A Breath of Witchy Air

by Amanda M. Lee

  “You click on them.” The girl touched a purple icon. “See? This is my friend Julie. She’s in the museum collecting stuff. If I want to meet up with her, I just tap twice and it sends a request for us to team up. If she agrees, we follow the map to each other.”

  “What happens if you meet someone you don’t know?”

  “Then you can get to know them in the chatroom before deciding.” The girl licked her lips. “Most everyone who plays the game is cool and safe but you never know because there are always weirdos out there. I make sure to meet people in the chatroom first.”

  That sounded pragmatic … and full of holes. “But it’s still on the internet,” I pressed. “How do you know the people you meet in the chatroom are who they say they are?”

  “Who else would they be?”

  “I don’t know, maybe some perverted dude who drives around in a white van or something? How can you know these people are real? I mean, is there any sort of means for identification verification on here?”

  The young woman rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might fall over. “You’re thinking too hard. It’s just a game.”

  I knew what she said was true, yet I couldn’t stop the niggling worry in the back of my brain from growing. Something felt off about the entire situation.

  “HERE I COME!”

  Landon leaped out of the bedroom shortly after seven, his face flushed with euphoric joy. He wore nothing but his boxer shorts and the raccoon hat, and he seemed to be in the mood to have a raucous evening.

  I was still in my jeans and sweatshirt. I’d gone so far as to kick off my shoes and put the pizza and wings on the coffee table before reclining on the couch, but that was as far as I made it. My new nightgown remained in the shopping bag on the kitchen table.

  “You’re not playing right,” Landon complained, straightening. “You were supposed to change into that nightgown thing you bought.”

  “You know that nightgown isn’t sexy, right? It’s supposed to be the exact opposite.”

  “Oh, you don’t know anything.” Landon threw himself on the couch next to me. “The fact that you can’t see anything is what makes the outfit sexy.”

  That was the exact opposite of everything I’d learned since I was of an age when things like pajamas mattered. “Since when is that the rule?”

  “Um, always.”

  “I guess I’m behind.” I patted his knee before leaning forward and grabbing the pizza box. “How about we eat first and I’ll get with the program after?”

  “Okay, but you’d better have a lot of energy after all this food.” Landon was ridiculously happy as he opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice. “I’m so glad we decided to stay down here tonight. I love your family, but this is our first night alone in our new private digs. I want it to be just the two of us.”

  “So you told me.” I wasn’t bothered by the pizza suggestion. In fact, I liked the idea a great deal. I remained bothered by other things, though – including four dead girls and a game that made me uneasy – so I wasn’t exactly at my best. “I promise to perk up after some food.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Landon eyed me for a long moment as he chewed his pizza. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Why do you think something is wrong?”

  “Because we’ve been together long enough that I can read you. In fact, I like to think I read you better than most.”

  “You do read me better than most.”

  “So … spill.”

  “Okay, I’m bothered by the fact that those girls were all students in Gaylord but were dumped here,” I said hurriedly. “Doesn’t that mean the killer probably has ties to Hemlock Cove? Maybe the killer is a local and attends school in Gaylord. Have you considered that?”

  Landon swallowed hard as he widened his eyes. “Wow. I thought you were going to tell me you missed Thistle or that you were nervous about closing on The Whistler tomorrow. I even thought you might admit to being afraid of Brian. I got new locks, by the way. I plan to talk with him to make sure he leaves right away as soon as things are signed, but I’m changing the locks regardless.”

  His reaction surprised me. “Oh. You thought I would be upset about Thistle moving out?”

  Landon chuckled. “Of course you would focus on that. I should’ve seen that coming.” He dragged a hand through his hair before reaching for a second slice of pizza. “Yes, I thought you might be a little upset that Thistle moved out.”

  “But … why?”

  “Because you guys have lived together for a long time. Even before you lived together here you were roommates of a different sort in the main house. This is a big change for you.”

  “Not really.”

  “It is.”

  “No, it’s really not.” I shifted on the couch and snagged the box of wings. “The thing is, we’ve been living different lives for a while now. It’s okay. We’ll still see each other every day. We don’t need to share a roof. In fact, our relationships might improve now that we’re not on top of each other.”

  Landon looked dubious. “I think sometimes you guys liked being on top of each other.”

  “And there’s no reason we can’t occasionally choose to do that. I’m sincerely happy it’s just you and me from here on out.”

  “Good.” Landon gave me a quick kiss. “I’m happy, too.”

  “Hence the hat.” I couldn’t stop staring at it. “I can’t believe you’re wearing that thing.”

  “Hey, I happen to know that I look foxy in this hat.”

  I cocked a challenging eyebrow. “Foxy? I didn’t think anyone still used that word.”

  “I’m bringing it back.”

  “Awesome.” I dipped a wing in blue cheese dressing. “About the girls, though. Do you think the killer is local?”

  Landon swallowed a bite of pizza and tilted his head as he considered the question. “There are two schools of thought on that.”

  “Which are?”

  “Are you sure this is the way you want to spend the evening?”

  “I’m sure this is what I want to talk about until we’re done with dinner,” I clarified. “After that I have different plans for our evening.”

  “At least you’re coming around.” Landon grinned as he wiped a spot of dressing from the corner of my mouth. “So, as for location, it depends on the profiler.

  “On one hand, most serial killers want to point law enforcement officers in what they believe is the opposite direction,” he continued. “Sometimes they use forensic countermeasures – like leaving someone else’s DNA at a crime scene – and sometimes they dump bodies in a spot they believe will confuse investigators.”

  “Most serial killers really want to get caught, right? They get off on the attention.”

  “Kind of,” Landon hedged. “I would say a high percentage of serial killers want to get caught. After a certain amount of time they don’t get the rush they used to when killing and they decide they want the notoriety that comes with their position.

  “Other killers like the thrill of the hunt more than anything so they don’t want to get caught and do their best to cover their tracks,” he continued. “That sort of killer isn’t the type to toss a body by a busy road. That sort is far more likely to take the time and effort to transport a body to a spot where he or she believes it will never be found.”

  That made sense … in a creepy way. “So you think we have a killer who wants to get caught.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Landon cautioned. “We don’t know enough about our killer to assign motivations. We still don’t know if there’s a sexual component to the kills. We don’t know where the girls were taken from. We don’t know where they were killed. We don’t know why they were transported here.

  “It could be the killer is local and either attends classes at the community college or works there,” he continued. “Most serial killers don’t start dropping bodies until they’re a little older. They focus on animals at a young age until they
find enough courage to go after a human being.”

  “So you’re saying our killer might live here or he simply might have chosen to dump the bodies here because he thought no one would find them.”

  “Even though the road is busy, the trees are thick,” Landon pointed out. “It’s not easy to carry a body. Even with small girls like we’re dealing with, dead weight is a struggle. And digging graves by hand in frozen ground is almost impossible.”

  “So what’s your next step?”

  Landon wiped off his hands and moved the pizza box from my lap. “I’m going to romance my live-in girlfriend.”

  I smirked. “I mean with the investigation.”

  “I know what you mean.” Landon momentarily sobered. “I don’t know what our next step is. We have a meeting with Chief Terry and the state police tomorrow morning. We’re probably going to put together a task force and go from there.

  “As for the killer being a local, I am worried enough that I want you to be careful,” he continued. “If that means running around with Aunt Tillie, I’m fine with it. A killer – serial or otherwise – would have to be a moron to take her on.”

  He had a point. “Especially now that she’s wearing her new hat with the leggings.”

  “Yeah. Did you see your mom’s face when we dropped her off? I thought she was going to have a meltdown.”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out. Sometimes my mother has delayed meltdowns.”

  Landon gave me a sweet kiss. “Let’s stop talking about your mother and focus on each other.”

  “I’m still eating.” I held up a wing for emphasis. “If you must romance me, you’ll have to do it while I’m eating.”

  Landon’s grin was so wide it threatened to swallow his entire face. “Now you’re talking. Take a big bite of that chicken and make growling noises while you do it.”

  I shook my head. “You’re kind of sick.”

  “You love me anyway.”

  “Yeah. A lot.”

  “Right back at you.”

  Ten

  Landon left for his meeting shortly after breakfast, which consisted of cold cereal and juice. If we were going to eat at the guesthouse more often, I would have to start shopping. The idea wasn’t exactly exciting – and my cooking skills were severely lacking – so I decided it would be better to point Landon toward the inn for breakfast and dinner. Once the initial excitement about our new living arrangements wore off, I figured it wouldn’t be that difficult.

  I headed downtown a full hour before I had to be at the bank for the closing. I opted to head to Mrs. Gunderson’s bakery for coffee and a doughnut – the cereal was simply not filling enough to fuel my day – and I was surprised to find Thistle and Clove already seated inside.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked, sliding out of my coat before sitting at their table.

  “What does it look like we’re doing?” Thistle asked, a cake doughnut with sprinkles clutched in her hand.

  “We’re sugaring up,” Clove said, ignoring Thistle’s sarcastic nature. “Pay no attention to her. She’s crabby.”

  “I noticed.” I signaled Mrs. Gunderson for coffee and gestured toward Thistle’s doughnut so she would know I wanted the same before continuing. “I’d think you’d be in a good mood now that you’re living in your fancy new house. Do you not like it now that you’re there?”

  “I like it fine,” Thistle replied. “It’s a great house, and I absolutely love it.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “I hate unpacking.” Thistle made a face. “I wish I was the sort of witch who could conjure up an incantation that magically put all my belongings away.”

  “We all wish we were that sort of witch.”

  “I don’t.” Clove sipped her coffee. “I like organizing things. I like cleaning. I especially love working in the garden. I can’t wait until spring. I’m going all out for that patio beside the Dandridge.”

  I pursed my lips. “That sounds just like you.”

  Thistle snorted. “Yeah. She’s clearly adopted or something.”

  Clove was a clone of her mother – right down to the over-sized chest and small stature – so that didn’t seem likely. “Everyone has different interests. In fact, I went to Call of the Wild with Landon and Aunt Tillie yesterday and they both left with the same hat. Who knew they’d share an interest in the same hat? I didn’t see that coming.”

  Clove giggled, genuinely amused. “What kind of hat?”

  “One of those fake coonskin hats with the tail.”

  “Oh, that is so … wait. Did our mothers see Aunt Tillie’s new hat?” Thistle looked intrigued at the prospect. “If she pairs that hat with the leggings she’ll drive them nuts.”

  “I believe that was her intention.”

  “Of course it was.”

  We lapsed into amiable silence as Mrs. Gunderson delivered my coffee and doughnut. I dug in my purse, but noticed Mrs. Gunderson wasn’t even looking at me when I tried to pass her a twenty. I followed her gaze, frowning when I realized two local teenagers – kids I thought should be in school this time of day – stood in front of the large window, a light snow falling around them as they stared at their phones.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “What?” Mrs. Gunderson shook her head as she took the twenty. “I don’t know. These kids are all playing that stupid game. It worries me. They don’t even pay attention when crossing the street. Those two just stared at their phones the entire time. Thankfully the roads are mostly clear, but if they don’t watch where they’re going they’re an accident waiting to happen.”

  The hair on the back of my neck prickled. “What game?”

  “I don’t know. It’s some phone game. I first noticed kids playing it about a week ago. It was only two of them at the time but now it seems to be every teenager I see.”

  “A phone game?” Thistle wrinkled her forehead. “What kind of game do you play on your phone while crossing the street?”

  “It’s called Infinity Echo,” I answered automatically. “It’s one of those augmented reality games where you have to walk around to collect things.”

  Thistle arched an eyebrow. “Since when do you know about computer games? The only time I ever see you use your computer or phone is when you have to conduct research for a story.”

  “I check the weather, too.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “I know about the game because practically every student at the community college in Gaylord is playing it,” I explained as Mrs. Gunderson disappeared with her money. “Aunt Tillie and I went into a coffee shop and – I’m not joking – there had to be at least twenty people inside playing the game.

  “Then, when we went to Call of the Wild, there were another fifteen people there playing it,” I continued. “One of the salespeople told me that Call of the Wild was some hub. They didn’t fight people playing the game because they paid to go through the museum just so they could collect things.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Thistle waved her hand to get my attention. “You took Aunt Tillie to the college? On purpose?”

  Clove giggled loudly. “I’m glad you said it and not me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It sounds like a big deal to me,” Thistle argued. “Are you guys buddies now or something? Are you going through withdrawal now that you don’t have me for a roommate?”

  “I’m not going through withdrawal. It’s just … well … Aunt Tillie caught me at an odd time.” I told Thistle about what happened when I’d arrived at the office the previous day, finishing up with the fact that I was a bit nervous even though I didn’t believe Brian would harm me. “It was as if Aunt Tillie sensed it or something. I’m already on shaky ground because I found those bodies and can’t get the images out of my head. Right after it happened I felt this magical hum beneath my skin that I can’t quite explain. I’m a bit nervous right now and I simply can’t shake it. It seemed easier to just let he
r go with me.”

  Clove patted my hand, sympathy apparent. “I don’t blame you. That’s weird about Brian.”

  “It’s more than weird,” Thistle argued. “It’s psychotic. Have you seen him since?”

  I shook my head. “The closing is in an hour … actually, a little less than that now. I guess I’ll see him then.”

  “Are you going to say something?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? “I’m not sure.” I opted for honesty. “That’s probably the reaction he wants. He was acting out and wants me to call him on his bad behavior, perhaps make a scene so he can be the aggrieved party in public. Won’t it bother him more if I say nothing?”

  “Or it will allow him to think he’s winning,” Thistle corrected. “He clearly has issues.”

  “I’ll say.” Clove involuntarily shivered as she snuggled into her coat. “I don’t like that at all.”

  “You sound like Landon.”

  “Speaking of Landon, what does he say about all of this?” Thistle asked. “I can’t imagine he’ll let Brian’s actions slide without saying something.”

  “He made it very clear he’s going to say something.”

  “Good.”

  “Then he got distracted with an early meeting this morning,” I added. “They’re talking about putting a task force together to deal with the dead girls. I think he has more important things on his mind than a real estate transaction.”

  “Or you hope he does because you want to avoid a fight,” Thistle argued. “Something tells me Brian won’t get away free and clear no matter how busy Landon is.”

  “I didn’t mention the closing this morning,” I supplied. “I want him to let it go. In another two hours I’ll be the proud owner of a weekly newspaper. That’s what I want to focus on.”

  “I think that’s a good idea and I’m excited for you.” Thistle looked sincere. “I don’t think that means Landon is simply going to forget that he hates Brian and that your safety is his number one priority.”

  I balked. “Brian would never hurt me. He’s too spineless.”

  “Normally I would agree with you, but he’s carrying around a lot of rage these days. I saw him downtown two days ago and I swear he looked as if he wanted to hit me when I said hi. Of course, I practically sang to him because I was feeling so obnoxious.”