Witch Way to Beauty and the Beach

by Jane Hinchey

  “Yep. Three. Mae, Brooke, and Jasmine.”

  “Wow. That must have been fun, growing up with three girls.” I took another mouthful of coffee, praying the caffeine would kick in soon and I’d stop acting like such a tool.

  “Four if you count my mom.”

  “And yet you turned out so…”

  “So?”

  I coughed. “Manly.”

  He chuckled. “Thank you, Miss. Jones. But yes, I know all about living with a woman. I know when to bring her chocolate—or coffee—and when to leave her the hell alone. Mae is not a morning person. She’s best not approached or engaged with until midday, at the earliest. But Jasmine? She starts the day bright eyed and full of pep. That irritates Mae no end.” He grinned at the thought. “And Brooke is like me. We take the middle ground.”

  “What do your sisters do?” I asked.

  “Mae is a funeral director.” He ticked off on one finger, “Jasmine is a school teacher. And Brooke is an executive assistant at some big city firm.”

  “Wow… that’s a diverse range of occupations.”

  “Isn’t it though? They’re all based in East Dondure. Mom and dad still live there.”

  “What made you move away from your family?”

  He studied my face intently, his face somber. “I was shot.”

  I froze. Slowly I lowered my coffee to the table, so I didn’t spill it again. “You were shot?” I repeated, eyes wide.

  He nodded. “Me and my partner were ambushed. Got a call to a possible drug lab in the suburbs. We went to check it out. When we got there, they jumped us.” His voice was rough, like he was chewing gravel. I reached across the table and clasped his hand. I had a bad feeling I knew what happened next.

  He swallowed. “They left us for dead. I got hit first. In the leg. I went down, Bryan—my partner—landed on top of me. Winded me. They must’ve thought I was dead, covered in Bryan’s blood, not moving.”

  “But Bryan? He was dead?” I whispered.

  He nodded. “Hit in the chest and neck. No coming back from that.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Tears welled in my eyes and I blinked hard, my vision swimming.

  We were silent for a few seconds, then Jackson cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders, as if physically shaking off the maudlin memories. “Lucky for me they didn’t double tap me just to be sure. They ran. But my wound was a bad one, shattered my thighbone. I was bleeding out.”

  “You nearly… died?”

  “I’d requested backup when we’d first arrived. Something had felt off. That was the only thing that saved me, those officers arriving when they did. Applied pressure to stem the bleeding, got me an ambulance. I spent weeks in the hospital after the surgery that pinned my bones back together, then months in rehab before I was back on duty. Only everywhere I looked, everywhere I went, reminded me of Bryan. I couldn’t do it anymore.”

  “So you came here.”

  “So I came here.” A deep breath escaped. “A fresh start.”

  “When was that? When did you arrive?” I’d been living in East Dondure myself at that point, I’d been there five years before moving back home.

  “Just over two years ago.”

  “What does your family think? Having you move so far away after they nearly lost you?”

  “You’re very astute, do you know that?” he said.

  “Why do you say that?” His answer surprised me.

  “Because they thought I’d lost my mind. They thought I had PTSD, that I wasn’t being rational.”

  “Did you have PTSD? Do you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I have memories. The odd bad dream. Certain events can trigger a memory. Like hearing a car backfire can sound awfully like a gunshot. But part of my rehab was counseling, and I availed myself of it as much as I could. I joined the force to put the bad guys away, to get justice for victims. I didn’t want that to change; I didn’t want to become a bitter and twisted cop who turned up for work to further his own agenda. And I’d seen that happen too many times after an on-the-job incident. But despite all of that, I couldn’t stay in the city.”

  “Did you see him? The ghost of your partner?”

  “The little bastard was everywhere!” Jackson chuckled. “He hounded me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he got it into his air-filled brain I’d make a good replacement husband for his widow. Sam. Samantha. We’d all been friends, good friends, so when Bryan died…”

  “Oh.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. Don’t get me wrong, Sam is a great girl, and I looked out for her after he died as best I could. But I wasn’t in love with her, couldn’t see that ever happening—and she felt the same way.”

  “So you left because of Bryan?”

  “Partly. But also because I meant what I said. I needed a fresh start. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city. A quieter pace. My leg can give me trouble from time to time and, like it or not, I knew I had to slow my pace. Basically, I couldn’t cut it in the city anymore.”

  I sat back in my chair, stunned—and full of sorrow—at his story. I’d had no idea. Those green eyes of his pinned me to my seat, and reproached, “Don’t you be feeling sorry for me.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  He grinned. “You’ve got a good heart, Harper Jones.” He glanced at my empty coffee cup. “Go get dressed. It’s time I got some food into you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Breakfast was at Bean Me Up, conveniently across the road from my bookstore. I hadn’t opened at all yesterday and needed to make up for those lost sales today, so after breakfast I intended to hustle my butt across the road and open up. Shoveling fluffy pancakes drizzled in syrup into my mouth, I thought back on what Jackson had told me this morning about Emily’s phone.

  “How do you know it’s a burner phone?” I asked, mouth full.

  Jackson paused in devouring his omelet, studied me for a moment, then continued chewing. After he’d swallowed, he said, “Burner phones are basically prepaid cellphones with no information on who uses them, nor is there an owner listed for the number with the cellphone company. So while we can see that calls and texts have been exchanged with that number, we have no way of tying it to an actual person.”

  “So it could be anyone?”

  “Yup. And I’d assume whoever it is would have dumped it by now, knowing we’d be looking at Emily’s phone records. But we might get lucky.”

  “But it’s still a breakthrough.” I concentrated on cutting up a small portion of pancake and placed it onto a napkin, folding it up into a little parcel. “I promised Archie I’d bring him some pancake,” I said, in response to Jackson’s quizzical look.

  “Ah.” He nodded.

  “But back to the phone. The kids all have their own cell phones. I’d doubt any of them had the finances to buy a separate pre-paid, or the smarts to realize they’d need one.”

  “Possibly, but we can’t rule them out. Teenage psychopaths do exist, and the thing with psychopaths is that they hide it very, very well.”

  “Is that what you think? That Whitefall Cove has a psychopath on the loose?”

  He shrugged, finished his omelet, and washed it down with a swig of coffee. A movement outside the window caught my attention. Jordan stopped outside the locked door of The Dusty Attic before spying me in the window of Bean Me Up. She waved and crossed the road to join us.

  “Morning, Jordan, pull up a seat.”

  “Actually I thought, if it’s okay with you, I could open up for you?” She bounced on her feet, her youthful energy exhausting.

  “Sure.” I dug my keys out of my bag and handed them to her. “I’ll be over in a few minutes, okay?” Then I remembered. “I thought you might be rehearsing with Gran today, before tonight’s big show?” Tonight was the talent show the town had been gearing up for.

  “Yeah well, I’m not sure that’s going ahead. And I lost a whole day’s wages yesterday, so I’d rather be at work earning money.”
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  “What? Why wouldn’t it go ahead? What’s happened?” I had heard none of this—why hadn’t Gran told me?

  “Some parents think it’s best if we don’t go ahead, that it would be disrespectful to Emily.”

  “Who? Last I heard everyone thought it would make a beautiful tribute to her if the show went on.”

  “Well, the Griffins mostly. I think they roped in Mr. and Mrs. Burton as well.” Jordan jingled the keys. “I’m going to go open up. See you soon.”

  “See ya.” I watched her leave, disappointed for Gran and the kids. They’d worked so hard, it would be a shame if they didn’t get to perform.

  Jackson reached out and rested his hand on mine. “I can understand why the Burtons might not want their daughter to take part.”

  I sighed. He was right. Hannah had been charged with arson. I hadn’t heard any gossip about it—yet—but word would get out soon. I nodded, unable to think of anything to say. It was a tough situation for the Burtons, that’s for sure.

  “Hey, Harper, Detective Ward.” I glanced up to see Sarah and her mom, Kristin, standing by our table.

  “How are you feeling, Sarah?” She looked good. Happy even. If I hadn’t known otherwise, I’d never have thought she’d recently had an overdose. Okay, not exactly an overdose as it turned out.

  “All good.” She beamed at us, then Kristin spoke up. “I’m glad we bumped into you this morning, Detective.”

  “Oh?” Jackson looked from Kristin to Sarah and back again.

  “Sarah’s remembered something. From the night she was”—Kristin looked around then dropped her voice to a whisper—“drugged.”

  “Pull up a chair,” Jackson said.

  “I didn’t really remember it. More like discovered it,” Sarah said, dragging a chair from the neighboring table and squeezing in by my side.

  “What did you discover?” Jackson used his cop voice and my heart skipped a beat. I loved him in cop mode. Dark. Intent. Sexy. It was all I could do to concentrate on the conversation at the table and not daydream about handcuffs.

  “That night I got a text.”

  “From?”

  “Jacob. Look.” She pulled out her phone in its pink glitter case and handed it to Jackson. He studied the list of messages.

  “Only, I didn’t realize it was from Jacob at first, cos his number is in my phone so it comes up with his name, right? But this number didn’t have a name, just a number I didn’t recognize. But then I opened the message—well, see for yourself.” She snatched the phone back, pulled up the message in question, and gave the phone back.

  Jackson read aloud, “Hey, Sarah, it’s Jacob. Got a new phone. Wanna hook up? Beach hut in an hour. Let’s have some fun.”

  He looked up from the phone and our eyes collided. I raised my brows in silent question. Was it from the burner phone? He gave the slightest of nods. Whoever had killed Emily had lured Sarah to the beach. Posing as Jacob. Or it could have been Jacob himself. We couldn’t rule that out.

  “Do you remember meeting Jacob?” Jackson asked, passing the phone back.

  She shrugged. “I think I vaguely remember getting the text. Like, now that I see it, it sort of jogs my memory, you know? Cos I was excited. I like Jacob and the text meant he liked me too.”

  I saw Kristin shake her head at her daughter’s naivety. “That boy is a player,” she said.

  “He’s not. God, Mom, you don’t like any of my friends!” Sarah jumped up, all dramatic teenage angst and Kristin sighed in resignation, as if they’d played out this scenario a million times before. Probably had.

  “Mind your manners, young lady,” Kristen snapped. “You want me to take you shopping, don’t you?”

  Sarah forced a smile and through gritted teeth muttered, “Yes.”

  “Well then?”

  Sarah looked from Jackson to me and said sullenly, “Sorry.” And flounced off. Kristen returned the chairs they’d pulled up to our table to their rightful spots. “She’s only gone and lost the damn hair ribbon I bought specifically to go with her dress for tonight.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Insists we get another one, that the dozen other ribbons hanging over her dressing-table mirror simply won’t do. Kids!” She squared her shoulders, plastered a tight smile on her face and bid us farewell as she hurried after her daughter.

  “Would a hair ribbon—” I started to ask but Jackson’s phone rang, cutting me off.

  Glancing at the screen he said to me, “It’s work.” Then answered with a curt, “Ward.”

  While he listened to whoever was on the end of the line, I picked up the little package of pancake for Archie and stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

  “That was the station,” he said to me, finishing the call. “They’ve recovered my stolen phone.”

  “Oh? Where?”

  He shot a look to a couple who had just taken the table next to us and I realized he didn’t want to discuss it in public.

  “Tell me later. We still on for tonight?” For despite everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours, I hadn’t forgotten that Jackson and I were scheduled for our first official date. My stomach clenched in anticipation.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” he growled, voice deep and low, sending shivers up my spine. I went to move past him, but as I drew level he whipped out a hand and wrapped it around the nape of my neck and kissed me. Long and hard. My knees gave out, and I leaned all my weight against him, feeling like a limp noodle only hotter.

  Slowly he lifted his head, a mischievous grin on his face, and amongst hoots and hollers from the customers of Bean Me Up, he kissed me again. This time when he lifted his head it was to rest his forehead against mine. “I needed that,” he whispered.

  With my hormones in overdrive and legs so weak I could barely stand, I mumbled an inaudible reply and stumbled out of the cafe.

  How I crossed the road without getting hit by a car I do not know. It was a good thing Jordan had opened up because I was reasonably sure I wouldn’t have been able to control the trembling in my fingers long enough to get the key in the lock.

  “Everything okay?” Jordan asked when I pushed through the door. “You look… flushed.”

  “All good,” I squeaked, slinging my bag beneath the desk. I leaned against it, hand on my chest to settle my frantically beating heart. The chemistry between Jackson and me was undeniable.

  “She just got kissed good and proper.” Gran chortled, making me jump.

  “Gran! I didn’t know you were here. And how do you know that?” I blustered.

  “I’m here cos you dropped Archie off this morning and asked me to bring him around once you’d opened the store. Remember? And I know that Jackson kissed you like every woman on this earth deserves to be kissed at least once in their lives because I saw—through the window.”

  “He kissed you? In public?” Jordan clasped her hands to her chest, a wistful expression crossing her face.

  I cleared my throat. “Right. Yes.”

  Archie meowed and stretched up my leg, demanding the treat I’d promised him. Gran was right. I’d dropped him at her house on our way to the café since health code regulations forbade me bringing him inside. Unwrapping the napkin, I placed it on the floor, smiling as Archie purred in delight while scoffing down the morsels of pancake.

  Now my mind was clearing I remembered what Jordan had told us at breakfast.

  “Gran, what’s this about the Griffins and Burtons wanting to cancel tonight?”

  She huffed, flicked her hair over her shoulder, which would have been more effective if she had long hair—as it was the pixie cut she sported couldn’t flick anywhere. “Not the whole show. Just our act.” Her pout was unmistakable.

  “Could you pull it off without them?” I asked. If Jacob and Hannah were to pull out that would leave four performers, Sarah, Ryan, Ethan, and Jordan.

  Gran shrugged. “Maybe. Jordan partnered with Jacob, so she’d need to switch to Ethan and they haven’t practiced together. They could
probably do an okay job, but it would lessen our chances of winning.”

  “It’s not all about winning, Gran.”

  “Pft, of course it is. But this one”—Gran winked at Jordan—“she’s a quick learner. She can do anything she puts her mind to.”

  Jordan blushed, and I slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “She is pretty amazing.”

  “Oh stop,” Jordan half-heartedly protested. “You will give me a big head.”

  The bell over the door interrupted our bantering. Who should walk in but Jeremy and Kathleen Griffin with their son Jacob? I glanced at Gran who’d folded her arms over her chest as if waiting for a showdown.

  “Thought we’d find you here,” Jeremy Griffin boomed. He was a big man, tall and wide with a belly hanging over his belt. “I want a word with you.”

  Jordan looked from the trio before us to Gran with huge round eyes. Sensing Jeremy Griffin was looking for a confrontation—and knowing Gran was more than capable of giving him one—I had to diffuse the situation, and fast. We had two minors witnessing the entire thing. This was not the type of influence we should have on our youth.

  “Jeremy, Kathleen, wonderful to see you,” I said, beaming, a fake smile plastered on my face. “You too, Jacob. All set for tonight? You guys are going to be amazing! I know Jordan’s excited.” Out the corner of my eye I saw her nod. “Have you seen their routine?” I asked Jacob’s parents. “Your son is certainly talented. Not to mention he looks very handsome in his tuxedo.”

  “Oh.” Jeremy sputtered, “Well… no… we haven’t seen it.”

  “It’s truly amazing!” I gushed. “To memorize the entire routine takes skill.”

  I heard Gran behind me and I waved my hand at her behind my back, warning her to keep her mouth shut. If we played this right, we could get them on side, and I knew exactly how to do that. I hoped.

  “Having his nephew win the talent competition would certainly help Daniel’s mayoral campaign.” It was my trump card. I had no idea if it would be effective, if Jeremy even cared that his brother was running for mayor, but it was all I had.

  Jeremy looked to his wife, who shrugged. “She has a point,” Kathleen said.