He hadn’t been a hundred percent sold on the idea, at first. It felt like a Hail Mary, and I knew it, but my intuition was telling me it was the right move. If this would help us slow the Organization down, even a little, then it would be worth it. All we needed was time. The key was giving the cops just enough information to give us what we wanted and poke around a little, but not so much that they successfully hunted the members down and engaged.
There’d been more than enough blood spilled already. I refused to send clueless, innocent people into the clutches of Finneas Byrne and his mini-army of magic-stealing fanatics.
Without magic, it wasn’t a fair fight.
“What are you doing, Mee-maw?” Zoe asked, sounding antsy.
“Texting Trudy,” Mee-maw replied without looking up. “Keeping her updated.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Zoe bit her lip. “I mean, I get that she wants to help us, but--”
“She hasn’t given us any reason not to trust her yet. We can’t afford to be picky right now.”
“Mm. I guess that’s true.” Zoe pushed away from the counter, crossing her arms. “I just hate this. I thought with the Organization in New York we’d at least have a little more time.”
“We’re just going to have to find a way to outsmart them,” Mee-maw replied. “We’ve done a bang-up job so far, if I do say so myself. And once I’ve got the powers of the universe at my command...” She raised her head, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “We’ll be unstoppable.”
“All right, all right. Take it easy, Dumbledore,” Zoe murmured. “We don’t even have your item yet.”
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
We all exchanged a look and I took a deep breath before padding over and taking a furtive peek around the shade in place over the glass. Two uniformed police officers stood waiting. I made quick work of the locks and pushed the door open, the little bell giving off a tinkling ring.
My heart sank when the two stepped in and I recognized the first as Mitch Rasmusson. The lanky officer with the rust-colored hair was the other half of my former classmate, Marilee, a woman who was twice as nosy as she was grating. We’d all gone to school together and, while I didn’t dislike him, I didn’t love the idea of having to unload my tale on someone whose wife was a modern version of the town crier.
The other cop was a fit guy in his early fifties with sandy hair, who I didn’t recognize off the bat. I noted that he was wearing a sheriff’s badge, which I supposed was a good sign. Might as well start at the top.
“Evening,” Deputy Rasmusson said, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. “Cricket.” He nodded to me, and then to Zoe. “Zoe.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” Mee-maw demanded, sitting up in her chair.
I shot her a warning look. “Thank you for coming, Officers. I know the dispatcher mentioned, typically, if a crime didn’t just happen that we would go in to file a report, but I think you’ll understand why that wasn’t possible, in this case.”
“Not a problem, Ma’am. We go where we need to in order to get the job done,” said the sheriff, extending a hand first to me and then to the others. “Sheriff Colton Webber. Been on the job about two years now but don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you all yet.”
Zoe was already devouring him with her eyes. “I know I haven’t met you, Sheriff. I’d have remembered.”
Sheriff Webber blinked, but I saw the ghost of a smile appear on his face. “Well,” he replied, adjusting his tie, “I appreciate that, ma’am.”
I shared a glance with Patrick, hardly able to resist rolling my eyes. Here we were, on the run from a shadowy organization, and Zoe was flirting.
Deputy Rasmusson cleared his throat. “Anyway. If you folks wouldn’t mind giving us a statement about what happened. Judy in dispatch said attempted murder?”
The sheriff blinked, coming back to himself, and nodded. “Yes, you must be very shaken up by all this. Shall we take a seat and you can run us through what happened?”
I motioned for them to join us in the kitchen, where we all took seats. Deputy Rasmusson produced a recording device.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” he suggested. “Which one of you was the intended victim?”
I swallowed hard and raised my hand. Talking about this to Patrick and the others was one thing, but bringing it to the attention of normal people—skeptics—was an entirely different ballgame. I couldn’t help feeling a little self-conscious, even though we’d already planned out our story, down to the last detail.
“I was kidnapped, three nights ago,” I began, “although, it’s all sort of a blur. I was minding my own business, just taking a nice evening stroll, and they nabbed me right off the street. Tossed a hood over my head, threw me into the back of a van of some kind. They drove me to a remote location where they--” I didn’t have to fake the emotion choking me now. “They were insane—they took my phone, threw me in a cell. They tortured me, and then they tried to kill me. It was some kind of…ritual or something. They tried to hang me. If these guys hadn’t shown up, I would’ve died.”
“A cult?” Rasmusson frowned. “What kind of cult are we talking about, here?”
I cleared my throat. “They, ah…” I glanced at Patrick for support, and he gave me a reassuring nod. “They seem to think that Zoe, my grandma and I are evil witches.”
“Witches.” The deputy raised an eyebrow. “As in, cauldrons and broomsticks?”
I chewed the inside of my lip. “It sounds crazy, I know.”
Rasmusson heaved a heavy sigh. “You mentioned on the phone that you’ve been hiding out here—you said you think these people might be watching your houses. Is that correct?” I nodded, and he turned to Zoe, who was leaning in close to Sheriff Webber on the other side of the counter.
“Merilee mentioned that Cricket was in the midst of a divorce.” Of course she did. “But what about your husband?” Rasmusson asked Zoe, drawing the sheriff’s attention momentarily back—although, not without some difficulty. “Is he staying here, too?”
Zoe shook her head. “He’s out of town,” she replied. “He’ll be gone for another two days.”
The deputy shot her a suspicious glance. “A killer cult on the loose, and he’s away on business?”
“I’m planning on telling him when he gets home,” Zoe replied, a little defensively. “We each value our independence, so it’s not unusual for us to go a couple days without talking,” she added, with a glance toward the sheriff. “Plus, I don’t want him to freak out and come rushing back. We certainly don’t want another person for us to worry about involved in this mess, if we can help it.”
“She does have a point,” Sheriff Webber said, giving Zoe a small smile, which she eagerly reciprocated.
The deputy turned back to us, muttering something under his breath. He wasn’t sold. That was okay. We just needed him to buy in a little bit.
“Why are you just reporting this now?”
“Because we were on the run before,” Mee-maw piped in with a sniff.
“Of course,” he said with a tight smile. “And were you all there to witness this?” he asked dubiously.
“No. We went to rescue her.” Mee-maw was getting irritated now and she shot to her feet with a wince. “She has the injuries to prove it. Show ‘em, Cricket.”
I’d expected this and nodded, tugging down the collar of my shirt to display the mark from the rope. It was largely faded now, almost gone, but a yellow-greenish bruise still remained. Next, I lifted the hem of my shirt to reveal the gnarly, raised scar where I had been stabbed, with a line of stitches marching down the length of it.
It was enough to make the deputy balk a little. “Did you go to the hospital?”
Patrick shook his head. “I was able to patch her up.” There was a pause, and he added, “I’ve had some first aid training.”
“Uh-huh.” I could see the incredulity on the deputy’s face, and my heart sank. �
�So you’re telling me you were stabbed and hanged, and you didn’t go to the hospital?”
“What? So they could’ve found us there to finish the job?” Mee-maw shot back.
I glanced over at Zoe, who had given the sheriff a croissant at some point, that he was now chewing thoughtfully. He seemed to be buying it more than Rasmusson, at least, who was looking from me to Mee-maw to Patrick with raised eyebrows.
The deputy sighed. “With all due respect, Ms. Hawthorne, that cut looks at least a week old. And--”
“Wait a minute,” Mee-maw interjected, “I can back this all up, and so can the others. We were all there—we saved her from the noose, dang it!”
“That’s all well and good,” Deputy Rasmusson said, “but you do understand how absurd this all sounds, don’t you? This is Rocky Knoll, not New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Things like this just don’t happen here.”
This was enough to make Mee-maw’s eyes flash. “Listen here, sonny. I went to school with your grandmother, so stop rolling your eyes at my granddaughter and listen, unless you want blood on your hands,” she said, stepping forward and brandishing a finger at the deputy. “People everywhere, small town or big city, are capable of evil.”
Rasmusson balked a little, taken aback. “Apologies. I just...I need to get my head around all of this. Why you? Why now?”
I pursed my lips. “It’s all right. Look...” I crossed my arms. “These people have been after me for a while, now. They’re dangerous, and they’re still looking for us. This goes beyond just me, here. What we need is protection. Someone to keep them from coming in here and trying again. If we don’t, I feel like something terrible is going to happen.”
He must have heard the solemn sincerity in those words because he nodded slowly. “All right. Can you describe any of these cult members?”
We’d already decided not to share Finneas’s name and keep it vague, for their own protection.
“Not really. It was dark, and--”
“Right,” Rasmusson said with a smirk.
“They were wearing hoods, as well,” Patrick added smoothly. “But I swear to you, Officer, they were all-too real.”
And just like that, the deputy’s expression lost all signs of skepticism. “So you’re saying you tracked these kidnappers,” he said, his eyes fixed on Patrick, “and you saw this all happen. Can you tell me about that, in your own words?”
Patrick went on to repeat our version of the events, and then went quiet.
“Well, now, this is troubling,” Rasmusson said. “It sounds almost like a human sacrifice.”
“That’s exactly what it was,” Patrick confirmed, nodding.
It was something to behold; the deputy seemed darn near entranced by what Patrick was saying, hanging on every word, even though I had already given him the exact same story only moments ago. It was like, only now, as Patrick was telling it, did it have any credence whatsoever.
The freaking patriarchy, I thought, shaking my head. I tell him what happened, and he’s all eyerolls. When another guy tells it, he’s like, “Okay, we’ll get right on it!”
I looked back over at the counter, where Zoe was rattling off the same details to Sheriff Webber, who was nodding intently, his eyes never leaving hers. He was falling for it—and her—hook, line, and sinker. At least she was having an easier time with all this.
“And you say you were able to find her because of an app on your phone?” Rasmusson confirmed with Patrick.
He nodded. “We tracked her to this abandoned factory. I can give you the general location and maybe you can go have a look? They’ve surely scattered, but it might be worth looking for evidence—maybe it will help us figure out where they’ve gone.”
Another calculated risk. They wouldn’t leave us a guard without an active case in progress, so we needed to give them some leads and Patrick had confirmed what we’d all assumed to be true. There was no way the Organization hadn’t cleared out the factory and hightailed out of there directly after my escape.
“Yes,” Rasmusson said, nodding, “I can go check it out myself.” He turned to the sheriff, who was just wrapping up with Zoe. “All good?”
“Oh, yes,” Sheriff Webber replied, winking—actually winking—at Zoe as he turned around. “We’ll open up a case file right away. If you folks see anything suspicious, I want you to report it, all right? No more waiting this time.”
I nodded. “Got it.”
“But in the meantime,” Patrick spoke up as the men turned to leave. Here it was. The big ask. “Cricket mentioned protection. Would it be possible to at least have someone out in front here, just to keep an eye on the place? They’re going to come back. They’re going to try their best to finish what they started. These people are crazy…”
The two cops exchanged a look. Rasmusson shrugged and the Sheriff nodded.
“That’s not a bad idea. My guess is, they won’t be back. Things didn’t work the way they’d hoped, and they’re long gone, but better safe than sorry. It’s a slow time of year right now...We’ll have an officer posted in the strip mall to keep an eye out while we work the case over the next couple days. I can’t promise anything longer-term, though. Unless we find hard evidence of a crime, we can’t commit the resources. Does that work for you?”
“Yes,” Patrick replied. “That would be perfect.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
The bakery would be just a little safer now.
“You folks are going to all stay here? There’s also a safehouse about thirty miles away in Mission’s Port we might be able to arrange--”
“That won’t be necessary,” Zoe interrupted with a smile. “We’ll be staying here for now.” Webber frowned, but shrugged his broad shoulders. “All right, then,” he said. “Whatever helps you all feel safe. I’ll send someone over in the next hour or so.” He nodded to Deputy Rasmusson. “That about covers it. We’ll keep you in the loop if we find out anything, but we want you to keep us in the loop, too. Deal?”
“Deal,” I said, nodding, and reached out to shake the sheriff’s hand. “Thank you again, Officers.”
“Our pleasure,” Sheriff Webber replied, tipping his hat to us before holding the door open for Rasmusson, who left without a word.
We were left looking at one another as the patrol car pulled out of the parking lot. “That went better than I was expecting,” I said at last. “You’ve really got a way with words, Patrick. He was sold the second you explained everything.”
The big man rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s our lucky day.”
Mee-maw, who had been quietly studying her phone screen, suddenly looked up, her eyes wide. “Hot dog! You’re not kidding.”
“What is it?” Patrick asked, turning to her.
“Trudy,” Mee-maw replied.
In addition to calling the cops, in keeping with Maude’s prediction about trust and safety in numbers, we’d agreed to let the librarian in on the whole truth. She’d been gobsmacked and didn’t question a word of what we’d told her. All she wanted to do was help.
“She just messaged me back—she thinks she has a way of getting you your powers back permanently, Cricket.”
“Really?” My eyes widened. Great news, if true, although by now, I was learning not to get too optimistic. Mee-maw nodded eagerly.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Zoe demanded. “What does she need from us?”
“Yeah, about that...” replied Mee-maw, fidgeting.
I might have audibly groaned. There was always a catch. “Spill it.”
I watched my grandmother roll her shoulders back, a determined air settling over her. “Better get the Mystery Machine ready,” she said with a grim smile. “We’re meeting her at midnight tonight...in the Rocky Knoll Cemetery.”
Of course we were.
Chapter 11
An owl hooted as we stepped past another row of gravestones in the dim light of Trudy’s old-timey lantern, only adding to the horrible sense of fear that permeated our gro
up.
We’d had to sneak out the back of the bakery and walk halfway to the graveyard in the dark before Trudy picked us up, but I’d been right to relish the extra time to prepare. Being in a graveyard at this time of night, with the nagging thought that we were being hunted, was not pleasant.
Being in one like this? Made it a thousand times worse.
The cemetery wasn’t of the modern variety, with sleek, shiny stones made of rose gold quartz with manicured grounds where Easter lilies planted by loved ones dotted the landscape.
This was an old school graveyard, down a winding, narrow road, butted up next to a creepy forest. The kind with cracked, hand-cobbled tombstones, surrounded by hulking trees with gnarled branches that looked a little too much like claws for my taste.
The moon hung, fat and round in the sky, as a gust of autumn wind sent those spooky trees a-waving.
“Are we close?” I whispered, getting more anxious by the second.
“Yup. Just up ahead,” Trudy said, pointing at a patch of tombstones, slightly removed from the rest and with a few open spaces where photos that Mee-maw had found confirmed the graves of our ancestors had once rested.
I pushed my fear aside as we approached the open spots where stones should’ve been.
“So what do we do?” I asked, looking to Trudy, who was pulling something out of the pocket of a robe that looked like she’d stolen from the Druids or one of those sand people from Star Wars. I stifled a chuckle, pretending not to notice as she batted at the hem of her sleeve, which had caught fire from the lantern she held in her other hand.
I had to give her credit for going the full monty.
“Ah, here we go,” she said, sounding composed even as she glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. She set down her lantern and held out a handful of papers, proffering them to each of us in turn.
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