Ripples in the Shadows

by Kathy Dexter

  The door opened and Clarissa hurried in. “Sorry I’m late. Had to finish in the other room. You couldn’t wait?”

  Hunter’s smile wobbled. “He was suffering too much.”

  “How long have you been here?” Logan asked. For that matter, how long had he been here?

  “We arrived at the hospital shortly after the ambulance brought you in,” Clarissa said. “Hunter called me as soon as she knew about the explosion.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “My dragon.” Hunter exhaled a shuddering breath. “Pictures––a slideshow––in my head. You stepped on the curb, a building exploded in a fireball, your body hurled. . .” Hunter coughed, pressed a hand to her mouth, her face a grayish-white.

  Clarissa hastened to her side and lifted a jar from her bag. She unscrewed the top. “Drink this, my dear.”

  Hunter gulped down half the contents before color tinted her cheeks.

  Logan tried to touch her, but he could barely his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  Clarissa answered. “She and her dragon drew out the poisonous gases and fiery heat from your burns. Her body absorbed the damage from the explosion so you could heal.”

  Logan could barely breathe. “Will she be all right?”

  “I’m not deaf.” Hunter’s voice had regained its strength. She handed the nearly empty jar to Clarissa. Then she stood in the center of the room and raised her amulet.

  The sapphire dragon glowed. Blue waves flowed around Hunter and lifted her into the air. Like a giant aspirator, a magnetic force sucked black and red embers from her smoky-gray aura and zapped each fragment, destroying the fiery injuries Hunter had transferred from Logan to herself. Only a blue incandescence remained.

  As the dragon lowered her toward the floor, Hunter leaned her head back and whooped. When her feet touched the tile, she grasped Clarissa’s hands and twirled her around.

  Clarissa let go and fanned herself with her hand. “Whew! A lighthearted end to a stressful night.”

  Hunter, face pale, stepped back, her hand curling into fists. Fragments of words spit and crackled along the mind link. Secrets. . .in the dark. . .hiding truth. . .family. . .

  Hunter was angry. At everyone. Why? Logan examined the set of Hunter’s shoulders, the flames sparking in her eyes, as she shoved back her red-gold hair. “Something’s troubling you.” Logan reached for her hand, this time making contact, and pulled her onto the bed, close, pressing his forehead against hers. “Tell me.”

  She pressed the palms of her hands on each side of his face, her gaze holding his. “Let’s make sure you’re okay before we deal with my problem.” She shifted slightly away from him.

  He grabbed her hand, about to insist, when Clarissa spoke. “They found a body at the garage.”

  Logan stiffened. “Chief Stoner? He was with me.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Clarissa assured him. “Riley and I helped him recover. She used her white dragon to repair his injuries. Not as bad as yours. Mainly because you landed on top of him and took the brunt of the explosion.”

  “Whose body––” Logan stopped. He knew.

  “The Gyld arrived before the police and used their. . .talents. . .to identify the remains. Dave Jones.”

  Logan clenched a fist. “Not the best news. Now we won’t be able to ask him about his boss.”

  “I thought Jones had been arrested,” Hunter said.

  “He was. But he was taken to the hospital to treat the injury to his hand. The burned-in imprint of your dragon. That’s where he escaped. The chief and I went to his garage in case he’d gone there.”

  “At least he won’t be able to hurt Hunter anymore,” Clarissa said.

  Hunter slipped off the bed and paced the room. “I think we’re missing a vital point.” She stopped next to Logan. “Do you think the explosion was an accident?”

  Clarissa spoke first. “No. The police found evidence of a bomb.”

  Logan had suspected as much. “They told you?”

  Clarissa hesitated a moment. “The Gyld has its sources. Riley passed on the information to me.”

  “So someone deliberately intended to kill Jones. Why?” Hunter asked.

  “A guess? To keep him from identifying his employer.” Logan chewed his lower lip. Paul Fleming? The doctor’s threatening words against Jones resounded in Logan’s memory: “One of these nights you might find yourself going up in flames, along with this rat hole of a business.” Did Fleming have the skills to set off a bomb? Perhaps he knew someone who could do the job. Logan should warn Hunter about the man, make sure she was on guard. What if he was wrong, though, and someone else had hired Jones to attack Hunter? Not a good idea for a policeman to name a suspect based on so little evidence.

  He threw off the covers. “I have to get dressed.”

  Hunter pressed a hand against his chest. “The doctor should check you first.”

  “Don’t have any faith in your dragon’s ability to heal?” Logan flashed a smile and moved to the side of the bed. “My clothes in the closet? I have to get back on the job.”

  Hunter laughed. “Those rags? The nurses tossed them. The explosion ripped them apart. You’ll have to call your father to bring you something decent to wear.”

  Logan’s heart rumbled like a train speeding out of control. Wickedness closing in too fast. He had to get ahead of the threats. “Pack up and get out of here.” His voice grated. “You must have somewhere else to go on your book tour.” Far away from Mystic Lake and the dangers edging closer to her.

  “What?!”

  “You're not safe here. Whoever hired Jones to attack you will send someone else.”

  “I'm aware of my vulnerability.” She glowered. “However, I––not you, not anyone else––determine what I do, where I go.” Her eyes flashed blue fire. “I told you once that too many people have dictated the way I live. Never again. Not by a killer. Not by you. Not by anyone.”

  He ignored her frigid tone and wrapped his arms around her. “I don't want to lose you.”

  “You're smothering me,” she mumbled against his chest. She loosened his hold. “How does your father deal with your job, the criminals who could injure you? Has he asked you to quit? Find a safer occupation?”

  “He wouldn't.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he knows me.”

  “So you make your own choices.”

  “Pretty much.” Logan didn’t like where the conversation was going.

  “Yet you don't give me the same options.”

  “We only want you to be safe, my dear.” Clarissa hugged her and then turned to Logan. “Lou stopped by to inform Riley about the findings in the Sentinel files, how you’d asked Finn Franklin to check stories about faulty brakes, and suspicions the Hawthornes’ deaths were not an accident.”

  “Like you asked Hannah to check back records about Dave Jones’ past?” The flash in Clarissa’s eyes confirmed Logan’s suspicions. He told the two women about the old file he’d found, the record of the inspection done on the Hawthornes’ car the day they’d died, signed by their mechanic. “Dave Jones.”

  “You think he tampered with the car’s brakes?” Hunter’s voice held a slight tremor.

  “I don’t know. Your grandparents’ car is long gone. No way to check now.” Logan paused briefly. “Something else you should know. Ten years ago your mother requested a copy of the investigation into her parents’ deaths.”

  “She suspected something wasn’t right about the accident?” Color washed away from Hunter’s face, leaving her features ghostlike. “So she would have seen the paper indicating Dave Jones serviced the car.”

  “And then she died in another suspicious accident.” Logan couldn’t soften the point. He had to make her aware of how close the danger might be. “When I staked out Jones’ garage two nights ago, I overheard a conversation he had with Paul Fleming. About Jones tinkering with brakes because of a deal with the doctor.”

  “Dr. Paul had something to do w
ith my grandparents’ deaths?” Something flickered in her eyes. A shift in the curtain obscuring her memories?

  “What complete nonsense!” a female voice thundered from the doorway.

  All three spun around.

  Miranda Hawthorne marched into the room, emerald green eyes glowering with speckles of black. “Time for you to come home, Hunter. You’ve let these people cloud your mind and judgment with fairy tales about monsters waiting to snatch you up.”

  Hunter held up a hand. “Stop, Aunt Miranda. You have no idea what’s been going on.”

  Miranda tapped a sharp heel against the floor. “Oh, I’ve kept myself apprised, Hunter. Attackers throwing bottles of fire at the cottage, attempting to stab you at your book signing.” She sniffed. “You’re not safe among such backwoods people.”

  “And I’ll be protected in the big city, locked away in an ivory tower?” Hunter’s voice frizzled.

  “You’re speaking about our home. It’s been your sanctuary for ten years.”

  “Or a prison. Kept in the dark.” Hunter stomped toward the doorway. She turned, chin in the air, red-gold hair seemingly on fire. “Perhaps you three can figure out a way to explain why you haven’t told me about my sister. More importantly, let me know where I can find her.”

  Logan pressed his lips together. He’d forgotten to tell her what he’d found in one of the old news stories. No wonder she was angry with him, with everyone. She had a right to know about her sister. He’d promised her the truth and hadn’t told her. Logan looked at Clarissa. She shook her head and turned away.

  “Who told you?” Miranda demanded in a stony voice.

  “Really, Aunt Miranda?” Hunter put her fists on her waist. “You dare to question me when you’ve hidden my sister’s existence from me for ten years? Kept us apart? Where is she?”

  Her aunt sniffed. “When you’ve calmed down and can talk rationally, we’ll discuss Katelyn’s whereabouts.”

  Hunter crossed the threshold and slammed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER 32

  H UNTER SHREDDED HER TOAST into messy crumbs.

  “Hey! The toaster and I worked hard to bring that slice of bread to perfection.” Ally’s shoulders shook as she pretended to sob into her napkin.

  Hunter tried to hang on to her anger, but her friend’s antics made that difficult. “I appreciate the effort. But even tiny pieces stick in my throat.” She shoved the plate away. The confrontations in Logan’s hospital room had affected her physically as well as emotionally.

  “Leave it to me.” Ally leaped to the fridge and plucked a container of ice cream from the freezer. She scooped a couple lopsided globs of chocolate into two bowls and, with an exaggerated curtsy, presented a dish to Hunter.

  “For breakfast?” Hunter hesitated a moment, then spooned in a small taste. The cool treat skimmed along her tongue. Her stomach murmured in delight. “You’re an excellent cook! You can fix breakfast every day.”

  The bowl was soon empty.

  “This kind of meal is my favorite. Particularly when I’m stressed out.” Ally slurped up the last of her own ice cream, picked up both bowls, and deposited them in the dishwasher.

  When Ally returned to her seat, she leaned her elbows on the table and held her chin in both hands. “A bunch of phone calls on the answering machine. How do you want to deal with them?”

  “I know who’s calling. And I have nothing to say to any of them right now.” Curiosity did wind its way through the heat of her anger. “What did they say?”

  A wicked grin played across Ally’s face. “I let the answering machine pick up. Couldn’t resist listening, though. Your aunt Miranda demanded––three times––you call her at once. Clarissa asked you to stop by her store. The most pathetic messages came from Logan. He loves you, you know. Deeply.”

  “That’s what he said?” Hunter slapped the table. “Then why order me out of town?”

  “To keep you from getting hurt.”

  “So I’m to run away and be gone from his life.” Hunter’s lips twisted in disgust. “Like some child unable to take care of herself,.”

  “Men can be a little stupid when they’re trying to be noble.”

  “Right. Like something out of a romance novel. Or a fairy tale. The hero sacrificing for his beloved.”

  “To save the damsel in distress.” Ally snapped her fingers. “I remember his Green Lantern costume at the Masquerade Ball. A hero, fighting evil to protect others.”

  “And I was dressed as Syrena. A heroine who can fight her own battles.” Outrage boiled inside. “He orders me to get out of town without me having any say.” The idea not being in charge of her own life, making her own choices, had become abhorrent.

  “Logan’s a good man. Give him time to see how wrong he is.” Ally put a finger to her cheek and looked up at the ceiling. “On the other hand, if you don’t have any feelings for him, why waste any more time or words on him?”

  Hunter was unable to look at her friend. “I think I mentioned love in a mind link.”

  “What?” Ally spit out most of the coffee she’d attempted to swallow. She stared at Hunter. “Quite a change. In college you always seemed detached from the few guys you dated. Not much in the romance department after graduation either. Now you talk about heart-churning feelings for a man you’ve known a little over a week.”

  “Strange, isn’t it?”

  Did her memory loss disconnect her from people? Or rather, did a spell make Hunter forget the person she’d been, the feelings she’d once had. Wait! Had the spell somehow shifted, allowing her to experience strong connections to others? Escape the prison of isolation? Even before she’d been able to translate the grimoire.

  Hunter was drawn to the mirror glinting on the kitchen wall. Staring at her reflection, she tentatively touched the glass and traced her profile. Had she somehow gained an inner strength that could shake loose the curtain in her brain?

  Ally moved next to her.

  Hunter put an arm around her shoulder. “You’ve been a real friend, someone I can confide in. As close as any sister.”

  Ally returned the hug. “What about the sister who’s been kept from you all these years? How do we find her?”

  The ringing phone interrupted them. Still not eager to talk to anyone other than Ally, Hunter was slow to respond.

  The voice on the answering machine rose in a question. “Hunter? This is Lexa Winters. We have a stack of your books, undamaged by the attack, at the museum. If you could stop by, I’d like to propose a plan for them. If you don’t need them for your book tour.”

  “A plan?” Hunter reached for the phone, but Lexa had already hung up. When Hunter called back, she was directed to voicemail. Grabbing a sweater, she invited Ally to go with her to the museum. “I can use the distraction.”

  * * *

  The police had cordoned off the museum's courtyard to keep out the curious. A couple of techs gathered the last traces of evidence and removed the yellow crime scene tape. Museum staff and volunteers had been given permission to clear away the mess, and, under Lexa's efficient leadership, they’d made good progress.

  “Can we help clean up?” Hunter asked.

  “Of course,” Lexa said. “Afterwards, I’ll explain what I’d like to do with the books.”

  Hunter and Ally joined the work crew, grabbed garbage bags and plastic gloves, then gathered debris.

  Finn Franklin strode into the courtyard with several newspapers “hot off the press,” as he worded it. “Thought all of you deserved first look.”

  The volunteers took a break and snatched up copies.

  The front page of The Sentinel was devoted to Finn’s story about the debacle on Saturday. His editorial appeared on page two.

  Ally read sentences out loud. “‘We can’t allow a mob of Neanderthals to determine the ethics and mindset of an entire city. Then what? Burn witches at the stake? Since when do we condone Puritanical thinking which strips our citizens of the freedom to safely live their li
ves as they choose?’” Ally stopped talking as she became engrossed in the editorial.

  When she looked up, Finn studied her. “What do you think?”

  “If you ever write a book, I'd like first crack at getting it published.”

  “High praise.”

  She dropped the paper, reached for his shirt, and pulled his tall frame down to her level. She gave him a kiss that had him gasping for air.

  Hunter glanced at them while she finished reading the front page story. “Looks like you can try your hand at fiction, Finn. You have me riding to the rescue with my blue dragon sidekick. Syrena springing to life from the pages of my book.”

  He grinned. “Fitting, don't you think?”

  Ally released her hold on him and picked up the paper she’d dropped. She quickly scanned the article. “Yowza! You painted all of us as the little guys beating the big bad monsters.”

  Especially the children, who became a small army surrounding their heroine, determined to protect her, unafraid of the bullies. Finn’s words eased Hunter’s heartache about the danger the little ones had faced because of her presence.

  “My turn,” Hunter told Ally, stealing Finn away to give him a bear hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  For someone who punctuated his conversations with touches of mockery, Finn’s response had an air of humility. “I only did my job. Put the truth out there where everyone can see it for themselves.”

  Lexa and her cleaning squad surrounded him with pats on the back from the men and kisses on the cheek from the women, all praising his eloquent words.

  “He's forgotten all about us,” Ally complained.

  “It's only temporary,” Hunter assured her with a grin. “Then you can have him back.”

  Ally blushed. “I just got carried away in the moment.”

  “That’s what you call it?”

  Ally didn’t look at her. Instead, she pointed to the museum entrance. “Lunchtime.”

  Volunteers carried glorious mounds of sandwiches with all kinds of yummy side dishes and pitchers of lemonade and iced tea.