On the coffee table waited the mail Adam had brought in. Underneath a red book peeked out. His journal. He’d fallen asleep every other time he’d tried to read it.
The case might be over, but that journal was still as good as a sleeping pill.
Ruben’s eggs were burned on the outside and runny in the middle, while his toast was just plain burned all over. Ramona certainly hadn’t inherited Mamacita’s skill in the kitchen.
Would it have mattered? He’d lost his appetite the minute he laid eyes on Mamacita yesterday. Watching her this morning hadn’t improved it any.
If only he could convince himself it was the quality of the cooking that kept Mamacita from eating.
But he had the beginnings of a plan, and that was more than he’d had last night. No telling if it would work. Still, he had to try. If only Tessa would hurry. She’d be the key to pulling it off.
He pushed his soggy eggs around on his plate. Would he be able to hear Tessa’s car with the ringing in his ears? Another thing to blame Jacinto for.
Here she is. Her car door always made that popping sound, like it might fall off its hinges. Now, if he could get his leg to cooperate, he’d meet her at the door. Try to have a private moment before Ramona came in. Maybe steal a kiss or two to help get him through the next hour.
Mamacita rested a hand on his shoulder. “Stay here, hijo, I’ll get the door. It’s probably Tessa.”
Of course it was Tessa. That’s why he wanted to answer it himself.
He shoved the plate back and limped after Mamacita, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of Tessa. How pathetic was he?
Tessa, Ramona, and Mamacita hugged and kissed and carried on like Ruben wasn’t in the room. He crossed his arms and tried to tap his foot, but almost lost his balance. What was he, chopped liver?
He eased himself to the sofa and waited for the love-fest to end. This could only help his plan. Mamacita had to care about Tessa and trust her for this to work.
So why did he still feel so neglected?
Seeing Ruben only accounted for part of the warmth that washed over Tessa. Watching him suffer shouldn’t make her so happy.
Could he actually be jealous that she greeted Ramona and Mamacita first? Only thirty-six hours apart and she’d doubted everything. Now one look at his face had her heart dancing. He did care about her. It wasn’t just a one-night thing.
With Ramona and Mamacita watching, she gave him a chaste kiss, but he held on long enough to send a message to everyone in the room. Including her. And that accounted for the flush of heat that swept through her body and settled in her face.
Oh my. What would Mamacita think? She stole a glance at the old lady and her stomach eased. She looked like hell, but her face was beaming.
“Sit here, next to me.” Ruben pulled on her hand. “I found something I want to talk to you all about.”
His face was a rainbow of colors. The knot on his forehead looked like something from Alien, a red, raw strip of skin encircled his neck, one arm hung in a sling, and his leg sported a half-cast. Wow. Did he ever look good.
She caught the slight moan as he leaned forward. Still, he could barely sit up the last time she saw him, and his voice had returned to near normal.
“I found this last night when I couldn’t sleep.” He lifted a red, faux-leather book.
“It’s the journal I kept one year in middle school. It covers the day Jacinto and your mother had their argument. We forgot most of what happened—you were just a little kid, I was a big, dumb kid.”
His eyes flicked to her, but she couldn’t read the message he was trying to send.
“We remembered a little when we discovered Jacinto, but a lot of it was still a blank.”
They’d remembered it all, hadn’t they?
“Apparently I ran home and wrote it all down. This explains everything we need to know.”
A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead and he pressed the book in her hand. “Here, you read it to us. If you can manage my writing.”
What was that emotion that traveled up her arm when she touched his hand? Guilt? Desperation? Deceit?
The journal was real. His adolescent fears and longings imbued every page. The page he’d shown her sat in the middle of the book and his childish scrawl matched the other pages. So what kind of scam was he trying to pull?
She let her eyes scan the page. She wasn’t going to read anything out loud before she knew what it said. The memories sucked her in and threatened to drown her. Her heart beat faster and faster until she thought it might burst through her chest.
Everything was here. All of it. Things she’d remembered, things she’d buried in hopes of forgetting. Her head swam and she had to close her eyes.
When she opened them again, they fell on the last entry. What was it, a poem? Yes, she could see it clearly now; her mother had grasped Ruben’s hand and held it tight, even as he tried to pull away. She’d thrown her head back and began reciting a poem that had made no sense to Tessa’s young mind.
And Ruben had come home and copied it down.
Chapter 40
Ruben kept his eyes riveted on Tessa. Was she going to help? Would she play along? His heart clenched to realize he didn’t know her well enough to know the answer. If only he’d had a chance to explain it first.
Her voice trembled when she recited the Rede, but her mother’s form was all he could see or hear. The jolt of electricity when she had held his hand, the feelings of fear, longing, pain, that shot up his arm and stabbed him in the heart, the kaleidoscope of colors that filled his head.
That damn concussion picked a hell of a time to act up. He rubbed his temples, but his head kept spinning. If it didn’t stop, he might fall over and he couldn’t let that happen. They had one chance to trick Mamacita into getting well and this was it.
He gritted his teeth, swallowed hard and listened to Tessa read.
“Two boys came knocking on my door
One’s actions left me on the floor.
Both Ruben M and Ruben J
With names the same yet different games they play.
Different now and different then
First as boys, then as men.
You will grow both strong and bold
In your body and your soul.
The other dark and twisted be,
Like a knurled old oak tree.
On Witches’ Eve my life will end
When his minions he will send.
My daughter’s life on you depends.
Can you wake before she ends?
Strength alone won’t make him sick,
The length you rue will do the trick.
Until I’m whole, I will not rest,
Returned to Mother Nature’s breast.
But time will tell what you can see.
Will you find the missing parts of me?
The dog will show you where to go,
Once you see it, you will know.
Now home you go, all memories fled
Until the day that I am dead.
But if you fail upon your task,
No happiness for you will last.
Unless my daughter’s life you save
Alone your fate till end of days.
In life you’ll drift upon the sea
Without loves anchor you will be.
He fought for each breath as Tessa’s voice faded. He had to concentrate. So close to the end. He couldn’t give up now.
“Ramona, would you get me a glass of cold water? That antibiotic I took seems to have lodged in my throat.” He blotted the sweat off his face, but when he touched his forehead, pain stabbed him behind the eyes.
He gulped the water Ramona brought him and the spinning slowed to a manageable level.
“There’s one more thing. I know you’re not going to like this, Tessa, but I promise its standard police practice. Your mother wrote a letter to you and stuck it in the mail the day she died. Did she not have a stamp, or did she want it to come back
in case she was wrong and she didn’t die? I don’t know the answer, but I found it in the stack of mail I took from her box just before Jacinto found us.”
If he had two good legs, he’d kick himself. He should have found it days earlier and he should have opened it right away when he did find it. But he was too busy thinking about Tessa in those flannel pajama pants.
He took another sip of water and his body settled down. He was probably dehydrated, that’s all.
“I opened it and read it.” Yep, Tessa didn’t like that one bit. Her eyes had narrowed into pinpricks. Too damn bad.
“I’ll give it back to you as soon as it’s released, but its police property for now. The thing is, your mother explains exactly what happened to Mamacita and what to do about it.”
Tessa couldn’t decide if she was angrier with Ruben or herself. She hated that her face flushed, but was powerless to stop it.
How dare he spring this on her in front of other people? The Rede was bad enough. At least it was directed to him. But a private letter from her mother to her, just before she died . . .
Of course he had to see if it helped with the case, but not before she read it and came to grips with what it said.
If her mother had put a hex on Mamacita, something that went against everything she professed to believe in, there had to be a reason. A reason she intended to discover in private.
She reached for the letter Ruben held. He hesitated, but she refused to back down. She stared in his eyes, the eyes she had come to love, but she didn’t blink.
When he handed it to her, it wasn’t a letter, but a small package. Had her mother left her a keepsake?
She turned her back to the others and opened it. Not much privacy, but she’d take what she could get. A rich, herbal scent spilled out. She lifted the letter and looked underneath. Small drawstring sacks lined the bottom of the package.
She lowered her nose to each sack. Sage, yes, that was the first one. Calamus, okay, but what was in the other two? Did it matter? If her mother thought she needed them, then she needed them. The letter would explain.
She twisted even farther away. She wouldn’t let the others see her hands tremble. Within seconds, a smile split her face.
“This is it. This is what we need.” She swung around toward Mamacita.
“My mother says she didn’t want to hex you, but it was for your own protection.” Of course, her mother wouldn’t have done it for any other reason. She should have trusted her.
“Jacinto came almost every day, but she refused to read for him. She knew she couldn’t help him. The abuse he suffered as a child had left him too broken. The last time he came, he threatened her. She had to keep you away before he hurt you. He blamed you and your family for the fact that he’d been unloved all his life. She even gives his name in here. If only we had found this earlier.”
Okay, that wasn’t a good thing to say. Ruben looked bad enough without making him think it was his fault.
Mamacita reached over and patted her arm. “I’m sure she had good reasons, my dear. But it doesn’t change the facts.”
“But she tells me how to undo it. She even gave me the herbs I need. Do you have a fresh lemon? What about candles. I’ll need a white and a black one.”
“I haven’t been home all week, and I wasn’t doing much cooking before that. I doubt I have a lemon. I might have a white candle, but I certainly won’t have a black one.”
Ramona was on her feet. “I’ll go to the store. Is there anything else you need?”
“An athame, but you won’t find that at the grocery store.”
“What is it and where can we get it?” The look Ruben shot her was undecipherable, but it sent a chill down her spine.
“It’s a knife. Not too big.” She held her hands about seven or eight inches apart. “It might have a double blade, but not necessarily. It would have a black handle with some sort of symbol on it.”
“What kind of symbol?” Ruben growled.
There was that look again. What was Ruben trying to tell her? Shouldn’t he be happy this might soon be over? Why was he scowling?
“I don’t know. It could be anything that meant something to the witch who owned it. Mother would have had one.”
“We took all her psychic stuff. It’s probably in the property department. I don’t know if I can get to it today.” He was frustrated and angry; one glance told her that, but why? This was all good news, even if they did have to wait one more day.
“It might not have been with her witchcraft tools. It could be in a kitchen drawer. Some witches use it for everyday things. That increases their familiarity with it. Makes them one with its power.”
Ramona grabbed her purse. “I’ll head for the store. You go next door and see if you can find an anthem.”
“Athame. If I can’t find it, I’ll hit the Internet. There’ll be stores in Houston that sell what we need. Although a new one won’t be as strong.”
Mamacita pushed up from her chair. “I think I’ll rest for a few minutes while you get everything ready. I might need my strength for this spell to work.”
As soon as Ramona left and Mamacita closed the door to her room, Ruben grabbed her hand. A red film floated over her eyes. She’d never felt that from him before. What was he so angry about?
“Did you have to make it so complicated? Anything you said with enough conviction, she’d have believed. What if you can’t find a black candle or some kind of fancy knife? You always have to be so dramatic. Like with Jacinto. You couldn’t just tell him what he wanted to hear? You had to tell him he’d never find love. That made everything worse.”
“He did die unloved, but not alone. Just as I said.”
“Yeah. Two minutes after you said it. What a long shot.”
A sinking feeling started in her gut. After all they’d been through, did Ruben still doubt her?
Ruben struggled to his feet. “Now I’ll have to go over there and try to find some kind of fancy knife that you can pass of as an athame or whatever you called it.”
She had to get out fast, before he said anything else. “I’ll get it. You can’t manage the steps and wouldn’t recognize it if you saw it.”
“It’s a crime scene, Tessa. People, especially relatives aren’t supposed to go in there until it’s released. You wait here with Mamacita, and if I’m not back by the time Ramona gets home, send her over to help.”
She didn’t know what his problem was and didn’t much care. Let him limp over there and do it himself. Then she wouldn’t have to see it.
A small knot had formed in the pit of her stomach, and with every word he said, it grew bigger.
Ruben turned first one way then the other as he tried to figure out how to get down the steps. Sideways seemed to work best. Hard to manage, but not nearly as bad as yesterday. Maybe he was getting a little of his strength back.
He shouldn’t have been so short with Tessa. And he definitely shouldn’t have sprung all that on her without any warning. He’d have to apologize later.
But why did she have to insist on a black candle. How many people would have one of those? And she made such a big deal out of the knife. Mamacita wouldn’t have known any difference if she’d just gotten one from the kitchen.
Maybe she was right. The bigger the production, the more likely Mamacita was to believe the whole ridiculous charade.
His breath came in pants by the time he’d hiked across the lawn and he leaned against the doorframe for support. He couldn’t stay like this. If she saw him, she’d come over to help.
He willed his heart to slow down, and stepped inside. The smell was far from pleasant, but not as bad as he’d expected. Some of the furniture had been moved out, and with it much of the congealed blood.
What had some teacher drummed into his head? The faster begun, the faster done. Okay, if he wanted out of here, and back on the sofa, then do this the way he was taught.
Police procedure 101: Divide the area to be searched into quadrants and tak
e them one by one. Don’t skip around or you’ll miss something. And start on the right front. Most people were right handed and that’s the way they turned when they looked around a room.
One room, plus a bath. Basically a large rectangle. He could do this.
He glanced around the room to get his bearings. A tiny kitchen, even smaller than the one at his cabin, filled the back left corner. His feet moved of their own accord.
Three drawers were all the kitchen offered. His hand moved to the center one and slid it open. One finger pushed aside a collection of serving spoons and bottle openers.
A double-bladed knife with a black handle decorated with a silver scarab stared back at him.
Chapter 41
“Tessa.”
She rushed to the door to find Ruben sitting on the front steps. Was he back already? Didn’t he plan on a systematic search of the entire apartment?
A sheen of sweat coated his forehead and his breathing sounded labored. “Will this do?” He held out a black-handled knife.
She grabbed the knife and studied it. Her breath caught at the sight of the silver scarab. Could it be the same one she’d seen her mother use so many years ago?
It certainly looked old. She tested the blade with one finger. Yep, still sharp.
A grin crossed her face. Now she had something of her mother’s to keep. “This is it. This was Mother’s athame. With all that power, it should work perfectly.” Or would it? Did the power stay with the athame even when wielded by a bunch of amateurs?
Ruben heaved a big sigh and she’d have bet her last penny he rolled his eyes. What was with him today?
“Can you help me up? I think the hike over there and back did me in.”
The Witch On Twisted Oak Page 24