by Geof Johnson
“No it doesn’t. His magic makes him supernaturally good, and that’s not right, and he knew it. That’s why he quit.”
“Dang, you people have this thing about magic and morals, don’t you?”
“We’re not the only ones. Momma Sue and Mrs. Malley do, too.”
“Still.” Nova sucked in a slow breath and rolled her head back and forth on her pillow. “You guys could probably rule the world if you wanted to, with all the power you have together.”
“Rule the world? Why would we want to do that? Sounds like a huge hassle.”
“Um...well, now that I think about it, I suppose it would be. I guess staying under the radar has its advantages.”
“If you want any semblance of a normal life, yeah.”
“Normal...I wouldn’t know what that is. But it seems like your folks have adjusted to the situation, huh? Rollie’s parents are okay with it. I like them.” She nodded slowly. “Rollie’s cool, too. I, um, know this sounds nosy, but...how come he doesn’t have a girlfriend? He’s kinda cute.”
“He did, for a long time. Her name was Tanisha, but when Rollie’s dad kicked him out of the house back in April, she wasn’t very supportive, and I think that made Rollie mad.” Fred shrugged. “She’s kinda shallow, I hate to say. She was a cheerleader with Melanie and she’s kinda preppy and stuff.”
“Not me.” Nova flicked one of her dreadlocks with a fingernail. “I’m anti-preppy.”
Fred laughed and said, “Yes, you are, and proud of it.”
Nova grinned at her but didn’t answer. Fred said, “Plus, any girl Rollie dates is going to have to be cool about our magic and everything, and Tanisha probably wouldn’t be.”
Nova stared at the ceiling again and worked her mouth slowly from side to side. Then she said, “Rollie sure is talented. You all are. He showed me another video of one of your shows, and then he got out his dummy, Rufus.” Nova chuckled. “He did a little bit of ventriloquism for me, and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.” She turned to face Fred. “I wish I had talent like you guys.”
“You can write. I couldn’t write a poem to save my life.” Fred rolled onto her side and supported herself on her elbow. “You were supposed to show us some of your stuff. When are you going to do that?”
Nova waved a dismissive hand. “I’m gonna throw all that old crap out. It’s too depressing. I’ve been writing some new stuff lately that I like a lot better. I’ll let you see it when I finish something I’m proud of.”
“If you don’t do it soon, I’ll try to find some of your old stuff online.”
Nova didn’t answer. Her gaze was fixed on the ceiling again, her face drawn up in a half-smile for a long moment. Finally she said, “You know, you guys are so lucky. I don’t think you even know how lucky you are. You got to grow up together, best friends and everything, right next door, practically. And you knew about the magic and stuff, and helped each other out.” She nodded slowly. “I hardly had any really close friends, not like Jamie and Rollie.”
“And Melanie,” Fred said. “And Bryce, too, though they’ve only been really good buddies of ours for the last year or so.”
“That’s way more friends than I got. It’s hard making friends when you know the things I know.”
“Because of your magic?”
“I know when they’re being two-faced and whatever because I can tell when they’re lying, and it seems like everybody is two-faced.”
“Do you think I am?”
Nova looked at Fred for a few seconds before saying, “No, not really, but I can’t tell because you’re using the block.” Then she turned her gaze back to the ceiling. “And I’m glad. I don’t want to know.”
“Now you get to see what it’s like to be normal, huh?” Fred said and Nova sputtered a laugh.
“As normal as it gets,” Nova said, “being around two other witches and two wizards. Even if Rollie doesn’t like to do spells, he’s still a wizard.”
“Well, that’s normal to us.”
“Sure. It’s cool. But you guys are lucky, because you’re friends.”
“We’re your friends, now. Go on, admit it.” Fred tried not to smile. “We’re friends.”
Nova sighed and said, “Yeah, sure. We’re friends.” Then she turned to face Fred again. “Now, can we turn out the light and get some sleep? I want to get up in time to hang out with Sammi a little bit before I have to go home in the morning.”
Chapter 21
Duane Gundy knew that his best option for raising money quickly was to sell one of the cars, and after thinking it over for many hours, he made the painful decision to sell the Trans Am, his dream machine.
He already knew someone who was interested in it, and it was worth more than the Camry. Plus, the Trans Am was too conspicuous, and people would notice him if he used it to cruise through Hendersonville’s neighborhoods searching for Sammi. The Camry was so boring that it was nearly invisible, which is why he hated it. The Camry got better gas mileage, too, and Gundy knew he would have to pinch pennies wherever possible, with no income and big expenses staring him in the face.
Now Gundy waited in the parking lot of a self-storage facility while a friend strolled around the Trans Am, admiring it from all angles.
“Come on, Ricky,” Gundy said. “Make up your mind. Ain’t got all day. It’s past noon already.”
“Let me drive it one more time.”
“You done drove it. You know what it’s like. Ain’t no car drives like this one.”
“Yeah.” Ricky smiled with one side of his mouth and rubbed his hand along the edge of the roof. Gundy wanted to slap him. You’re getting fingerprints on it, dumb ass.
Ricky nodded and looked at Gundy. “I’ll give you eighty-five hundred for it.”
Gundy shook his head. “I gotta have ten grand. It’s worth way more than that, book value, and this car is mint. Look at it...ain’t got one scratch on it, not one. Low mileage, too.”
“It’s nice, Duane. It’s awesome. You know I’ve always wanted one just like it, but I can’t get my hands on any more cash right now. It’s hard to come up with that kind of money on the weekend, and you said you gotta sell it right now.”
Wish I hadn’t told him that. Now he knows I’m desperate.
Gundy was torn. He could wait and hold out for more money from another buyer, or he could accept Ricky’s offer and be on his way to Hendersonville to find Sammi. “Took you long enough to get the cash. Friday night I told you I was selling it, and it’s Sunday already.”
“I don’t exactly keep wads of money in my cookie jar, Duane. I tapped out everybody I know, and I ended up having to borrow half of it from my cousin Josh.”
“Is he still dealing meth?”
“Yeah, and he’s usually got some cash lyin’ around.” Ricky gave the roof a couple of gentle pats and said, “You swear this thing’s paid off? You ain’t had it but two years. I don’t want the repo man snatchin’ it in the middle of the night ’cause you ain’t made the payments.”
“Naw, it’s paid for,” Gundy said with the smoothness of an accomplished liar. “Got the title somewhere at home, but we’ll have to wait ’till my wife gets back from Spartanburg ’fore I can find it. She put it somewhere.”
“Why can’t you call her and ask her where it is?”
“Uh, I did already, first thing this morning.” Gundy scratched his head and winced. “She can’t remember where it is. She said she’s got to look around the house, but she’ll find it, and then I’ll get it to you.”
Ricky still seemed hesitant, but Gundy gave him a steady, reassuring look until Ricky finally shrugged and said, “Okay. I believe you. I’ll take it.”
Gundy nodded. “Then you’ll have to give me a ride back to my house.” In my car, he thought bitterly. Only it won’t be my car no more. Gundy watched as Ricky pulled a roll of cash from his pocket and began counting out bills on the hood of the car. It gave Gundy no pleasure or satisfaction, only a thick, leaden feeling in his gut. I�
�m sellin’ the best car I everhad...to a skinny, pimplyfaced dumb ass. He gritted his teeth and grunted to himself, then turned his head and spit on the ground.
But it’ll be worth it once I get Sammi back.
* * *
Carl stood in front of the computer in his family room with Jamie, Sammi, and John Paul. Rachel and Lisa waited nearby, their faces dark with worry, and Larry paced back and forth across the carpet. Carl and John Paul had their handguns strapped to their waists, but John Paul was not wearing his police uniform, only a T-shirt and jeans, like Carl.
The image on the monitor showed the satellite view of the Gundy’s home in Bicksby. Jamie clicked the mouse one last time and said, “That’s as close as I can zoom in, Sammi. Where’s the best spot for me to make a doorway that’s near the house but kinda hidden, where no one will see us?”
Sammi stared at the screen for a moment and then pointed to a spot. “Um...there’s a place right about there where me and Libby built a fort. Mrs. Gundy didn’t like us to play in it much, ’cause she couldn’t see us from the house.”
“A fort?” Jamie said. “Like, made out of branches and stuff? Let me have a look.” Jamie made a glowing peep hole in mid-air and peered through it, then moved it a few inches with his finger and looked again. “I think I see it. It’s a clearing about the size of this room and there’s a pile of dead branches on one side of it. That could be a fort.”
“Can I see?” Sammi asked.
Jamie put his hands under her armpits and lifted her to the tiny circular portal. She looked through it and said, “That’s it.” A proud smile spread across her face. “That’s our fort.”
Jamie put her down and moved the peephole again, then put his eye to it. “I only see one car in front of the house. Looks like a silver Camry.”
“That’s Mrs. Gundy’s car,” Sammi said. “Mr. Gundy drives a black one. He loves it. He calls it his baby.”
“So he’s probably not home. This should be a good time to go.”
Jamie started to draw an outline of a doorway, but Rachel stepped closer and held out one hand. “Carl, do you have a plan of what you’re going to do when you get there?”
“I thought we’d check out the house from the shelter of the trees and then decide.”
“Is it going to be safe? Sammi, does Mr. Gundy have a gun?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Relax, Rachel,” Carl said. “I do this kind of thing for a living.”
“Except for the magic doorway part,” Jamie said. He finished tracing the portal and pushed it open. “See you in a while, Mom.”
Carl and John Paul followed him through and Jamie immediately closed the doorway behind them. They found themselves in a small clearing among some mature pines, and beyond the trees stood the Gundy’s small house, surrounded by a yard that was mostly dirt and clumps of weeds. The Camry was parked a short distance from the front door. The view through the windows was blocked by closed curtains.
They crouched in silence and studied the situation for a moment before John Paul said, “So how do we do this?”
“I’ll go see if anybody’s home,” Jamie said, and then vanished as he translocated. He re-appeared a split-second later next to the house and put his ear to the wall.
“What’s he doing, Carl?” John Paul said.
“Probably using his magic hearing.” They watched him for several seconds until Jamie waved them over. Carl and John Paul left the clearing and hurried across the yard to Jamie.
“I didn’t hear any heartbeats,” Jamie said when they reached him. “Just the hum of some kind of motor.”
“Probably the refrigerator,” Carl said. “Can you get us inside?”
“Piece of cake.” Jamie led them to the front door, and he touched the lock and it clicked. He opened it and they walked inside.
Carl pulled latex gloves from his back pocket and handed some to John Paul and Jamie. “Put these on first, so we don’t contaminate the scene. Then we look for any sign of a struggle...broken glass or furniture, blood on the floor...that kind of thing.”
“I think I should keep a lookout for Mr. Gundy,” Jamie said, “in case he returns.” He positioned himself next to the front window and pulled the curtain back an inch or two.
“Sammi thinks that the Gundys had their fight in here,” Carl said as he scanned the room. Then he inhaled sharply. “I see something.” There was a dark stain on the carpet near the television. He knelt and examined it carefully, and John Paul joined him. “This looks like blood.”
“It’s not that much, though,” John Paul said.
“If it was a head injury, it’s enough blood to be serious.” He leaned close to the entertainment stand and pointed to a spot. “There’s something here, too. Mrs. Gundy might’ve hit this on her way down.”
“That’s a pretty sharp corner.” John Paul grimaced. “That would’ve hurt.”
They both stood and Carl put his hands on his hips and looked around again. “Let’s check out the bedrooms real quick while we’re here.” He and John Paul went down the hall and paused at the first door. Carl looked in and said, “This must’ve been Sammi’s. You take this one and I’ll take the other one.”
Carl went to the last room, and there, lying on the unmade bed, was an open suitcase, filled with folded clothes. Men’s clothes, Carl noted. Gundy must be going someplace. Protruding from the pile was an envelope, covered with clear tape and already ripped open. Carl inspected it closely, and noticed that the handwriting on it appeared to be that of a child. Then he got a sinking feeling when he saw the return address, torn but still partly readable: —wood Dr., Hendersonville NC.
That’s got to be our street, Pinewood Drive. Sammi must’ve sent that. I think Gundy knows where she is.
He looked up when he heard footsteps in the hall. Jamie and John Paul appeared in the doorway and Jamie said urgently, “Dad, I think he’s here. A Trans Am just pulled into the yard with a couple of men inside it.
“We gotta go,” John Paul said.
“Should I make a doorway back home?”
“Wait a sec.” Carl returned the envelope to the suitcase. “Can you make one to the backyard and then hide us with your invisibility shield? I want to stick around and see what Gundy does.”
Jamie quickly traced a portal. They stepped through and it winked out, and they found themselves standing in some weeds, thirty feet from the back door.
“Stay close,” Jamie whispered and held out his hands.
The air shimmered for a second and John Paul said quietly, “Jamie, you sure he can’t see us?”
“Positive. This is just like when we rescued Fred from the witches, remember? As long as we stay together, we’re invisible.”
They heard the sound of a car driving away and John Paul said, “Think he left again?”
“Hard to say for sure,” Carl said quietly. “Let’s go around to the front so we can watch the door.”
They crept along the side yard, careful not to make any noise, but only went a short distance before John Paul pointed to a spot several feet away. “That looks suspicious.” Pine straw appeared to have been spread out recently, and clumps of dirt could be seen past its edges.
“Jamie,” Carl whispered, “can you tell if there’s anything under there?”
“Not while I’ve got my shield up. I can’t do both spells simultaneously.”
“Maybe we can check it out later. Let’s keep moving.”
They made their way past the corner of the house where they had a clear view of the front, and they settled in to watch. The Trans Am was gone, but the Camry was still there.
They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, Gundy burst from the door, locked it and rushed across the yard with his suitcase in his hand. He hurled it into the back seat of the car, jumped behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Then he drove off, dirt spinning from behind as he sped away.
The Camry disappeared down the road and Jamie dropped his shield. �
��Wonder where he’s going in such a hurry?”
“I think he’s going to Hendersonville.” Carl told them about the letter he’d found in Gundy’s suitcase.
“Oh, man,” Jamie said. “We were afraid something like that would happen. How do you think he got it?”
“Must’ve stolen it from Libby’s house. It was addressed to her.”
“We should go back and warn everybody,” John Paul said.
“We have time,” Carl said. “It’ll take Gundy almost four hours to get there, and the envelope didn’t have the complete return address. It might take him a while to find our street. Let’s check out that spot in the yard that’s got the fresh pine straw.”
Carl poked at the reddish-brown needles with the toe of one foot while Jamie held his hand over the pile and concentrated. After a few seconds Jamie groaned and dropped his arm. “There’s a body down there,” he said bleakly. “I think it’s a woman’s.”
“I was afraid of that,” Carl said. “Must be Mrs. Gundy. We’d better call the local sheriff.”
John Paul shook his head. “How are we going to explain why we’re here?”
Carl rubbed his chin and stared at the ground for a moment. “I have an idea. Jamie, I need you to make a doorway back to our garage so I can get my truck. John Paul, make sure you have your badge.”
Carl’s red pickup was parked in the front yard of the Gundys’ house, three fishing poles extending over the tailgate. Two Bartram County Sheriff’s cars sat in the shade nearby.
Carl, Jamie, John Paul, and the sheriff stood over the open grave, staring down at the dirt-covered lifeless body of Brenda Gundy. A couple of deputies, wearing their light brown uniforms, waited nearby, holding shovels.
Sheriff Mason, a solid, square-jawed man in his mid-forties, frowned as they regarded the gruesome sight. “That’s some nasty business. Looks like Duane went too far this time.”
“You think he did it?” Carl asked.
“Probably. Ain’t no secret that he’s been beating her. Brenda’s sister calls me at least once a week from Spartanburg, demanding that I lock him up. She and Brenda apparently talked on the phone a lot, especially after one of his rampages. Some fellow called me a couple days ago and said he heard the Gundy’s fighting, and that Duane might’ve hurt Brenda, but I figured Brenda’s sister was behind it...gotten her husband or somebody to call.”