Whispering Pines Mysteries Box Set 3

by Shawn McGuire

  “The only problem with the lavender,” Jola said, “is that I may fall asleep too.”

  “Do you need help? I could take a shift so you can get some rest.”

  She placed her palms together. “Thank you, but Lily Grace will do exactly that. I already explained what she’ll need to look out for. We’ll take three-hour shifts until morning, so I’ll wake her in about ninety minutes.”

  “Do you need coffee? Tea? Magazines?”

  “Some herbal tea would be nice. And I wouldn’t turn away something to read.”

  I ran back downstairs and loaded a tray with a carafe of hot water, an assortment of tea bags, two mugs, a plate of cookies, and a half-dozen magazines.

  “There are lots of books in the alcove at the top of the stairs if you want something else to read,” I told her as I set down the tray. “Knock on the door to the attic if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  I left with her thanks and stopped at the Grand Suite next.

  “Ah, Proprietress,” River greeted and held the door wide. “Please come in.”

  Morgan and River had an immediate calming effect on me. “On nights like this, I’m supremely grateful for a house with so many beds. I hope the other villagers are okay.”

  “They’ll band together,” Morgan assured, “and be fine.”

  It was strange to see her in pajamas. Unsurprisingly, she chose a ruffled medieval nightdress in jet black. What was surprising was seeing her without jewelry—she always wore a ring on every finger and multiple necklaces—or makeup. She was gorgeous made up and adorable scrubbed clean.

  “River, Jola told me you helped Tripp carry our patient up to their room. Thank you.”

  He gave me a little bow. “I’m happy I was able to assist.”

  Morgan stepped forward. “Who was the couple you and Tripp were speaking with? I could feel the animosity between you four all the way up the stairs. That’s why I peeked. Not to be nosey.”

  “Right.” I smirked and then explained our guests.

  “Oh, Jayne,” Morgan exhaled, hands over her heart.

  “Great birthday present, hey?”

  “This has to be very upsetting for you. What on earth is he doing here?”

  “I’m not sure.” My irritation rose again as I thought of our conversation. “The explanation he gave us was nothing but lies. I don’t know what it is, but my gut is telling me there’s something big going on.”

  I froze. Was this the big black something from Lily Grace’s prediction?

  “Your instincts are rarely wrong.” Morgan placed her palms together and tapped her matte-black manicured fingertips thoughtfully. “I brought my case. Perhaps a truth spell will help.”

  “Your case?”

  “It’s similar to an old-fashioned physician’s apothecary case,” River explained.

  “You make house calls?” I joked.

  Morgan met my eyes and placed a hand on my arm, silencing my lame attempt at humor. “I’m sensing a little fear in you. I’ll cast a protection spell as well.”

  Fear? Was I afraid of Jonah or was something bigger and blacker still coming? I yawned, suddenly wiped out from all the emotion and tension of the last couple hours. “Do I need to be here?”

  “No, I’ll protect the entire house, not just you. You have your charm bag and amulets.” She placed her hands together as though cupping a small ball between them. “Before you get into bed, hold them and focus on infusing them with your intent to stay safe from whatever might be coming. Then sleep with them beneath your pillow tonight.”

  “What about that truth spell? I’d love to know that the truth was coming out of Jonah’s mouth for once.”

  When had I become so distrusting of him?

  Distance brings that which is unclear into focus, Jayne in my head reasoned.

  But I left him because he wasn’t supportive of the life I wanted. Not because he’d been abusing me or lying to me.

  “Do you have candles?” Morgan inquired. “One white, one blue?”

  The former owner of my house, aka Gran, had amassed a huge stash of candles in nearly every color imaginable. I could burn a candle all day every day and still have enough to last for years. “How big?”

  “Bigger than a votive if possible, but a votive will work.”

  I ran down to the dining room sideboard, one of many candle storage locations around the house, and retrieved two four-inch pillar candles along with two clear glass disc holders.

  “These will work perfectly,” Morgan praised when I returned. Then she took a piece of paper from River’s desk near the windows. “Write Jonah’s full name on this paper. Then fold it three times.”

  I did so and handed it back to her.

  “There are two more things I need you to do, and then you may leave.” She opened a wooden box the size of a carry-on suitcase. Her apothecary case. Drawers filled the center compartment, and shelves for small bottles lined both doors. She took a penknife from one of the drawers. “Carve Jonah’s name in the white candle and the word ‘truth’ in the blue.”

  Once I’d done that, she took two bottles with eyedroppers from the case and placed two drops of each oil in my palm. “Bergamot and cedarwood. You must anoint the candles with the oils while thinking ‘Jonah’ and ‘truth.’”

  Eight months ago, I would have done this with one eye open, certain I was getting pranked. Now I did as I was told with both eyes firmly shut. As I did the anointing, I heard shuffling and clinking sounds as she gathered other items. When I opened my eyes again, I found a small cauldron, basil incense, and a stoppered jar with dried white rose petals on the table before me.

  “Normally I cast this spell with fresh rose petals, but this will work. I’ll add a drop of rose oil for a bit more strength.” Before I left the room, she wrapped me in a tight hug. Or rather, as tight as Baby Girl Barlow would allow. “All will be well. How fortunate that I’m here with you this evening.”

  With those words, I felt both comforted and ready for bed. I said goodnight to them and went up to our apartment, where I found Tripp waiting for me on the couch in his plaid flannel lounge pants and the olive-green Wayfaring Stranger . . . no more hoodie I gave him when we moved in together.

  “Sorry. I had a few stops to make.”

  “Why do I smell oranges and my aunt’s hope chest?”

  “Morgan is casting a spell.” He shrugged, unfazed by Morgan’s magic, and I took a breath. “We’ve got a problem. Jonah is lying to us.”

  Chapter 9

  I paced our apartment in a large circle from the steps to the living area, to the kitchen—where I paused to grab a package of Oreos—to the sleeping alcove, and back to Tripp on the couch.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” I muttered after the third loop and four cookies, “but his ‘took a wrong turn’ excuse is absurd.”

  Tripp snorted and laughed but said nothing.

  I stopped mid-pace to stare at him. “You realize you’re taking this out on me, don’t you? Like this is my fault.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You don’t have to. I heard it in that little snort.”

  “Jayne, that was directed at him, not you.”

  My turn to say nothing.

  “I think you’re projecting.”

  I crossed my arms tight. “Projecting?”

  He turned to face me with his arms draped over the back of the couch. “Yes. I think you’re feeling a ton of emotions around him being here and don’t know what to do with them.”

  “I do not still have feelings for him,” I insisted.

  “I didn’t say feelings for him. Jonah showing up here has stirred up a slew of emotions—pain, anger, sorrow, and others. That’s understandable.”

  He sounded like Dr. Maddox, the psychologist I saw after Frisky was shot.

  “You’re taking those feelings out on me because you know I’m not going anywhere.”

  When he paused, I uncrossed my arms and rested my hands on my hips
. “Stay away from the internet.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “You’re bored. Anytime you and River aren’t making baby furniture, or you aren’t cooking with Reeva, or in the basement playing around with your cider setup, you’re on the internet researching something. Were you on psychology websites this week?”

  He opened his mouth, closed it, then pressed his lips together as though embarrassed. “Guilty as charged. I wanted to understand this seasonal affective disorder thing everyone keeps talking about. That way I’ll know if either of us has it. Some of those websites are really interesting.”

  I stared out at the lake, trying to figure out exactly which emotions were swirling around inside me. Along with anger, pain, and sorrow, there was something nagging in the background. Something I’d chosen to ignore that was now clawing its way to the surface. Just then, a huge gust of wind blew snow off the pine trees and directly at the windows. A good deal of it stuck there, leaving only lacey gaps for us to see through. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and yearned for the solitude of my loft where I could breathe and maybe dig a little deeper without Tripp watching.

  “Don’t profile me,” I scolded and dropped onto the couch next to him.

  “Don’t make me the scapegoat.” He took the cookie package from my hands and set it on the coffee table. “And don’t self-medicate with sweets.”

  I glared at him but quickly softened when he held his hands up in surrender and then put an arm around me.

  “Sorry for taking things out on you.”

  “Why do you think you’re doing that?” His tone had turned clinical again.

  “Now you’re analyzing me?”

  He sighed. “I’m not. We’re just talking about stuff.”

  I echoed his sigh. “No, you’re analyzing, and you might be right.” I tapped the center of my chest. “There’s something buried in there and it’s so deep I’m not even sure what it is. These feelings surrounding Jonah started rising to the surface the moment I saw him.”

  Effie’s explanation for a black aura rang in my ears. You may be holding on to negative emotions, feelings, or thoughts. You could be feeling anger or hatred toward someone or something.

  No kidding.

  I shivered, grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, and draped it over us. This feeling had something to do with Millie. Not jealousy. I honestly couldn’t care less that Jonah was seeing someone else. The second I saw them together, though, something started poking at me. It had to be this buried something-or-other, but what was it?

  Out of nowhere, a call to UW campus housing when I was a patrol officer in Madison popped into my mind. It had been a house two blocks off campus. A Sigma Something Something sorority. One of the sisters had called the non-emergency line claiming that the boyfriend of another sister was harassing her. They were worried he’d become violent. I responded to the call, and when I got there, they led me up to the girl’s bedroom. From the hallway side of the closed bedroom door, with six other sisters behind me in a semi-circle, I listened as the guy berated his girlfriend. He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was loud enough that we could hear every word he said.

  “I told you a hundred times, but apparently I need to say it again. When I text you, you answer me. What was it this time? Coffee with a girlfriend? Or were you with another guy? You think you can do better than me? Think again. You’re lucky to have me. You’re lucky I put up with you.” There was a momentary pause before he continued. “Look at that. You did it again. You have me acting like a control freak. You think I like getting this angry?”

  At that point, he started shouting, and his words sounded like threats.

  “Jayne.” Tripp’s voice was so gentle compared to the memory playing in my head. “Babe, you’re shaking again.”

  The words the boyfriend had said were eerily similar to the ones Jonah would hiss at me months later while I was packing my things to move out. Biggest mistake you’ll ever make . . . Don’t even think of calling me . . . Was that what I’d buried? I couldn’t remember him ever being physically aggressive with me. But distance was making it clear that he had been emotionally abusive at times.

  “I was thinking about a call I went on. A college kid was harassing his girlfriend. I finally had to bring him in to cool off.” I slipped into the memory again and right back out. “She wouldn’t press charges. I had to let him go a couple of hours later.”

  “Did he leave her alone after that?”

  “I have no clue. That’s the sucky thing about this job. I don’t always get to know how the stories end.”

  Tripp stared at me, his mind clearly searching for something to say. Since he was in internet-psychologist mode, he had likely connected the significance of that memory with the negative feelings Jonah was bringing up in me. If he did, he didn’t want to talk about it yet.

  “Earlier, you said Jonah’s lying.” He decided to deal with the easier issue first. “What do you want to do about it?”

  “Nothing. This storm should blow over soon, right? Then he’ll go away, and we won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

  Jayne in my head didn’t like that option. The Universe brought him here so you can deal with whatever this is. This is your opportunity to close the loop with him, send him on his way, and move forward with your life Jonah-free.

  I thought of the list of unfinished business Morgan had me make during Samhain. The one I couldn’t recall earlier today. Morgan had said I should work through the issues before the start of the Wiccan new year, which, at the time, had given me only a day or two. There were way too many items on that list for me to finish in a day, but the exercise was a great reminder to try and deal with things as they happened. If I didn’t, they’d circle back around, and I’d never clear the backlog of crap in my life. I’d actually made good progress with the list and remembered now that Jonah was one of those still-to-be-dealt-with issues. Maybe Jayne in my head was right and this was my chance to close this loop rather than letting it keep circling my life.

  I altered my answer to Tripp’s question. “I don’t want to do anything about him tonight. Everything will look different in the light of day. Right?”

  He leaned to the side so he could see my face. Whatever he saw there, he must’ve decided I was okay for the moment. “Right. Let’s go with that plan.”

  We settled into each other again and listened to the wind battering the house.

  “For the record,” I began, “I’m pretty sure there are medicinal benefits to Oreos.”

  He stood, picked me up, and carried me to our bed, pausing along the way so I could turn off lights. He laid me down on the mattress and started slowly peeling my clothes off me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked with a knowing grin.

  He tugged his shirt over his head, giving me one of my very favorite views. “I still have one more birthday present for you.”

  ~~~

  I woke suddenly, naked and warm, wrapped in Tripp’s arms, to hear the wind still whipping against the house. That wasn’t what woke me, though. Was it? I thought I heard—

  “What was that?” Tripp sat bolt upright.

  There it was again. A woman screaming. And not just screaming. Honestly, it sounded like she was being tortured.

  Meeka started barking in response. Red alert! Red alert!

  We leaped out of bed, yanked on pajamas, and raced down to the second floor. All of our guests—Briar, Dad, River and Morgan, Jonah and Millie—had poured into the hallway. The screaming was coming from the Jack and Jill rooms. By the time we got to the door, Rosalyn had appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded in her crabby someone-woke-me-up voice.

  I knocked on the Jack door. “Jola? It’s Jayne. What’s going on?”

  After a second or two, Lily Grace opened the door looking crazed, her part-curly part-straight hair twisted into a large knot on the top of her head. The cluster of guests behind me took a step forward as someone in th
e room, our mystery guest I assumed, let out another shrill shriek. Lily Grace grabbed me by the arm, yanked me inside the room, and closed the door again before any of the others could even look in.

  The mystery woman was sitting up in the bed, her eyes wide open but blank and unseeing. As I stood and watched her, she crossed her arms in front of her face, as though protecting herself from something coming at her.

  Lily Grace stood behind me and clutched my shoulders when the woman screamed again. “Jola says it’s a night terror.”

  When Jola came over to us, I asked, “Shouldn’t you do something?”

  She shook her head. “Watching as someone goes through one of these episodes can be very upsetting, but—”

  “Upsetting?” Lily Grace interrupted. “That was beyond upsetting. Try getting woken from a sound sleep by the screaming.”

  As though the rest of us hadn’t heard the same thing. Maybe not as up close and personal as Lily Grace, but we still heard it.

  “Shame that her distress upset your beauty sleep.” Jola scowled at her sister and continued, “She isn’t hurting herself or anyone else and doesn’t appear to be in danger of getting hurt.”

  I watched in fascinated horror as the woman fought with an invisible attacker. “What’s causing this?”

  “We usually see night terrors in children,” Jola explained. “Since this woman is an adult, I’d say it’s PTSD induced.”

  I frowned. “She’s fighting off whoever gave her those bruises.”

  “That would be my guess. She might not be dreaming of a literal attack. Fear manifests in different ways. It could be that she’s dreaming about something representative of her attacker. Like snakes or spiders or something else that’s especially scary to her. Even though she hasn’t woken yet, she knows she’s safe. That surrender to safety could be letting her fears come to the surface.”

  As the three of us stood and watched her, the woman stopped screaming as suddenly as she’d started and lay back down.

  “Is she sleeping again?” Lily Grace asked.