It's never a good feeling when a cop looks at you like someone on a wanted poster. Scratch that. Someone on a wanted poster and having a bad hair day.
“Sheriff McCourt.” I managed not to stammer. “Nice to see you.”
“Is it? A word, please.” She walked out of the office.
Daniel tracked the door swinging slowly closed in her wake.
“Um.” I glanced toward the door. “I'd like to pay a condolence call on your mother later.” I stood. “Do you think that would be okay?”
“Sure.” He pointed with a pencil toward the door. “Is everything—?”
“The sheriff probably has a few more questions about the other day,” I said brightly. I strode out the door and into the front yard.
The sheriff stopped pacing. “What are you doing here?”
“Daniel and I were friends when we were kids. I came by to see how he was doing.”
“It's been a long time since you were kids.”
“This is a small town.”
“Which you no longer live in.”
“My kids go to daycare here.”
She gave me an unfriendly look. “Cut the bull. What's really going on?”
“I wanted to learn more about Daniel's father, after the incident in Ground.”
“What incident?”
“The break-in,” I said, surprised she didn’t know. I had the feeling she kept tabs on my sisters and me.
“Oh,” she said. “I thought there'd been another I hadn't heard about. What does one have to do with the other?”
“It just sounds like Daniel's father was more than a casual occultist,” I said.
“And?”
I didn't know how to respond. We weren't supposed to have the spell book, so I couldn't tell her people were after it. And even if I did tell her and she didn't confiscate it, if she agreed to help us, what could she do?
I cleared my throat. “I heard the old sheriff investigated Trevor’s disappearance as a possible homicide. Is it possible he has more information on Trevor?”
“You didn't answer my question. What does the break-in have to do with Trevor Lancet?”
“Could he have been the person who broke into Ground?”
The sheriff blinked. “I— No,” she said slowly. “We still don't know the exact time of death. The coroner thinks it was early Tuesday night. That puts it before the break-in. How is Jayce connected to Trevor Lancet?”
Heat flushed my face and neck. “What? She’s not. I mean...” This was why I'd practiced estate and not criminal law. You didn't have to think fast preparing wills and trusts. “Nothing. No connection.”
The sheriff pursed her lips. “All right. You can go.”
My shoulders unknotted. That seemed too easy, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I hurried to my SUV.
Inside, I drummed my fingers on the wheel. Why had the sheriff let me off the hook? I’d like to think it was because she accepted my sisters and I could help her. But that was what I wanted to think. I couldn't trust that explanation.
But. She hadn't warned me off interfering in the investigation. And there was nothing stopping me from going to the grocery store.
Greg's grocery store.
Greg owned an upscale grocery. It sold over-priced deli meats, cheeses and chocolates on the first floor, and spectacular home goods on the second.
I found a parking spot in the lot and strode past a bulletin board papered with business cards and flyers. I paused, my eye caught by a bright red flyer. The high school was putting on A Christmas Carol, good family fare. I shook my head. No way Emmie would sit still for it.
“Karin,” a gravelly voice said.
My shoulders hunched. I stopped beside an outdoor display of wreaths and mini Christmas trees, turned and smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Steinberg. Happy holidays.”
The old lady removed her e-cigarette from her mouth and grunted. “Are they?” She looked at the blue sky and shifted her weight. Her long black skirt rippled at the movement. “The Holly King is on his way out, and good riddance, I say.” The sun reflected twin starbursts off her Jackie Kennedy-style sunglasses.
I nodded uncertainly. She was referring to the myth of the Holly and Oak Kings. Holly killed Oak at the summer solstice and ruled the dwindling days. Oak killed Holly at the winter solstice and took back his power as the days lengthened. As much as I looked forward to Christmas with the family, I was also looking forward to the end of winter. But technically, Christmas took place during Oak's reign, so—
She blew a stream of raspberry scented smoke at me. “Earth to Karin.”
“Sorry. I was just thinking about Holly and Oak.” I knew she'd understand. Mrs. Steinberg was a magical practitioner, and a member of a White Lodge—a group of good magicians.
Good in theory.
Her lodge had interfered with us in the past. They’d wanted the book as well, and not even Mrs. Steinberg had trusted them to keep it. I looked down at my low-heeled boots. That’s why we'd let her think we'd destroyed the book.
“That's your problem.” She leaned on her cane. “You think too much. You should take a leaf out of your sister Jayce's book. On the other hand, a little more thinking might do that girl a world of good. It's about balance—using the mind as a tool and not letting it use you.”
“Mm hm.” People walked past us into the store, and I glanced at its closing glass doors. Greg would probably be there today—it was too busy for him not to be.
She puffed on her e-cigarette. “You must think I'm an old fool, but I can't be that boring. Not about your favorite topic. What are you up to?”
“Nothing,” I said hastily. “Just some grocery shopping before the holidays. They've got an amazing smoked ham.”
“They do have good hams, but that's not why you're here.” She grabbed my hand and turned it over. My spider bite turned livid, an ugly red crescent moon. “Ha. You're up to your neck in dark magic.”
I jerked my hand free. “I would never—”
“No, you wouldn’t. But you found that man's body, didn't you? What killed him? Fairy? Warlock? Water sprite?”
“Human,” I said grudgingly. “He was shot.”
“Aha. You are involved. The question is, why? You girls have been up to all sorts of shenanigans lately. There's been magic involved in every case.”
The glass doors swished open. I glanced nervously at a woman striding past, her arms filled with groceries.
“No one will hear us,” Mrs. Steinberg said. “No one pays attention. Now, what's really going on?”
“Nothing. I knew Daniel when we were kids. That's all.”
She snorted. “Trevor was a bad seed. I'm only surprised it took this long for him to come to a sticky end.”
“You knew him?”
“I knew of him. He avoided me. I can't imagine why.”
I could. If he was practicing dark magic, could he have known Mrs. Steinberg played on the other team?
“Well,” I said, “I'd better get that ham.”
“Yes, you should. They go fast.”
I walked inside, her eyes burning a hole in the back of my parka. A blast of cool air scented by cut flowers brushed across me. I rubbed my burning palm and shivered.
In case Mrs. Steinberg was watching, I walked to the deli section and stopped a worker in a green apron.
“Hi, Leo. I'm looking for Greg. Is he around?”
“He's in his office, upstairs.”
“Thanks.” I made a u-turn to the escalator and took it to the second floor. Meandering past Italian ceramics and Christmas decor, I found the narrow corridor and walked down it to the offices. I knocked on a wooden door with a placard, GREG MATHIAS.
“Yes?” Greg barked.
I opened the door and leaned inside.
Greg looked up from his scarred wooden desk. A single, neat pile of paper lay in front of him, beside a desktop computer and a red pen. The desk was otherwise bare.
“Hi, Greg. Have you got a minute?”
Twin furrows formed between his graying brows. “Sure. Have a seat.”
I sat in the chair in front of his desk, and it wobbled. “How's Puck doing?”
His chiseled face sagged, but his near-military posture remained firm. “Not well. This has been a real shock.”
“I can't imagine. Gone for all those years, presumed dead, and now he's been found, and he is dead. How do you get through something like that? The questions, the uncertainty?”
He ran his hand over his buzz cut, a quick, precise gesture. “I don't know. Puck’s a remarkable woman. But I wonder if a part of her didn't always think, maybe he'd come back?”
“Why?”
“She kept his things. All of them. I wanted to get rid of them, but she said Daniel might want them some day.” He shuddered. “I should hope he doesn't.”
She kept all of them? That could be a goldmine of information. I smoothed my expression. “Why?” I asked.
“I simply meant his father was obviously worthless. Why hold on to memories of that?”
Had that been what he’d meant? I wasn’t so sure. “How are you doing?”
“Me?” He shifted papers from one side of his desk to the other. “This isn't about me. It's about Puck and Daniel. The only thing I want is to make this as painless for them as possible. So, what can I help you with?”
“I'd like to pay a condolence call on Puck, but I wasn't sure if she was ready for it.” Though I'd planned this lie, now that it was out of my mouth for the second time today, it sounded ridiculous. Puck was no wilting violet.
But he nodded. “I'm glad you asked first. This isn't the time. Give her a few days. She still needs to process what’s happened.”
My lips pressed tight. That was what I got for asking permission. “I understand.” I made a move to go, then sat heavily in the chair. I really needed to get rid of this baby weight. “Did you have any idea Trevor was in town?”
“None. If I had, I would have taken Puck away. She's a good woman. She didn't deserve what he did to her, leaving her high and dry like that. No good could come of his return, and no good did.”
“Are you sure she didn't see him?” I asked.
His broad hands stilled on the desk. “What do you mean?”
“Tuesday night. She didn't happen to see him?”
“Tuesday night she and Daniel were at a holiday party at one of the senior facilities.” One corner of his mouth curled in a smile. “She volunteers there, bringing them books, arranging events. Christmas is her favorite time. She never misses the parties. Why do you think she might have seen Trevor?”
“I guess I was wrong. It's only, he was in town then, and I thought he might have gone to see her.”
“Well, he didn't,” Greg said sharply.
“I suppose you were busy with your own charity.” I nodded toward a flyer on the wall. It advertised a food fundraiser for families in need.
“I’m busy with it up until Christmas Day. We're having a party for the staff after the holidays. It’s just a little something to congratulate them on their hard work for the food drive.”
Which didn't give him an alibi, but I didn't know how to ask more directly. Maybe I didn't have to.
I opened my wallet and put a hundred-dollar bill on his battered desk. “For the food drive. And I've taken up enough of your time. Thanks.”
“Oh. Wait.” He opened a desk drawer and scrabbled inside. “Let me give you a receipt. This is tax deductible.”
“It's fine.”
“No, no, no. You need a receipt. Ah. Here.” He whipped out a yellow receipt book and flapped the pages.
Their motion reminded me of the black book beneath the water, and a vision of the thing in the hospital flashed in my mind. My hand went to my stomach.
“Your donation is very generous,” he continued.
“It's the holiday spirit,” I joked weakly. “I've been infected and have no control.” My spider bite burned, and I rubbed it. The holiday spirit was benign, but the thing in the book was not.
My phone rang in my parka’s pocket, and I pulled it free.
Amy. My heart thumped more quickly.
“Amy? Is everything okay?”
“Ah, yes and no. First, don't panic.”
That is the worst thing to tell someone when you're taking care of their kids. “Panic about what?” My voice arced.
Greg looked up from his receipt writing.
“Emmie jammed a rock up her nose.”
“A rock?” I choked back a relieved laugh.
“She couldn't blow it out, so I've called the paramedics.”
“How big is this rock?” I asked, alarmed.
“Kids do this sort of thing all the time. But for insurance reasons, I can't try to extract anything that's, er, stuck, myself. It's really no big deal.”
“I'll be there in five minutes.”
I pocketed the phone and turned for the door. A rock. How could Amy have been so careless?
Guilt swiftly followed my anger. Emmie might have shoved a rock up her nose in our own yard. This wasn't Amy's fault. It was my fault for not keeping an eye on my daughter myself.
“Your receipt—”
“I'll get it later. Thanks.”
I jogged through the store and outside, to my SUV. And I managed not to speed on my way through Doyle's old-west buildings to the daycare center.
A paramedic's van was parked outside the red barn. I screeched to a halt behind it and raced inside.
Amy met me at the door. “Karin, she's—”
I brushed past her.
Jayce's husband, in his blue paramedic's uniform, bounced a laughing Emmie on his knee. “I told you it was going to be easy,” he told her.
“Brayden.” I hurried to him, and he handed Emmie into my arms. Anxiously, I studied her face. Her nose was a little pink, but she seemed no worse for wear. “I'm so glad it was you.”
“Uncle Brayden took care of everything,” he said, grinning. “The inside of her nose may be tender. If there's a little blood today, don't panic. If there's more than a little, or things don't clear up tomorrow, give me a call.”
I hugged my daughter closer, and she squirmed in my arms. Amy hovered awkwardly at my side.
“I’ve stopped counting the number of nasal extractions I've had to perform on kids her age,” Brayden said easily. “You wouldn't believe the stuff that gets up there.”
“Right.” I eyed him. “You're trying to calm me down, aren't you?”
“You look a little stressed,” he said. “But honestly, this is no big deal.”
I blew out my breath. He was right. This wasn't Amy's fault. This wasn't my fault. It was part and parcel of being a toddler. “Can I hope she's learned her lesson?”
He laughed and stood. “Fat chance.”
I turned to Amy. “Sorry I tore in here like a madwoman.”
“It's okay. I'm sorry about this. We were outside, and one of the kids punched another. When the dust settled and I turned back to Emmie, there was a rock in her nose. It happened so fast.”
“I'm sure it did. It's not your fault. It's just something kids do.” And I hoped someday I'd really believe that. But for now, I'd have to fake not being a helicopter mom. I swallowed. I could do this. “Can I bring them back again?”
“Absolutely. I thought you might want to take them home now, so I got Mitch ready.” She pointed toward Mitch, bundled up in his carrier.
“Since I'm here,” I said, “I might as well.”
I hauled Mitch and Emmie to the car, and Brayden helped me lock them into their car seats.
“How's it going with that book?” he asked in a low voice.
“One more week, and I hope it and what's inside it will be gone for good.”
“That wasn't what I was talking about.” He raked his hand through his ebony, curling hair. “It affects you.”
I clutched the diaper bag to my chest, nauseated. The book did more than that. If you touched the damn thing, it possessed you. “I'm trying to limit exposure.”
My brother-in-law watched me pull from the curb. I drove home carefully, Mitch gurgling contentedly in his seat, Emmie swinging her feet.
My daughter seemed no worse for wear after her adventure. But when I got home, I shoved aside half a dozen Christmas cookie tins and sat her on the kitchen counter. I peered up her nose, looking for the blood Brayden had warned me about.
“What are you doing?” Nick asked behind me.
I started and turned. He was still in his work suit. My husband laid his briefcase on the kitchen counter.
I explained about the rock, and Nick laughed. “Let’s hope this isn't the beginning of a trend.”
“What are you doing home?”
“I missed you three.” He picked up Mitch and laid the sleeping baby against his chest. “My last appointment ended early, and I thought I'd work the rest of the day from home.”
“You knew I'd bring them back from daycare early,” I said, mock accusing.
“I suspected,” he admitted. With his free arm, he scooped Emmie off the counter. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and my heart turned to warm butter.
“I'm glad you're home.” I told him about my morning.
His dark brows slashed downward. “You think Puck kept something that might point to the Black Lodge Trevor joined?”
“I think I want to see what she's got.” I hesitated. “Brayden said something to me today, about how the book influences people.”
“Do you think it's influencing you?”
“No, but that's exactly what I'd think if it was influencing me.” But I was more worried about how it might be affecting Nick and the kids. Especially the kids. It had been in the hospital room, creeping toward me, toward us… “Do you mind watching them while I check on the wards?”
“That's what I'm here for.”
I kissed him and hurried to my shed. I unlocked the heavy padlock and walked inside. My spider bite twinged, and I rubbed it.
The shed was freezing, probably due to the winter weather and poor insulation. I turned knelt beside the small sink.
I reached behind the plumbing and pressed a wooden panel. It sprang open. I pulled it wider, revealing the safe, bolted to the floor.
Carefully, I retrieved the book in its box of salt. I relaxed my gaze, and the magical bindings glowed into existence. They seemed strong, but—
The back of my neck prickled, and a flare of energy jolted up my spider bite and up my arm, into my heart.
Something had tripped my wards.