“I think we have to take them back to the corn mazes,” Thistle said.
“They’ve been back.”
“What else do we have?”
Nothing. We had absolutely nothing. And time was running out.
Twenty-Four
Given how busy the store was – members of the tour group continued to circulate in and out – we couldn’t go back out to the corn maze until the store was closed. I could have survived without Thistle and Clove, but I wasn’t really keen on that idea – especially since my ankle was still tender.
We all managed to find time to apply the potion, though. The minute I felt it touch the world’s biggest pimple, I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. By morning it would be gone. I had a feeling Thistle’s rage would remain long after her face had cleared up, though.
When it was time to close the store, we all agreed to drive together. “We’ll just pick up your car tomorrow,” Clove said. I could tell she was already nervous.
We decided to go to Harrow Bluff first. This was where Shane’s body had been found. He seemed excited at the prospect.
“I’m not sitting in the back with them,” I argued when Clove yelled shotgun outside of the store.
“Why not?”
“My ankle is still hurt.”
“It’s not like they can jostle it,” Thistle scoffed.
Crap. “Well, I’m not sitting in the middle.”
I slid into the seat behind Clove – she was shorter, after all – and I couldn’t hide my frown when the excited Sophie and Shane popped into the car next to me.
“It’s like a road trip,” Sophie said excitedly.
Yeah, a road trip to hell.
When we got out to Harrow Bluff, I was surprised to find that it was open again. I had expected to find it deserted.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thistle swore.
“It’s Hemlock Cove and it’s tourist season. What else do you expect?”
“A little respect, maybe?”
“Yeah, I think you’re asking for too much.”
“Well, at least with the three of us together we can talk to Sophie and Shane without people thinking we’re crazy.” Clove always finds something to be optimistic about. It’s endearing – and annoying.
“They already think we’re crazy,” I complained.
“Oh, get over it,” Thistle grumbled.
We exited the car, greeting a handful of people we recognized at the food table before we positioned ourselves at the front of the maze.
“When did the maze reopen?” I asked Mrs. Little, who was holding court with a couple of biddies from her bridge club.
“Shouldn’t the newspaper already know that?”
“I guess I must have missed it,” I said brightly.
“Today,” she answered.
“Don’t you think that’s a little rude,” Thistle challenged her.
“This is a tourist town,” Mrs. Little glared at Thistle. Given the way she was looking at her hair, I guessed she hadn’t seen the blue tresses yet. “We don’t let bad times get us down.”
“Or murders affect the bottom line,” Thistle mumbled.
“What did you say?” Mrs. Little was spoiling for a fight.
“She asked if you could pass her a glass of cider,” I broke in. Now was not the time to fight with the town’s favorite pain in the ass.
Since I’d brought up cider, we were obliged to drink it. It gave me a chance to look around the maze to see who was here. I recognized a couple of the elderly ladies from the tour earlier in the day. I also recognized Emily, the woman from the inn, who had discovered Shane’s body with me.
“Why is she here?”
“Who?”
“Emily.”
“That woman from the inn?”
“Yeah.”
“Wasn’t she the one that discovered Shane’s body with you?”
I nodded.
“She’s a horror fanatic, right?” Clove asked.
“She said she was. She was kind of squeamish, though.”
“Maybe Ron wanted to come?” Thistle said.
“Who is Ron?”
“Her husband.”
“Oh, I never got his name, I don’t think.”
“They’re from New York,” Clove supplied.
“How do you know that?”
“He told me that night at dinner. He was actually kind of chatty.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that they were on their honeymoon and they were from New York,” Clove answered simply.
“He couldn’t have been that chatty,” I sniped.
“No, I mean that he kept telling these really long and boring stories about how they met and how it was love at first sight and how he thought he’d found his soul mate. It was actually pretty annoying.”
Since Clove was an eternal optimist – and a hopeless romantic – he must have been really annoying.
Emily caught sight of us and ran over to us excitedly. “You guys came for the reopening, too.”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Her hair looks like a poodle,” Sophie complained.
I looked at Emily’s tightly wound blonde curls and couldn’t help but agree. “Her hair was straight before. Maybe she does this for a special occasion,” I whispered. Thankfully Emily’s attention was focused on Clove.
“Nothing is that special.”
Thistle snickered. She can transform into a snarky teenager when she wants to. Actually, we all can.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” I said to Emily. “I thought you were kind of … traumatized when you were here before.”
“I was,” Emily said, her tone blithe. “But, like Ron tells me, the best way to face your fears is to actually face your fears.”
“Ron sounds wise,” Thistle said sarcastically.
Clove shot her a dirty look. We were never supposed to be mean to the guests at the inn.
Thankfully, Emily seemed oblivious to sarcasm. “Oh, he is,” Emily said dreamily. “He’s the smartest man I’ve ever met.”
Ah, young love.
“So, have you been in yet?” I felt the need to at least pretend I was interested in Emily – mostly because we’d discovered a body together. What? That’s a thing. I swear.
“I’m still working up to it,” Emily confided.
“Me, too,” I lied.
Emily’s husband was motioning for her to join him, so she said her goodbyes and then practically ran to him across the parking lot. They were making out within five seconds flat.
“That’s so gross,” Thistle complained.
“I think it’s sweet,” Clove argued.
They both turned to me expectantly. “I think it’s a little obnoxious,” I said finally.
“I bet if it was you and Landon you wouldn’t complain,” Clove said.
Thistle snorted.
“Who’s Landon?” Sophie asked. “Is he the hot guy from the other night?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Thistle and Clove countered in unison.
“How is Marcus?” I verbally shot over to Thistle. I saw her redden at the question. “You thought I forgot about him, didn’t you?”
Clove was smiling conspiratorially at me. “We haven’t seen him again,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Well, there have been two murders,” Clove argued rationally.
She had a point.
“I think you should invite him out to the inn for dinner,” I teased. “Once the zit is gone, that is.”
“Does it look any better?” Thistle was momentarily distracted from her growing anger.
I narrowed my eyes as I regarded it. “It already looks like it’s shrinking,” I admitted. “How about me?”
Clove stared at it a second. “You, too.”
“That old lady is going to pay, I swear,” Thistle grumbled again.
“Back to Marcus,” I said.
“What about him?” Thistle was getting increasingly irritated.<
br />
“I think you should invite him out to dinner.” What? That’s a great idea. My mom and the aunts would spend the entire night fawning over him. It would be a stress-free evening for me. And, that’s really all that matters.
“I’ll invite him the same night you invite Landon,” Thistle seethed.
Well, that’s never happening.
“Did I hear my name?”
I froze. I recognized the voice. Crap.
I turned around to see Landon standing behind me. What the hell was he doing here?
“She said landing,” I lied.
“You’re going to invite landing somewhere?” Landon seemed a little too pleased with himself.
“Why are you eavesdropping? That’s rude.”
“He’s hot. Don’t scare him off,” Sophie warned.
“He’s suspicious,” Shane chimed in. His dislike of Landon was still apparent.
“You’re in public,” Landon argued. “You can’t eavesdrop in public.”
All evidence to the contrary.
“What are you doing here?”
“Probably the same thing you are. I’m just checking it out,” Landon explained vapidly.
I glanced around the maze, but I didn’t see any of his hooligan friends. “Where are your buddies?”
“Off doing business.”
“What kind of business?” Thistle and Clove leaned in closer when I asked the question. They were curious, too. If he was involved in meth trade, no matter their teasing, he was simply unacceptable. Sure, our family was apparently made up of potheads, but there was a big difference between growing it and selling it. What? There is.
“A little of this, a little of that.” Landon was being evasive.
“What’s this?” Thistle asked.
“What’s that?” Clove asked.
They were both appropriating aggressive stances.
Landon took an involuntary step back. “Nothing important,” he lied. “Geez, you guys are like a little tribe or something.”
“We’re family,” Thistle corrected him. “And we don’t like people who mess with family.”
“Even if they are hot,” Clove added.
Landon smiled at Clove. I think he could tell she was the only one of us who wasn’t overtly suspicious of him at this point.
“I just wanted to say hi,” he said lamely.
“Hi,” Thistle challenged him.
Landon regarded her for a second and, I swear, he shrank a little bit in her growing presence. He turned to me warily. “How is your ankle?”
“Fine. It’s still a little sore, but I’m not having any trouble getting around on it anymore.”
“Better than her zit,” Sophie snarked.
I shot her an evil look without realizing what I was doing. Landon looked at the empty space next to me. Curiosity was written all over his face.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Thistle barreled on. “Why are you here?”
Landon seemed reluctant to face her, but he visibly steeled himself as he did. “I was just checking it out. That’s not a crime, is it?”
“Not yet,” Thistle agreed.
“Well, anyway, have a good day,” Landon said, moving off hurriedly. Thistle really is terrifying when she wants to be.
“I don’t like him,” she said when he was out of earshot.
“He’s not so bad,” I protested.
“What if he’s a meth dealer?”
“Then he’s bad,” I acquiesced.
“He’s hot, though,” Clove offered.
“So hot,” we all murmured in unison as we watched him make his way back across the parking lot.
Twenty-Five
We waited at the maze for a good half an hour before we made our way inside. I saw Landon – who was keeping his distance from Thistle more than anything else, I think – studying us as we finally entered. I don’t know if he considered us a threat – or just weird – but he was clearly paying a little too much attention to our shenanigans.
“He’s suspicious,” I said, once we were safely inside of the maze.
“Who is?” Clove asked.
“Landon,” I replied.
“He’s suspicious of us?” Thistle was incredulous.
“Think about it, he caught me sneaking into a corn maze – which was also a crime scene – in my pajamas after dark,” I started.
“And he was also there,” Thistle pointed out.
“The pajamas could just mean you’re crazy,” Clove added.
“He saw me talk to Sophie today,” I said.
“You could have had an eye twitch,” Thistle offered.
“Or some sort of seizure,” Clove said helpfully.
“Every time he sees me, it’s like I’m up to something,” I sighed.
“You are always up to something,” Thistle argued. “That doesn’t mean he has the right to be suspicious.”
“Besides that, he’s the one being secretive,” Clove pointed out. She may think he’s hot, but she was still loyal to me.
“Men aren’t secretive, they’re mysterious,” Thistle muttered blandly.
“Dude, seriously, who peed in your Cheerios?”
Thistle looked surprised at my question. “I’m still mad at Aunt Tillie.”
“You tell me to let stuff go. You need to let stuff go. If we go after that woman, she will eat us for lunch.” And still have room for dessert.
“Well, then I hope I give her indigestion – or the runs,” Thistle countered with surprising hostility.
“Ooh, gross,” Sophie squealed.
I’d almost forgotten she was here. I shifted so I could see her and Shane following behind us. He seemed nervous.
“Are you all right?” I asked him.
“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just weird being here knowing that this is where my body was found.”
“I know,” I said. “I wouldn’t make you come here unless I had to, you know that, right?”
He nodded mutely, his dark eyes clouding over.
“We’re running out of time, Shane,” I prodded. “We don’t have a lot of options here.”
“I know,” he said. ‘It’s just ... it’s just so weird to know that I was strung up on a cross here.”
“It’s morbid,” Clove clucked knowingly.
“Yeah, well, your death is going to be a waste if you don’t suck it up,” Thistle grumbled. “Besides, you guys came back here on your own. This isn’t the first time you have come back.”
“Thistle,” Clove hissed.
“What? It’s the truth. We aren’t here because we love cider and sneezing. We’re here because we don’t have a shot in hell of identifying who did this without the two of them. They need to just suck it up.”
Just because it was the truth, that doesn’t mean she should have just blurted it out like that. “It’s called tact,” I laughed.
“Please, this family doesn’t have a tact gene,” she argued. “We’ve got a busybody gene, a cooking gene, a petulant gene. The tact gene just didn’t skip our entire generation; it skipped our entire gene pool.”
Sometimes, Thistle just has a way with words.
Once we got to the center of the maze, we all took a deep breath and looked around. The owners had clearly come in and revamped the original theme of the maze. Now there were hay bales with smiley-faced pumpkins, colorful corn stalks and even happy little witch faces. There were no scarecrows – or crosses – in sight.
“Is this the same place?” Shane asked.
“They cleaned it up,” I said.
“So ... what should I do?” He seemed nervous.
“Just walk around. Get a feel for the area. Try to listen to your head and your heart.”
“You sound like a fortune cookie,” Thistle laughed.
I shot a ‘shut it’ look in her direction, but I didn’t verbally chastise her. I didn’t want to derail Shane. He was doing as I told him to, closing his eyes, and wandering around the clearing.
I could d
o nothing but watch and Thistle and Clove could do even less. They were stuck watching me watch.
Even Sophie must have sensed the importance of what we were doing because she sashayed over and positioned herself behind Thistle and Clove. She clearly didn’t want to be in the way.
After a few minutes, Shane turned to me in frustration. “They’re there. I can feel them,” he said. “I just can’t see them.”
“What if he can’t see them because he never really saw them clearly,” Thistle said suddenly, an idea had occurred to her.
“What do you mean?”
“The chloroform. He thought he was drugged. Maybe he was going in and out of consciousness, so he never really saw what they looked like.”
“I never really thought of that,” I admitted.
“That could be why Thistle’s visions are all cloudy, too. She keeps seeing things from the point-of-view of those who lived it – both then and now. If the first victims were drugged, then maybe they never saw their attackers either,” Clove said excitedly. “That would explain a lot of things.”
“The articles never said anything about chloroform in the victims’ systems,” I said.
“Yeah, but did they even think to check for it back then? Is it easy to check for, period?” Thistle seemed to be warming up to her theory.
“So, what do we do?”
“I think we have to get a little help,” Thistle said ruefully.
“From who?”
“You know who.”
“No, no and no.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Thistle argued. “If they can think of something that we can’t – then don’t we have to at least try?”
“You said yourself that we’re running out of time,” Clove said.
God, I hate it when they’re right.
When we left the maze, Landon was still positioned outside. He met my gaze as I exited, but he didn’t make a move to intercept us. He was, however, watching us curiously. He continued to follow our progression as we all filed into Thistle’s car and took off in the direction of the inn. I’d have to deal with him and his issues later.
When we got to The Overlook, Thistle parked in the side lot so we could sneak in unnoticed by the guests. We all headed straight for the kitchen. We knew they would be preparing dinner.
When we entered, they all seemed surprised to see us. “This can’t be good,” Marnie said. “All three of them, together, and they seem to have something on their mind.”
Witchy Dreams Page 19