The Witch is Dead (22 page)

“Uh-huh. He looked disappointed that I’d failed to protect Tink like I’d promised.”

“I wonder if Bill has contacted him yet?”

“I need to,” I said, rocking back in the chair.

“I think he’ll be calling you,” Abby said, tapping the pen on the paper, reviewing her notes. “Most of the images were of Gunhammer Lake?”

I puffed out my cheeks and exhaled slowly. “Maybe my subconscious was just reliving our first meeting with Tink.” I sat forward, facing her. “Did you see the same things?”

“No, mine were more of the future.” A smile broke out. “I saw Tink home safe.”

I clutched her hand as I felt a burden lift. “That’s terrific, Abby!” I exclaimed.

The smile dropped from her face. “That’s the good news…”

Why does the good news always have to be followed by bad news?

“…the bad news is there seemed to be a wide gulf separating Tink from us—”

“Let me guess,” I said, holding up my hand to stop her. “I’m the one that gets to cross it?”

“Yes.” She shuddered. “Tink stood on its banks while enraged spirits floated around her.” Abby rubbed her arms as if fighting away a chill. “Some were missing appendages.”

“That’s what Tink’s been seeing in her dreams.” I thought for a moment. “Tell me more about this gulf. Did you recognize any landmarks?”

“No. All I saw was Tink on one side and you on the other. You were running back and forth trying to find a way across.” She frowned. “There was a man standing in the shadows—”

“Silas Green?”

“No, and not Walks Quietly, someone else, but I couldn’t see his face. The only other thing that seemed important—a hawk and an eagle circled above you.” She watched my reac
tion. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“No…wait, the hawk does. I’ve seen them before. Remember the time that I felt like I was flying with one?”

“Ophelia,” she said sternly. “Apparently the hawk is one of your animal guides, and when you see one, it’s significant. You need to pay more attention.”

“Got it—watch for hawks. Anything else?”

“No, at that point I noticed you were actually vibrating. My concern for you broke my focus.”

I turned to Aunt Dot. “What did you see?”

“Fairies.”

I grunted.Go figure .

Aunt Dot ignored me. “Two fairies are guarding her.”

“That’s it?”

“Umm-hmm. In a bedroom with big pink roses on the wall. Tink was pacing back and forth while the fairies watched. One perched on the bedpost.” Aunt Dot’s eyes glazed over. “She was beautiful—I think she’s a wood fairy—she wore a green dress with a crown of oak leaves on her head. The other one—”

“Okay, Aunt Dot, we get the picture. Did you get a sense of where this room was?”

“No, only that she’s safe for now.”

I put aside my disbelief and asked the question. “Would the fairies tell you where she is?”

“No, they will only protect her. You must find her on your own.”

Peachy. And all I had to do was cross a gulf full of danger. Simple.

If I failed, would Tink still make it home safely or would she be lost to us forever?

Twenty-Two

We removed our robes for Abby to wash later and left to return to the main house.

The experience had raised more questions than answers. I felt relief to know that Tink was safe and waiting for us to find her, but puzzled because I hadn’t sensed any fear.

Tink was ticked off, not terrified. Not a normal emotion for one who’s been kidnapped and held against her will by a killer. Maybe she hadn’t figured out her abductor was a murderer? Maybe they’d made promises not to hurt her if she cooperated with them?

Lost in my thoughts, I rounded the corner of the summerhouse and bumped straight into a solid body. My gaze traveled up his chest, shoulders, neck, until I found myself looking into a pair of very familiar gray eyes.

I took a step back. “Cobra…err, Ethan! What are you doing here?” Peering over his shoulder, I noticed Bill standing behind him.

“Hi, Ophelia,” Ethan replied with concern. “I heard about your daughter. I’m sorry.”

I introduced Abby and Aunt Dot, then eyed him with sus
picion. “Are you here officially? Did Bill uncover evidence that the DEA is interested in?”

“No, I’m on a sabbatical, so to speak.” He glanced over his shoulder at Bill. “I called him just to see how things were.” Looking down at the grass, he grinned. “I wanted to see if you’d mentioned running into me at the airport. He filled me in on what had happened to Tink. Thought maybe I could help,” he finished, his eyes meeting mine again.

“How?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I know how the system works…unless evidence suggests foul play, or a kidnapping, law enforcement assumes the kid ran away—”

“She didn’t run away,” I said hotly, cutting him off.

“I believe you.” Again he looked over his shoulder. “So does Bill. Look, Tink seemed to be a nice kid, and I’ve got contacts that Bill doesn’t. Maybe I can shake loose a lead from one of them.”

I’d narrowed my eye as he made this explanation.

“You doubt my motives, don’t you?” Ethan asked.

Before I could answer, he shoved his hands in his back pockets and continued. “Do you think I’m still afraid that you’ll curse me with those boils?”

Bill went on alert and stepped forward. “Boils? What boils?”

The subject needed to be changed. “Never mind,” I said, and resumed walking to the house. “How did you find us?” I asked as Ethan fell into step next to me.

“Darci told Bill when we stopped by your house.”

I did a swift calculation on the time. Thank goodness they hadn’t showed up thirty minutes earlier or they might have seen more than they bargained for.

Once we reached the house, we all gravitated to the
kitchen. Abby pulled a pitcher of ice tea out of the refrigerator and offered Bill and Ethan a glass.

Still parched from my experience in the summerhouse, after serving them, I swiftly downed my own glass and poured another. Leaning against the counter, I watched them. My level of trust in Ethan left a little to be desired, and it was hard to believe he’d take time off from the DEA to help us.

“Are you sure the DEA isn’t involved?” I asked. “Tink’s not in the hands of a drug dealer?”

“No, we’re not involved, and no, she isn’t being held by a drug dealer,” he replied with a grin as he stole a glance at Bill. “Whether Bill likes to admit it or not, you did help us put a crooked cop and an escaped felon behind bars.” He traced over the wet circle left by his glass. “I figure I owe you, and I like to pay back my debts.”

That, I could understand far better than his desire to help out of the goodness of his heart. I didn’t like feeling beholden to anyone, either. It had always been easier for me to give than receive graciously, but for Tink’s sake, I’d suck it in and accept his offer.

“Okay, fine,” I said setting my glass on the counter. “Any leads?”

“No,” Bill answered reluctantly. “I’ve entered her picture in the National Crime Information Center’s Missing Person File, plus the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.” He shook his head sadly. “I hate to say this, but until someone steps forward, it’s a waiting game.”

“Did anyone call Jason Finch?” Abby asked from her spot next to me. “He’s still Tink’s legal guardian.”

“Yes,” Bill replied. “I thought maybe he’d want to come down to Iowa, but he said he couldn’t leave Juliet.”

Course not, I thought. Jason hadn’t gone to jail because of his involvement with Juliet. They’d never proved he was
aware of what she’d done, but he was in a prison of his own making. Bound by his obsession with his wife. To him, no one would ever be as important, not even his missing fourteen-year-old niece.

Bill moved his chair away from the table and looked at the three of us. “You all seem calmer today. That’s good to see.” He drained his glass.

Aunt Dot jumped up from her place at the table and bustled over to the counter for the pitcher of tea. Filling Bill’s glass, she smiled down at him. “Tink’s safe—”

His glass stopped halfway to his lips. “What?” He stared at me with squinted eyes. “Did you get a phone call and decide not to tell me?”

I stepped away from the counter. “No, no…nothing like that…” I shot a pleading look at Abby.

“We didn’t get a phone call.” The words rushed out of Aunt Dot before we could stop her. “We saw her.”

Bill’s gaze raked over Abby, me, and Aunt Dot.

Aunt Dot beamed back at him confidently.

Abby turned a bright shade of pink.

I tried to look innocent.

Ethan lowered his head, but not before I noticed a grin spread across his face.

Bill zeroed in on Aunt Dot. “Well?” he asked, his tone angry.

Her eyes widened in surprise, as if she couldn’t understand why Bill was upset.

The clock above the stove ticked off the seconds as a sense of doom settled around me. Aunt Dot was going to spill the family secrets, I knew it. Where was the duct tape when you needed it? I thought.Cold, Jensen, cold—contemplating taping your ninety-one-year-old aunt’s mouth shut. But if she started blabbing about the fairies…

“We’re psychics,” I blurted out.

Abby gasped, while Aunt Dot’s smile returned as she nodded vigorously.

Ethan raised his head. “You left out the witch part,” he said smugly.

Bill’s jaw dropped. “All three of you?”

I bobbed my head once.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, scratching his bald head as he soaked in the news. “I always knew there was something off about you, Ophelia!”

We joined Bill and Ethan at the table, while mentally I scrambled for a way to explain our family’s talents and still maintain an ounce of credibility.

“See, it’s like this—” I began, pulling out a chair.

Bill waved his hand at me. “Just a minute.” He turned to Ethan. “You knew about this?”

“Sure,” he replied, swirling the tea around in his half empty glass. “She’s legit, Bill. She grabbed my arm once and started rattling off all kinds of things. If I hadn’t broken contact, I think she’d have figured out who I really was.” He grinned my way. “This was after she’d not only threatened me with her Louisville Slugger, but with a case of boils.”

I groaned. “Is it necessary for you to keep bringing that up? I said I was sorry.”

His grin spread as he enjoyed my discomfort.

Ignoring him, I looked at Bill. “Do you believe me?”

He scratched his head. “It would explain how you’re always tripping over bodies,” he replied almost to himself. “You said the word ‘witch,’ Ethan. What did you mean by that?”

Ethan leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his neck. “I’ll let Ophelia explain.”

“Folk magick, Bill,” I said with a nasty glance at Ethan. “It’s too long to explain, but one of the things we do is use crystals, herbs, candles, things like that, for healing. Nothing sinister,” I assured him.

“Tink? What about her? Is she a psychic, too?”

“No.”

Bill gave a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

“She’s a medium.”

“Damn,” he muttered again. “If you know she’s unharmed, does that mean you know where she is?”

I made a derisive sound. “If I did, do you think I’d be sitting here now?”

“Having had experience with your meddling—no.” His voice was curt. “What do you know?”

“Does that question mean you do believe me?”

“About being a psychic?” He made a clicking sound. “I don’t know—going to have to think about it—like I said, it sure would explain a lot. I do know there are departments who use psychics when the case goes cold. They don’t broadcast it, though.” He gave his head a slow shake. “But you being a witch?”

“Forget the witch part,” I said, trying to brush the subject away. “You asked me what we know…According to Aunt Dot, Tink’s being held in a room that’s papered with cabbage roses.”

Aunt Dot scooted closer to the table. “That’s right, and the f—”

Abby touched Aunt Dot’s hand, silencing her. “Not now, dear.”

I picked up the narrative. “She’s not only unharmed, she’s not afraid. Do you think that means she knows her kidnapper?”

“It might. Or her lack of fear might mean she’s unaware
of the danger she’s in. She is only a kid, she might trust that she won’t be hurt.”

“Tink’s not that dumb,” I argued.

“Ophelia, people who commit these crimes are really clever. It’s as if they instinctively know how to manipulate their victims. They know just what buttons to push in order to control.”

“What about the wallpaper?” Ethan asked as he sat forward. “Did any of you recognize it?”

“I did,” Aunt Dot said, jumping into the conversation. “Twenty years ago, Sister and I had that same paper on the walls of the spare bedroom.”

“I don’t think that’s what Ethan meant, dear,” Abby said gently. “I think he wants to know if we’ve seen any like it around Summerset.”