Charmed to death: an Ophelia and Abby mystery (15 page)

"I think so too. I've got some vacation time coming. I might take some of it now."

"Good idea. You'd better pay attention to the road, so I'll let you go. Remember, stay at home."

"I will. Thanks, Ned."

"No problem. Talk to you later."

I hit the end button on the phone and thought about what a great guy Ned was. Along with Darci, he was one of my closest friends. Wow, the thought stunned me. Who'd have thought six months ago that I'd have friends again? After Brian's death, I swore I'd never get close to anyone again, but now I had Abby, Darci, Ned, and Claire. My life was better and I'd be damned if I would let Henry Comacho or Fletcher Beasley take the security I'd found away from me.

Chapter Seventeen

My windshield wipers were beating a steady rhythm by the time I pulled into my driveway. Grabbing my backpack out of the seat next to me, I flung the car door open, jumped out, slammed the door shut, and flew up the walk to the porch. Standing there for a moment, I watched the rain come down in a heavy curtain. Over the noise of the thunder and falling rain, I heard a whimper from inside the house. Lady—she hated being alone during storms.

I unlocked the door and swung it wide. Immediately, Lady was at my side. She quivered so hard she could barely wag her tail. Her eyes stared up at me hopefully, as if to say:
Please make this go away
. I bent down and scratched her ear.

"Come on, girl, let's go inside."

She didn't need to be told twice and trotted in the door right at my side. In the dark I found the light switch and flicked it on, but nothing happened. I flicked it again and again till it hit me.
It's stupid to keep hitting the light switch. The power's out, dummy
.

Stumbling into the dining room, I grabbed the kerosene lamp from the sideboard and went into the living room. I felt around the top of the mantle, searching for the box of matches. Finally I found them and lit the lamp.

Crossing to the coffee table, I lit all my candles until the last of the gloom was chased away and the room was filled with a soft yellow glow.

"Kind of romantic isn't it, girl?" I said, surveying the room.

Lady, comfortable now that I was home, curled up on her rug near the fireplace. And from underneath the couch, Queenie peeked out, but another clap of thunder sent her scurrying back to her hiding place.

"Queenie, you are
such
a chicken," I said, laughing. "You're supposed to be a big bad predator."

Predator. A predator was stalking Summerset. I pulled my fingers through my wet hair. Well, now's as good a time as any to think about the murders. After all, dark stormy night, murder—the two fit together in a worn cliche. I hadn't tried the runes again since the night in Iowa City. Maybe they could give me some insight.

I'd brought my backpack into the living room with me and I rummaged around in it till I found the old leather pouch. While sitting crossed-legged on the floor and, holding the rune bag in my lap, I visualized peace and protection for all who dwell within these walls. Through my closed eyelids, I saw the light from the candles glow brighter and brighter until I felt the light expand and surround me in a safe bubble. Carefully I formed the question in my mind.

What must I do to find Brian's killer?

As I ran my fingers slowly through the bag, I asked that my hand would be guided and that I might know the truth. When my fingers tingled from the energy of one stone, I drew it out and placed it in front of me. I repeated the process two more times, until three stones were cast.

Opening my eyes, I looked at them.
Isa
—the situation at hand.
Hagalaz
—the advice the runes were giving me.
Berkana
—the outcome if I follow the advice.

Okay, hmm. What do the runes say
? Isa is
murk-stave. That's not good
, I thought while I searched my backpack for the journal. Reading what was written in the journal, I saw
Isa
murk-stave wasn't a positive sign.

Isa (pronounced "ee-saw")
—
symbol for ice
—
frozen, static, unmoving, murk-stave
—
beneath the beautiful surface, hidden danger lies
.

No kidding, things are static. I'm not any closer to finding Brian's killer than I was a week ago. But what could "hidden danger" mean? The killer hides from detection?

I moved on to the next one.

Hagalaz (pronounced "haw-gaw-laws")
—
symbol for hail
—
the destroyer
—
out of destruction comes change
—
crisis is at hand
—
be prepared
.

Too bad the rune doesn't give me a clue as to how I could prepare
. I picked up the last one.

Berkano (pronounced "bear-kawn-oh")
—
birch trees
—
growth, physical and mental
—
new beginnings
.

Well, at least the outcome wasn't too bad if I follow the rune's advice
—Hagalaz. I picked up the stone and rolled it around in my hand. The advice was vague, but Abby had said to think outside of the box.
Okay, I'll think outside of the box
.

Crisis, transformation
. I let my eyelids drift shut.
How will the crisis come
? I thought about crisis and preparation while I continued to roll the stone over and over in my left hand, the hand that absorbs energy.
Come on, talk to me
.

I felt myself drifting while the rune grew hot in my hand. Down and down, like a leaf caught in a whirlpool. Dark places. Evil faces. Blood. All the blood.

My eyes shot open and my heart pounded. Panting, I pressed my right hand to my heart as if to slow it down.
All right, Jensen, don't be a goof. You're in your own house, you're safe, and you're not going to be spooked by a little vision, are you
?

I let my eyes close again. From far away, I heard the peal of thunder and an animal whimper. In my mind I saw dark eyes boring into mine from a face blurred by darkness. Water dripped from the bill of a baseball cap that was pulled down, shading the rest of his face, and I couldn't see his features. But I could see the eyes. They burned from within with the fire of madness. I felt hands reach out, grabbing my arms and pulling me close. Close to the madness.

No, no. I wouldn't let it win. I fought to push the madness away from me.
Open your eyes, damn it, open your eyes
, my mind screamed.

Once again my eyes flew open and they darted around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings.

I saw Lady had crawled over to me and her head was in my lap next to the bag of runes. Silhouetted in the window, I saw the storm as it flashed and rumbled. The rune I still held tightly in my hand felt hot, so hot.

Gently moving Lady's head off my lap, I ran to the window while the rune vibrated in my fist. I looked out the window as a crack of lightning illuminated the street, casting objects in sharp relief, like a black-and-white photograph.

There, in the street, near the large elm tree. A figure, a man
? I pressed my nose to the glass, searching the dark for what I thought I'd seen.

When the lightning cracked again, the rune,
Hagalaz
—the symbol for the destroyer, for the crisis at hand—slipped from my numb fingers. And all I saw was the empty street.

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning the first thing I did was call Claire and set up my vacation time. She agreed to it immediately. Along with Darci, the library board members would cover my absence. The second thing I did was make lots and lots of strong, dark coffee. I stood impatiently by the coffeemaker with my coffee cup in my hand, waiting.

"Oh come on, will you? Hurry up."

"Do you always talk to the coffeemaker?"

I jumped, almost dropping my cup. "Jeez, Abby. You startled me. What are you doing here so early?"

"I wanted to see how you weathered the storm last night. I hope you don't mind. I used my key to let myself in," she said, setting a grocery bag on the counter. "I had hoped to surprise you with breakfast, but since you're up, you can help me."

She emptied the sack, setting orange juice, eggs, and bacon out on the counter.

"Thanks, but I don't know if I can handle a big breakfast right now," I said and gave her a hug.

Maybe the hug was a little too tight or maybe she picked up on my distress. Either way she stepped back and, placing her hands on my shoulders, scanned my face.

"What happened?"

"I had an interesting rune reading," I said, taking my coffee and sitting down at the table.

"And?"

"The rune's advice was
Hagalaz
—hail, destruction, through crisis will come transformation. I'm to be prepared."

"A warning. What was the outcome?" Abby asked while she put away the groceries and filled her own cup with coffee.

"
Berkano
—growth, new beginnings."

"Well, the outcome's promising, at least," she said, joining me at the table.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to scrub away the images of last night. "Yeah, but 'Be prepared' doesn't tell me a whole heck of a lot, does it?" Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. "Umm—I don't want you to freak out, but I'm sure the killer was watching the house last night."

Abby didn't comment. Instead she clicked her nail on the side of her cup, thinking.

"You're not surprised, are you?"

"No," she said and took a drink of her coffee. "I was afraid this would happen. You had a connection to Gus and, as I told you, the killer knows who you are. Did you have any dreams last night?"

"Not a dream, but I saw something in my mind. The killer's eyes."

"But not the rest of his face?"

"No, just the eyes. In the vision I was staring into his eyes while he tried to pull me toward him." I shuddered, remembering the madness shining in those eyes. "The guy's seriously crazy, Abby."

"He'd have to be, dear, to do what he's done. How do you know he was watching the house?"

"After the vision, I ran to the window. When the lightning flashed, I thought I saw someone standing in the street, near the old elm tree. It was only for an instant. The next moment he was gone."

"Maybe it would be better if you came and stayed with me for a while."

"No, absolutely not. He could follow me and you'd be in danger too. I wish I could figure out some way to let Bill know what's happening. But I can't. Not without telling him how I know these things."

"I think the situation might come to that."

"No. I'm not going to tell Bill I'm psychic. He'd share the information with Comacho, and things are bad enough right now without that. Some people are treating me as if I'm a pariah. Last night at Joe's, I had dinner with Charles—"

"The photographer?"

"Yes. And when I walked in, the room got quiet. I don't need everyone in town knowing about my little talent. They'd think I'm nuts."

"I see your point, but—"

She was interrupted by a knock at the front door. I got up and went to the door. Opening it, I found Charles, with a sheepish grin on his face, standing on the porch. In his hand he held a box of doughnuts. Their sweet, yeasty smell set my empty stomach rumbling. Maybe it couldn't handle eggs and bacon right now, but baked goods were a different story.

"I'm sorry. I know it's early and I don't want to intrude, but I had such a good time with you last night." Charles picked nervously at the corner of the doughnut box. "I can't remember the last time I talked about my mother with anyone. It was, ah, ah, nice." He gave a little shrug. "I wanted to do something nice for you, so when I saw these at the bakery… Here," he said, shoving the box toward me, and turned to leave.

"No. Wait, Charles," I said, placing my hand on his arm and stopping him. I looked down at what I was wearing. Sweats and an old T-shirt. Not the best look for entertaining, but oh well. "Why don't you join us? I'm just having coffee with my grandmother."

"Are you sure I'm not interrupting?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said with a grin.

"Okay. I'd love to. Thank you."

Charles followed me into the kitchen where Abby still sat at the table.

"Abby, I'd like you to meet Charles Thornton. Charles, this is my grandmother, Abigail McDonald."

Charles shook Abby's hand. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Thank you. It's nice meeting you. Please sit down."

"Look, Abby, Charles brought doughnuts—fresh from the bakery," I said, setting the box in the middle of the table.

"How nice," she replied, ignoring the doughnuts.

I shrugged and picked out one from the box. The sugary dough seemed to melt in my mouth when I took a bite. "Delicious," I mumbled to Charles.

With a bob of his head, Charles acknowledged my remark while he pulled out a chair and sat down.

I poured him a cup of coffee and joined them at the table.

"Thanks, Ophelia." Turning away from me, he faced Abby. "You know, Mrs. McDonald, you're something of a legend in Summerset."

"I don't know about that."

"Really, you are. I admire how you're taking a stand against PP International."

"I'm not the only one taking a stand."

"No, but you're the one leading the opposition. I've a feeling the group wouldn't be nearly as successful without you."

"No one is indispensable, Mr. Thornton," Abby said, swirling her coffee around in her cup.

This conversation isn't going well
, I thought while I picked at the edge of the doughnut. For some reason, Abby seemed to resent Charles's presence.

"Please call me Charles. I've always been interested in environmental issues myself. I don't know if Ophelia told you, but I'm also a writer and I'd love to do a story on your group."

"I don't know if that would be possible, Mr. Thornton," Abby replied. "Everyone's distracted right now, and I don't know who would have the time to give you an interview."

What? Abby turning down free publicity for her cause? What's up with that
? I gave her a perplexed look.

She met my look with a slight shake of her head.

Charles squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. "I'd hoped you would have the time, Mrs. McDonald."

"I'm sorry I don't. I also own a greenhouse and my busy season is beginning."

"I understand. Well, I must be going," Charles said, standing. "Thank you for the coffee, Ophelia. Mrs. McDonald, again, it was nice to meet you."

"You too, Mr. Thornton," Abby said, looking down at her cup.

"I'll walk you to the door, Charles," I said and stood.

At the door Charles said in a slight whisper, "I don't think your grandmother likes me."

"It's not that, Charles," I responded, shaking my head. "She has a lot on her mind right now. The murder has upset her and she's worried about PP International. Don't take her attitude personally."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm sure. Thank you for the box of doughnuts. It was very thoughtful of you."

He took my hand in his. "My pleasure. I'd really like to see you again, Ophelia. May I call you later?"

"I think I'd like that, Charles," I said, nodding my head.

While I stood in the doorway and watched Charles pull away in his car, I thought about the way Abby had acted. What was the matter with her? I'd never seen her treat someone as coldly as she had Charles. Shutting the door, I marched back into the kitchen.

"Hey, what's up with the way you treated Charles? He thinks you don't like him."

"I don't know him well enough to make that kind of a judgment," Abby said, picking up her cup and walking to the sink with it.

"You know what I mean. I've never seen you be so distant with someone. You weren't very gracious."

Abby relaxed against the counter. "Did you see that young man's aura?"

"No, I didn't look at his aura. You said not to do that without the person's permission. You said it was rude. And what's his aura got to do with anything?"

"It has
holes
in it."

"So? Didn't you tell me holes can indicate someone's upset? And I'm sure he was upset. You weren't very friendly. Anyway, doesn't an aura change from day to day?"

"Yes."

"Well, maybe something else is bothering him. Something we don't know about."

"Are you going to continue to see him?"

Before I answered her, I heard another knock at the front door.

"God, doesn't anyone around here ever look at a clock?" I said, striding to the door. Fuming, I looked out the window to see Edna Walters standing on the porch.

Her eyes darted back and forth while she gripped her purse tightly in her hand.

I opened the door as she was raising one hand to knock again.

"Ophelia, I was driving by and saw Abby's truck. Is she here? I need to talk to her," Edna said and walked through the door, her eyes searching for Abby.

I stood to the side with my hand still on the door. "Come right in, Edna," I said to her retreating back.

From the doorway to the kitchen, I watched while Edna crumpled onto a chair and began to sob. What now?

"I don't know what to do, Abby. I'm afraid Harley's done it this time," she said, her voice catching as she spoke.

Abby stood next to Edna's chair, patting her shoulder and making comforting sounds.

"Okay," I said, walking into the kitchen, "what
has
Harley done?"

Edna lifted her tear-stained face and looked at me. "Last night the storm knocked out the electricity."

"Yes, I know, Edna."