by Willow Mason
Nobody was in any of the passenger seats. Nobody sat in the driver’s side, either.
“What…?” Fitz ran a hand through his hair, a pleading expression on his face.
“Can you take us inside the station?” I prompted him. “It might be safer than standing out here.”
Before he turned, I saw a young boy standing near the crash intersection. A beaming smile was on his face and on the ground in front of him were a pile of model cars.
As PC Fitz ran us into the station, all I could think was how nothing seemed right. A bunch of kids might get up to some naughty pranks or the occasional act of unspeakable selfishness but nothing wicked. Nothing evil.
To stand there and crash cars together? To bewitch all the cats in town?
Nuh-huh. That was some next level voodoo stuff going on right there.
Despite the fact I was soon behind bars, it felt comforting to be in a facility with such high levels of security. Keeping me locked up, sure, but at least it didn’t leave me out in a world that had gone mad.
“When can I have visitors or a phone call?” I asked after PC Fitz clanged the cell door closed.
He checked his watch. “It’ll be a few hours before we interview you. After the first round is done, you can call someone. No visitors allowed.”
“What about a lawyer?”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“No, but I thought now might be the time to get one.”
“In that case, you can call a lawyer when we’re ready to interview. It’ll hold the whole thing up for a few hours or more, depending on their availability. I can bring you down a form for you to check if you qualify for legal aid.”
I wanted to argue, but I didn’t have any rebuttal. Instead, I gave the most gracious nod I could manage under the circumstances and tried not to whimper as he walked away.
Outside the cell, whoops and jeers reminded me the world was continuing its descent into insanity and the constant ring of phones demonstrated a station being stretched beyond its capacity.
I sat down on the thin mattress and stared at my feet, taking deep breaths. If the town continued to deteriorate, it could take a long time before I got the chance to call Glynda. In the meantime, I could hope Beezley had got hold of her and explained something strange was going on.
If she wasn’t so entranced with Trevor, her attention wandered.
If the sudden rekindling of their relationship wasn’t due to voodoo as well.
Deep breaths. These thoughts weren’t going to help me any. Instead, I imagined sunny days at the beach or floating on a Lilo in the pool with a tropical drink in my hand.
“I don’t care what your process is, officer. I want to speak to my client, and I demand you let me see her now!”
For the first time, I was glad to hear Glynda screaming abuse at someone and jumped to my feet. As always, she soon got her way. I was led out of the cell and shown into an interview room. The change would have been pleasant if it weren’t for my hands being cuffed to the table.
“Well, I always said if you didn’t watch yourself, you’d end up in prison.”
I rolled my eyes. “I hope that speech is for the benefit of anyone listening in because no, you didn’t.”
“If I didn’t, I meant to. Your poor mother would be turning in her grave.”
“Yeah, because you’re not helping me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Glynda waved a hand around the room. “It’s not like I stopped any of your other friends responding to your call.”
“Beezley didn’t have time to gather a list and I haven’t been allowed a phone call yet.”
“Well, that’s no good.” She frowned and moved to peer out through the door’s inset window. “They do seem busy.”
“The town’s gone to hell. Didn’t you see that on your way in? Those kids ran rings around us.”
“From the school?” Glynda turned, a shocked expression on her face. “But I talked to them.”
“For all the good it did we should have stayed at home.” I paused for a beat. “I think Trevor’s right. Somebody’s controlling them. From what I’ve seen, no child would come up with these pranks on their own.”
“Pranks?”
As if changing the subject, I asked, “I thought you and Trevor hated each other?”
“We did, but it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”
“Is that what happened?”
Glynda pulled a wet wipe out of her purse and rubbed the wooden chair down before sitting opposite me. “Don’t you find him attractive? I think he’s rather dishy myself.”
“He was attractive when you disliked him so that’s not the only reason.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve been living alone for a long time. Company makes a welcome change.”
“So why him?”
Glynda clicked her tongue. “What’s this about? Why all the questions?”
“Just try answering them and I’ll tell you. What do you feel when you look at him?”
“I feel…” She rubbed at her forehead, her brow crinkling. “Well, it’s like…”
“When you were at the park, earlier, your face went completely blank every time you stared at each other.”
She flapped her hand in dismissal. “Perhaps you’ve never been in love. Just because we look vacant, doesn’t mean we are.”
“But you don’t know what you feel.”
“I do! It’s just hard to put into words.”
“Can’t you try?” If my hands hadn’t been restrained, I would have reached out to her. “It’s important.”
Glynda’s chin jerked up. “I’m here to get you out of a bind, not to answer twenty questions about a private relationship. What do the police have on you?”
I sighed, shaking my head. “The CCTV. For some reason, the neural network isn’t working.”
“Impossible,” she scoffed. “Every witch in town contributes to that thing. It’s an ironclad defence.”
“Well, someone’s worked out how to penetrate it. The officer who came to arrest me understood Beezley when he talked.”
Her expression altered, turning wary. “As you found out, there are a number of hidden witches operating around Riverhead.” She shrugged. “It’ll just be that.”
“Didn’t you see anything when you came in here? There are people stopped dead on the street, staring about them in horror. They can see everything we’re doing.”
Glynda opened her mouth to retort, but the PC knocked on the door and entered before she could speak. “Time for your interview.”
“Shouldn’t there be another officer present?”
Fitz set up a laptop on the table. “We’re thin on the ground at the moment.”
I shot a glance at Glynda, eyebrows raised. See? She refused to meet my eye.
“Right.” The PC sat down opposite me, forcing Glynda to shuffle around the table to my side. “First off, I’m going to show you the footage we obtained of the Grand Valley Lodge on the morning of the explosion.” He fiddled with the computer, then pressed play. “Can you identify the woman in view?”
On the screen, Beezley and I lifted the doors into the cellar entrance. Just in case there was any doubt, I turned and stared down the lens of the camera as though I’d known it was there.
“That’s—”
“No comment!” Glynda barked, shooting me a warning look.
“Really?” Fitz lifted his eyebrows and stared from her to me and back again before sighing. “Fine. Let’s play it a little longer in case that helps you make up your mind.”
I disappeared inside and Beezley jumped into my arms a second later. If a jury saw this, it would take them all of two seconds to convict me. I hung my head, staring at the table easier than watching the laptop.
“And now, I’ll just fast-forward to the—”
“Who’s that?” Glynda said, leaning forward to bat the officer’s hand away from the keyboard. “Has this man been identified?”
> I glanced up, expecting to see Kevin slipping into the cellar behind us. But it wasn’t him.
With a gasp of horror, I recognised the face on the screen. The face of the man who must have been the one to drop a bag over my head and cause the entire incident to occur.
When I closed my eyes, a memory played of him trailing a thumb over his lips as he stared at me, helpless, on the ground.
The man I’d encountered at Fenella Wainswright’s house on the day of her funeral. I’d escaped his clutches because of the fearless actions of Beezley and Fenella’s cat familiar Barnaby.
Judging from his stealthy pursuit on the screen, he’d tried to take another go.
Chapter Twenty
“This footage doesn’t prove anything,” Glynda said, tapping a pen on the table. “It could just as easily be the man who went in afterwards.”
“I presume he’s an accomplice?” PC Fitz stared hard at me and despite the barked, “No comment!” from my companion, I couldn’t help shaking my head.
“Besides which, her hands were completely empty. Where’re the explosives?” She gave a disappointed sigh. “The man who followed her was carrying something. Why isn’t he in here?”
“He will be once you tell me his name.”
“Listen, sonny. It’s not our job to do the policing. You’ve got him on camera. You find him.”
Fitz shifted in his chair, shuffling a few papers. “There’s also the matter of the DNA found at the crime scene.”
“You’ve already seen her go in on the screen so of course her DNAs going to be there. Empty hands, officer. That’s where I want your mind to concentrate. Empty hands.”
“If this is a conspiracy, it’ll go easier on you if you tell us your accomplice’s name.”
Glynda bared her teeth. “For the last time, he’s not an accomplice. My friend was there on innocent business.” She reached over to finger the laptop, right on top of the man’s face. “This is the guy you want and you’re not going to get him by withholding my client’s liberty.”
“What innocent reason did you have to be there?”
Although the officer addressed the question to me, Glynda answered. “She was there doing her job, tracking down a blackmailer. You’ve found other DNA at the crime scene, I presume. Belonging to Kevin Hollard, isn’t that right?”
Fitz kept a good poker face, ruined by repeated tugging on his right ear. “I’m not going to discuss details of an ongoing investigation—”
“And neither are we. There’s no win here for you, PC Fitz.” A large crash sounded from outside the station, the walls shaking with reverberations. “It sounds like you have enough on your hands without wasting time chasing down this avenue. My client didn’t have anything to do with the explosion at the lodge and she can’t tell you who did.”
“We’re not going to release a suspect in a crime this serious just on your say-so,” Fitz said, nostrils flaring. “We have enough evidence to charge her and—”
“Do it, then.” Glynda leaned over the table, her eyes dancing. “I dare you.”
“This isn’t a childhood game. If we charge your client, she’ll be remanded in custody until trial.”
“On whose authority?” Glynda flicked a hand at him.
“This is a serious crime and we have enough evidence that any judge will make that call.”
“I want to see your boss.”
Fitz held up a hand. “I’m dealing with this case.”
“You’re barely out of short pants, officer.” Glynda stood up, closing in on the PC with such menace I was quaking in my boots. She jabbed a finger at his face. “I want to see the man actually running this investigation and I want to see him now.”
Another thump shook the interview room’s walls and PC Fitz pushed back his chair, the legs screaming against the tiles. “Fine. I’ll talk to the DI and see what he wants to do.”
“And I’ll come with you.”
“We’re not allowed to leave prisoners alone in the interview rooms.”
Glynda waved at my cuffed hands. “What’s she going to do? Die because her nose itches and she can’t scratch it?”
She pointed down the corridor, and the officer succumbed to her bullying, leading her out while the door closed on me. I had a few choice words for Glynda—her mention of itchy noses had started mine tickling.
I closed my eyes and laid my forehead on the table. The world was falling to pieces outside and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Even if the network was repaired now, I didn’t know if that meant the officers would once again be unable to see me on the recording. My DNA results would still be on file.
My worst nightmare would be to stand trial, unable to explain anything of what happened. I could start blathering on about magic powers, but the end result would be incarceration in a looney bin instead of prison. Of the two, I’d prefer the latter. At least that came with an end date.
The magic surged within me, eager to solve the problem. I let it flow into my hands, colouring them with its strange crimson glow.
I could crack this station wide open and walk out to freedom.
What I couldn’t do was convince a low-ranking officer of my innocence.
But destroying another building when the town’s spell was breaking might only lead me into darker territory. Besides, I’d been lucky with the lodge. Only me, Beezley, and my attacker had been inside at the time it blew apart. At a guess, there were maybe two dozen people working within the station right now. Maybe more.
My undiscerning magic would hurt someone. Guaranteed. Even if I could use it to heal them later—and that was a big if—there’d still be blood on my hands. Being scared you’re about to die carried its own hefty bag of harm.
“Come on,” Glynda said, opening the door. “We’re going.”
“Eh?” I was so surprised I stood up, hurting my shoulder as the cuffs around my hand cut the action off halfway through.
“The DI is releasing you, pending further investigation,” PC Fitz said through tight lips as he pulled out a key to unlock me. “You’ll need to sign in every morning until we tell you not to, but in the meantime, you’re free to go.”
I stood up, massaging my wrists gently and waiting for the punchline of the joke. Glynda didn’t wait for my head to catch up, turning and walking out of the station while I was still reeling.
“How did you do that?” I demanded once we were outside and I could be confident the officer wasn’t going to turn around and lock me back up in a cell.
“It wasn’t much to do with me,” Glynda said, shrugging. “I was all prepared to put my magic heebie-jeebies on the boss man, but DI Jonson heard your name and practically ordered your release, right then and there.” She stood back, narrowing her eyes. “It’s obvious I don’t need to teach you about the value of friends in high places, but you need a lesson on when to apply pressure to them. You should’ve had that sorted yourself, then I wouldn’t be standing here, an hour behind on the rest of my day.”
I wasn’t sure if her speech required a thank you or an apology and confusion kept my mouth shut.
A cry from further down the street got my attention, and I saw Harriet in the distance, riding towards us on her broom.
Glynda’s lips pulled inwards. “If she hasn’t got cover for the library, there’s one witch about to be in a world of hurt.”
But given the librarian was waving her arms, trying to attract our attention, I doubted her job was top of her mind.
“I told you, there’s something weird in town, right now.”
A woman stepped in front of Harriet while she was still fifty metres away, holding her arms crossed in front of her. “Stop,” the woman shouted.
Harriet stopped, and the woman proceeded to beat her about the head and shoulders with her handbag. While the poor librarian tried to escape the avalanche of blows, I ran towards her.
Glynda flew ahead and wrestled the woman into submission. “What are you doing, attacking this unarmed girl on the stre
et?”
“She’s flying a broom! She’s a witch!” The woman must have been hyped up on adrenaline because she twisted out of Glynda’s clutches to begin raining blows upon Harriet again. The bag split open, spilling lipsticks, creams, tissues, and loose change in a patter onto the street.
Glynda wrapped her arms around the woman, restraining her in a bear hug this time. “How can you even see her?”
“I’ve got eyes!” The woman craned her neck, trying to buck Glynda off. She gave up as her breath trailed into desperate panting. I’d put her age in the late fifties and it appeared regular exercise wasn’t top of her agenda.
Harriet, dazed from the attack, staggered to the footpath and sat down, hands raised in a protective shield above her head. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m not the one riding down Main Street on a broom in the middle of the day,” the woman yelled. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
I stood nearby, only stepping forward when she paused to take another breath. “You’re hallucinating,” I said with a stern nod. “You should go home at once and wait until your visions stop.”
“I beg your pardon?” The woman stopped struggling against Glynda’s embrace, staring at me with dawning hope. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s been on the news,” I said, stepping closer and putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “On the radio, they said the water supply has been contaminated and several people have been hallucinating.”
When Glynda mouthed a question—what are you going—I gave a quick shrug, not knowing where I was going with this either.
But the woman latched onto the explanation as if it were a lifeline. “You’re sure,” she said in a small voice. “Only I saw her with my own two eyes.”
“It’s just wires getting crossed in your brain,” I insisted, my voice growing with confidence as I expanded on the lie. “What’s more likely? That the world suddenly produced a witch straight out of a fantasy story, or you’ve ingested a few chemicals and are seeing things as a result?”