by Dawn Eastman
Regaining my sense of manners, I shook her hand. “It was nice to meet you—again.”
I ran to my Jeep, jumped in, and locked the door as if I could somehow lock out the feeling that I would never escape from the expectations of my mother.
17
Pushing all thoughts of Neila Whittle and my family out of my mind, I focused on the problem at hand, which was how to get Dylan out of jail and find closure for Diana.
I texted Seth and told him to meet me out in the street in front of my mom’s house. I wasn’t ready to talk to Vi or my mother yet. I didn’t know whether Mom was in on this latest attempt to make me “accept my destiny,” but I felt like avoiding both of them for now. Turning the corner, I saw Seth and the dogs loitering at the curb.
“What’s with the stealth?” Seth said after he loaded the dogs and buckled his seat belt.
“Let’s go get Alex and see what we can find out about Rafe,” I said.
Seth shrugged and said, “You’re driving.” One thing I loved about Seth was that he was always up for whatever came along.
Alex was more difficult. It took a bit more explaining, coercing, and downright whining to get him to leave the restaurant and get in my Jeep. It was well after the lunch rush so he didn’t have that excuse but liked to have a plan in place before gallivanting off on an adventure. Since I didn’t have a plan, it made convincing him problematic.
“Let’s just figure it out when we get to Rafe’s house. We have to do something,” I said when I finally had him moving toward the Jeep.
He stopped on the sidewalk and peered into the vehicle’s windows.
“I’m not sitting in the back with the animals,” Alex said.
Seth sighed and got out of the Jeep. “Be my guest,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the front seat.
“Which Hardy Boy are you?” Alex asked.
“Hardy who?” Seth pushed the dogs out of the way and folded himself into the backseat. “Is that a new group?”
Alex sighed and shook his head. “Why don’t you Google it?”
“Not that interested, dude.”
I turned on the radio to stop the bickering, and headed north.
Rafe had lived in a small bungalow on the outskirts of Grand Rapids. One of those neighborhoods unsure of whether it was moving up or down in the world. Adorable cottages with flowers in the window boxes and fresh paint on the porches sat next to houses with boarded-up windows, peeling paint, and broken rakes and lawn mowers in the yard. I parked one block over just in case a vigilant neighborhood watch was in place.
Rafe’s small house was painted a cheery yellow with white trim. He had crammed an herb garden and a flower garden onto his small lot. On this leaden, cloudy day, the brown plants and scattered leaves looked forlorn. The house had already settled into benign neglect. Flyers for pizza delivery and cleaning services cluttered his welcome mat. Leaves skittered over the porch and down the steps. The windows were dark and reflected the gray of the sky.
Diana had told me there was a key above the windowsill to the right of the door. I found it easily and slid it into the lock. I hesitated a moment before turning it, feeling guilty about intruding into this man’s life. Then I remembered Dylan and twisted the small piece of metal with a satisfying click.
Alex glanced nervously up and down the street. “Are you sure this is legal?”
Oblivious to our conversation, Seth’s head bobbed to his iPod soundtrack.
“No, I’m not sure,” I said. “There’s no police tape or note on the door saying to stay out. We have a key. I think we would be able to talk our way out of any trouble.”
“Maybe in Crystal Haven where you have Mac twisted around your finger, but not here in Grand Rapids,” Alex said.
I put my hands on my hips. “I don’t have Mac twisted around anything.”
Seth snorted. Maybe he was less oblivious than I thought.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Alex said, and stepped inside.
It felt like a violation to walk into the house without the owner there. All of his belongings watched us, waiting to see what we were up to. Literally. Artwork of various pagan gods and goddesses followed us with their eyes. A quick perusal of the living room revealed Rafe’s altar draped in a deep rust cloth embroidered with a pentagram. Pumpkins, gourds, and candles sat on top. I recognized the arrangement from Diana’s house. She always decorated with seasonal items as well. She explained it was a way to bring nature into the house.
“What are we looking for, anyway?” Alex asked. His eyes darted warily from item to item.
I shrugged. “I’m hoping we’ll know it when we see it.”
Seth took his earbuds out. “I don’t know what to look for.” He peered around the entryway. “Ooh, kerosene lamps!” He stepped toward the mantel, where the lamps stood beneath a pentagram wreath made of twigs.
I put out a hand to stop him. “You take the kitchen and the bathroom,” I said. “Just look for anything that feels out of place or that might indicate Rafe had a problem with anyone.”
I pointed Alex upstairs to the bedrooms. I took the office and living room. Other than the altar and the kerosene lamps, the living room contained a threadbare couch and chairs draped with throw blankets. A battered table held a beautiful Tiffany lamp with a Celtic knot pattern that looked to my untrained eye like an antique. Next to it sat a small square leather clock that had to be one of Dylan’s. What Rafe had saved on furniture, he spent on electronics. A large flat-screen TV took up the wall opposite the altar.
Rafe’s office looked like a band of monkeys lived there. Piles of magazines claimed the space around the perimeter of the room, obscuring the baseboards. His large desk hulked in the corner under the weight of notebooks, dried herbs, candles, and a sleek laptop. My shoulders slumped at the sight. This was the room most likely to yield results but it would take days to sort through everything. I mentally rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
An hour later, I sat back and stretched my arms over my head. I’d been hunched over Rafe’s desk, sorting through piles of paperwork and stacks of sticky notes with reminders to pick up dry cleaning or to increase the proportion of rosemary in an herbal poultice and everything in between. Rafe had stuffed one of Morgan’s revenge kits between a book on Wiccan rituals and a Grand Rapids guidebook.
Seth wandered in and said he’d found nothing “unusual” in the kitchen or bathroom. “I did find this on the top shelf of the pantry. I thought it was a recipe book but maybe not.” He produced an old, worn, leather notebook.
I flipped through it and recognized that it must be Rafe’s grimoire, based on my recent education in those specialty notebooks.
“Thanks, Seth. This might be useful.”
Alex wandered in, yawning, and reported he had found nothing except fancy soaps and incense. He held out a bar of soap with a handmade label that said EMBERMYST. I recognized it from the festival but couldn’t remember who had sold it.
“He had a bunch of these in the upstairs bathroom,” Alex said.
I took the soap and inspected it. It smelled of mint and lavender. I shrugged and set it on the desk.
“I’m not having any luck, either,” I said. “I can’t find any information that might lead to knowing who would want to hurt him.”
“Were you expecting a threatening letter or blackmail note?” Alex asked.
“No.” Yes. “I just thought there would be something here to point us in the right direction. One strange thing was this.” I pushed a lever under the desktop and a panel slid open in the top desk drawer.
“Wicked,” Seth breathed. He stepped forward to try it for himself.
“I found his will here in the secret drawer. He left everything to Diana and Dylan.”
“Really?” Alex took the stack of papers from me. “This won’t help Dylan’s case. Didn’t Rafe have any
family?”
I shook my head. “Apparently not, at least no one he’d leave his house to. I also found a family-tree diagram with the will.”
I had just turned back to pull that file out of the drawer when we heard a car door slam outside. I froze. Seth ducked down along the wall and slowly raised his eyes above the windowsill for a peek.
“Oh, crap,” Seth said. “You aren’t going to believe this, Clyde.”
I was sure I would believe, just maybe not like it. I waited, and when I didn’t reply he continued.
“Mac is here with some other cops I don’t recognize.”
I felt my eyes grow big and my stomach dropped down around my knees. Alex’s panicked look mirrored my feelings.
“We have to get out of here,” I said.
“They’re talking by the cars right now, but I think they’re coming in,” Seth whispered.
Alex grabbed my arm, gestured at Seth to follow, and dragged me through the kitchen toward the back door.
We tiptoed quickly to the back of the house and were about to open the door and bolt through the backyard when a man wearing a blue uniform came into view. We all ducked and turned around. We made it back into the front hall just as the doorknob started to turn. Seth squeezed my arm and pointed up the narrow staircase leading to the bedrooms. I shook my head no—I didn’t want to be trapped in the house with Mac doing a room-by-room search.
Alex sided with Seth and we were all at the top of the staircase when we heard Mac’s voice enter the house down below.
I had noticed that the bungalow had a third-floor window and figured there must be attic space somewhere. I would just have to hope that the cops didn’t need to do a very thorough search. They were probably here on the same mission as we were—to see what had been going on recently in Rafe’s life. No one put their important stuff in the attic, right?
Alex found the small door in the ceiling and we popped it open quietly and lowered the ladder without it squeaking. I sent a quick thank-you to Rafe for keeping his hinges oiled.
After we were in the attic, which was dim and gloomy on this late autumn afternoon, Alex pulled the ladder up inside and replaced the door. We sat hunched by the opening, listening to footsteps in the rooms below. I mentally smacked my forehead when I realized I had left the grimoire sitting downstairs on the desk. I’d managed to put the other documents back in the secret drawer . . . maybe I’d get a chance to come back later.
Rather than waste time getting a leg cramp and worrying, I clicked on my handy penlight and crept around the area. Alex followed. The usual assortment of junk languished in the corners. Two trunks looked promising, but contained only old musty clothing from a previous owner, unless Rafe was also a cross-dressing ’60s hippie. A dressmaker’s form stood alone in a far corner—was that a required fixture for an attic? A further perusal of old bicycle tires, baseball mitts, and hockey pads turned up nothing useful. I wasn’t even sure any of it had belonged to Rafe.
Seth, who had been stationed by the trapdoor, waved his arms like a drunken air-traffic signaler. Alex and I tiptoed back to where he stood.
“They’re talking about coming up here.” He said it so quietly we both had to lean toward him.
“What should we do?” Alex mouthed.
Seth pointed to the small window at the far side of the attic. I could barely make out tree branches through the grime. The window faced the backyard but it was three stories up. I have only a couple of fears. Guns, bad guys, small spaces, even snakes didn’t bother me. Spiders I could tolerate at a good distance. Heights did me in.
I shook my head and backed away. My foot found the one creaky floorboard in the whole attic.
“Did you hear that?” a male voice floated up from the floor below.
“It’s just the wind.” That one was Mac. They moved off to the other end of the house.
“How are we going to get Dylan out of jail if we’re all sharing his cell?” Alex said.
“You won’t have to climb, Clyde. We’ll just wait there on the roof until they go. It’s better than being killed by Mac.” Seth pulled on my sleeve.
At least Seth and Alex could hide out there. I’d decide when the time came whether I needed to join them or not.
We tiptoed again across the attic and no squeaky floorboards gave us away. I was sure that the window would be stuck and save me from needing to climb through it. But, no, it swung open easily as if it was used all the time. Now I was cursing Rafe and his general home-maintenance tendencies.
Seth was the first out, fearless as only a teenager can be. He poked his head back in. “It’s fine, there’s plenty of room. The roof is kind of steep, but it’s not slippery.”
Alex waited for me. He knew I’d never follow them out. He narrowed his eyes, tilted his head toward the window, and pointed. I felt my shoulders slump. Then we both spun in the direction of the trapdoor as it dropped open and weak light from the floor below leaked upward.
Alex began moving his hand in a circular, “hurry up” gesture. I took a deep breath and put my foot on the ledge. I barely had time to steady myself before I felt a huge push from behind. Good thing Seth was there to grab me or Alex would have pushed me right off the roof. We quickly found our footing and I looked straight ahead into the tree branches. Alex scrambled out right after me and pulled the window closed. He stood on the other side of the window, legs spread for a better grip on the steep roof, hands grasping the siding.
We plastered ourselves against the wall of the house and waited. I heard Mac and the other guy moving around the attic. They weren’t tiptoeing. They were certainly taking their time, however.
A cold drop of rain hit me right between the eyes. Of course. I had a brief moment to hope for a light drizzle before a full-on autumn rain began in earnest. We were soaked within two minutes. I couldn’t wipe the water out of my eyes because I was busy clutching the side of the house, trying not to shift my weight for fear of sliding off the roof.
How long were they going to search the attic? There was nothing up there.
“Clyde?” Seth whispered.
I turned my head in his direction.
“I really have to pee.”
I looked heavenward and got a few huge raindrops in my eyes.
“You’ll have to wait, obviously,” I hissed at him.
“The rain is really not helping. I think I can climb off the side and drop onto the first-floor roof.” He began to sidle toward the edge.
“Seth! Come back here,” I whispered, loudly.
He slipped and grabbed my hand. I took a moment to convince my heart to stop racing and realized I couldn’t hear Mac and the other officers inside anymore. I leaned over to peek through the window and almost lost my balance when I saw Mac’s face peering back at me. He rolled his eyes and shoved the window open.
“Come on. I wondered how long you would stay out there.” He put his hand out through the window. I took it and he pulled me inside. So glad to be safe and not sliding down the roof, I clung to him for a moment. I also thought that would remind him of how he really didn’t want to arrest me. I hoped the guys were safe—that he hadn’t seen them—but then he pushed me away and stuck his head out the window again.
“You guys coming or are you enjoying the weather?”
Seth and Alex climbed back into the attic and waited, casting nervous glances from me to Mac and back again. Their clothes dripped quietly onto the floor, and they stood as still as possible. They both knew better than to say anything.
Mac crossed his arms. Seth shuffled his feet and continued to study the floor. Alex pushed his hands in his back pockets and looked at the ceiling.
“How did you know we were out there?” I said.
“Your Jeep is easy to spot and there’s this.” Mac passed his phone to me—there was a picture taken from the backyard of the three of us standing on th
e roof before it started raining.
I handed it back. “Charla?”
Mac nodded. “She was smart enough to come in when the rain started.” He left the rest of that statement alone.
I waited. I knew Mac wouldn’t be able to hold off for very long.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in? I should be taking you all down to the station.”
“I think we’ll leave you two alone,” Alex said and snagged Seth’s sleeve. They both raced down the ladder to the floor below.
Mac turned slowly to face me.
“We had a key so, technically, we didn’t break in,” I began.
Mac pinched the bridge of his nose.
“We wanted to help Dylan. He couldn’t have hurt Rafe. We were just looking for some other reason why someone would want Rafe dead.”
Mac nodded and then shook his head. He took a deep breath and I sensed he was maybe counting to one thousand.
“I can’t do this again,” he said. “You and your gang of amateur operatives have to back off and let me do my job.”
“But—”
“No. I almost lost you last summer. Seth could have been killed. Do I have to remind you of the danger?”
I shook my head.
“If I have to put all of you in a jail cell to keep you protected, I will. Fortunately, I think Dylan is the murderer and he’s already in prison so you’re safe for now.” He put his hand up to stop me from interrupting. “If that changes and I sense any risk to any of you . . .” he dropped his hand. “Help me out here, Clyde.”
I didn’t want to see him so worried and harassed. But he didn’t ever listen. Once his mind was made up, he was like Aunt Vi with a mission—unstoppable. I nodded, indicating acquiescence that I didn’t feel.
18
Seth, Alex, and I left Rafe’s house under Mac’s watchful eye.
The rain had slowed and we walked to the car, where we were greeted by the wagging and woofing dogs. Baxter ran the length of the backseat, causing the vehicle to rock. So much for subtlety. We climbed in and I started the Jeep and put it in gear. Before I had a chance to pull away from the curb, a black Tahoe barreled past.