Hands trembling, I clicked through the photos. Jayce. Lenore. Connor. Nick. Me with the children on Doyle's Main Street.
Me with the children.
I downloaded the files, too rattled to look at more.
Emmie toddled to me carrying a block, and I pulled her onto my lap.
I stared at the photo of the three of us on Main Street. I was wearing my pink scarf. It clashed with the red coat, but I'd been in a hurry and juggling children, and had grabbed the nearest scarf at hand.
I clicked away from the photo. It would be too easy to obsess over it, to make myself crazy when I should be learning about the lodge.
I read through the threads. Most were discussions of spells and rituals. None mentioned a location aside from “the lodge.” Was the lodge an actual... lodge? A physical building?
A witchcraft store in the Mission District was mentioned more than once. So, if there was a physical building, it was likely in San Francisco. But we'd already known that was their base.
I took more screenshots. Emmie squirmed. Mitch blew sleepy spit bubbles.
Then I discovered I could save entire threads on the chat board and started doing that instead. The paranoid witch in me feared the pages would disappear.
When I finished saving the last thread, I sat back.
Emmie delivered an unintended and vicious kick to the inside of my knee.
“Ooof. Good one.” I winced and set her down.
Unable to help myself, I reopened Castor's pictures of my family. My fashion disaster with the pink scarf... That had been last Thursday? And Castor had been right there, taking pictures.
Right... there.
I straightened on the couch. The photos weren't just a record of my family being stalked. They were also a record of where Castor had been.
They were evidence.
I looked through the photos, trying to view them as a lawyer and not as a terrified mother. It wasn't easy. Every picture of someone I loved sent a new rush of heat to the top of my skull.
Castor had been busy. Had he only been after evidence in Trevor/Desmond's death? Or had there been more to his time in Doyle and Angels Camp?
I paused at a blurry shot of tree roots. The photo must have been accidental. But why include it in the photos he'd sent to the lodge?
There was something familiar about the picture—familiar and beautiful. But my family has a thing for trees and for roots.
I clicked to the next photo and paused.
That... was different.
A photo of Daniel’s partner, Mory, outside Puck's house. Mory held her hand. Puck looked up at him with a beseeching, almost tender look. Or was I misreading it? Was it anguish? Had she just gotten word of Trevor's death?
Mory leaned close to her, his expression intent, longing. It seemed like more than a sympathy handhold, but why had Castor cared to memorialize it?
Nausea lurched in my gut. Blackmail?
I needed to talk to Puck and Mory.
It took nearly an hour for me to finally get out the door with Mitch and Emmie. This time, I got a scarf that matched—gray against my dark blue pea coat. Outside my shed, I paused.
No, I wouldn't take the book with us. Leaving it here was a risk, but the lodge hadn't been able to get past my wards yet, and they seemed to be focused on Ground.
The book stayed put.
I drove through Angels Camp, past a statue of a frog wearing a Santa cap, past antique stores, past window displays with pine boughs and fake snow. On the highway, I got stuck behind a slow-moving lumber truck. But I had precious cargo, so I sat and fumed rather than risk passing the truck as we ground up the hill to Doyle.
I dropped the children off at Amy’s daycare. She seemed happier to see them than the situation warranted. I guess we were both still thinking of the rock-up-nose incident. But I trusted Amy more than Mory, since he was a potential blackmail victim. The kids couldn’t come with me.
I drove to Mory's office and climbed the Victorian’s steps. Knocking snow off my boots, I walked inside.
Mory leaned over an unmanned reception desk. He straightened and adjusted his round glasses. One corner of his shirt had come untucked and flapped loose beneath his belly. “Karin. What brings you back here? If you're looking for Daniel, he's out at one of our facilities.”
“Actually, I was looking for you.”
“How can I help?” He shifted a bobble-head Santa on the desk. If Mory had a white beard and red suit, they’d be twins.
“It's a little awkward.” It was hugely awkward. I forced myself not to think too hard about what I was about to do. Digging through my backpack, I pulled out the photo I'd printed. “I found this and wanted to ask you about it.” I handed him the picture.
He studied the photo, which made it easier for me to avoid looking him in the eye, and he frowned. “Where did you say you found this?”
“On a website.”
His head jerked upward. Beads of sweat glistened on his pate. “A website?”
I shifted my weight. “How close are you and Puck?”
“We're just... This must be... Oh, I remember now. This is old. Daniel had gotten into a minor fender bender, and Puck was upset—”
“No, Mory. This photo was taken within the last week.”
“Ah.”
Doubt crept into my heart. He looked so much like a teddy bear, it was hard to imagine he'd hurt anyone. That might have been a miscalculation on my part. “Can you tell me about it?”
“What do you want? Money?”
“Has someone else asked you for money?” I said gently.
“No. Of course not. This picture...” His shoulders caved inward. “I don't know who took it.”
“But you know when it was taken.”
He nodded. “It's not what it looks like.”
“It looks like you and Puck are in love.”
He didn't respond.
“I wouldn't blame you if you were. You've known Puck a long time—through good times and bad. Daniel said you've been like a father to him. One way or another, you're part of that family. Why wouldn't you love them?”
“It's not what it looks like,” he said, “because Puck doesn't love me.”
“Oh.” Ow.
The door behind me opened, and Daniel strode inside. “All's well at Shady Pines. Hi, Karin. What's up?”
Mory crumpled the paper photo in his fist. “She had a question about our facilities. For her...”
“Mother-in-law,” I finished. Sorry, Peggy. Nick’s marathon runner mother would be horrified to hear I was setting her up for assisted living. “It's a little, er...”
“Say no more,” Daniel said. “I'll let you two keep talking.” He strode into the office next door and shut the door.
Mory heaved a breath and nodded to the frosted-glass door opposite. “In here?”
He held the door, and I pushed the stroller inside.
Mory motioned me to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk and plunked his bulk in the chair behind it. “Thanks for not saying anything.”
“I'm not here to blackmail you, Mory. But two people are dead. Secrets are going to start to come out. Why did someone take this picture of you?”
“I honestly don't know. No one approached me...” He paled.
“Could they have approached Puck?”
“No. Puck's done nothing wrong. Ever. She's never behaved inappropriately.” His face reddened. “Even if there were times I'd hoped she would.”
“Where were you last Tuesday?”
“I was in San Francisco from Tuesday afternoon to Wednesday morning,” he said promptly.
At my look, he continued, “I was visiting three of our facilities in the Bay Area. It's a four-hour trip, so I spent the night and took my time visiting all three.” He shot me a wry look. “I've told the sheriff this. There are witnesses and video tapes.”
I nodded, embarrassed. We both knew I had no right to play detective. “Then thank you for telling me.” I stood to leave.
“And the photo?” He set the rumpled paper on his desk between us.
“Keep it.”
His body relaxed in the chair.
I didn't have the heart to remind him the photo was online.