4 Witching On A Star (21 page)

When I made it to The Whistler about a half hour later, I was still chuckling to myself about Aunt Tillie and Kenneth. I couldn’t remember her ever taking interest in a man before – especially one like Kenneth. She seemed to like him, though – against her better judgment – which made me think he might be good for her. He’d certainly be good for Clove, Thistle and I – mostly because he would be a welcome distraction. She would be less likely to torture us if she was distracted by him.

I sat down at my desk and, while I was waiting for my computer to boot up, I let loose a whoosh of surprise when Edith popped into view a few feet from me.

“Well, I see you decided to come back to work,” Edith said primly.

“Edith,” I replied coldly. I realized I was still angry with her.

“I see you’re still pouting about our fight the other day,” she sniffed. “I think that’s pretty juvenile of you.”

“Hmm,” I mused absently. I was hoping she would take the hint and go away.

“Are you listening to me?”

“No, Edith,” I replied quietly. “I am really not in the mood to listen to you right now.”

“Because you don’t agree with me? That hardly seems fair.”

“It’s more than that, Edith, and you know it,” I challenged her. “You said some pretty awful things.”

“About a girl that you don’t even know,” Edith shot back. “A girl that died a hundred and sixty years ago.”

“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow briefly. “Well, maybe you and I have a different definition of what’s important and what’s not important.”

“So, that’s it, you just don’t want to be friends anymore?” Edith looked broken-hearted. I could feel my feelings for her starting to thaw – and then she opened her mouth again. “All over a darkie? You’re willing to give up our friendship over a darkie?”

“Edith, don’t you have somewhere else to be?” My voice was cold enough to freeze Edith in mid rant.

“You’re really upset about this?”

“I am really upset about this,” I agreed.

“And you don’t think you’re being unreasonable?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well,” Edith pursed her lips. “I guess I’ll go find something else to do then.”

“That sounds great,” I kept my attention focused on my computer screen. It was only when I was sure that she was gone that I let the breath that had been pooling in my chest escape. This Edith situation was a whole other problem I wasn’t prepared to
deal with. It’s not like I could just cut Edith out of my life. She was a ghost, she could pop in and out of wherever she wanted whenever the whim hit.

Plus, the real tragedy of the situation was that Edith didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. She wasn’t purposely being obtuse. I kept reminding myself that she had lived in a different time, so even though she was dead in this one, she didn’t know any better.

That argument wasn’t making me feel any better. I decided to push the entire quandary out of my mind and focus on other things – at least for the time being. Getting Erika to pass over and finding out what happened to Gracie – and hopefully saving the other children on the boat – were my first priorities. Edith’s backwards thinking and hurt feelings were low on my priority list right now.

And, even though I didn’t want to think about it, the next edition of The Whistler was going to have to be dealt with. I had already decided to write the main story on the restoration of the Dandridge, so the first order of business was doing a little research on the lighthouse.

I started by Googling the building and reading up on the history of not only the Dandridge, but a bevy of other lighthouses throughout the Great Lakes on a State of Michigan website. Before I realized what was happening, I had wasted three hours reading up on the Dandridge and a few surrounding lighthouses in the area.

“You look deep in thought.”

I glanced up to the doorway and grimaced when I saw Sam Cornell standing there. “Just doing some research,” I said blithely.

“On what?” Sam seemed determined to wear down my defenses and erode my rampant distrust of him.

“On the Dandridge,” I replied blithely. I was equally determined to be professional but distant.

“Oh, you’re going with that for the front page of this week’s edition, right?”

“I am,” I said, watching warily as Sam moved around the side of my desk and stood behind me to read over my shoulder. I was glad that I had actually been telling the truth this time.

“Did you find anything good?”

I was uncomfortable with Sam invading my personal space, but I tried not to show it. That would give him power – and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

“I don’t know, define good,” I replied. “I found out when it was built and a little bit of background on the gentleman who initially owned it.”

“I thought lighthouses were owned by the state.”

“Yes and no,” I said. “When the Dandridge was built, the state was building some lighthouses but so were individual businessmen. In the case of Anthony Benson, he was a local entrepreneur who built the Dandridge on family property. When he died, his children sold the parcel to the state and they took over running the Dandridge until it basically fell into disuse in the 1930s or so.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Sam said. “That you found out that information so quickly.”

“It’s the Internet,” I replied blandly. “It was actually pretty easy.”

“When are you going out to the Dandridge for your story?” Sam asked curiously, ignoring my sarcastic tone.

“In the next few days,” I replied. “Dean was open to suggestions for dates.”

“I’d like to come with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to see the property,” Sam replied simply.

“Well, Dean doesn’t seem particular about people going out there to look around,” I suggested. “You can go out there on your own at any time.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t want me to go out there with you when you go?” Sam looked amused.

“I don’t need your help to do my job,” I said simply. “I’m capable of doing it myself. If you want to see the Dandridge then you are capable of doing it yourself.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so combative where I’m concerned,” Sam said petulantly.

“I don’t believe that was combative,” I replied stiffly.

“Neither do I,” Landon said, breezing into my office and jostling Sam – just a little – while he tried to maneuver him out from behind my desk and back towards the doorway. “If you want to see combative, I’d be more than willing to show it to you outside,” Landon suggested.

I glanced up at Sam, who had gone two shades paler when Landon wandered into the room. He looked uncomfortable with Landon’s sudden appearance. “Mr. Michaels.”

“Agent Michaels,” Landon corrected him.

“Agent Michaels,” Sam repeated uncomfortably. “I wasn’t aware you were visiting Ms.
Winchester today.”

“I try to visit Ms.
Winchester every day,” Landon replied airily. “I find I miss her after a few hours.”

“Really?” I glanced up at him in surprise.

Landon shrugged. “Must be all those hormones.”

“You better not let Chief Terry hear you say that.”

“Yeah, I’ve definitely learned my lesson about that,” Landon agreed.

I watched Sam out of the corner of my eye. He was shuffling nervously in the doorway. He obviously wanted to leave, but he also didn’t want to give Landon the impression that he had scared him away. He was torn. Landon must have noticed, too, because he fixed Sam with a hard stare. “Are you still here?”

“I happened to be having a conversation with Ms. Winchester when you interrupted,” Sam said boldly. “Rudely interrupted, I might add.”

Landon rolled his eyes and turned back to me. “What are you doing?”

“Looking up history on the Dandridge.”

“Find anything good?”

“Just some history tidbits,” I replied.

Sam was practically dancing in the doorway he was so uncomfortable now. “We were having a conversation,” Sam said. I had to give him credit. He wasn’t giving up. He wasn’t exactly winning, but he wasn’t giving up either.

“Now we’re having a conversation,” Landon said pointedly, wagging his finger between him and me for emphasis.

“I . . . fine,” Sam blew out a sigh. “I don’t want you to think I’m rewarding you for bad behavior, but I also believe in respecting law enforcement.”

“Good, you can go now,” Landon dismissed Sam.

Sam cast one last glance in my direction, although it was an unreadable one. When he was gone, I turned to Landon with a dubious look. “That was mean.”

“I don’t like him.”

“I don’t like him either, but that was still mean.”

“I don’t like him hovering over you,” Landon admitted.

“Hovering?”

“You know, invading your personal space.”

“You sound jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” Landon countered. “I’m protective. There’s a difference.”

“If you say so,” I smirked.

“Don’t go thinking so much of yourself,” Landon warned me. “I am not jealous.”

“So you said.”

“No, really.”

“Okay,” I nodded.

“So do you want to hear what I learned or just sit there and let your head get bigger and bigger?” Landon asked irritably.

“I don’t know, it’s a hard choice,” I teased him.

Landon glared at me, although there wasn’t any malice in the gesture. He was just playing the game.

“Okay,” I blew out a sigh. “What did you learn?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Landon said, moving back around my desk and shutting the office door to make sure no one could hear us.

“Why am I not going to like it?” I asked suspiciously.

“Because it’s not good news.”

I
steepled my fingers on top of my desk and waited.

“So, Gracie was placed with a foster mother named Stella Smith,” Landon started.

“Smith?” I already didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yeah, it’s an alias,” Landon said grimly. “Stella managed to pass all the background checks put forward by the state, but they’re not exactly strenuous. Your Aunt Tillie could pass them, too, and we wouldn’t want her influencing the minds of the youth of America today.”

“Stella has had three children in her care,” Landon continued. “The first, a boy, was only with her two weeks before his mother got custody back. Then, besides Gracie, there was another little girl named Ava. She is eight.”

“Where is Ava now?”

“No one knows.”

“What?”

“We can’t find Ava. I have the state police doing interviews and going door-to-door, but right now both Ava and Stella are gone.”

“Where were they living?”

“Flint,” Landon said.

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” I shook my head.

“I don’t think it’s either,” Landon said. “From Gracie and Ava’s perspective, though, that’s one of the worst areas in the state to have to go into foster care.”

“Why?”

“A lot of people are struggling in that area right now and sometimes, well, things fall through the cracks.”

“Like two little girls?” I asked bitterly.

“Yeah, like two little girls.”

“What happens now?”

“We’ve got people out looking for Stella.”

“Do you think she’s on the boat?”

Landon looked momentarily lost. “I honestly don’t know. She could be. She could be in the wind, too. Stella Smith didn’t exist until a year ago. That’s obviously not her name. She could be anywhere and running God knows what scam.”

“How did she get approved?”

“It’s a thankless job, Bay,” Landon said. “It’s basically a job that’s full of good people – but bad people find their way into the system, too. You can’t keep them all out.”

“I feel sick.”

“I know,” Landon murmured, kneeling next to me and rubbing the back of my neck.

“What happens now?”

“Now? Now we try to find Stella and we try to find the boat.”

“And if we can’t?”

Landon grimaced. “We have to find one or the other, Bay,” he said tiredly. “If we don’t, then we have nowhere else to look. We need a break here.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose wearily. “I’m so frustrated,” I admitted.

“Why?” Landon looked concerned.

“Sam Cornell is sniffing around here. Gracie died. Erika is stuck here until I can figure something out. That Kenneth guy is stalking Aunt Tillie and I think she likes it. It’s just so much crap.”

“Kenneth? The old guy from dinner the other night?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s stalking your Aunt Tillie?”

“They took a walk along the property together today,” I said. “He obviously likes her and, what’s freaky is, I think she likes him, too.”