Caleb grinned. Was this his Mandy talking like a badass? Well, a badass for her.
She touched his arm. “Can we stop somewhere along the way?”
He checked his watch. It wouldn’t be dark until almost nine o’clock. “Where do you need to go?”
“To Aubrey McClellan’s house.”
He did a double take. “I didn’t know you still hung with her.”
“We haven’t since high school. That was my fault, not hers. She’s a regular at the library.”
“Is she really what they say she is? I mean the real deal?”
Miranda remained silent for a moment then nodded. “Yes, she’s the real deal. We used to be good friends, and we’ve remained cordial. I thought we could use a little guidance, and I’m hoping she’ll be open to giving us some.”
If it could protect her and Juliet from the creepy fuckers, he was open to anything. Flexible was his middle name. “Does she still live on Potter Street?” he asked.
“Yes.”
A dry laugh broke from him.
Miranda’s brows rose. “What is it?”
Caleb flipped on the blinker, turned onto King Avenue, and headed west. “Where else would a witch live but on Potter Street?”
Chapter 17
Chase pulled into the lot reserved for officer parking at the back of the police station and turned off the car. He studied Juliet’s coloring. She’d turned sideways to rest her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Her dark brown lashes fanned against her pale cheeks, thick and long, the tips a lighter color. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and she was still hands-down one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.
Her prickly personality had been curbed by the pain and nausea. “Is the pain easing off now?”
“Yes.” She sounded drowsy.
Though he knew he shouldn’t touch her, he smoothed back a wayward strand of hair hanging close to her eye with a fingertip. “You’re supposed to take the meds every four hours. How long has it been since you took them?”
“They gave me something at the hospital at seven this morning. I was doing okay until now.”
Her eyes opened a slit, and the tawny, brownish-amber of her irises peeked out at him, giving him a glimpse of what she looked like first thing in the morning. A fierce arrow of desired rushed straight to his groin and he hardened in a rush. Shit! He needed to get a handle on this attraction.
“That’s seven hours, Juliet. The pain stresses your system and keeps you from healing, so it’s better to take the meds as prescribed until you’re healed enough to do without them.”
“I don’t like being controlled, and taking meds is being under the control of something.”
“Did you develop this attitude after your arrest in high school?”
She remained silent for a moment. “I was never arrested in high school. Who said I was?”
“It was just an impression I got.”
“From the other cops here?”
He kept his features carefully blank.
“I’m not surprised.” She turned her face away to look toward the station house. “I was a sophomore in high school. Miranda and I were invited to a party at Bobby Bush’s house.”
“Councilman Bush?”
“Yeah, his father was the councilman then. Bobby was a senior, and I had a crush on him. So, Miranda and I snuck out and went to the party. Neither one of us drank. Though there was plenty of beer there, we each got a bottled Coke from the cooler and held on to it for most of the night. And then Bobby came over to talk to me, and asked me to dance while Miranda danced with one of his friends.
“We came back to our drinks, and I drank a little of mine. A few minutes later I began to feel dizzy and nauseous. Bobby suggested I lie down upstairs.”
“He’d roofied you?”
“Yeah. The only thing that kept him from carrying out the plan was Miranda. She saw him carrying me upstairs and broke away from the boy she was dancing with. Her dance partner told her we were just going to have a little fun.”
“She got scared and snuck into the kitchen and dialed 911, then came upstairs. Bobby had taken my blouse off and was working on getting my jeans down when she came into the room. The cops showed up, and I was transported to the hospital. The lab work came back that I had Rohypnol in my system. They couldn’t prove Bobby had given it to me, but I know it was an ambush. Because he hadn’t gotten any further with the assault, and he was a minor, the police dropped everything.”
She swallowed hard, and he could see it still hurt badly. “Councilman Bush went into politician protection mode, and I ended up with the reputation of being a druggie while his son danced away scot free.” Her gaze grew distant. “I wonder how many other girls he drugged and succeeded in assaulting. After what happened to me, they’d have been too afraid to come forward.”
She looked back at his face. “I’m not saying I haven’t smoked a little weed or drunk a beer or two or three, but I’ve never popped pills, and I didn’t deserve a rep at age fifteen for having a crush on a football player. It hounded me all the way through high school. The teachers treated me like I was some kind of troublemaker and were constantly on me. And the cops are still pulling me over for nothing. No one in Superstition lets anything go. Ever.”
He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. Dammit. “I have to go inside and sign the notes into evidence. I can’t leave you in the car, it’s against regulations.”
She released the seat belt and grabbed her purse. “I’ll call a cab.”
He laid a hand on her arm. “I don’t want you to do that. I’d prefer to take you to Faulkner’s house myself.” It wasn’t because he was beginning to feel protective of her. It wasn’t. She was important to the case. His only witness to Tanner Newton’s killing and to Samuel Newton’s attack. She knew more than she’d said so far. And she was talking to him. Really talking to him. Eventually she’d get around to what had really happened on that street corner. He ran his fingers around the steering wheel, then gripped it. “I can’t do anything about what happened to you back then, Juliet. The statute of limitations has run out.”
“But if he’s still doing it… You could check into that.”
God there was such hope in her face. “Do you really believe he’d take that risk now?”
She shrugged again. “I work at a bar. I hear things.”
God, he was slipping. A witness was trying to report a crime and he’d had his head somewhere else because of a physical attraction. “Will you write a statement about what happened last night for me?”
“I can do that.”
“Did you write a statement for the police back then?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I’ll pull it and read it.”
“You won’t find it.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Councilman Bush had a lot of pull back then. If there was even a hint of suspicion cast on Bobby, he wouldn’t be councilman today. The whole thing was tossed in the trash.”
That she was probably right pissed him off. “We’ll see.”
He got out of the car and walked around to open her door. Juliet took some time to tie the scarf around her neck to cover the bruises.
Two patrol officers were leaving as they climbed the short flight of stairs to the door. One grabbed the handle and held it for them, and Juliet murmured a thank you. When he glanced over his shoulder he caught them both staring after her.
They took the elevator up to the third floor. He parked her in an interview room with a pen and paper to write her statement while he filled out paperwork to sign the notes into evidence. He made a copy of each one, sealed them each inside an evidence bag, initialed the tape, and handed it over to the officer manning the evidence room. He asked to see the evidence recovered from Gerald Abbott’s cell. The officer buzzed him in and handed him a pair of rubber gloves. He brought him the box and placed it on a table reserved for that purpose.
Abbott’s ja
il jumpsuit, shoes and underwear had remained with the coroner, as had the sheets and blankets from his bunk and the empty water bottle. Chase laid out the four pieces of evidence collected directly from the cell. A plastic baggy the sandwich came in recovered from the trash can, the crumpled potato chip bag ripped open to lay flat, the torn paper bag and a rectangular piece of paper. He picked up the plastic bag holding the piece of paper and recognized the writing and the reddish brown ink immediately. It had been lodged in the bottom of the bag the food came in.
What the fuck was going on around here?
He’d request a copy of the security video from the main desk downstairs and see who delivered the bag. It was supposed to be Scot’s wife. He’d bet his next paycheck it wasn’t.
Chase returned the evidence box and filled out a request for all four of the notes to be analyzed. He took the stairs to the third floor to check on Juliet. If she was right about the ink being blood, they’d have a DNA sample from the killer. Or at least whomever they’d hired to write the damn spells. And that could possibly lead them to the killer and the associate.
He entered the detective squad room with its cluttered desks and ringing phones to see Brian Underwood standing outside the interview room.
“What’s going on, Underwood?”
“You brought Juliet in for questioning again?”
“She’s writing up a statement for me. Was there something you wanted to ask her?”
“No. I was just keeping an eye on her.”
Chase leaned against the wall opposite the room. “She’s not going to steal the table and chairs in there.”
His bloated features folded into a scowl. “She’s always been a troublemaker.”
“Oh? So how long have you known her?”
“We went through the public school system together.”
“You didn’t say anything last night at the hospital.”
“I let Garr question her when I realized who she was.”
“I see.” Chase studied Underwood’s body language. There was tension in the way he stood, and his eyes kept shifting away. There was a history here Juliet hadn’t shared, other than the bully with a badge comment.
He had seen a little of that in Underwood’s demeanor himself.
“She’s a witness to a murder and two assaults. She’s not a suspect. You don’t have to keep an eye on her.”
“Two assaults?” His eyes widened.
“Samuel Newton’s and her own.”
“Oh.” Underwood gave a brief nod and ambled off to his desk.
What the hell did he think he’d meant? He needed to pump Juliet for info about the connection between her and Underwood.
Was there anyone in high school she hadn’t pissed off?
* * *
Sitting in Aubrey’s modest one-story home, Miranda wondered at how things both changed and stayed the same. A new couch. A beautiful distressed sideboard in the dining room. A new large, round rug in the center of the living room floor. But the atmosphere of peace still flowed through the house like the refreshing coolness of the air conditioning. She and Juliet had spent hours here as teenagers. The small house had been a haven from things neither she nor Juliet wanted to face at home.
Aubrey’s mother, a practicing Wiccan, had introduced them to meditation, taught them to call the quarters, and shown them how their inner strength could protect them. She had been a gentle, loving woman filled with spirit and joy, and had done more to boost her and Juliet’s sense of self-worth than their mother ever had.
If they had discovered how to direct their true power earlier, would they have been able to stop Clay? As it was, they’d interfered with his plans when they learned to read the signs. They’d both had to keep their guard up, because he was wily and manipulative. They’d tried to bind him from harming Juliet and succeeded for a while. Until that last day, when he found his picture wrapped in black binding cord with the spell. She flinched away from that memory.
It seemed wrong to bring trouble to Aubrey’s door without first warning her. But they were already here.
“How’s your dad? Is he doing well?” Miranda asked.
“He’s good. He and Sarah are doing great. He’s learning to be happy again. For a time I worried that he wouldn’t, but she’s so determinedly positive he doesn’t have a choice.” She laughed as she said it.
“I’m glad he’s found someone.”
Miranda’s grief at Sophie McClellan’s death pierced her, like the sudden slice of a blade. Automatically she extended a hand, and Aubrey took it. The sudden rush of shared power between them eased the feeling.
Caleb shifted in his chair, a frown tugging at his brows.
“You’ve discovered what I sensed at the library,” Aubrey said as their hands parted.
“Yes. It’s not something I’ve ever seen before, or ever thought possible.” She removed the copies of the notes and extended them to Aubrey.
Miranda watched her face as she studied them. “Copies wouldn’t have the same power as the originals would they?” The last thing she wanted to do was put Aubrey in danger by bringing something evil and dangerous into her home. She didn’t deserve to have to combat this.
Aubrey shook her head. Bright spots of color flared in her cheeks. Her green eyes looked livid. “No. But whoever wrote this has perverted the Craft by turning it into an intent to harm.”
“Do you have a network of friends you could ask?” Caleb asked. “Maybe someone would recognize the wording or even the handwriting.”
“The handwriting is a traditional calligraphy font anyone can learn to do. But the structure of the spell might stand out.”
“Juliet seemed to think the spells were written in blood,” Miranda said.
Aubrey’s face blanked and she went pale. “We have to figure out who did this, Miranda. There’s a real danger here.”
The urgency in her friend’s tone intensified her own. With every minute that passed dusk crept closer. How dark would it have to be before the creatures appeared? And would they be able to find them without the spell scrolls?
“Believe me, I know. I have the injury to prove it.” She brushed a hand down her arm. The bruise ached every time she moved it. She shifted restlessly. “The thing that came after me wasn’t human, Aubrey. It was gray, had no eyes, yet it was able to sense where I was. It had a mouth, long arms, long hands. It wasn’t of this world. It looked like the demons in a Hieronymus Bosch painting.”
Caleb leaned forward in his chair. “Could someone take the concept of an imaginary creature and turn it into something real?”
“If they’re walking the earth, they are real. And pose a real threat. The spell has the scent of dark magic, and with that, anything is possible. White magic uses blood sometimes as well, but the intent is always without malice.”
“If I hadn’t seen these things… I wouldn’t believe…” He shook his head. “And why can I see them when other people are oblivious to them?”
“I think it’s because you have such a strong tie to Miranda. You always have.”
When Caleb’s gaze fastened on her, Miranda’s throat thickened with emotion, and her eyes stung. She had to do something to protect him. If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself.
“How can we fight them?” Caleb asked.
“I’d rather wait for Juliet to arrive so we can talk this through together. She’ll play an important part.” Her attention swung to Miranda. “I know it’s been years since you’ve practiced, but you and Juliet will have to bind together to fight them. You were always stronger than you thought, Miranda. And Juliet had the potential to be a master.”
Miranda read the question in Aubrey’s eyes and looked away. She hadn’t harmed anyone with her magic, but she’d wanted to, and the strength of that intent had frightened her. But Aubrey deserved some explanation. “I had to take a step back, Aubrey. My control had become shaky.”
“You used to practice witchcraft?” Caleb asked, eyes wide and voice
louder than usual.
“Yes, from middle school through high school.”
“You never told me.” There was an accusation in the way he said the words.
“No one else knew either, Caleb. Only Aubrey’s mother, the three of us and Sherry Connor. We had to keep it quiet. Can you imagine what would have happened if Brian Underwood or the other creeps on the football team found out? Or even worse, the school staff? Things were hard enough without having our beliefs brought into question.”
Aubrey brushed her heavy red hair from her shoulder. “Any religion that travels outside the norm is looked upon as a threat. Had Miranda continued to practice the Craft, the college would never have hired her as head librarian. This is the Bible belt, and people aren’t encouraged to think in terms of anything but God, country, and Kentucky basketball.” She covered Miranda’s hand with her own. “I understood when she and Juliet stopped.”
That hadn’t been the reason she and Juliet had given it up. But she couldn’t divulge her sister’s secrets, or her own. They had continued to be friends with Aubrey, but they had stopped calling the quarters or casting the circle. Their relationship had never been the same.
One of the last times she visited before going to college, Aubrey had told her they’d turned their back on who they were. And in a sense they had. But it hadn’t been because of prejudice. It had been because of Clay Maddox.
Miranda’s gaze wandered to Caleb while Aubrey studied the spells once again. His frown spoke of disappointment instead of anger. She had hidden a part of herself from him, but only out of necessity. But to learn this now, on top of everything else—especially her own skittishness—she could only guess how he was feeling.
She looked back at Aubrey, who nodded. “I’ll make some coffee while we wait for Juliet. “I think some sandwiches would be good, too.”
Miranda murmured a thank you. She had allowed her fear to keep her from reaching for what she wanted, but no more. Whatever else happened, she wanted Caleb to know who she was and how she truly felt.
Juliet was right. She had to either let him in or let him go.
Ending things and encouraging him to move on would be the kindest thing to do.
Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1) Page 13
