Witch Way Box Set

by Jane Hinchey

  Together we traipsed back across the park to the trailer. I hefted the chest out of the closet and onto the bed, opening the lid.

  “Wow!” Remy breathed. “This is amazing.” She removed journal after journal, stacked them one atop the other, placed the maps on their own separate pile.

  “Anything we can do to help?” Jenna asked.

  Remy nodded. “They were both meticulous note takers. Can you sort these into date order? We'll work our way backwards.”

  “Do you think they found the copper pyramid?” I asked, handing Jenna a handful of the books and picking up the remaining ones for myself.

  Remy shrugged. “It's possible. Or should I say, nothing is impossible. It's good news that your mom got a message to you, Harper. Now we have something to work with.”

  “Yeah well, the word geospirals doesn't tell us a lot,” I grumbled.

  “It doesn't tell you much, but it could tell me a lot,” Remy pointed out, pausing in her rummaging of the chest to shoot me a sharp look. “How about you freshen up that coffee pot? This could take a while.”

  Three hours later Remy softly closed the notebook she'd been reading and laid her hand on the cover. Jenna and I had made quick work of the other journals, all of them pre-dating the trip to Arrowstrand. That left one journal for Remy to devour and make sense of. In the meantime, Jenna and I had found an old pack of cards in the chest and were playing Rummy.

  “I think I have something,” Remy said.

  “Oh?” I glanced from her to my hand of cards and back again. Remy looked excited.

  “What did you find?” Jenna asked, placing her cards facedown on the table.

  “The geospirals are a language. An ancient language. Your dad has started to decode it.” She picked up the journal and flicked to a page, holding it out for me to see. A bunch of swirly squiggles. “Okay.” Despite growing up with archeologists, I didn't know all that much about their craft. The swirly squiggles were simply swirly squiggles to me.

  “Also, I think they hid something here.”

  That got my attention. I sat up straight and looked around. “Hid something? What? It would have to be small.”

  “They found some geospirals etched into rock. Small. Pebble sized.”

  “Let's get searching!” Jenna was already up and out of her seat.

  I stood, hands on hips, and surveyed the trailer. Where would my parents hide a pebble? “Is it just one?” I asked Remy.

  “Possibly two or three.”

  “And how big are we talking? A big pebble? Or small pebble?”

  She held out her hand, pointing to her thumb. “I'd say about the size of my thumbnail.”

  We searched the trailer from top to bottom. Nothing. Jenna was in the bathroom, shaking every bottle of shampoo and lotion. Remy had her nose buried in the journal again, while I went through the pantry—it was the only place we hadn't looked. Every open canister or package I stuck a fork in and swirled it around, feeling for the telltale clunk of an unexpected stone in the contents. Murphy's Law it was the very last thing I'd checked, and at this point I thought Remy was mistaken and nothing was hidden here at all when the container of rice I was idly stirring with the fork made a twang as the tines hit something solid. Remy's head shot up, and I looked down at the plastic container in my hand in shock.

  “You found it!” Remy jumped up, ditching the journal and snatching the container from my hands. Holding it over the sink, she plunged her hand in and felt around.

  “Gross. I'm not eating that now you've had your hands in it,” I said, watching with bated breath. Jenna joined us, sucking in a breath when Remy held up a smooth pebble between her finger and thumb. We leaned closer.

  “It has those circles on it,” I said.

  Remy nodded, carefully placed the pebble on the countertop, and continued searching. All up there were four. They all looked the same to me, but Remy pointed out the miniscule differences in the circles etched into the surface of the tiny rocks. “See? The distance between the lines is different, and the circles on this one are almost perfectly round, but on this one they are more oval shaped.”

  “And that means?” Jenna asked, snapping photos with her phone.

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure yet,” Remy admitted. “But it was obviously something important. Important enough to hide them.”

  “And important enough for someone to kidnap Mom and Dad. These have to be what the kidnappers want, surely?”

  “Most likely.”

  “And who do we know who is interested in ancient artifacts and treasure?” I said, tongue in cheek.

  “The treasure hunters. Tamir and Omar,” Jenna declared.

  I was already heading for the door. “We need to go talk to them.”

  “Wait!” Remy grabbed my arm. “You can't go charging in. Remember, if it is them, they're dabbling in dark magic. And they're skilled enough to use it to hide your parents.”

  I hesitated. Darn it, she was right. “Let's go tell Blake. He can manipulate energy to create a shield. He could protect us if they tried anything.”

  “Wait,” Remy said again, and I blew out an exasperated breath.

  “Now what?”

  “Aren't they at the caves? Didn't Nigel take them early this morning?”

  “What's the time?” I asked no one in particular, grabbing my phone to check. Almost lunchtime. Andi had said she thought they'd be back early afternoon.

  “Hold on,” Jenna said, putting her fingers between the horizontal blind above the kitchen sink and peering out. “Nigel's truck is parked next to his trailer. If he's back, then the others should be back too.”

  Excellent. We were putting the journals away when it started. The screaming. Long, loud, and bloodcurdling.

  Chapter Seven

  My initial thought was that it was Gran. I knew she had the lung capacity to scream that loud. Slamming open the trailer door, I barreled outside and was three strides in, heading toward the swimming hole, when I realized the screams were coming from the other direction. Skidding to a halt, I glanced around in confusion.

  Remy and Jenna joined me, with Jenna pointing towards the cabins. “Over there.”

  Blake staggered out of his cabin looking disheveled. I spared him a glance before jogging toward the cabin the screams were coming from. Bandit soon joined the cacophony of noise, barking. He must have moved like greased lightning to make it from the swimming hole to the cabin so quickly, and just as I wondered where Archie was, he came galloping around the side of the house.

  “Oh my God, oh my God!” Kaylee came tumbling out of the cabin, tears smearing dark trails of mascara down her cheeks. Her hands were shaking as she pressed them to her chest as if struggling to breathe. Jenna reached her first.

  “What is it? What's happened?” Jenna asked, wrapping an arm around Kaylee's shoulders. The girl trembled and shivered, her face reflecting pure terror as she pointed toward the open doorway.

  “Harper, wait,” Remy cautioned me, but I rushed to the door and stepped inside.

  My stomach flip-flopped at the sight that greeted me, and I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. On the floor in a pool of blood was Tamir. Dead. Just to make sure, I crept closer and pressed two fingers against his neck. Although I was pretty sure the massive wound in his chest was a dead giveaway he was no longer alive, I'd hate to deprive the poor fellow of life-saving medical intervention on the assumption he was dead. My suspicions were confirmed. No pulse. His chest, complete with a gaping wound, was not moving. His eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

  I quickly rose and stood in the doorway. “Better call the police,” I said to the others.

  Kaylee wailed, and I nodded grimly. “It's Tamir. He's been murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Blake reached us. “Are you sure?”

  Sucking my lips in and releasing them on a pop, I nodded. “Yup. Pretty sure. Check for yourself if you don't believe me.”

  His eyes zeroed in on the doorway behind me and he step
ped around me to look inside. “Ah,” he said grimly, “I see.”

  Andi was hurrying across the park toward us. “What is it? What's happened?”

  Remy met her before she reached us and explained the situation.

  “Oh, my!” Andi's hand reached for her throat. “And Kaylee? Is she okay?”

  Kaylee was sobbing and hiccupping and Jenna led her over to her mother. “Why don't you take her up to the house and call the police?” she suggested. “We'll wait here.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ll do that.” Andi wrapped an arm around her daughter and led her back toward the house while the rest of us looked at each other, stunned.

  “Where's Omar?” I asked, expecting to see the other treasure hunter after all the commotion. “And Nigel?”

  “They're in the swimming hole,” Gran said, making me jump.

  “Geez. Where did you come from?” I gasped. I hadn't seen or heard her approach.

  Gran shrugged. “Heard all the noise and came to investigate.”

  “Hold on,” Blake said. “So you heard the screaming from down at the water hole and came to see what had happened, but Omar and Nigel stayed put?” Blake was right. It didn't make sense. The two men should have beaten Gran here.

  “It's entirely possible they didn't hear. You're forgetting I have my witchy powers.”

  “Your witch powers don't include supersonic hearing, Gran,” I pointed out, and she threw up her hands. “Okay fine! I heard nothing. I saw Bandit take off and figured something had caught his interest. I followed.”

  That sounded much more plausible.

  “So, what's going on?” she asked, wrapping the towel that had been slung over her shoulders around her hips like a sarong.

  “Someone has murdered Tamir,” I said, stepping back so she could take a peek into the cabin.

  “So they have.” She nodded, then stepped further inside.

  I stood in the doorway and watched her. “What are you doing? Be careful,” I warned.

  Ignoring me, Gran skirted around the pool of blood and stood at Tamir's head, eyes narrowing on his chest. “Well, this isn't good,” she muttered.

  “Of course it isn't.” I rolled my eyes. A murder was never good.

  “No. No.” She shook her head and a droplet of water from her damp hair plopped onto Tamir's forehead. “Oops.” She bent and wiped the water away with her thumb.

  “Gran!” I hissed. “Don't contaminate the crime scene. Get out of there. Now.”

  “I'm coming, I'm coming.” She joined us outside while we waited for the police.

  “No press.” Senior Sergeant Mick Gould stood with arms over his chest, refusing to budge.

  “But—” Jenna protested, but he shook his head resolutely.

  “All of you, go up to the house. I'll be up to take statements as soon as I'm done here.”

  Muttered grumbles met his words, but we obediently turned toward the house.

  “Not you, Harper.” Mick stopped me and I swiveled on my heel. “I'd like a word. In private,” he added, when it looked like Blake would remain by my side. I nodded, gave Blake a nudge telling him it was okay. I wasn't in any danger and I was keen to hear what Mick had to say. Did he have any leads on my parents?

  Blake nodded once, then spun on his heel and swiftly caught up with the others. Ignoring me, Mick stepped into the cabin and took photos with his phone. I stood in the doorway and watched, the coppery scent of blood filling my nostrils.

  “You wanted a word?” I asked.

  “I think you're involved.” he said dispassionately, engrossed in snapping a picture of every inch of Tamir's cabin.

  “What? How?” I spluttered. “I didn't do this!”

  “I didn't say you did,” Mick replied without looking at me. “I said you're involved. Too co-incidental that your parents disappeared from here, and now this? Somehow your family is involved, and I'd rather speak to you away from that circus.” He nodded his head toward the big white house where everyone was waiting.

  “I don't know how I can help,” I said, stepping inside and keeping a wide berth around Tamir's body.

  Mick busied himself with Tamir, crouching by his side and studying him intently. I turned my attention to what I'd missed before. The geospiral painted on the wall in Tamir's blood. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it earlier, but maybe with the tangy scent of blood in the air, and the horror of his body on the floor at my feet, I could be forgiven for not noticing. It wasn't huge. About the size of my palm. Oh, it involved me all right. Whoever had my parents had done this. It was the only explanation. Glancing over my shoulder to check that Mick was distracted with the body, I quickly snapped a photo of the geospiral before sliding my phone back into my pocket, Mick none the wiser. I'd show it to Remy, see if she could figure out what it meant.

  “Do you get a lot of murders in Arrowstrand?” I asked.

  Mick glanced up at me. “Nope. This would be the first.”

  “Going to call in the big guns from Adelaide?”

  “I'd like not to.” Mick sighed, pushing aside Tamir's shirt with his pen. “But I may have to. This isn't looking good.”

  I snorted. “How could it possibly look worse?”

  “I think someone has removed his heart.”

  I tried not to heave.

  “I think there's something in there,” Mick muttered. “It glinted when the light hit it.”

  Mick dug around in the case of equipment he'd brought with him, extracting a pair of tweezers. I screwed my eyes shut when he lowered them into Tamir's chest.

  “What is that?” Mick asked more to himself than to me. My eyes popped open to see him holding something small and round in the tweezers. He grabbed a swab and wiped the blood from the object. It was a small round pebble just like the ones we'd found in my parents’ trailer. And I'd bet it had a geospiral etched in its surface.

  Mick dropped the stone into an evidence bag and sealed it. “The pattern looks the same as the one on the wall.” Mick searched Tamir's pockets. When a gold pocket watch appeared, I gasped.

  “What is it?” Mick picked up the pocket watch he'd placed on the floor and looked from it to me. “This watch look familiar?”

  I nodded. “It's not actually a watch. It's a compass. And it belongs to my dad.” My voice trembled, partly with shock, partly with anger.

  Mick pressed on the button and the watch flipped open to reveal a compass. It had been in my family's possession for generations, handed down from son to son. Mick looked at me apologetically. “I will have to keep it as evidence for the time being.” He slid it into another plastic evidence bag and sealed it.

  My mind was a whirl. Had it been Tamir who'd broken into my parents’ trailer and searched it? Had he taken them? But then, who had killed him? Were he and Omar in cahoots but had a falling out? But Gran had said Omar was down at the waterhole. But it was entirely possible he could have killed Tamir first, then gone to the waterhole, so he'd have an alibi.

  Mick was scrolling through Tamir's phone when he paused and looked at me. “What?” I said warily.

  Without a word he held the phone out so I could see what was on the screen. A photo of my parents. Taken from a distance. I automatically reached for the phone, but Mick held it out of reach. “There are more,” he said, dropping the phone into another evidence bag. “Looks like Tamir was spying on your folks.”

  “Do you think he took them?” My earlier euphoria at connecting with my mom fizzled and died. For Tamir was dead. He couldn't tell us where they were. And wherever he was holding them, it was somewhere no one would accidentally stumble across them. Although, now that Tamir was dead, whatever spell he'd cast would be broken, which meant I could easily connect to Mom and follow the trail to her location.

  “He was certainly very interested in them. Have a look around, see if there's anything else belonging to your parents in this cabin. Here. Put these on.” He tossed me a pair of gloves and I struggled to pull them over my sweaty skin. While I poked around in Tamir's
cupboards and drawers looking for anything that may belong to my parents, Mick called for a coroner’s van from a nearby town. Turned out Arrowstrand didn't have a morgue. Or hospital. They had a doctor travel in twice a week to run clinics and that was it.

  After Mick was finished with the body, he draped a sheet over it, then turned his attention to me. “Find anything else?” I shook my head.

  “You said in your report this morning that the caravan had been broken into?”

  I nodded. “Whoever it was must have used a key,” I said. “There were no signs of forced entry, but the place was a mess, like someone had rifled through everything, looking for something.”

  “But you noticed nothing was missing?”

  I shook my head. “Not at the time. I mean, I didn't notice Dad's compass was missing because it could have easily been with him. So, it's hard to know what, if anything, is really missing.”

  Mick pondered my words for a minute, tapping his pen against his notebook where he'd been taking notes. “Okay. I want you to make a list of anything you think may be missing from your parents’ van. It's too much of a coincidence that our victim not only had your father's compass but photos of your mom and dad on his phone too.”

  “You want me to do that now?” I snapped off the rubber gloves and held them out to him.

  He took them and shoved them into his pocket. “Please. I will be here a while. I must wait for the coroner to arrive, and dust for prints. Then interview everyone up at the house. So, if you can get that list sorted and I'll meet you up there when I can? Oh, and can you ask them not to leave? I need to get their statements.”

  “Will do.” Stepping outside into the bright afternoon sunshine, I saw Bandit and Archie sitting side by side, silently waiting. As if sensing my mood, they quietly followed me to the trailer, electing to wait outside under the shade of the canopy while I went through my parents’ belongings—again—to see if anything was missing. The trouble was...how would I know?

  Chapter Eight

  I found it shoved inside a sock, of all things. A velvet jewelers’ box. Mom wasn't much into jewelry, so I was curious what the box could contain. A ring was my best guess, going on the size of the box. Flipping open the lid, I frowned. Instead of a ring, I found nothing. Why would Mom hide an empty box? I sat on the end of the bed and turned the box over and over in my hand. I doubted Mom would be wearing the ring now. She would save it for special occasions, when she got dressed up. So where was it? It must have been special for her to hide it, but shoving it in a sock in the back of a drawer wasn't the safest of locations, so I figured it had more sentimental value than monetary.