The Witch is Dead (29 page)

I flipped over the top rune: What help I could expect to receive with my dilemma?

Tiwaz:tea-waz.

I sighed in relief.

Success, victory, enough determination to overcome all odds.

Determination? The runes had that one right—nothing would stop me from finding Tink.

Tiwaz also indicated a strong male figure. A man who would help me.

I didn’t need to be a genius to figure who that rune meant: Ethan. Its appearance also confirmed what Abby had seen. An eagle circling above a man in the shadows, and that man would help me recover Tink.

My gaze fell on the rune below center. Its position stood for that which cannot be changed. Fate. Destiny. If the rune was inverted, or perhaps one like Isa, it could indicate that I’d be powerless to change what was to be.

With trembling fingers, I turned the stone.

Thank goodness. Raido:rye-through.

Movement, change, a journey, possibly an emotional one.

Best of all, the stone wasn’t inverted, so it told of a positive change, not a negative one.

I knew in my heart what the rune was trying to tell me. Never again would my life be the same. I’d welcomed Tink into my home and into my heart. For now and forever we’d be bound together with love. My friendship with Darci, for instance. Our argument had hurt more than I thought possible, and never again would I be able to shut people out of my life and return to hiding behind my wall.

Staring at the last rune, the one on the right, the one that would show either the success or failure of my quest, I took a deep breath and slowly turned it over.

Berkano:bear-kawn-oh.

Birth, family, children—what we hold dear.

It was the same rune that had showed up in my first reading several days ago. Only this time it wasn’t inverted.

The runes blurred as my eyes filled with tears. Tink would be restored to us. All would be well. Unfortunately, other than showing me that I could expect Ethan’s help, the runes were kind of iffy as to how I would achieve this feat.

I wiped my eyes and stared thoughtfully at the past and present runes. They were negative, but the rest were positive.

I picked up Ansuz and studied it. Lies and deceit. Silas Green lied. He’d deceived the families of the departed, falsified documents, and maybe even killed Raymond Buchanan.
Maybe he’d lied to Christopher, too.

Pulling my fingers through my hair, I tried to think of a plan. Buchanan was dead, Silas had disappeared, and they were out of my reach.

One person was left.

I intended to have a little talk with Dr. Christopher Mason.

Mid-afternoon. Would Christopher be home, or on the golf course? I hoped home. I had questions.

I checked in with Abby, but ignored the call from Darci. If I talked to her now, it would take me at least twenty minutes of arguing to convince her she couldn’t accompany me. And knowing Darci, the arguments would be futile, she’d follow me.

I’d put effort into my appearance—a red silk blouse, tan linen slacks, and three-inch heels. I even wore makeup.

Grabbing my purse and shoving my sunglasses on my face, I flung the door open just as Ethan raised his hand to knock.

“Oh, you startled me,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest.

Ethan didn’t speak as his eyes traveled from my feet to the top of my head. He gave a low whistle and took a step back. “I didn’t expect to find you like this. I expected distraught and disheveled, not attractive with attitude. Got a date?”

I leaned against the doorjamb and pulled my glasses down my nose. “Not exactly,” I said, and peered over the rims.

“Where are you headed?”

“Before I answer…you warned me earlier that you’re an officer of the court. Are you a cop now or not?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Not.”

Shoving my sunglasses back on my nose, I jingled my keys in front of his face. “You want to take a ride?”

“Where to?”

“Des Moines.”

“Are you going to get me in trouble?” he asked as he shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned.

I gave Ethan the same look he’d given me, starting at the top of his boots, past his narrow waist, to the top of his streaked blond head. His jeans hugged his lean frame, and the corduroy jacket he wore made his shoulders look even broader. His gray eyes were full of humor as he watched me scope him out.

With a smile, I marched past him and down the steps.

“Buster,” I called over my shoulder. “I think your middle name is ‘trouble.’”

The closer we got to Des Moines, the more agitated I felt. I fiddled with the air-conditioning control. I turned the radio up. I turned the radio down. I’d just reached for the dial a fourth time when Ethan’s hand reached out and took mine. He gave my fingers a quick squeeze.

“How are you going to play this?” he asked.

My eyes darted to him before focusing on the highway again. “Play what?”

“Dr. Mason. Do you want to play ‘good cop, bad cop’?” He winked. “I’ll let you be the bad cop.”

I appreciated his attempt to lighten the building tension inside me by teasing. But his efforts failed. All I wanted was to find Tink.

“No thanks.” My hands clenched the steering wheel. “I want to know where Silas Green is.”

“You’re still convinced he took Tink?”

“Yeah.” I purposely loosened my grip. “I didn’t mention this before, but in my vision, Silas carried a pile of bones—”

He frowned. “Doesn’t surprise me, considering what we found in that basement.”

“I saw Tink’s bracelet dangling from one of the bones.”

Ethan jerked his head toward the window and said nothing. An uncomfortable silence followed.

“What are you thinking, Ethan?”

“Ophelia,” he said gently, “the bracelet was hanging from a bone?” He paused. “I’m not a psychic—”

My head whipped from side to side. “No, no! I told you, I’d know if something had happened to her. The runes said we’d find her.”

“What you saw today didn’t change your mind?”

“No. I have to believe in what I feel, what I know. It’s the only thing giving me hope.” My voice sounded strained.

“You need to calm down before we reach Mason’s. You can’t go in with guns blazing,” he insisted. “With a guy like Mason, you have to use finesse. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” My lips tightened. “I can do whatever it takes to find Tink.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “We’ll get your answers. You’ll do fine.”

I inhaled then exhaled slowly. “Thanks, Ethan,” I said, grateful for his confidence in me.

Twisting in his seat, he peeked over his shoulder at the back. “You don’t have your Louisville Slugger back there, do you?”

“No,” I said, giving him a wicked grin. “But if Mason doesn’t give me the answers I want, I can always go home and get it.”

Thirty-One

When we pulled into the driveway twenty minutes later, Ethan faced me. “Do you have the slightest idea what you’ll ask him?”

I shrugged. “I thought I’d wing it.”

“Winging it is never good,” he said with apprehension.

“It’s all I’ve got,” I said while getting out of the car.

Ethan hung back in the driveway as I rang Christopher’s doorbell.

No answer.

I waited a couple of minutes and rang again.

Cupping my hands to the side of my face, I peered in the frosted glass door and thought I saw a shadow cross the room toward the back of the house.

I put my finger on the button and held it down.

From inside the house I heard the padding of bare feet across his tiled entry. In a moment the door opened.

“Ophelia,” Christopher said with surprise. “How nice to see you.”

As he stood in the doorway, one hand rested on the door, holding it open only a few inches. He didn’t invite me in.

“May I talk to you?” I peeked over his shoulder. “Inside,” I said pointedly.

With a sigh, he swung the door wider. “Of course, come in.” His eyes traveled from me to Ethan.

“I’m sorry,” I said, stretching an arm toward Ethan. “This is my friend, Ethan, ah…” I clamped my mouth shut.

Dang. Ethan had never told me his last name.

Ethan quickly stepped up behind me. “Clement,” he said, reaching out and shaking Christopher’s hand. “Ethan Clement.”

Christopher motioned us into the house.

“May I get you anything?” he asked graciously when we were inside. “Wine? No, you prefer beer, don’t you, Ophelia?”

“No, thank you,” I replied, following him to the living room.

“You, Ethan?” he asked over his shoulder.

Ethan responded with a slight shake of his head.

Christopher strolled over to an upholstered club chair and sat. With a wave of his hand, he pointed to the couch. “Please.”

Ethan took a seat on the couch while I remained standing, my eyes surveying the room as I gathered my thoughts.

The room looked different in daylight, no longer a stage set for seduction. Or was it? Two empty wineglasses were placed side by side on the coffee table. One of them was marked with bright red lipstick.

Ethan caught my eye and gave an imperceptible nod.

Christopher eased back in his chair and crossed his legs at his ankles. He watched me expectantly. “What can I do for you, Ophelia? Is this visit about your aunt? If so, my office hours—”

“When was the last time you saw Silas Green?” I blurted out.

“Silas Green?” He cast a perplexed glance at Ethan.

“The owner of Green’s Crematorium.”

A shadow crossed his face. “I barely know him.”

“You know him well enough to buy tissue and body parts from him for your biomedical supply business,” I said.

“We don’t ‘buy’ tissue.” A self-satisfied smile chased the shadow away.

His attitude annoyed me.

“No, you pay fees for harvesting, don’t you?”

“A nominal amount.”

Annoyance shifted to irritation.

“And you do business with Silas…Where is he?”

“I don’t know why you would presume that I know anything about Silas. We deal with several crematoriums and funeral homes,” he replied smugly. “And I don’t personally handle shipments from any of them. I employ people to handle the details for me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest as I felt my irritation turn to anger. “What about yesterday? Silas dropped off two coolers while you were at the biomedical office.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Christopher studied his well-manicured hands.

Jeez, what a liar.And he’s blowing me off.

“Really?” I lifted an eyebrow. “Aunt Dot, Darci, and I saw you.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat. “Ophelia, I know things didn’t work out between us, but you’re mistaken.” Facing Ethan, he spread his hands wide and gave Ethan a helpless shrug.

I thought of Tink, alone somewhere, being held against her will. His silent appeal to Ethan caused my anger to flare even hotter.

I marched over until I stood right over him. “My daugh
ter is missing. Silas Green is involved, and you’re involved with Silas.”

Christopher looked again to Ethan for help with the crazy woman standing over him—me. The strain of the past few days tipped me over the edge.

“Don’t know anything, huh? Well, maybe you’ll start remembering. Any minute now your lucrative, little black market body part business is going to blow up in your face.”

Ethan’s groan penetrated my anger.

So much for finesse.

Christopher surged to his feet. “How dare you attack my professional reputation? Who do you think you are?” He stood toe-to-toe with me. “I took pity on you that night at the Marriott. You were so out of your league.” He rolled his eyes. “If I wouldn’t have run into you at Buchanan’s funeral, I never would’ve asked you for a date.”

“Pity?” I spluttered. “Was that before or after you tried to sleep with me?”

In the background, Ethan choked.

“You can’t stand rejection can you? Now you’re trying to get even by slandering me.” He leaned forward, right in my face.

I never saw Ethan move, but the next thing I knew, Christopher stumbled backward and landed in the chair. With a practiced move, Ethan nonchalantly brushed aside the front of his jacket. It gave Christopher a brief look at the holster and gun Ethan wore underneath it.

Christopher’s face lost its color. “Who the hell are you?”

“I told you, Ethan Clement, but I did forget to mention I’m a DEA agent.” Ethan’s lips formed a cold smile. “Maybe you’d like to answer some questions now?”

“DEA? Drugs? I don’t know anything about any drugs.”

“I didn’t say you did.” Ethan turned to me. “Why don’t you sit on the couch, Ophelia? I think Dr. Mason is willing to talk to us, aren’t you, Dr. Mason?”