It seemed that all of Edgehill was abuzz that Thursday. It marked both two weeks since Chloe had disappeared and the day that Chief Brown had raced off to Portland in the middle of the night to hopefully rescue the girl. Edgehill residents came into the Quirky Whisker with speculation about everything from the involvement of the FBI to the possibility that Johnny from Scuttle was the leader of a group who stole young girls for nefarious purposes.
Amber hadn’t heard anything from the chief or Alan Peterson since five that morning and her nerves were shot both from worry and lack of sleep.
Just like every day that week, Amber ran the shop until noon, then passed the torch onto the Bowen sisters so she could help Kim with more Here and Meow duties. With the rehearsal gala happening the next day, there was still a lot of preparation needed at the community center. Amber had only ten plastic cats left to create and had a box of completed ones in her car to drop off at the center later.
Her first task of the day was to pick up the rest of the centerpieces from Grace Williams at Hiss and Hers. Amber was halfway there when Kim called her. She hit a button on her rental car’s steering wheel and said, “Hey, Kim. I’m on my way to Hiss and Hers right now. I promise I’ll be there soon.”
“Oh, forget about that. I have a huge favor!” she said. “I’m stuck at the florist for a bit longer than I planned—the sample arrangement they showed me earlier was nearly all muted blues and purples even though I very specifically said I wanted cheery spring colors. I’m trying not to become Galazilla again. I’ve got a bunch of deep breathing exercises I’m working on.”
Amber laughed. “So what’s the favor?”
“Francine has a bunch of glass vases she said we can borrow,” Kim said. “We need a couple for displays. Can you grab them from her house? She’s got a hair appointment she has to leave for in an hour and I’m not going to make it there in time.”
“Yep, no problem,” Amber said.
“Ah! You’re such a doll,” Kim said. “We all need to go out for dinner in the city again when this gala madness is over. I had so much fun the other night. It’ll be my treat!”
The call disconnected before Amber could reply.
Amber got across town to Francine’s house much faster in her rental car than she had on her bike. When she pulled up out front, one of Francine’s Siamese cats was perched in the window again. This time, when Amber walked up the front walk, the cat didn’t dart for cover.
Francine pulled the door open before Amber had a chance to knock. “Oh, hey!” she said. “I was expecting Kim a bit later; I don’t have the box packed up quite yet.”
Amber stepped into the front entryway. “Kim is stuck at the florist for a while so she sent me instead. And no hurry; I can wait.”
“Okay, I just need to box them up. They’re scattered in the back room and the garage,” Francine said. “Feel free to hang out in the living room and watch TV. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.” Then she hurried through the rightmost archway.
Amber dropped her purse onto the forest green cushion on the bench seat and wandered through the left archway. The living room, with its elegant white leather couch and two wingback chairs, was tidy now. No clothes were piled on the floor or on the sofa. The coffee table was devoid of everything except for a small stack of coasters, the glass surface gleaming. Amber made her way across the room, passed into the dining room, and then turned right into a spotless modern kitchen.
The kitchen floor was made of grayish-brown hardwood, the cabinets were a slate gray with gleaming silver knobs and handles, and a white marble island sat in the middle of the room. A white tile backsplash lined the wall behind the stainless steel sink.
It took Amber a moment to realize that the doors of the refrigerator had been modeled to match the sleek cabinets. She pulled one open and found a bottle of water. As she drank, she noticed that the side of the fridge was covered in pictures and magnets—the only truly personal touch added to the pristine room. There were photograph Christmas cards featuring smiling families with kids and pets, engagement announcements of happy couples on a bench or posed in the middle of a field or on the end of a pier, and wedding invitations. There were school pictures of children that might have been nieces or nephews. And then, wedged underneath several photos, was a tan-colored card with a black ribbon looped through a hole in the top. Something about it was vaguely familiar; a magnet covered the words.
Amber removed the card and as she read the words, her mouth dropped open.
“To my Kitty Cat, you make every day brighter. Love, Snugglebear.”
It was the exact same message that Johnny had supposedly written on the card he was going to give Chloe along with half a dozen roses, the night of the storm. Why the heck did Francine have this?
Amber pulled out her phone and shot a glance through the doorway of the kitchen. Francine was still busy collecting the necessary items, so Amber took a quick picture of the card and sent it to Kim, along with the message, Kim! Did Chloe ever show you this?
She tucked her phone into her pocket, affixed the card back onto the fridge, and quickly made her way toward the front entryway. She had to get out of here. She didn’t know what Francine had to do with all of this, but Amber didn’t want to stick around to find out.
Heart in her throat, she hurried into the front entryway, only to find her purse on the ground, and half of the tan body of a Siamese cat sticking out of it.
“Shoo!” Amber said softly, startling the cat who jumped at the sound. In the cat’s haste to escape, her head got caught in one of the purse’s straps. Being tangled freaked the poor cat out even further, and it started to thrash around. While Amber did her best to calm the cat so she could free it, she tried to listen for Francine. The cat yowled.
“Minnie?” Francine called from the other room. “Is that you? Did you get stuck in a cabinet again?”
Oh goodness. Should she just leave her purse here and flee?
The cat yowled again, and during the course of her meltdown, she bucked so violently that the purse collided with the various odds and ends stuffed precariously into the middle cubby of the bench seat Amber’s purse had previously been lying on. Everything jammed inside came spilling out. Minnie gave another great yowl, but managed to free herself in the chaos, and darted away, claws scrabbling on the tile entryway.
Amber winced and was about to push the objects back in but stilled when her hand closed around a pointy object wrapped in plastic. The heel of a stiletto shoe. Which wasn’t odd in and of itself, but both shoes in the bag were caked in mud. They were made of black and red fabric and were elaborately strappy things. The same shoes Amber had noticed Francine wearing at the Sippin’ Siamese the night the Here and Meow Committee had gone to happy hour. The shoes were so caked, Amber doubted they were salvageable. In addition to the flakes of mud at the bottom of the bag were a few dried catkins—like the ones that hung from the trees near the location where Chloe’s car had been found.
“Sorry that took so long!” Francine called out. But her good cheer died the moment she saw the bag hanging from one of Amber’s fingers. “What are you doing?”
“These are the shoes you were wearing the night Chloe went missing,” Amber said, her heart rate ratcheting up even further. “Why are they covered in mud?”
Francine stared at Amber with her lips pressed into a thin line. “The storm was bad that night. Must have stepped in mud on the way to my car.”
There were only cement and gravel parking lots near the Sippin’ Siamese.
“You left early that night,” Amber said. “Did you come back here with the hot cowboy?”
“Yep.” She still held the box of vases. Her eyes were flat, her voice even more so.
Amber’s phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out, needing an excuse to look away from Francine’s dead-eyed expression.
A text from Kim was on the screen. What the eff?! Is that on Francine’s fridge? Why does SHE have that?
“Everything okay?” Francine asked.
When Amber looked up, Francine was a bit closer than she had been a moment before. “Yep! Is this everything Kim needed?” Amber flung her purse over her shoulder, then grabbed for the box, wrapping her arms around it. Francine relinquished it with little fuss. “Kim says thanks.”
Amber had just turned for the door when she felt her phone forcefully pulled from her pocket. The message from Kim was still there; Amber hadn’t opened the text thread yet. Before Amber could whirl around, Francine grabbed Amber by the shoulder and spun her around.
“Don’t you need this?” she asked, waving the phone in Amber’s face. “Without this, you can’t tell your cop pal that I knew Johnny.”
Amber swallowed. “Did you help him kidnap Chloe?”
Francine’s eyes welled with tears. The look told Amber that Francine was working through what to do about this little development, and Amber didn’t think whatever Francine was going to decide on would be in Amber’s best interest.
Amber thrust the box of vases at Francine, who, startled, instinctively reached out to grab it. While she was distracted, Amber pivoted for the door. A thud and crash and then an arm went around Amber’s neck, Francine’s bent elbow just below Amber’s chin. Francine squeezed.
“You can’t tell him!” Francine hissed in Amber’s ear.
The memory of Kieran’s magic closing around Amber’s neck was still too fresh. The nightmares were too persistent, never letting her forget how scared she’d been. Francine’s arm around Amber’s throat pulled all that fear back to the surface.
No.
Amber threw her weight into Francine, who stumbled back, the circular throw rug beneath them slipping as the two women struggled to throw the other off. They hit the ground.
Somehow, Francine still had a tight grip on Amber’s neck, one hand used to steady the crook of Francine’s elbow against Amber’s throat. With Amber’s back flush with Francine’s chest, Amber felt like she was in a boxing ring, though she didn’t think Francine would let go of her if Amber tried to tap out.
Black seeped into Amber’s vision. No. No, this couldn’t be happening to her again.
Kieran’s voice echoed in her head. Give me the book, Blackwood!
Amber flung her body to the side in a sudden, violent jerk and wildly flung her arms out, happy to hit any part of Francine if it meant she’d let her go. Amber bucked and kicked and flailed her arms and whack. Pain shot through Amber’s elbow, up her forearm, and made her fingers twitch. Francine cursed and suddenly Amber could breathe again. She got to her hands and knees and took in great heaving breaths. Her magic was an out-of-control storm, a hurricane, a tornado. She flicked her gaze up and found Francine with a palm pressed against an eye. Amber hoped she’d given Francine a black eye. Amber wanted to do a lot worse.
“You’ll ruin everything!” Francine growled and lunged.
No.
Amber flung her hands out just as the front door to Francine’s house opened. Magic shot out of Amber’s hands like a gale-force wind and lifted Francine clear off her feet and sent her sailing several feet off the ground before she hit the ground and slid across the hallway.
“Oh, holy smokes!”
Amber whirled around to find a slack-jawed Kimberly Jones standing in the doorway.
“You … you …” Kim said, gaze darting from Amber to Francine’s prone form in the hallway and back to Amber again. “You … you …”
Oh, this couldn’t possibly go well. “Kim …”
Kim kicked the broken glass out of the way and quickly closed the door, pressing her back against the wood. She visibly swallowed. Amber was almost positive Kim hadn’t blinked.
Amber’s chest heaved. She was more concerned at this moment that the power behind that blast of magic might have been enough to stop Francine’s heart than she was about Kim. But Amber would likely need to deal with Kim’s screaming once her adrenaline wore off. “What are you doing here?” was all Amber could think to say.
“Oh my God, Amber,” Kim said, coming back to herself. “That picture you sent me! Chloe told me so many times that Johnny calls her Kitty Cat and he calls himself Snugglebear. What are the odds? I was so freaked out about it that I just rushed over here.”
There was a groan from behind them and Amber and Kim jumped and whirled toward the hallway. Francine pushed herself to sitting and rested her back against a wall.
Amber was still so angry and her throat hurt and she needed to know what on earth Francine’s connection was to all of this. She stalked toward the disoriented woman and squatted in front of her; Francine flinched away. If Francine wasn’t clearly in so much pain, Amber was sure she would have run screaming from the house already. Amber lowered her voice so only Francine could hear her. “Tell me everything and I promise I’ll consider not tossing you across the room again.”
Francine swallowed, shying away from Amber a fraction. Mentally, Amber uttered the truth spell she’d been using so much lately, grabbed hold of Francine’s forearm—her magic singing from the contact—and then asked, “What role did you play in Chloe Deidrick’s kidnapping, Francine Robins?”
“It was all indirect,” Francine said, eyes widening as she realized her mouth was working without her permission.
Amber stood, towering over the woman.
Kim gasped, joining them in the hallway, though it looked as if she was warring between staying or bolting out the front door.
With her head resting against the wall, Francine let out a dejected sigh and said, “I got fooled by 055BelHavenGuy, too—just like Chloe did. At the start of Frank’s campaign, he wanted a tutorial on social media. We hit on all the major ones, but he wanted to know how Scuttle worked too. I didn’t really know myself, but I knew it was big with the younger crowd, so I created an account. I didn’t realize until later that anonymity was what users went for on there, so I posted my actual photo and bio on the site. My Belhaven guy started chatting with me almost right away. He said his name was Johnny and that he thought I was beautiful.” She snorted derisively. “After almost a year of talking, we met in person in Portland; he claimed he had a job out there. He gave me flowers; he was really sweet. And we got along great, just as we did in messages, but I didn’t have that romantic spark with him, you know?”
Francine raised her brows hopefully in Kim’s direction, subtly trying to remind her of the times that they’d bonded over their dating woes. Kim’s expression was hard and her arms were folded tight across her chest.
Francine frowned slightly and brought her focus back to Amber. “Johnny said he could tell I was hung up on someone else. We still talked all the time after that; he became one of my closest friends. I told him … everything. About my job, Frank, Chloe … and confessed my feelings for Frank.
“After a while, he told me he was an undercover journalist working on an explosive series of stories about corrupt politicians. He said he was drawn to me because of my connection to the mayor. He admitted that at first, he’d just been using me for intel, but once we became such close friends, he confided in me about his research into Frank. He told me Frank wasn’t who I thought he was and that he was worried for me because Frank was potentially dangerous. He dropped Shannon Pritchard’s name in conversation one day, then mentioned a rumor about hush-money payments the next. Johnny’s the one who tipped me off to the very thing that ended up getting me fired. But I think he wanted that. He wanted me ticked off and heartbroken so that when he needed me to go through with my part of the plan, I would.” She laughed. “I’m so stupid.”
“What did you do?” Kim asked, more bewildered than anything.
“Johnny—whatever his real name is—convinced me that Frank killed his long-time girlfriend Shannon, but was never caught, and that the hush money payments he was making were to a witness,” Francine said.
“You told me you didn’t have any idea what the payments were for,” Amber said.
“By the time you came to talk to me, that was true again,” said Francine. “Chloe was gone. I knew Johnny had lied about nearly everything. I was such a mess that day you came to talk to me. I didn’t know what to think. I was in love with Frank, and I knew he adored Chloe, but there was something so fishy about his past, regardless of what Johnny had told me. Johnny had planted a seed of doubt and it was growing like crazy.”
Amber still wasn’t sure how this all resulted in Francine’s shoes being covered with mud. She knew she had to be patient; Francine was on a roll now, either coerced by the magic still, or by her own guilt, Amber couldn’t be sure.
“The night of Chloe’s disappearance, Johnny messaged me and thanked me for all my help. He said he had a colleague who was in town and based on everything I’d told him, this so-called colleague had been able to find and interview Chloe for the story, which would make it an even more powerful piece. He said once the explosive exposé hit shelves, he’d give me a finder’s fee of sorts since his contact never would have been able to find Chloe without me.” Francine wrung her hands. “I’d still been at the bar when I got that message and something in my gut told me something very bad had happened.
“Frank sent me a text that night asking if I’d seen or talked to Chloe—you two were still at the bar. I drove right from the bar down Blue Point Lane since I know her best friend lives down that street. I found her car before you two did.”
Amber gaped at her.
“I went walking around that whole area calling for her. Got a few feet into all those trees and bushes. It was dumping buckets by then and I almost rolled my ankle half a dozen times in those dang shoes,” Francine said. “I knew it was all my fault. I’d basically given this Johnny guy a blueprint of Edgehill because of how much I talked about it and pictures I’d sent him, thinking I was just sharing my town with a friend. I’d willingly given this guy everything he needed to know about Frank and Chloe. I went home before you two found her car. And then the next day, and the days after that, Chloe was just … gone. I knew I’d irrevocably screwed up then. I helped Chloe get kidnapped even if he had a hired goon do the snatching.”
“You didn’t turn any of this over to the police?” Amber asked.
Francine shook her head. “I was in so deep. He said he’d been keeping screenshots of our conversations and since I was stupid enough to have a handle that was Francine103R—I mean I used the freaking area code of Edgehill in my name!—I figured it could be pretty easy to prove it’s me given how many dang selfies I sent him. He said he could send all the screenshots anonymously to the police and no one would know where they came from, but I’d be implicated.
“I didn’t know how I’d be able to prove any of this from my side. Even though we talked for a year, I don’t even know his real name. I don’t know what he really wants from Chloe or who he is. There are all these rumors about Johnny being the leader of a sex ring or something! What if I did something to completely ruin Chloe’s life? All I know is that he’s a con artist and I fell for every one of his lies.”
Amber merely stared at her.
“Are you going to press charges?” Francine asked, her chin quivering, as if she was fighting the urge to cry. “I probably should have thought of that before I attacked a friend of the chief of police. I just … I freaked out.”
“You should be freaked out,” Kim said. “The whole town’s been losing its mind over this and you never once told anyone you were involved with the guy!”
“Amber showed up here like some kind of angel!” Francine said, waving a hand in Amber’s general direction. “I’ve felt so isolated here and then I suddenly had friends and a project to lose myself in and I didn’t want to ruin that.”
Amber couldn’t say she didn’t know what all of that felt like, but Francine staying quiet could have resulted in things going much worse for Chloe. It still wasn’t clear what the girl’s fate was, after all.
“Why did you call him Snugglebear?” Amber asked.
Francine turned beet red. “How do you know about that?”
“I saw the card on your fridge.”
Sighing, she said, “I made it up. He said he was from Belhaven and he’d been a Belhaven Bear many years ago. Somehow from there, I made up the nickname.”
Amber told Francine that Sean had sent a picture of that same card to Chloe, claiming he was going to give her the bouquet the night they met.
Francine winced. “God, that guy is sick. He’s sick and I’m an idiot for falling for it.”
Amber wanted to say that this kind of thing probably happened to women—and likely quite a few men—all the time. Alan had said that predatory men targeted children through apps like Scuttle; the idea that men like Sean with even worse intentions than acquiring money were out there preying on the young and vulnerable made Amber’s stomach twist.
In the brief silence, Francine, who was still sitting with her back pressed against the wall, cocked her head at Amber. “How did you do that earlier? I swear I was on my feet one second, then halfway down the hallway the next. I remember you lifting your hand and—”
Amber locked gazes with her and said, “Sleep.”
Francine’s eyes rolled back in her head and then her chin dropped to her chest. Her limbs relaxed and breathing deepened.
“Oh, holy smokes!” Kim said beside her.
Amber wasn’t sure how to handle Kim. Did she really want to deal with another memory-erase spell? Was her skill even strong enough?
“Holy smokes, holy smokes!”
Slowly, Amber turned to Kim, trying to figure out the best lie to go with. Would the psychic story still work? Hypnotist?
“Are you a …” Kim swallowed, her balled fists pressed to her cheeks. She looked like a startled goldfish. “Are you a witch? Can you do … magic?”
Amber knew her skills were decent enough that she could erase these last five minutes and make Kim forget this conversation if she started screaming. “Yes.”
“Oh. My. God,” Kim said. She took one step back, then another, her fists still pressed to her face.
“Listen, Kim,” Amber said slowly, priming her magic to dart into Kim’s mind and pluck out any memory of this. “It’s not—”
Kim squealed and bounced on the balls of her feet. “This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened!”
“Wait, what?” Amber said, her magic deflating like a soufflé.
“This actually makes so much sense now,” Kim said, pacing back and forth across the length of the narrow hallway. “This is why you’re so secretive! You’ve been holding onto the most epic secret in the history of the universe. Do you have any idea how badly I wish I could do magic? It’s like literally my only dream in this life. Holy smokes!” She stopped abruptly to stare at Amber with wide eyes. “Do you have a broom? Can you fly?”
Amber let out a burst of nervous laughter. “No. The chief asked that too.”
“Chief Brown knows?”
“Yes! That’s why we’re together so much. Sometimes my … skills can help him out with a case when regular police methods won’t work.”
“Oh my God, Amber, that’s so cool,” she said. “And holy smokes I’m sorry I thought you were trying to hook up with him. This is so much better. Also, you two need a TV show.”
“Right! I keep trying to suggest that, but he thinks I’m loopy.”
Kim stared at Amber now with a giddy sort of delight that was downright unsettling.
“Kimberly, you can’t—can not—tell anyone about this.”
“I won’t!” she said, holding up two fingers. “Scouts honor.”
“You blurted things to Francine within a couple of days!”
“I was tipsy on appletinis!” Kim said.
Amber pursed her lips.
Kim closed the distance between them and grabbed Amber’s hands, giving them a shake. “You can trust me. I promise. I’m feeling a little choked up that you told me at all. I know sharing this with people has to be a big deal and I’m glad I’m one of those people.”
“Jack knew,” Amber blurted.
Kim’s brows shot toward her hairline. “Past tense?”
Amber nodded. “It’s a long story, but yes. I can get into all the sordid details of my witch family—”
“Uhh … yes, please, and thank you. Tell me when and where and I’ll bring the wine.”
Smiling, Amber said, “But Jack learned even more about all this than the chief did and he couldn’t handle it and asked to have his memory wiped of all of it. Which meant he couldn’t really remember me, either. That’s why things have been so weird between him and me lately.”
Kim grunted. “Dangit, Jack Terrence. Well, just know I can handle it, okay? I promise.”
We’ll see, she wanted to say. Instead, she smiled and said, “Okay.”
“What do we do about her?” Kim asked, letting Amber’s hands go and turning to face the now snoring Francine.
“I’ll talk to the chief when he’s got a free minute. I guess I can just keep her asleep until then?”
“Maybe we should put her on her bed at least?” Kim said. “You grab her feet; I’ll grab her shoulders.” Then she grinned. “That’s how I know we’re truly friends now. Only your closest friends will help you move a body.”