We’d basically become secret agents overnight.
The four of us were utterly absurd sitting in my car in dark clothes and sunglasses. We each had a hat of varying degrees of giantness. My hat was a somewhat large, black, floppy hat that I’d worn to a rainy funeral at one point years ago. I hadn't even realized it'd made it here from Springfield when I'd moved.
Beside me, Deva wore a dark blue number that looked like a derby hat with layers that swirled together and looked more than a little fancy. It would've fit right in at a British royal wedding. Carol'd come up with a large, tan hat covered in flowers. Judging from how low it sat on her head, it might've been a couple of sizes too large. Beth had produced a hat meant to be worn at the beach, probably by a vampire, or at least by someone who hated the sunlight. I was pretty sure the four of us could've hidden under it to escape the sun if pressed.
“You guys look awesome,” I told them, grinning at our ridiculousness.
Deva smacked me on the shoulder. “Hey, we’re all out here playing secret agent with you before the sun has even risen, so hows about you go easy on our outfits.”
“Fair enough,” I said, but a laugh burst out of my mouth.
The others laughed too, and then my nerves threatened to turn my laughter into sobs. I grabbed my coffee out of the cup holder and sipped as though my life depended on it. For a moment, there was only the sound of slurping as we stared at the only motel in town. We had a decent-sized hotel on the beach, far from all the houses, but as far as motels went, this was it.
Daniel had used his police contacts to find out more about the woman, which had been easier than expected. So easy, I now realized I should have stopped seeing this woman as some phantom who'd haunted my nightmares. She was a real, live person. Daniel had gone to the police station and asked about any strangers staying in town that roughly fit her description. Wham bam, we had info. Just like that. Even though he no longer worked as a police officer, he continued to help out on cases of the supernatural kind, so they'd been more than happy to give him the information.
Her name, her real live-person name, was Alma Sanchez. Her long-expired driver’s license said she was one hundred and eighty years old, which, of course, could only be possible if she was a witch. The birthday on it indicated she would've applied for it when she was nearly a hundred, over eighty years ago. Daniel had found the earliest record of her from a small town in Arizona, Mesa, although she’d moved around quite a bit. She didn’t have records of ever working anywhere or owning any property. None of which was very helpful, but what was helpful was learning she was staying at this motel, paying cash, although she’d had to put a card on file in case of damages.
“I brought some cookies,” Deva said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a sandwich bag of sugar cookies that looked so good I considered snatching the bag and running with it.
Like a good person, a really good person, I only took one.
“Eat it slowly,” Deva warned. “They’ll give you energy. Not like the high of an energy drink, but more like you’re ten again and in the middle of a Nerf gun fight.”
“Oh, to feel that way every day.” I moaned, then bit into the cookie.
“Enjoy them,” Deva said. “I have other snacks in my bag, but there might not be many cookies from the restaurant for a while.”
“That bad?” Beth asked from the back while munching on her sugar cookie.
“I wish it was bad.” Deva shook her head. “The flood was taken care of fast enough that no real damage was done, but the health department showed up in the middle of the mess and said we can’t open again until they see it cleaned up for themselves. The only person who can approve it can’t be there for a couple of days, so we’re closed until then. The whole staff is on deck right now doing a deep clean and organizing. I should be there, but they've reassured me they've got it. I’ve been pulling so many all-nighters that I didn’t put up much of a fight.”
“Deva, you deserve better.” I reached out and touched her, letting my powers flow. I tried not to do this too often because part of me worried it could be an abuse of my powers. It wasn't like this gig had come with a rule book.
When one of my friends was doing so many good things and deserved to have those actions rewarded, my powers wanted me to help them. These powers needed to be used.
“Do you want to read the woman’s file to us?” Carol asked with a cookie in one hand and her coffee in the other. “Not everyone's heard the details.”
She was right. I hadn’t even finished reading it yet. Daniel had brought it to me last night and given me a rundown. I’d set it down and immediately called the ladies to help me cook up a plan.
I grabbed the file and opened it up. “Okay, here we go.”
The file was thick and full of newspaper articles, reports from companies she’d worked with in the past, and handwritten accounts from people who'd come to know her. The evidence wove together a narrative of a wonderful woman. Alma Sanchez was an example for all those around her. Businesses cited Alma as a model employee, devoted to getting tasks done on time and never taking shortcuts or cutting corners without reason. Furthermore, it seemed that the longer they got to know this woman, the more they wanted to. We read multiple stories about how she'd sent cards and random gifts just because they'd needed some love during tough times. Other accounts talked about how competently but gently she'd approached difficult conversations leading many coworkers into mutual understanding between each other when approaching coordination issues. Still more spoke fondly of both warm meals cooked by Ms. Sanchez at no charge, out of sheer kindness. Someone mentioned being hard-pressed economically due to unforeseen event expenses and Alma had organized a fundraiser.
Beneath all these impressive stories were written words depicting how genuinely happy everyone had felt simply being around this woman who'd been capable of such selfless acts.
I closed the file, shaking my head. “What in the world happened to her?”
Before we could discuss it, she emerged from her hotel room.
The four of us watched as she slowly shuffled down the sidewalk, her leathery skin hanging off of her thin frame. Her long gray hair was limp and hung in front of garish eyes that darted from side to side as if searching for something only she knew existed. In one hand, a cheap plastic shopping bag swung at her hip. In the other, a cane helped steady each careful step across the broken pavement.
Her mumbling annoyed everyone who passed by on their errands and travels but even more so those who actually noticed what she was doing. We stayed far enough back to watch as she furtively grabbed a sign from the bookstore window for a twenty percent off sale. She glanced over her shoulder with one eye closed, then darted to the next store, a coffee shop. "What’s she doing?" I whispered, but then my question was answered. A liver-spotted hand appeared in the window, holding the sale sign, then she propped it up in the cafe's window. That was going to cause some problems.
She left the cafe, casually bumping into bystanders with just enough force to knock them off-balance without causing injury. We stayed back, but as soon as we got close enough to the coffee shop, Deva darted in and grabbed the sign, then hurried to return it to the bookstore.
Alma tugged flowers out of a planter beside a mailbox and threw them on the ground. She checked every car window along the street before halting outside the movie theater.
"Crap," I muttered, and drew back. We'd let ourselves get too close. Close enough to hear her say, "What are you seeing tonight?" to a little girl and her mother.
"The Bumblebee Symphony," the pig-tailed girl said proudly.
Her mother smiled and said, "She's been so excited."
Alma's lips curled up, but a smile was the furthest thing from the horrible expression on her face. "The grasshopper is the bad guy."
The little girl's face fell as she stared at Alma in horror.
The old crone cackled and carried on down the street as the poor girl dissolved into tears.
"Holy crap," I whispered. "She's a monster."
"I bet she drowns kittens," Beth said in a dark voice.
"She could've been committing acts like these for many years." Carol shook her head. "We've got to stop her."
"Yeah," I said, trying and failing to find some hope. "We only have two days to do it."