by Cindy Stark
He chuckled. “That’s for sure.”
She glanced over her shoulder as he held out a chair for her. “What did you have for lunch?”
He narrowed his gaze in a playful look. “Soda and chips. That’s all I had time for.”
“You can’t survive on that. You know, Cora will deliver.”
“Sometimes,” he countered. “If she’s not busy.”
“No, she’s planning on beefing up that service, at least during regular lunch and dinner times.”
He seemed interested. “Is that so?”
She nodded. She’d call her friend tomorrow to see if she could set up a regular delivery of her special of the day to Peter. If he didn’t eat it or didn’t like what she sent, someone in the office surely would.
He dished the chicken-pasta combination onto his plate before passing the bowl to her. “This looks good.”
“Thanks. I adore the lemon tarragon dressing. I thought it might be nice for a summer night.”
He grabbed a crusty roll, broke it open, and sliced off a chunk of butter to place inside.
She paused to gauge his emotions. Calm. Content. The perfect time to ask questions. “How was your day?”
He glanced up from his food and smiled. “You mean how goes the case?”
Heat suffused her cheeks, and she shook her head in embarrassment. “I was asking about you. But if you don’t want to tell me about your day, fine. Then I’ll ask, how goes the case?”
He caught her hand and squeezed, sending a familiar current of affection straight to her heart. “My day was good. The case, not so much. As of right now, all evidence points toward Anya.”
No surprise there. “All circumstantial evidence, you mean. Unless you’ve found prints or something else that’s definitive.”
He grinned, and she knew he loved discussing cases with her. She loved it just as much. “Anya’s relationship with her husband was strained at best.”
Didn’t make her a murderer. “It had been for quite some time. There’s no reason for her to decide to take his life now.”
“No reason that we’re aware of,” he countered.
She supposed she’d have to give him that much, but still… “Unless you have more, that will never hold up in court.”
“True,” he said and took a sip of the vanilla orange iced tea she’d brewed and chilled. “We did find Anya’s DNA on the body.”
She stabbed a piece of chicken and then a grape with her fork. “Means nothing. I watched her grab his hands and try to drag the body after she freaked out because she was so worried about the town’s accusations. The transfer of DNA could have happened then.”
“Or,” he said, pointing his fork at her. “She could have done that with you witnessing her actions to cover any DNA she might have left earlier. Did you think about that?”
“Weak at best,” she countered. “None of this proves anything.”
She paused for a sip of tea, wondering how to word her thoughts without giving too much away. “Have you considered other suspects? I spoke with his brother, Edmond, today. There’s definitely no love lost there.”
Peter nodded. “We interviewed him this morning. No question, he doesn’t like his brother, but there’s no recent altercations or issues between them.”
Hazel chuckled at his double standard. “So, that clears him, but not Anya? She had nothing recent, either.”
An easy smile slid across his lips and tugged on her heart. “No one is cleared at this point, beautiful lady. Now, do you want to hear the preliminary autopsy results or not?”
She couldn’t stop her smile. One day, her curiosity would be the death of her. “You know I do.”
“Isaac Egginton was shot twice with a forty-five-caliber gun. One bullet was found not far from the body. We assume the first, point-blank shot took him down. Stomach wound. At this point, we’re guessing the first bullet didn’t kill him. He may have been struggling with his attacker when the gun went off.”
She grimaced. “The pain of being shot in the stomach and not immediately dying must have been horrific.”
“I imagine so. Second bullet was lodged in the asphalt beneath him. Likely the fatal shot. I believe he would have bled out anyway if given enough time. Since Anya lives at the last house on the road, and it’s a quiet one at that, no one would have found him in time to help him.”
She agreed and shivered. The thought that someone had taken a life practically right outside her front door left her more than a little nervous. With or without Clarabelle or Mr. Kitty’s help, she intended to find a home protection spell in one of those spell books. She wouldn’t rest easy until she did.
She tried to picture someone standing on her street, holding a man at gunpoint. But couldn’t. It just didn’t add up. Unless Anya had lured Isaac to her house. But then it made no sense for her to kill him there.
Anya had been spot-on when she’d worried she’d be the number one suspect.
Hazel needed more information. “What would be the significance of the second shot? To make sure he died? Or something done in a fit of anger?”
A sexy smile curved his lips. “My questions exactly. The final autopsy results might give us more information. The search warrant request should be signed by morning, and we might find more information then.”
She gave him a sad look. “For Anya’s house?”
“I told you. She’s our prime suspect. He was killed directly outside her house, Hazel. They had a strained relationship. Even if she didn’t do it, the gun might have been tossed on her property.”
“Or on my property, or in the river across the street. Don’t forget the acres of forest around us,” she added.
“We’ll be checking there, too. It might take us a few days, but we’ll canvas the entire area as best we can.”
“There are a lot of trees behind our houses.”
He snorted. “Thanks for reminding me how difficult our job will be. But we have a team with search dogs coming in from Salem to help cover that area. I hope we find it.”
“I hope you do, too, and it clears Anya.”
He paused with a buttered roll halfway to his lips. “You really want her to be innocent.”
She frowned. “Only because I believe she is innocent.”
“And you value your witchy instincts more than police procedures and science.”
She wagged her finger. “No. I believe the two go hand in hand…like you and me. They both have strengths and value to add. Both will help to solve the case faster.”
“I guess I can’t argue that.”
“Nope,” she said with finality.
There was one other thing she was dying to hear more about. “I saw the blood on Isaac’s arm. Anya’s name. What do you and your investigators make of that?”
“Obviously, he didn’t die right away. Even after the second shot. The killer wouldn’t be likely to stand around and watch while he labeled his murderer.”
She tried to block the image of what that scene might have looked like. “Unless, of course, someone wanted to frame her.”
“We’re not ruling anything out, but initially, it looks like he was naming his killer,” Peter continued. “You can’t deny that. If you have another suggestion, I’d like to hear it.”
She wished she had something to tell him, too. Another direction to send him. “Unfortunately, I don’t. To be honest, I can’t imagine why Isaac would be at her house in the first place.”
“Like I said. It doesn’t look good for her.”
Peter was right. Things were stacking heavily against Anya. She didn’t want to add more to make her look guilty.
She stabbed a couple of pieces of bowtie pasta covered in the yummy dressing and lifted the bite to her mouth.
“Saw your bike at Gretchen’s earlier today.”
His comment caught her by surprise, and she hurried to chew her food, so she could answer.
She took a sip of tea and hoped her demeanor appeared casual. “She’s one of
my regular tea deliveries. And a friend. Also, she just lost her son. It’s not unthinkable that a person in my situation might do the same.”
“Except most in your situation wouldn’t have ulterior motives.”
She gave him a nonchalant shrug. If she acted like her visit was no big deal, maybe Peter wouldn’t dig deep with questions. “I can’t help it if I’m curious. There’s nothing illegal about that.”
“I have no doubt that you, Miss Hardy, would figure out a way to make anything legal if it suited you.”
She rolled her eyes and went along with his teasing. “Not anything…”
Though if she believed something to be right or wrong, she’d do her best to prove it.
He grinned, and she realized he’d been goading her. “That’s what I love about you. Your way of achieving justice might be different than mine, but the end goal is the same.”
“You, Chief Parrish, are frustrating. You’ll be lucky if I give you dessert.” She stabbed a chunk of chicken. “We should change the subject.”
“Uh-huh.” He narrowed his gaze and stared at her for a long moment. His assessment left her uncomfortable.
Seconds ticked by until she couldn’t stand it. “What?” she finally asked.
He opened his hands wide in invitation. “Go ahead.”
She feigned misunderstanding. “With what?”
“With whatever you learned. Obviously, it’s something you don’t want to say, but you can’t tell me you didn’t learn anything from your visit.”
She growled inside. The man was too smart sometimes.
“Fine.” Hazel set her fork down and released a heavy sigh. “As you can imagine, Gretchen was pretty upset.”
“Same when we interviewed her. Distraught, I’d say.”
She nodded. “Yes. Extremely distraught. Saying that she loathes Anya might be putting it mildly. She accused Anya of wanting Isaac dead.”
Peter studied her with a thoughtful look. “She told me that as well.”
When she didn’t respond with further information, he leaned closer. “And?”
She exhaled her frustration. She didn’t want to say anything more than that, but Peter knew she was withholding. “Gretchen said Anya had tried her best to run him into the ground while they were together.”
Hazel thought about keeping the rest to herself but knew it would be pointless to try. “She even went so far as to say Anya had poisoned him, which was why he left her and sought medical help.”
He lifted his brows toward his hairline. “She mentioned she thought Anya had tried to kill him, yes. But not poison him, specifically. Did she say how she knew these things? Any kind of proof?”
“No. I think it’s all purely speculation. Mother-in-laws are notorious for conflict with their children’s spouses. I would guess that’s where all this stems from.”
He tilted his head to the side and gave her a curious look. “What’s your mother like?”
She groaned and slouched against her chair. “You don’t want to know.”
He seemed skeptical. “That bad, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said with more than a touch of sarcasm. “And she wasn’t invited to this party, so let’s leave her out of it.”
For good, she wanted to add.
Peter locked his hands behind his head and leaned back. He released a long sigh. “I would say Anya has history on her side because most district attorneys don’t want to go to trial with only circumstantial information, but the amount she has adding up against her might tip the scales.”
“And I say that’s not acceptable. There’s more here that we’re not seeing. I know it.”
He opened his hands in a show of defeat. “I’m not saying we’re giving up. We’ll dig until we have answers. Just don’t be surprised when you hear we’ve taken her into custody.”
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and then dragged it across her lips. She was determined that wouldn’t happen. “I’ll tell you what. If you can give me any ideas on how to help her, I’ll serve you a big, fat piece of peach cobbler that we can eat while sitting on my new swing.”
He lifted his brows in excitement. “With vanilla ice cream?”
She snorted. “Of course.”
“Well, then, Miss Hardy. My best advice is to find the gun, so we can test it for fingerprints. We’ll keep checking with taxi cabs and other drivers-for-hire that might have brought him out this way. He didn’t take his mother’s car. In fact, she thought he’d gone to bed for the night. And I highly doubt he walked the whole way. So, someone had to drive him or see him walking, if that was the case.”
She continued to play with her hair and then nodded. “A gun and a driver. Might be difficult but not impossible to find.”
She was up for the challenge.
Peter slid back his chair and stood. “How about I start on the dishes while you serve dessert?”
She grinned, realizing once again how much she loved this man. “Cobbler coming right up.”
Instead of taking dishes to the sink, he pulled her out of her seat and into a firm embrace. “One more thing first.”
She gazed into his eyes and sensed the tight tangle of darker emotions hiding beneath the surface. “What is it?” she asked softly.
“Promise me you won’t keep things from me. Even if they’re things you don’t think I want to hear. Even if they’re things you don’t want to say. I’ve had too much of that in the past.”
The unspoken reminder that his previous wife had deceived him bit into her like the nasty bee who’d stung her a few weeks ago. He was asking for honesty, and he deserved it.
She gave him a penitent nod. “Of course. I’m sorry. I want to help Anya, but I do understand that the truth is the best way, especially between us. You’re an honest and fair man, Peter, and I trust that you’ll do the right thing.”
A genuine smile curved his lips and breathed life back into her pitiful heart. “Thank you. I love you.”
His kiss was warm and sweet, and she vowed to be the woman he deserved. “I love you, too.”
He pulled away from her. “Now, let’s get to that cobbler.”
She laughed as he gathered dishes, and she walked to the freezer to retrieve the ice cream.
Six
Hazel rose early the next day with plans already buzzing in her head. She’d taken a liking to her early morning walks and meditation in the grove. The practice cleared her mind, and the exercise infused her with extra energy to help her power through the day.
She’d asked Peter to give her a heads-up when his men were headed her way later in the morning. She wanted to be conveniently present to offer Anya support while they ransacked her house looking for a weapon that wouldn’t be there.
Peter had admitted that Anya had told him she didn’t like guns and didn’t own one, but they still had to check for any evidence that might help the case. At least the police could check a personal property search off their list and that would be one less thing they could hold against her.
The more crossed hurdles the police put behind them, the better for Anya.
Since Peter had warned it would likely be a morning visit, she’d arranged for Gretta to cover the teashop by herself until the afternoon. She had a feeling Anya would need a great deal of handholding that day.
In preparation for her walk, Hazel scooped her unruly hair into a ponytail and slipped on her sneakers. Peter had stayed late the night before, and she hadn’t had a chance to look for a protection spell for the house, so she locked the door behind her when she left.
A few stray clouds danced among the blue skies as she followed the familiar path into the forest. From her point of view, with all traces of civilization at her back, she imagined this was what Clarabelle must have seen when she traversed into the woods.
Hazel focused on breathing and the sounds of nature as she walked through the thick trees. Early morning dew collected on the tops of her shoes, and the air carried the sweet smell of pine and rich e
arth.
They’d become her favorite smells.
Well, that and the scent of Peter’s cologne.
No, she wasn’t thinking about him on this walk, she reminded herself. This was about clearing her mind and soul of daily thoughts.
The second she had that thought, an image of his smiling face popped into her mind, and she smiled.
But really. “Stopping right now,” she whispered.
She took a deep breath and focused on nature’s music instead. Different birds chirped and tweeted adding lovely sounds to her morning ritual.
When she reached the clearing that had witnessed many spells, good and bad, she slowed. Sun had dried the dew on the open meadow, and she sat in her normal spot next to the dirt.
She spent the next thirty minutes communing with nature until the scent of burning sage drifted in and disturbed her. She opened her eyes and inhaled a deeper breath.
Yes, definitely sage. And no, she didn’t believe it was a remnant from the past. A slight breezed drifted in from the east of her, carrying with it a familiar smell that she recognized from the time she was a wee one until now. A witch could never mistake that scent.
She stood, and as crazy as it sounded, she followed her nose. She didn’t believe the source could be too far away. The breeze would surely dilute it beyond recognition otherwise.
With slow and quiet footsteps, she crept into the pines and maples on the opposite side of the clearing. Here, too, she could spy a path. Not as well-worn as the one she’d used but definitely a trail.
A hundred yards or so in, the murmur of voices reached out to her, and she halted. All female.
Wait. One male.
She moved closer, certain they were just beyond the bend in the trail.
The male voice reached her again, this time a little louder. She opened her eyes as wide as they would go and clenched her jaw.
Victor.
The guy was relentless and not in a good way. She’d been more than clear that she didn’t need or want him in her life, yet he kept hanging around.
She would know what he was up to. He might be good at hiding his thoughts, but she could be relentless, too. She’d figure that out and send him back to Boston.
