Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Yes, we do,” Thistle said. “It’s only useful if tears get you out of a parking ticket.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Aunt Tillie winked at her and fired a cutesy finger gun in her direction. “You’re smarter than you look. Of course, that’s not saying much.”

  Thistle glared at her. “Listen, old lady ... .”

  I cleared my throat to get her to stop. “Do you want to entice her to curse you while we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere?” I challenged when it looked as if she was going to start in on me. “She’ll make you smell like Brussels sprouts and then we’ll all be in a world of hurt.”

  “Ooh, make them smell like bacon,” Landon suggested. “There’s nothing better than bacon around a bonfire.”

  I slid him a sidelong look. “When have you ever eaten bacon next to a bonfire?”

  “When I was here,” he answered without hesitation. “I remember we had to row across that lake so we could eat every meal. I guess Chief Terry wasn’t big on feeding us ... which means your mother was feeding me even then.” He looked enamored with the memory. “I remember there was bacon and it was pretty much the best bacon I ever ate.”

  “Wait a second.” I held up my hand. “You remember the bacon, but not me?”

  “I remember a very pretty blonde who stole my heart. I don’t think I was meant to remember you because I would’ve pined terribly for a number of years and that wouldn’t have been very healthy, would it?”

  I wanted to maintain a stern face, but it was impossible. “That was a nice save.”

  “I thought so.” He linked his fingers with mine and pulled me against him, my back to his chest so he could keep me warm. “I still don’t understand why there was confusion about Joey Morgan’s death if a body was a found.”

  “I told you that Laura Preston saw him in the woods,” Aunt Tillie said. “She swore up and down that he was trying to hide, bending so she wouldn’t see him. Apparently he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.”

  “Did anyone look to make sure there was no one hiding the woods?”

  “I have no idea. Joey was dead so it couldn’t possibly be him. You should know that Laura is a freaking drunk. Not a fun one either. She’s the sort who carries a case of Milwaukee’s Best wherever she goes so she can wet her whistle.”

  “Uh-huh.” Landon tilted his gaze to me. “Do you think it’s possible this Laura Preston confused what she saw?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t really know her well. She’s never struck me as crazy, but I honestly can’t recall having more than a five-minute conversation with her here or there. Why? Is it important?”

  “I don’t know. It just bothers me.”

  “Maybe it was his ghost,” Clove suggested. “Regular people see ghosts sometimes. It’s mostly witches and other magical sorts, but Sam is only one-quarter witch and he can see them. There’s always the possibility that Laura has some witch in her genes, and that’s what she saw.”

  “Wouldn’t she know that?” Landon pressed. “She would’ve started seeing ghosts at a young age just like Bay.”

  “Not necessarily,” Sam countered. “I always saw ghosts, but I didn’t realize I was seeing them until I was older. Laura might not want to believe, so she convinces herself she’s seeing real people.”

  “I guess.” Landon rested his chin on my shoulder. “If Joey’s ghost is around, wouldn’t you have seen him by now, Bay?”

  “That depends on where he’s hanging out,” I replied. “I didn’t see him at Gertie’s house. I wasn’t really looking then. If it’s important to you to talk to his ghost, we can go back out there and look around.”

  “I guess it’s not important.” He kissed my cheek and then shifted his eyes to the marshmallows Aunt Tillie had set on fire. “Don’t eat all of those. I want a s’more, too.”

  “Then you’d better hurry up.” Aunt Tillie snapped the fingers on her free hand and killed the flames. “I don’t know about anyone else, but the best thing about camping is getting hopped up on sugar.”

  “I can think of a few other things,” Landon whispered in my ear. “I’m looking forward to camp nookie. Of course, s’mores are a nice appetizer.”

  All I could do was shake my head. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself?”

  “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

  Nineteen

  We got hopped up on sugar and whiskey — some of us more than others — and stayed up far later than we normally would have. Aunt Tillie got drunk, something I knew she’d deny the next day, and Thistle wandered around on unsteady feet.

  Landon pulled me to a standing position so I could dance with him. There was no music, but we swayed all the same. He also insisted on kissing me over and over again. I thought it was romantic and cute until I realized I had chocolate on the corners of my mouth.

  It was after midnight when we broke apart to sleep. Each couple took a different cabin — Landon and I opting for the first one we’d entered on our initial visit — and Aunt Tillie rolled into her tent to sleep with Peg. For a moment I wondered if it was wise to leave her exposed and on her own. Then I remembered she was Aunt Tillie and a person would have to be stupid to mess with her, even drunk, and left her to sleep. A quick glance inside the tent told me Aunt Tillie was sharing her sleeping bag with Peg, both of them snoring away.

  “They’re fine.” Landon wrapped himself around me from behind and kissed the back of my neck. “No one will mess with them.”

  “You’re the one who keeps reminding me that we have a killer on the loose,” I pointed out.

  “She may be a pain, but if I don’t come home with her Mom and my aunts will stop cooking for us.”

  He chuckled. “She’s fine,” he repeated. “I very much doubt our killer would be stupid enough to come back right now.”

  I wanted to agree with him but there was an uneasiness streaking through me. I couldn’t quite put a name to it — when I watched the shadows for hints of movement I didn’t find any — but I remained nervous.

  “Let’s go to bed,” he suggested, his lips moving to my ear. “I have a few ideas for you.”

  Despite the chill coursing through me, I warmed all over and laughed. “Oh, yeah? What kind of ideas are we talking about?”

  “Well, we met here, so I think it’s only fair that we solidify our relationship in the very spot we realized we were destined to be together.”

  I slid him a sidelong look, amused. “You’re drunk.”

  “I am tipsy,” he corrected, making a silly face that caused me to grin. “There’s a difference.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be able to romance you in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed. Because I’m tipsy, I’ll be a romance machine.”

  I laughed. “I can’t wait for you to romance me.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, LANDON was a romance machine. He was sweet, funny and full of himself. He also passed out five minutes after we cuddled in our zipped-together sleeping bags on top of the air mattress.

  I dozed lightly, lamenting the fact that I hadn’t imbibed more and passed out. Landon snored beside me, one arm thrown over his head, not a care in the world. I, on the other hand, could not embrace full sleep. It wasn’t that I sensed something was wrong, mind you, it was more that I felt as if someone was watching me.

  It was that thought I couldn’t shake when I climbed out of the sleeping bag and headed outside.

  I was quiet when I shut the cabin door. Landon was a heavy sleeper under normal circumstances. He had a few drinks in him, so I was doubtful he’d wake. I didn’t want to needlessly worry him either way. I was the restless one, after all. If I took a look around and determined everything was quiet, I was more likely to be able to fall asleep.

  At least I hoped that was true.

  I slipped past the other two cabins, stopping long enough to listen. I heard nothing inside, which made me think t
hat everyone had already passed out. That was for the best, of course. I didn’t want my cousins to suffer with me. Still, I wouldn’t have minded if one of them was awake so I wouldn’t have to wander around the camp alone. No such luck, though.

  I was wise enough to keep away from Aunt Tillie. We left the bonfire burning low. It was the wet season, so out-of-control fires weren’t a worry. It would burn itself out in the next hour or two. There was no noise from Aunt Tillie’s tent, so I knew she was dead to the world. That was definitely for the best.

  I was the only one who couldn’t sleep. That knowledge only made me more restless.

  So I walked the camp, from one end to the other and back. It was dark. It was quiet. I felt as if I were alone. And yet there came a point when I knew I wasn’t alone.

  I felt Vicky’s presence before I saw her. She materialized in the tree line on my left. I was careful not to change my pace. Finally, I decided to talk to her without looking at her. I figured that might be the best way to keep her from rabbiting.

  “My name is Bay Winchester.” I didn’t bellow the words, instead keeping them light and conversational. “You know me. We met a long time ago.”

  Vicky didn’t say anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shrink back a bit. She didn’t disappear, though, so I took that as a good sign.

  “I was one of your charges when you were a counselor here,” I continued. “I attended with my cousins Clove and Thistle. I wasn’t here that last year — I was in college — but we were still going to meet for coffee. Thistle set it up. Do you remember?”

  I wasn’t really expecting her to answer, so when I heard a whispered word I almost fell over.

  “I remember you.”

  I slowed my pace. “You do?”

  “You were going to be a reporter. That’s what you were going to school for.”

  “I am a reporter.” Carefully, I turned to face her. I kept a safe distance between us — for her benefit rather than mine — and offered a friendly smile. “I own The Whistler now.”

  “You do?” Vicky appeared surprised. “I can’t believe that William Kelly sold his newspaper to a teenager.” She faltered a bit as she looked me up and down. “But ... you’re not a teenager any longer, are you?”

  “I’m not,” I agreed, nodding. “I’m an adult.”

  “That means I’ve been here a long time.” Sadness flitted over Vicky’s face as she looked around the campground. “How long have I been here?”

  “A long time,” I replied, unsure how much detail I should give her. “You should be in your thirties now.”

  Vicky’s eyes widened as she snapped her head back to me. “Thirties? But ... no.”

  I felt sorry for her. She was very clearly lost. She’d spent all her time isolated at the campground. It would be easy to lose track of time under those circumstances. “I saw your sister this week,” I volunteered, opting to change the subject. “She lives in Traverse City.”

  “Stephanie?” Vicky perked up. “How is she?”

  “She misses you.”

  “I should visit her.”

  “You should,” I agreed. “She can’t see you, of course. You’ll have to accept that. You can see her. You can see your nieces, too. You have three of them.”

  “Nieces?” Vicky furrowed her brow. “I ... have ... nieces. How can that be? My sister was pregnant when I came to the camp. She shouldn’t have had a baby already.”

  Vicky’s confusion wasn’t out of the ordinary. Most ghosts were confused by their predicament. That was expected, especially right after the individual passed. Vicky, however, had been around a long time. She should be more aware of her reality.

  “You realize you’re dead, right?”

  “Dead?” Vicky’s eyes widened to saucer-like proportions. “That can’t be right.”

  “But it is.” I was firm with her because I knew it was necessary. “You died that last summer. You never made it to the coffee date Thistle arranged. You didn’t ever leave this place, but if you try, you can now. You don’t have to stay here.”

  Vicky’s expression reflected horrified doubt. “No. That’s not true.”

  “It is.” I couldn’t back down. She needed to understand the truth. “You’ve been gone for a long time. Twelve years. I guess it’s kind of like eleven and a half. That part doesn’t matter. The part that’s important is that you don’t have to stay here. I can help you move on.”

  “Move on?” Vicky shook her head. “I can’t move on. I have to get home to see my sister. I’m going on a trip after camp, but I have to see her first. She needs to know that I’m coming back, that I’ll be there for the birth of the baby.”

  “You already missed the birth of the baby.” It was harsh, but I needed to snap her out of her confused state. “Her name is Victoria. I saw a photo of her on your sister’s wall. There are two other little girls. One is just a toddler. I don’t know their names. She named the oldest after you.”

  “Victoria.” Vicky ran the name through her memory. “That can’t be right. I wouldn’t miss the birth of my niece. I promised Stephanie I would be there. We’re the only family we have.”

  “And she’s never forgotten you,” I promised. “She still misses you with every breath.”

  “But ... no!” Vicky’s fury flashed hard and fast. “I don’t believe you. I wouldn’t miss the birth. I promised. I always keep my promises.”

  I felt sad for her. “Stephanie isn’t angry that you didn’t keep your promise. She knows you would’ve been there if you could. It’s not your fault that you didn’t see your niece born. That’s on whoever did this to you.”

  “Did this to me?” Vicky glanced down at her ethereal form, her expression hard to read as she moved her hands so she could look through them as she lifted them to the moon. “This isn’t right.”

  “You’re dead,” I repeated. “I’m so sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear. You’re dead, though, and you need to get it together. I have questions for you. I want to know who did this to you. Someone should pay for ending your life.”

  “This isn’t right,” she echoed, shaking her head. “No. I can’t be here.”

  I was losing her. “Vicky ... .”

  “I can’t be here,” she repeated. “No. I definitely don’t want to be here!” She practically screamed the last sentence.

  I took a step toward her, though I had no idea what sort of comfort I could offer. She was already gone before I completed the step. She’d disappeared into nothing again.

  “Son of a ... !” I cursed under my breath as I swiveled, frustrated. “I hate this.” I wanted to mope and lament my bad luck, but a flash of light out of the corner of my eye caused me to forget the dead and focus on the living ... because there was absolutely no doubt the shadow racing away from the records office and toward the water belonged to a living individual.

  “Hey!” I yelled out before thinking better of it. I was alone, after all. Everyone else was asleep. If this person — and I was almost positive it was a man thanks to the glimpse I got of broad shoulders — decided to come after me I would be on my own when it came to fighting him off. I was fine with that, ready even.

  Then the unthinkable happened.

  I didn’t understand what I was looking at. The figure ran from the records office, which meant he’d probably been inside. There was no time to figure out why, because a burst of flames at the top of the building made me realize a hard and terrible fact ... the cabin was on fire.

  “No!” I raced forward, momentarily forgetting the man running toward the water. I had no idea what to do when I reached the cabin. The roof was on fire and the building was so old I had no doubt it would fall relatively fast. There was no hose to douse the flames, and my mind was too jumbled to come up with a spell.

  Then I caught movement to my left and swiveled quickly. For a moment I thought the arsonist had returned to silence me, but the person racing through the crisp night air was Aunt Tillie, and she had her hands abov
e her head.

  “Perfuro!”

  I recognized the word was Latin in origin but didn’t know what it meant. Aunt Tillie repeated it two more times and then the meaning became clear when a lightning bolt split the sky. It was followed closely by a deafening roar of thunder.

  “Aunt Tillie?” I never got a chance to ask a follow-up question. She never got a chance to answer. The rain followed a split-second later and I was absolutely drenched within three seconds. “Oh, well, of course.”

  Aunt Tillie kept her eyes on the cabin. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I saw someone running from the cabin and then it erupted in flames. I ... hmm.” I turned to look at the lake. I didn’t see any movement, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. “I don’t think I imagined it.”

  “I doubt you did,” Aunt Tillie agreed. She was soaking wet, but didn’t seem to care. “What were you doing out here?”

  “Talking to Vicky. She didn’t realize she was dead.”

  “That’s not that unusual, especially for a spirit that’s been isolated.”

  “Yeah, well ... .” I made up my mind and started striding toward the lake. “Whoever did this ran in that direction. I have to look.”

  “He’s gone, Bay.” Aunt Tillie sounded certain of herself. “There’s no way he stuck around. It wouldn’t be smart. This guy didn’t get away with two murders for as long as he did by being dumb.”

  I couldn’t stop myself. “I have to see.” I made it to the shore of the lake. The water was dark, especially now that the moon was obliterated by the clouds Aunt Tillie had conjured. Still, I felt ... something. I peered into the darkness, reaching out with my senses. I almost jolted out of my skin when I brushed against something that could only be described as a panicked mind. “Holy ... !” I jerked when I realized Aunt Tillie had followed. “There’s someone out there.”

  “He must’ve brought a rowboat or something,” Aunt Tillie mused, narrowing her eyes when a bolt of lightning lit the sky. For a brief moment I thought I caught sight of a small dot on the water. When the lightning flashed again there was nothing on the water. “Someone obviously didn’t want us digging into the records.”