by Zoe Arden
"Okay, Miss Underwright. I just had a few questions for you."
"Questions?" she snapped. "Questions about what? I answered enough questions for the cops when they came by, and those silly COMHA agents questioned me for hours."
"COMHA sent agents over here?" I wondered if she meant Colt, or if Dean had sent more agents down to question her.
She shrugged. "Yeah, so what? They don't think I had anything to do with Grace's death, if that's what you're implying."
"No, I wasn't. I just wondered when COMHA sent agents here to see you. I didn't think Dean Lampton was interested in this case."
"Two agents came to see me the day after Grace's murder."
I pressed my lips together. Two agents. Even if one of them had been Colt, that meant there'd still been someone else with him.
"Was one of those agents Colt Hudson, the detective who was here the night Grace was killed?"
"You mean that boyfriend of yours? No. I never saw those other two before in my life."
So, that meant Dean was more interested in this case than he'd let on. I wondered why he didn't just say so. Then again, it was probably best not to question Dean's motives too much. The man had few scruples and even less of a conscience.
"Then another one showed up the day after that. I let him have a piece of my mind. Told him to stop sending agents down here because I had nothing more to say."
"Wait, you mean a third agent showed up?"
"Fourth, I guess, if you're counting that boyfriend of yours."
"He's my fiancé," I said, irritated by her attitude but curious about all these COMHA agents who'd been calling on her.
She shrugged. "Whatever. I've seen a lot of fiancés get relegated back to boyfriend status during the last couple years I've worked here. Happens more than you might think."
There was something so on the nose about what she was saying that it irritated me all the more. Colt still wasn't talking to me, and I was afraid that things between us weren't going to get better.
Another employee came over to Rachel. "Everything all right here?" she asked, looking from her to me.
"Yes, thank you. Everything's fine. Miss Fortune was just leaving." The woman nodded and returned to the corner of the store she'd come from, where a group of female workers were clustered together giving me the stink eye. Apparently, they all knew who I was, and those who didn't had been filled in.
"I just have a few more questions," I told Rachel quickly.
"Whatever they are, you'll just have to leave disappointed, because I'm done talking to you." She turned and started walking away.
"That's fine," I said, following her. "I'll just let my fiancé know he should send some more COMHA agents down to ask them for me."
She paused beside the reception desk and slowly turned back around.
"What is it you want to know?" she sighed.
"Did you or anyone else here know that Grace Beyers' real last name was Kendall?"
Rachel hesitated. "Yes. I can't speak for the other girls, but she confided it to me one night when we were working late."
"Do you know why she was using an alias?"
Rachel considered the question. "I suppose it won't hurt to tell you, since she's already dead." She drew in a breath. "Grace's brother went missing almost a year ago. She was onto something. She thought she knew who'd taken him, but she didn't have enough information to prove it."
"Who did she think was responsible?"
"She wouldn't say. Said it was too dangerous. She did tell me that she'd started using a different name because she was convinced whoever had taken her brother was coming after her next."
"Did she ever mention the name Burch?"
"No. But she did tell me that the person behind her brother's disappearance wasn't the person she'd initially thought it was."
My ears perked up. "It wasn't?"
"No. She said there was someone else in charge."
I tried to think. She had to have been talking about Burch. Maybe she'd initially thought that Jaggers was behind her brother's kidnapping and had finally realized that it had been Burch all along.
"Grace was human, right?"
"Yes."
The women in the corner were still watching me. I felt their eyes crawling on me like bugs.
"Thanks for your time," I said and turned to go.
"Hang on," Rachel called and opened a drawer in the reception desk. She sifted through some papers, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Your bill for that dress you ruined." She smiled sweetly at me. "Have a nice day."
* * *
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
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Glenn Maverick glared at me as I approached him at the security desk. I had taken the ferry over to the mainland, intent on seeing Dean and finding out why he was sending COMHA agents to talk to the employees at Bridal Barista when he claimed he had no interest in the case.
"Get out of here, Ava," Glenn said. "Do you know how much trouble you got me in last time? There's no way you're getting in to see Dean ever again. Not on my watch."
"But it's important," I said. "I need to talk to him."
Glenn stood silently by with his arms folded across his chest. I hadn't seen him look so determined to keep me out before.
"Look," I said, "there's no way that I can get in there without your help."
"Good. That's what Mr. Lampton wants."
I fought the urge to yell, that would only make things worse. "All right, I'll go."
Glenn looked relieved.
"Can you just give Dean a message for me?"
He hesitated, then nodded.
"Just let him know that the spell didn't work. The outbreak has spread from Sweetland to the mainland."
"Wait a second!" Glenn called after me as I turned to go. "Outbreak? What outbreak?"
I paused and turned back around. "I'm not supposed to talk about it," I whispered. "Dean said not to tell anyone because he didn't want to start a panic."
Glenn looked worried. "It's not dangerous, is it?"
I shrugged. "No, not for everyone. Only witches and wizards. Humans should be safe."
"But I'm a wizard," he said.
"I know."
His face had paled. "Wh-What does this outbreak do?"
"I can't tell you."
"Come on, Ava. I've got a wife and kids."
I looked around as if making sure no one was listening. "Have you ever seen The Wizard of Oz? Remember that part where the witch melts?" He nodded. "Well... someone's come up with a spell to do just that. Melt us."
A second later, I was inside the building and Glenn was calling his wife and telling her to lock the doors, bolt the windows, and stay inside. I felt bad for scaring him and hoped I could find a way to make it up to him someday.
Dean's secretary was at her desk filing her nails and looking bored. I looked around for something that might help me, then decided that sometimes old-fashioned distractions worked the best.
I fished my Witchmobile cell phone out of my pocket and dialed the office line.
"Dean Lampton's office," Mrs. Price said into the phone.
I disguised my voice as best I could, opting to make it squeakier than normal since that seemed the easiest thing to do. "This is Mrs. Chambers with the... receiving department. We have a package here for Mr. Lampton."
"Well, bring it up," said Mrs. Price impatiently.
"We would, ma'am, but you see the thing is... it's alive."
I saw the secretary jump out of her seat. "Alive? What do you mean it's alive?"
"Well," I said, "whatever is inside this box is moving. I need someone to come down here and make sure it's safe before I send it up."
"Yes, yes, of course." Mrs. Price looked somewhat disconcerted. "I'll be right down."
She hurried away from her des
k. I ducked back behind the corner just in time to avoid her and when she'd stepped into the elevator, I went inside.
Dean's head snapped up at the sound of me entering. He sighed heavily and shook his head.
"You're back," he said, rising out of his chair.
"I'm back," I agreed.
"You're clever, I'll give you that. I have some of the best guards in the business, yet you continue to get past them somehow. What did you say this time?"
I shrugged and fought the smile on my lips. "You might get a few concerned calls later about an outbreak that makes witches and wizards melt."
His eyes widened and then he smiled himself. "Melting witches. That ought to have my phone lines tied up for a while."
"Depends how long it takes for the rumor to spread." I knew that Glenn wasn't one to gossip, but something like this was undoubtedly too big for any one man to keep. His wife was probably on the phone with her friends right now, warning them of impending disaster.
"What do you want, Ava?"
"I want to know why you sent agents to talk to Rachel Underwright at Bridal Barista."
Dean's smile tightened. "A murder was committed. I always investigate murders when they occur, especially on an island inhabited largely with paranormals but with a large human tourism industry."
"Yes, but the last time I saw you, you acted as if I was crazy for wanting to look into this stuff myself."
"When you were last here, you were talking nonsense. Werewolves and mermen. Conspiracies and experiments. I'm not interested in nonsense. But Grace Kendall's murder was real. It warranted at least the minimal investigation."
"There's something you're not telling me."
"There is. But I don't have to tell you anything. I'm the head of COMHA. You're a baker. It's not for me to answer to you."
"I know who's behind the disappearances in Sweetland." I waited for him ask me who or how I knew, but he didn't even blink. "Kip Burch," I finally said.
"Yes, I heard about what happened in Mistmoor. Poisoned cookies? Really?"
"They weren't poisoned," I snapped. "They just had what turned out to be a little too much extract in them."
Dean smiled. "I think it's time for you to go."
I ignored him. "Rachel Underwright told me that before Grace died, she'd discovered something. That the person behind her brother's kidnapping wasn't the person she'd thought it was."
"So...?" Dean said slowly. He looked slightly more interested now though.
"When Rachel first told me that, I assumed Grace must have thought it was Jaggers behind everything and learned later that it was Burch, but what if it was the other way around? What if she'd assumed all along it was Burch, only to find out it was really Jaggers?"
Dean rubbed his chin absently with his hand. "Mr. Jaggers," he said. "Burch's right-hand man."
"You know who I'm talking about then."
Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Jaggers is a smart man, but I'm not sure he's smart enough to have done the things you're talking about. Kidnapping, mutant creation, murder... those are serious things and require a certain mindset. Jaggers has always struck me as sort of... a puppet."
"But maybe that's just what he wants you to think," I said. "Maybe that's part of the act. Make it look as if Burch is in control when really Jaggers is behind the scenes, pulling the strings all along. He's not the puppet; he's the puppet master."
"I don't know," Dean said, but he had stopped threatening to kick me out of his office. I looked at him hopefully. "I'll look into it," he finally said and started me toward the door.
"Don't take too long," I warned him. "We've only got seventy-two hours. Less, actually. It was seventy-two hours as of yesterday afternoon."
"What do you mean? Seventy-two hours till what?"
"Till Burch or Jaggers or whoever is behind all this destroys the evidence."
"What are you talking about? What evidence?"
"The mutants they're storing in the basement at Standards. They know I'm onto them, and they mean to get rid of the creatures as soon as they can."
"Why wait seventy-two hours if they're so scared? Why not do it now?"
That was a good question and one I hadn't considered. "Maybe it's not that easy to kill these things. Maybe they need to prepare for it. And then there are the bodies. They need to get rid of them without anyone seeing."
"Maybe," Dean said. He'd stopped listening again though. He held the door open for me and ushered me out of his office.
His secretary still wasn't back yet.
"What did you do with Mrs. Price?" he asked.
I blushed. "Oh, she's downstairs checking some boxes in the receiving room. Apparently, someone sent you a live creature."
Dean's eyes widened. "I have to admit, you're quite brilliant at getting people out of your way when it's necessary. If you ever decide you want to work for COMHA, let me know, and I'll find something for you."
"Thanks," I said, "but I'm all about the baking."
He nodded. The phone at his secretary's desk rang and he picked it up. His eyebrows drew together. "No," he said into the receiver. "No. Ma'am, will you please calm down and listen to me? I assure you there's no outbreak. No one is going to melt."
I slipped out the doors and into the elevator before Dean could decide to sic his COMHA agents on me. The last thing I needed right now was to get myself arrested.
* * *
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
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Things were moving quickly now. They had to. There wasn't time to wait, not if I wanted to stop Burch and Jaggers from killing all those mutants. Grace had died trying to save her brother. Even though I barely knew her, I felt I owed it to her in some way to finish what she'd started. Only I didn't just want to save her brother, I wanted to save them all. Maybe there was a way to reverse what had happened to them. I didn't know if that was possible, but I wouldn't know until someone like Dr. Dunne looked at them.
Eleanor, Trixie, and my father were, for once, fully aware of what was going on. I needed all the help I could get if I was gonna stop this thing from happening and bring down Standards Warehouse
It was Eleanor who'd called Colt for me.
"I hate to lie to him," she said.
"He won't meet me otherwise," I'd assured her. "I need his help. It's not just one life that's in danger; it's dozens of lives. Maybe even hundreds." I had no idea the full extent of the cruel experiments Burch and his men had been carrying out. Or was it more correct to say Jaggers and his men? I just didn't know what to think anymore.
Eleanor had frowned then dialed Colt's number. If I'd called, he'd have hung up on me.
I walked into Coffee Cove and saw Lucy behind the counter. She waved to me then glanced to her right. Colt was sitting at a table sipping coffee with cream and sugar. I hesitated then went over to him.
"Hi," I said.
He glanced up and expelled a breath. "I knew it. Eleanor never wanted to meet me here, did she?"
"No," I said, blushing. "Don't be mad at her though; it was my idea. I made her call you and ask you to meet her here, because I knew if I did, you'd say no."
"What makes you so sure of that?" he asked.
I blinked. "You mean... if I'd called and asked you to meet me, you would have?"
He paused. "No. Probably not."
I took the seat opposite him and picked up a coffee stirrer, fiddling with it nervously.
"What's this about?" he asked.
"I need your help."
He frowned. "Whenever you say that, I know it's something dangerous."
"It might be," I said. I went through everything I'd learned, filling him in on the creatures, the ticking clock, my visit with Dean, all of it. I left nothing back. When I was through, Colt leaned back in his seat.
"Let's just say I believe you about all this mutant stuff... what is it you want to do exactly? Bre
ak into Standards and get them out?"
"Exactly."
He laughed. "I don't think that's going to be as easy as you think."
"I don't think it will be easy," I told him. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't do it."
He hesitated. "Where's Damon in all of this?"
"I haven't seen him lately. I don't know where he is."
It was the truth. I was worried about him, but I was also a little irritated with him. I'd been risking my life to help him, and he was still hiding in the shadows.
"There's one thing I don't understand," Colt said. "You talked to Rachel, and she told you Dean sent some agents down to interview her."
"That's right."
"I know about those first two; Dean told me he was sending them down. He thought Rachel might be more willing to speak to them rather than me since she knew I was your fiancé, and she sort of blamed you for Grace's death."
"It wasn't my fault," I said.
"I know, I know. But Rachel and Grace were pretty close. Anyway, what worries me is you that say there was a third agent."
I nodded. "Yeah. They went by Bridal Barista the day after the first two."
Colt shook his head. "I don't think that was Dean. I mean, I don't think he sent another agent down there."
"Why not?"
"Because Dean got everything he wanted out of her with the first two agents." He frowned. "Give me a minute."
He dialed Dean's number, and I listened as he spoke to him. Dean confirmed what Colt had already said. He'd only sent two agents to Bridal Barista, not three.
"So, who was the third?" I asked.
Colt shrugged. "My guess is someone who works for Burch or whoever's behind all this."
"You think they wanted to see what Rachel knew."
He nodded, and I noticed he'd stopped scowling at me. That was good.
I hesitated then said, "I haven't been sleeping well since our fight." Slowly, I reached across the table for his hand. He looked uncertain, then reached for mine. The warmth of his fingers enfolded me and for the first time in the last two weeks, I felt happy. Tears pricked my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away.