.
“What?”
“Tell her it wasn’t a coffin.”
“It wasn’t a coffin.”
“How do you know?” Clove asked.
“I don’t. I just think we would have noticed a coffin. It had to be something small enough to fit behind the counter without being obvious.”
“Oh,” Clove seemed placated. “That makes sense.”
“We still don’t know what was in the crate,” Thistle pointed out.
“Let’s just get home,” I sighed.
ONCE we were back at the gatehouse, we all stripped down to simple T-shirts to pair with our matching jogging pants.
“Let’s order pizza,” Clove said. “I’m starving.”
“I lost my appetite,” Thistle muttered.
“I could eat,” I said.
A knock at the front door distracted us all. We exchanged worried looks and no one jumped to their feet to answer the door right away.
“You don’t think they followed us, do you?” Clove looked like she was about to pass out.
“We left after them,” Thistle said.
“Maybe they were hiding in the woods?”
“How did they hide their car?”
“Maybe only two of them left as a decoy and the other hid in the woods until we left and then they picked him up and they all followed us? Or maybe whatever was in that coffin came to life and followed us?”
Thistle was right, there was no way Clove was going to sleep alone tonight. She’d be crawling into bed with one of us around 2 a.m.
There was another knock on the door.
“One of us has to get it,” Thistle said finally.
“I nominate Bay,” Clove said hurriedly.
“Why me?”
“You’re the oldest.”
“You’re sleeping with Thistle tonight,” I grumbled.
I got to my feet and slowly plodded towards the door. I had images of masked assailants on the other side. I knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop my imagination from running wild.
“Who is it?” I asked when I got up close to the door.
“Pizza delivery.”
“We didn’t order any pizza.”
I tried to peer out the side window and see who was standing on the front porch but it was too dark. I flicked on the light, bracing to run as quickly as possible, but I found that the sight of the figure on the front porch was more welcome than I would have liked to admit.
I threw open the door and greeted Landon with a welcome smile. “You brought pizza?”
“Three of them.”
“I guess you can come in then.”
“Am I always going to have to bring food when I want an invitation beyond the front door?” Landon teased.
“So far.”
Landon pulled up short when he saw Thistle and Clove. “Why are you all dressed alike?”
Uh-oh. I most definitely didn’t want to tell Landon about our little excursion in the dark. Not only had we broken the law, but Thistle’s dad may also (or may not, who knew?) be involved in something underhanded.
“This is how we dress when we want to get comfortable,” Thistle said.
Landon handed me the three boxes of pizza and shrugged out of his heavy coat. Clove jumped to her feet and went to the kitchen to get plates and napkins. We were all settling around the coffee table to eat when there was another knock at the front door.
“Get out your gun,” Clove hissed at Landon.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I waved Clove off. “She’s just high strung tonight.”
“She’s on her period,” Thistle said.
“I am not,” Clove protested. “That’s not even a good lie. We’re all on our periods at the same time. You know that.”
“That sounds like a fun week,” Landon said, clearly uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation.
I opened the front door without looking outside this time. I felt a lot braver knowing Landon was only a few feet away. I found Marcus standing on the front porch with a paper bag in his hands.
“Hey,” I greeted him.
Marcus looked surprised when he came in and found Landon sitting with us. “Hey man, I didn’t know you were back.”
Landon and Marcus knew each other from a few months ago. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, but they had seemed to get along well enough.
“I’m back,” Landon agreed. “You hungry? I brought pizza.”
“Cool. I’m starved.”
Once we were all grouped around the coffee table, the conversation stalled for a few minutes while everyone relished the hot pizza. Once we were done, though, Marcus handed the bag he had brought to Thistle.
“What’s this?”
“I thought you wanted chocolate martinis?’
“Clove bought the ingredients earlier,” Thistle explained.
“Well,” Marcus shrugged. “Now you have more.”
Thistle and Clove set about to making the martinis whil
e Marcus and Landon got comfortable in adjacent chairs. They were soon discussing the state of the Detroit Pistons and how they thought the Lions were going to do next season – both topics of conversation that pretty much bored me to tears.
Once Thistle pressed a fresh martini in my hand, though, I didn’t care what they were talking about. I just let the chocolate goodness wash over me while Clove built a fire.
Once everyone was settled, the topic of conversation turned to the missing Canadian couple.
“We don’t know anything more than we knew this morning,” Landon said.
“A boat like that doesn’t just get abandoned,” Marcus said.
“No, it doesn’t.”
Marcus turned to Thistle. “So, how did your little adventure turn out tonight?”
“What adventure?” Landon turned to me curiously.
“No adventure,” I said evasively. “We were just doing some recon on Operation Make Aunt Tillie pay.”
“That’s not what we’re calling it,” Clove scoffed. I could tell she was already half drunk.
“And how is that little endeavor going?” Landon asked.
“We’re going to order Mrs. Claus voodoo dolls so Thistle can stick pins in them,” I said.
“Will that work?” Landon looked interested.
“No,” I shook my head. “It’s more like psychological warfare.”
“I don’t think Tillie is going to fall for that,” Landon said.
“She doesn’t need to fall for it,” Thistle said. “We just need to distract her for a little while.”
“And that will distract her?” Marcus asked.
“You’d be surprised at how easily distracted she is,” I said.
“Why don’t you just steal the recliner and get rid of it?” Landon asked.
I raised my eyebrows as I looked to Thistle. That wasn’t a bad idea. She smacked her head in realization. “We can hold the recliner ransom.”
“How are we going to get it out of there?” Clove asked.
“You’re going to distract her while Marcus and Landon carry out the chair,” I said.
“How did we get involved in this?” Landon asked.
“It was your idea,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want her going after me,” he said.
“The chair is too heavy for Thistle and me to carry. We need you. You can get it out of there in a few minutes.”
“We won’t tell her you were involved,” Thistle promised.
Marcus still looked doubtful. “I don’t want to get on her bad side. She likes me. She always makes sure I get an extra slice of pie.”
“She likes you?” Landon looked impressed.
“I weed her gardens in the summer.”
“Which garden?” Landon was suspicious. It was a well-known fact that Twila and Aunt Tillie maintained a small pot garden in the summer. They didn’t think anyone knew but, the truth was, everyone in town knew. Even a few high school kids had tried to find it. Instead they found themselves with a poison oak rash in a rather uncomfortable place thanks to a cloaking spell around the infamous pot field. We’re not talking dirt weed here.
Marcus looked uncomfortable. “Her vegetable garden.”
Landon didn’t look like he believed him.
Thistle suddenly burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. “Our family is crazy.”
Landon tipped his head back and drained the rest of his martini. “That’s putting it mildly. Your family is certifiable. I can’t believe some of you – especially your Aunt Tillie – haven’t been locked away.”
I know I should have been insulted, but the truth hurts sometimes.
Seventeen
“Bay!”
It took me a second to get my bearings – and when I did, I found that I wished the blissful darkness that had previously cocooned me was still in place. When the early morning light filtered in and collided with my sleep crusted eyes, followed closely by the drum that was beating inside of my head, I had to fight the urge to scream. That would just hurt more.
“Who is yelling?”
I rolled over when I heard the voice and just about bolted out of my own bed when I saw Landon lying beside me. What the hell?
Last night’s events started running through my mind. There had been a cold excursion to a burned-out inn, warm pizza and chocolate martinis. I rubbed my head ruefully. Lots and lots of chocolate martinis.
I slid a sideways glance at Landon. His dark hair was sprawled out on the pillow next to me. Thankfully, he wasn’t naked. I quickly glanced under the covers and breathed a sigh of relief. I was still dressed, too.
I felt Landon shift next to me and watch me warily. “Don’t worry, I didn’t take advantage of you.”
“I was just checking,” I rasped. Man, I needed some water – and half a bottle of aspirin. A pot of coffee wouldn’t hurt either.
“You really thought I would do that?”
“I couldn’t remember,” I admitted. “I didn’t exactly expect to find you here. Not that it’s not a nice surprise,” I added hurriedly.
“You said I shouldn’t leave because it was snowing. You don’t remember that?”
“Not really,” I replied. “The last thing I really remember was plotting to steal Aunt Tillie’s chair.”
“You still think that’s a good idea?” Landon raised his eyebrow but the effort must have been taxing to him because he immediately raised his hand to his forehead and started rubbing it absentmindedly.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “All I can think about right now is a bottle of water and a handful of aspirin.”
“Let’s throw some dry toast on that, too,” Landon said. “We need to eat something and I want something bland enough that my stomach won’t rebel.”
I couldn’t help but laugh – which caused another shooting pain to course through my head. “Your stomach rebel a lot?”
“Only around you, apparently.”
I struggled to my feet, lurching forward two steps until I regained my equilibrium. “This is why you don’t drink on work nights,” I lamented.
“I don’t think drinking that much is ever a good idea,” Landong muttered.
“That’s not what you said the last time Aunt Tillie got her wine out,” I reminded him.
“Yeah? Well you didn’t see me the next morning. I was thinking the exact same thing then as I am now.”
“Then why did you drink last night?”
“I can’t remember,” Landon groaned. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“It always does,” I agreed.
I watched as he struggled to get out of bed. He was wearing the same white T-shirt he had worn under his flannel shirt the night before. He had stripped out of his blue jeans, but he was wearing a pair of boxer shorts that actually made me smile. Landon saw me looking at his shorts and rubbed the stubble on his chin ruefully. “This isn’t doing much for my street cred, is it?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I think you look tough. Even if you are wearing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle underwear.”
“I’d come up with a suitable lie for wearing them if my head didn’t hurt so much.”
“You can think of one over coffee,” I said, moving towards the bedroom door. I paused, though, when my hand hit the doorknob. “Did you hear someone calling my name a few minutes ago?”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s what woke me up. Someone was yelling my name.”
Landon thought about it. “It was probably just Thistle or Clove. They’re probably hung-over, too.”
“I know Clove will be.”
“Didn’t she pass out on the living room floor?”
“Yeah, I seem to remember something like that,” I acknowledged. I threw off the feeling of dread that had washed over me when I had reached for the doorknob the first time and instead pushed it open and walked into the living room. I immediately wanted to go back to bed.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t thi
s a pretty picture?”
I swallowed hard when I met Thistle’s glazed-over gaze on the couch. Marcus was sitting next to her in a random state of undress. On either side of them were my mom and Twila, while Aunt Tillie was sitting in the big chair in the corner.
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking up on you after the storm last night,” Aunt Tillie said.
“What storm?” I asked in a wobbly voice.
“We got like a foot of snow or something,” Thistle gritted out. She looked like she wanted to murder someone. I was guessing Aunt Tillie was on the top of that list.
“We got six inches of snow,” my mom corrected her. “It was mixed with ice, though, so it was more dangerous.”
“Huh.” I sank into one of the kitchen chairs that was placed around our small dinette set in the little room between the dining room and kitchen. We never used the table. It had essentially become a stopgap for magazines, old copies of The Whistler and random tabloids that we liked to thumb through.
“You don’t usually check on us for snow,” I said, looking around the room for Clove and Marnie.
“Marnie was convinced that we needed to come down here for some reason. She thought that there might be trouble,” Aunt Tillie said.
Aunt Marnie wasn’t clairvoyant, but she did have a sense for uncovering trouble. She was always the one that busted us for drinking in a field when we were teenagers. It was beyond annoying.
“We have a phone,” I reminded Aunt Tillie.
“That’s what I suggested,” Aunt Tillie said. “I knew you weren’t in any real trouble.” Aunt Tillie looked Landon up and down, pausing to stare at his colorful boxer shorts a little longer than necessary. “Not any trouble that you didn’t want to be in, that is.”
I rolled my eyes at Aunt Tillie. “Nothing happened.” I don’t know why I felt the need to explain myself. I wasn’t a child anymore. Aunt Tillie just brought it out in me sometimes.
“Really? Because it looks like you had an overnight visitor,” my mom answered shrilly.
“Who?” I feigned ignorance.
My mom’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Landon.”
Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) Page 11
