Witchin' USA

by Amanda M. Lee

  “It’s all interesting,” May announced, popping into view in the middle of the room. She forced a smile when she caught me staring. “Hello, dear.”

  “Don’t ‘hello, dear’ me,” I snapped. “Where have you been? A lot has been going on and we need answers.”

  “It’s not easy to control my movements yet,” May complained. “I’m doing the best that I can. If it was easy everyone would do it.”

  “Oh, whatever.” I rolled my eyes.

  “You just reminded me of your mother when you did that.” May heaved a sigh, a whimsical expression crossing her face. “I really wish I could talk to you about her – that’s why I came today, after all – but we have another problem.”

  “My whole life is problems,” I shot back. “What specific problem are you talking about?”

  “The big one,” May answered. “He’s here.”

  “Who is here?”

  “The man who killed me. I remember. I remember everything.”

  Oh, well, crap.

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN he’s here?”

  I didn’t know May very well, but I got the feeling she was something of a drama queen. There was always a chance I misheard her.

  “He’s here,” May hissed, mimicking gripping her hands together. “He’ll be at the door in a second.”

  “Who?” Lilac asked, hopping to her feet and dusting off the seat of her pants. She didn’t look particularly worried. “Why are you so worked up, May? It’s good to see you, by the way.”

  Instead of reacting with kindness, May made an exaggerated face and opened her mouth. Whatever she said died on her lips, though, when she blinked out of existence.

  “What was that?” I asked, confused.

  “I have no idea.” Lilac shuffled to the window and looked out. “I don’t see anyone. Do you have any idea what she was talking about?”

  “I don’t even know the woman,” I grumbled. “I would love to be able to sit down and have a long conversation with her about a few things.”

  “I’m sure you would.” Lilac knit her eyebrows. “She said that the man who killed her was here, but I don’t see a car in the driveway or a shadow in the yard. Maybe she’s confused.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded. “Maybe she had dementia before she died and no one noticed. Can ghosts have dementia? You know, carry it over from life to death?”

  “I have no idea, but May didn’t have dementia before she died,” Lilac replied. “I saw her the day before and … her mind was still as sharp as ever.”

  I tilted my head to the side as I regarded Lilac. She looked a bit misty as she swiped at her eyes. “You really liked her, didn’t you?”

  “She was a dear lady,” Lilac said. “I know it’s hard for you because you never got to know her, and I’m sure you can’t help but wonder how things would’ve been different if she tried to see you when you were a kid, but … she really was a great lady. I hope you get to know her some now that she’s back from the dead.”

  “Can you please not say it that way?” I asked, my mind wandering to the cemetery. “I picture zombies when you say that, and now that I know how the cemetery works it freaks me out.”

  “They’re mostly harmless,” Lilac argued. “They’ve gotten out once or twice, but we think we have all the gaps plugged now.”

  “That’s … comforting.”

  “Yeah.” Lilac enthusiastically nodded. “Well, I don’t know what May was talking about, but there’s clearly no one down there. Maybe she simply got confused and remembered who killed her and the memories jumbled in her mind.”

  “I guess that’s possible.” I looked at the shelf. “Maybe she thought it was the past rather than the present.”

  “Maybe. It will be much better when she has control of when and how long she can pop up,” Lilac said. “Then you’ll be able to have an actual conversation.”

  “Yeah, I can’t wait for that,” I admitted. “I want to ask her why she divorced Wesley Durham and then proceeded to pretend they were married one day a week for several decades. I still can’t wrap my head around that one.”

  “Some people love each other but can’t live with each other,” Lilac explained. “Wesley and May were like that. They fought like lions and bears some days … and they did it publicly, not caring who witnessed the fights. I think, if times were different, they would’ve been able to make the marriage work full time.”

  I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that Moonstone Bay is ahead in some respects when it comes to social issues, but it’s behind in others,” Lilac answered. “Back when Wesley and May got married it was expected that the man would work and the woman would stay home and raise a family.

  “Now, granted, those things have shifted over the years and it’s not as prevalent to believe that,” she continued. “My understanding is that Wesley was getting it from all sides because May liked to boss people around.”

  Hmm. That was mildly interesting. “He could’ve taken the lighthouse from her, right? He could’ve made a fuss.”

  “He could have,” Lilac agreed. “I don’t think that’s Wesley’s way. Even though he couldn’t save the marriage he sent a strong message when he refused to go after the lighthouse. A lot of people teased him about that over the years – the lighthouse is one of the biggest draws on the island, after all – but Wesley held firm. The lighthouse belonged to May.”

  “He seems pretty straightforward,” I said. “Still, what Sarah said has me a bit …unsettled.”

  “The part about Wesley hiring her brother to kill you because he wants the lighthouse?”

  I nodded.

  “The thing is, I’ll wager that May would’ve given Wesley the lighthouse if he wanted it,” Lilac argued. “Wesley knew she was sick. He’d taken to coming into town to spend more time with her. If he wanted the lighthouse, all he had to do was ask. I think May would’ve given it to him.”

  “And he didn’t ask?”

  “That’s not Wesley’s way,” Lilac replied. “Wesley would want you to have the lighthouse.”

  I really wanted to believe that, but I couldn’t shake the niggling worry in the back of my brain. “I just wish this was over. I have so much going on and people I would like to get to know better. But I can’t because we’re spending an entire day searching for something we can’t identify.”

  I turned my frustration to the shelf. “There’re tons of magic stuff in here, but I haven’t found anything else of interest,” I said. “Could someone have wanted to kill her over the magic?”

  “Doubtful.” Lilac’s attention drifted toward the window. “The magic stuff is readily available at the bookstore and library. There’s no reason to kill for it.”

  “Right.” That made sense. “So what would someone want from this lighthouse?”

  “Whatever it is, it has to be small enough that someone believes you’re carrying it around with you,” Lilac noted. “They had to be watching you when you visited Wesley yesterday. You clearly didn’t have a box or anything with you. I think that means whatever it is fits in your pocket.”

  “That’s some good reasoning.” I extended a finger and looked to the file cabinet in the corner of the room. “Maybe it’s a document or something.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Lilac said the words, but never moved from her spot next to the window.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “I’m not sure. I thought … I thought I saw something.”

  For some reason, the simple admission caused dread to pool in the pit of my stomach. I abandoned my trip to the file cabinet and joined Lilac by the window. “What did you see?”

  Lilac pointed at the corner of the front porch. From our angle, we could see far and wide when it came to the yard. We faced inland, toward the main road. We couldn’t see close to the house. The design of the lighthouse allowed us to see only bits and pieces of the ground near the front door.

  “What am I looking at?” I squinted
and stared. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Right there.” Lilac gripped the back of my neck and directed my attention to the spot at the corner of the front porch. “Don’t you see that shadow?”

  I focused on the spot she indicated, widening my eyes when I caught sight of a hint of movement. She was right. Someone was out there. “Who … ?” I didn’t get a chance to finish the question, because the shadow shifted to the open expanse of yard and our visitor was revealed. “Booker?”

  Lilac visibly relaxed even as my heart clenched. “Galen must have sent him.”

  “Why would Galen send him?” I challenged, my suspicion getting the better of me. “He sent you. I don’t need two babysitters.”

  “I don’t know.” Lilac either didn’t pick up on my tone or outright discarded it. “We can ask him.”

  I grabbed her wrist before she could head toward the stairs. “I have a better idea.”

  “You do?”

  I nodded. “You’re going to stay up here and call Galen. I’m going down there to see what Booker wants.”

  Lilac’s expression was unreadable. “It’s Booker. He’s here because he wants to help.”

  I desperately wanted to believe that. I liked him, after all, but he spent much of the previous night explaining why he couldn’t be the one to serve as babysitter. Now he suddenly pops up?

  “He probably is here to help,” I conceded, hope washing over me. “I want you to call Galen and check, though.”

  “Why not stay up here while I do that?”

  “Because if he is up to something I don’t think we should be together,” I replied. “I don’t want Booker to know you’re here until we have confirmation Galen sent him.”

  “You don’t have to worry about Booker,” Lilac argued. “He’s a good guy.”

  “I’m sure he is.” I headed toward the stairs. “Call Galen. Make sure he sent Booker. I’ll distract Booker for a few minutes, and … I’m sure it will be all right.”

  “Booker isn’t our enemy.” Lilac appeared to be irritated, but she dug in her purse for her phone. “I guarantee Galen sent him.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  I managed to remain calm for the duration of the descent to the main floor. Even though the palms of my hands were sweaty, I reined in my fear as I headed toward the front door. I figured I’d greet Booker before he had a chance to come up with a story – not that I thought he would be coming up with a story, mind you, but it was smart to go on the offensive all the same. I simply wanted to make sure.

  I heard the light rapping of knuckles against the back door instead. It wasn’t a loud knock, but it forced me to jerk my head in that direction as my heart skipped a beat. “What the … ?”

  I changed course and headed for the back door. Lilac would’ve confirmed Booker’s intentions by this time. If he wasn’t supposed to be here, she would’ve screamed bloody murder to get my attention.

  At least I hoped that was true.

  I pasted a fake smile on my face, took a deep breath and opened the door. I expected to find Booker standing there with a harried look on his face. Instead I found someone else waiting on the other side of the threshold – someone I didn’t even remotely expect.

  “What are you doing here?”

  27

  Twenty-Seven

  Ned Baxter raised his eyebrows at my rather rude opening.

  “Good morning, dear.”

  His greeting was amiable, yet I didn’t know what to make of it. “What are you doing here?” I repeated, casting a worried glance over my shoulder in hope of seeing Lilac at the bottom of the stairs. The main floor remained empty, though.

  “I came to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “So we could talk.”

  “About what?”

  “The lighthouse, of course.” Ned’s smile never wavered, but there was something about his demeanor that set my teeth on edge. “I wanted to see if you’d thought better about my generous offer to buy the property.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I heard you had a spot of trouble last night.”

  Of course he did. Moonstone Bay was nothing if not overflowing with gossip. “Oh, well, it was a difficult night, but everything turned out okay.”

  “That wasn’t really an answer to my question.”

  His tone grated. “I told you before that I’m not considering selling the lighthouse at this time. What happened last night didn’t change that.”

  “Really?”

  I shook my head. “Sorry.”

  “That is most disappointing.” Ned made a clucking sound in the back of his throat as he turned to survey the vast expanse of ocean. “I had hoped you would see reason.” When he turned back to face me, his expression reflected a mixture of sadness and resignation. “Ah, well. I guess you’ve made up your mind.”

  “I have,” I confirmed. “I want to make this work.”

  “Well then … .” Ned extended his hand. “No harm done, right?”

  I forced a smile even though his presence irritated me. “Right.” I couldn’t focus on him. I needed to find out what Booker was doing. I mean … why was he hanging around the front of the lighthouse without knocking or calling attention to himself to alert us to his presence?

  Ned’s hand wrapped around mine, holding it tight for what seemed an abnormally long time. He leaned forward, his eyes keen, and lifted his free hand toward my shoulder. I thought he was going to pat me or something, offer a friendly goodbye and then be on his way. Instead I felt something pierce my skin, like a bee stinging my neck and agitating the tender flesh there.

  I jerked my hand away from Ned and slapped it to my neck, confused. “What was that?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ned said, his eyes shifting to the side of the lighthouse. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Even though he appeared calm, I couldn’t stop the panic from rising as I realized my fingers were going numb. “What did you do to me?” I stumbled against the doorframe as I struggled to remain upright. “What the … ?” My tongue felt thick as my mind clouded with muffled thoughts.

  Ned didn’t bother keeping his attention on me, instead flicking his eyes to the side of the lighthouse as a shadow approached. “There you are. I was just looking for you.”

  Booker’s expression was quizzical as he glanced between us. “You were looking for me?”

  Even though my mind wasn’t working at full capacity, I couldn’t stop myself from grinding my teeth as realization dawned. They were working together. Ned and Booker were a team. That was the only thing that made sense.

  “I was,” Ned confirmed. “I figured you were close.”

  “And why is that?” Booker briefly darted a look in my direction and his eyebrows flew up his forehead. “Hadley, why are you standing like that?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out was gibberish as I leaned against the doorframe to keep my balance. My head felt as if it was floating, somehow detached from my body.

  “What in the hell!” Booker took a step toward me, anger splashing across his face. “Why haven’t you called for help, Ned? There’s clearly something wrong with her.”

  “Why would I call for help?” Ned asked dryly. “I did this.”

  Booker’s eyes flashed as he extended his fingers – and for a moment I was certain I saw something akin to claws extending from his fingernails – but he didn’t get a chance to complete his turn before Ned slammed a knife into his back.

  Booker growled and scrambled, doing his best to remain on his feet. “You son of a bitch,” he hissed. “It was you all along.”

  “The fact that you’re just figuring that out – and after I stabbed you, for crying out loud – speaks to your intellect in an unflattering way.” Ned was freakily bland. “Of course, you’ve never been one of the great thinkers of your time, have you, Booker?”

  Booker made a sound like a wounded animal as he swiped at Ned. The attorney easily sides
tepped the attack and used his foot to push Booker off the deck. Even as I struggled to keep my eyes open – and it truly was a losing battle – I couldn’t help but feel guilty for suspecting Booker.

  “Come along, dear.” Ned grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me down the steps, pointing me in the direction of the water. “I have a special day planned for you. I think you’re really going to enjoy it.”

  I cast a desperate look at Booker and found him prone on the ground, his chest heaving to pull oxygen into his lungs.

  I wanted to apologize, call out and tell him I was sorry for doubting him. I couldn’t form the words. I couldn’t make my mouth work, and my brain was threatening to implode.

  The last thing I saw before the darkness completely claimed me was the fear in Booker’s eyes. He worried he would die on the back lawn, alone and forgotten. Lilac would find him. I had no doubt about that. Hopefully she would get help and save him. He still had a bit of time.

  Me? I was pretty sure I was out of time.

  “WELCOME BACK.”

  I clawed my way out of unconsciousness, whimpering when I opened my eyes and the bright sunshine caused a flash of pain to cascade through me. I felt hungover, as if I drank an entire fifth by myself and lived to tell the tale. I wanted to fight the condition, curl up and go back to sleep until the pounding headache receded. I wasn’t given that option.

  “I’m talking to you!” Ned barked, throwing a cup of water in my face. “Don’t be rude.”

  I sputtered as I struggled to a sitting position, murdering my kidnapper with a harsh glare as I gripped the side of the boat. I hadn’t realized we were on the ocean, only a small strip of land in sight, until the rocking motion threatened to throw my stomach into rebellion.

  “What’s going on?” I gritted out, rubbing my hand over my forehead. “Is this a dream?”

  “Oh, my dear, I hope you have better dreams than this.” Ned remained calm as he leaned back in his seat and pinned me with a dark look. “Well, you’ve made a real mess of things, haven’t you?”