To Catch a Witch

by Heather Blake

  She bent a knee, rested her mug atop it. “We need to make them see it.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  She elbowed me. “You have a plan. I can tell.”

  I smiled. “I’m working on a plan. I saw Marcus today, from afar. He looked just as miserable as Harper. I think he’s suffering too. He created all this pain and probably doesn’t know how to fix it.”

  “Men,” Starla said, shaking her head.

  “It will be weeks before he can move. Escrow takes time.” I knew this from experience. Nick’s farmhouse, which sold almost immediately, was finally closing on Tuesday. Three months after he accepted the offer. I had to concede the timeframe was longer than normal because there had been a snafu with the buyer’s financing. But still. “I have some time. Not much, but enough, I think, to help Marcus get a clue.”

  “Harper’s not going to like it if you butt in.”

  I stood and grabbed the photo I had printed. I couldn’t stop staring at Ben’s hardened features. He was fuming. “No, she’s not. But I don’t intend to tell her? Do you?”

  Shaking her head, she smiled, then took a sip of her cocoa. “My lips are sealed.” She motioned toward the photo. “Find something interesting? I’m kicking myself for focusing my shots at the starting line instead of incorporating the trailhead as well.”

  In my opinion she’d gone above and beyond with her photos. There were hundreds to look through.

  “It’s not like you could have known what was going to happen.” I sat back down, stretched out my legs. “Look at Ben’s face.”

  “Looks like he’s royally ticked at Madison. Why?”

  “I don’t know because she doesn’t seem be paying attention to it, looking off in the distance like she is.”

  “Not in the least.” I tapped the photo. “You know what I’m now realizing?”

  “What?”

  “Joe’s not there.”

  She scanned the photo. “Where is he?”

  We looked through the photos again. Joe was in none of them, except for those at the finish line. Where in the world had he been?

  On the Aural bridge?

  He’d been angry about those ledgers. If he’d been doctoring the books, it was entirely possible he was concerned Abby would figure out the truth.

  But would he kill her over it?

  My stomach knotted. “I’ll add it to my list of things to find out.”

  “That’s getting to be a long list.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Higgins snortled, lifted his head, licked his lips, sending drool flying, and then settled back down again. He had a rough life, that dog.

  Starla ducked out of the way of the drool. “Ben staring at Madison is just plain strange. Could it be he was still angry from his spat with Abby?”

  “Could be, but I doubt it. According to Quinn, the fight was about Ben being mad at Abby for running the race. I’d think he’d be showing relief in his face that she wasn’t at the starting line.”

  “Because he’d be thinking she took his advice not to run. Hmm.”

  “Right. So this kind of rage doesn’t make any sense. I need to talk to him, but tomorrow will have to be soon enough, since he’s been talking to the police all day. Quinn gave him an alibi when she said she saw him going to the event tent, but I didn’t see any photos right before the race started. Did you?”

  “No.” She shifted toward me. “You know…”

  I waited.

  “You might want to talk to Vince.” She barely flinched at his name. “He has a surveillance system set up on the outside Lotions and Potions. He probably has footage of the whole morning.”

  I wanted to thunk my head against the table. “I probably should have thought of that already.”

  “Don’t worry—I won’t tell your boss.”

  My boss. My mother. “I appreciate it.”

  “Did Quinn give you any hints as to why Ben would be so angry with Madison? Did they get along?”

  I told her what Quinn had said about the family dynamics. “Beyond that, she didn’t say too much about Ben. She did kind of freak out when I mentioned Duncan Cole’s name, which was odd. I have no idea why though.”

  “Duncan Cole?” Starla set her mug down. “What’s he have to do with anything?”

  “He and Abby dated for a while. They broke up right around the same time he was let go from the Balefire Racing team. I was wondering if Quinn knew if Abby and Duncan had bad blood between them, since Abby doesn’t seem to have any enemies.”

  “I had forgotten Duncan and Abby had dated. I didn’t know him well, but it’s just so odd to hear his name so soon after seeing him.”

  “You saw him? When?”

  “Just now.” She tapped the photo. “He’s standing right behind Madison. Look.”

  I looked. Frowned. The man stood a head taller than Madison and wore a heavy sweatshirt with the hood up. A thick beard covered most of his face.

  I suddenly realized he was the man who’d helped me with the banner this morning. Mr. Neon Green Sneakers. “I didn’t recognize him with that beard.”

  Even now, knowing who he was, it was hard to see, but I couldn’t miss the smug smile he was giving Ben.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Starla asked.

  “That perhaps it wasn’t Madison who’d captured Ben’s attention? It was Duncan.”

  “Yep, you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

  But Duncan’s presence begged the question of what he was doing in the village in the first place.

  And if he had, in fact, had anything to do with Abby’s death.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Do you know yet? Was Abby’s death murder or an accident?” I glanced at Nick over my shoulder as I checked on the baguette in the oven. The loaf was still slightly pale, so I reset the timer for a few more minutes.

  He’d been home only a little while. Just long enough to wash up, check in on Harper and Mimi, who were binge- watching Survivor episodes upstairs, play fetch with Higgins, and help set out dinner dishes. This was the first time we’d really had a chance to talk about the day’s events other than through text messages or hurried phone calls.

  And what a day it had been.

  “What do you think, Darcy?” Nick placed a stack of colorful soup crocks on the island.

  I wasn’t sure whether he simply wanted my opinion, or if he knew I had seen or heard something during the day that would tip Abby’s cause of death one way or the other.

  A way that fell in line with his investigation.

  After grabbing a stack of napkins and four spoons, I met his curious gaze. “Evan asked me the same question earlier, and I hadn’t been sure.”

  “But now?”

  I folded a napkin in half. “I’ve been thinking about it most of the afternoon.” In the quiet hours between Starla leaving and Mimi getting home from her shift at the bookshop. Time during which Harper had spent catching up on some much-needed rest. I’d taken notes about what I knew so far, made lists, and asked myself questions that as of yet had no answers.

  Questions like why was Abby on the bridge? Why was there wig hair on her backpack? Was Joe an embezzler? Why was Duncan in the village this morning? Did his presence have anything to do with Abby? Or something to do with the Bryants in general? What had Ben and Abby fought about the night before?

  But at the top of the list had been the question I’d asked Nick. Murder or accident?

  Because if it had been an accident, none of my other questions mattered much.

  Except … if it launched a secondary investigation. One centering around the ledgers Abby had given me, and Joe’s desire to get them back as soon as possible.

  “And?” The top two buttons of his uniform shirt were undone, the sleeves pushed up. The muscles in his forearms contracted and released as he unfolded a breakfast tray table and went about loading it up to take upstairs. The small table would be pulling breakfast, lunch, and dinner duty for the next week o
r so.

  “Murder.”

  I hated even saying it aloud, but it was the only conclusion I could come to that made any sense whatsoever.

  “Interesting.” He kept an impartial expression. “Is that your gut impression or do you have evidence to back it up?”

  “You know, you could just tell me if I’m right or wrong.”

  He laughed and scratched the stubble along his jaw that had emerged throughout the long day. “I could, couldn’t I?”

  Yet he said nothing more. I rolled my eyes as I folded another napkin and said, “Fine, but I want every last detail of your investigation before the night is through.”

  “That’s a deal I’ll gladly make. Especially if it takes all night. And we’re in bed and have the fire going.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Nick Sawyer, are you flirting at a time like this?” I couldn’t stop a smile—or my heart from beating just a little bit faster.

  “I am. That’s probably in bad form, isn’t it? Considering the day we had?”

  Maybe in spite of it. We’d investigated a lot of crimes together since I’d moved here—and we could either let the ugliness of the world interfere with our personal lives or learn to compartmentalize to save our sanity.

  We had both opted for sanity. Though, to be perfectly honest, sometimes it was hard to separate completely. In those moments, I was glad to have a partner who knew what I was going through. Who could comfort and console and chase away the demons that haunted the memory, long after a case was closed.

  “I just can’t help it,” he said. “You look so cute, standing there with your hair in that messy bun, looking all cozy in that oversized sweatshirt, and with flour on your nose.”

  I immediately reached up and rubbed my nose. I’d made the baguette from scratch, and I was anything but a neat and tidy baker. “As I talk about murder…”

  “Just makes you that much more alluring.”

  “Flatterer.”

  He came around the island and pulled me into a hug, holding me close. I settled my head in the crook of his neck and simply breathed in the scent of him—which was even more enticing than the aroma of the baking bread that filled the rest of the kitchen.

  I’d have happily let him hold me like that all night, but the sound of the electric dog door had us breaking apart as Missy raced inside.

  “Stay,” Nick said quickly to her.

  She’d left little snowy footprints all over the house not ten minutes ago when she came in from Ve’s—I’d already cleaned those up. She’d done her rounds about the house, then dashed back outside again not five minutes later. Now, here she and her footprints were again. If she was planning to come and go every five minutes, I was going to have to seriously consider turning off the automatic door for the night. It was possible we’d given her too much freedom.

  For months, we’d been trying to teach her simple commands like sit and stay, but she was stone-cold deaf when it came to taking orders from us. Tonight was no different. She ignored Nick and ran full tilt into the kitchen. Once she reached us, she gave her fur a good shake, sending melted snow droplets flying.

  Nick threw his hands in the air in surrender. “I’ll get a towel. And the quick mop.”

  I laughed. “There’s a towel by the back door. I’ll get the mop.”

  Heading into the mudroom, I let out a scream as a face suddenly appeared at the back door. I put my hand on my heart.

  Ve let herself in. “Have mercy! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Darcy?” Nick called out.

  “I’m okay,” I yelled back.

  Ve wiped her boots on the mat, sniffed the air and said, “You’ve been making bread.”

  “And you’re more than welcome to some.” She followed me into the kitchen. “There’s chicken stew, too, if you’re hungry. Where’s Archie?”

  “Sleeping,” she said. “Those piña coladas really did a number on him.”

  “On him?” I asked, amused.

  She smiled. “I bounce back better than he does. Since, you know, I have youth on my side.”

  I grabbed another soup crock and set it next to the others. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.”

  “Ruffled feathers will fly for sure!”

  Nick looked up as he dried off Missy’s paws. “Piña coladas?”

  The oven timer went off. I said, “Long story involving Tom Selleck.”

  “Say no more,” he said, laughing.

  I pulled the bread from the oven and set the baking sheet on a rack on top of the stove.

  Ve, I noticed, kept glancing upward.

  When she caught me watching her she cleared her throat and said, “Well, I’m just going to come out with it. Did I hear correctly that Harper’s staying here? That she’s quite…” She coughed. “Ill?”

  It was quite clear to me Ve knew exactly what was wrong with Harper, but I didn’t know how she knew the information. “Where’d you hear that?”

  She waved a hand. “Oh, you know how rumors are around here. Thought I’d verify this one myself.”

  I narrowed my gaze on her.

  She squirmed.

  “Have you been talking to Dennis?” After all, she knew him well since she’d once been married to his father.

  Ve had been married four times. She loved to be in love, but had commitment issues, which made it all the more surprising she’d been dating Andreus Woodshall for almost a whole year now. I had the feeling wedding bells weren’t in their near future, however. Both seemed utterly happy with their often long-distance relationship.

  Missy barked, shook herself again, and leaped out of Nick’s reach. She ran for the staircase.

  Ve blinked rapidly then said, “Dennis? Yes Dennis! Called him for a hangover cure, but he was busy. With Harper. Now you know. I’m just going to…” She moseyed toward the front hall. “Check on Harper.”

  Nick and I watched her go. He said, “That was strange.”

  “She’s lying about Dennis, but I don’t know why.”

  “Is it possible your mother told her about Harper’s pregnancy, and Ve’s trying to protect her source?”

  I ladled stew into the crocks. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

  “Harper would have told her as soon as she saw her, so it probably doesn’t matter how Ve knows,” he said. “And as much as Harper would like to keep the pregnancy a secret, in this village, word is going to catch like wildfire. Just like the news that Abby was murdered.”

  As his words sank in, I let go of the ladle. “Oh no. So it was murder.”

  “Yeah.” He wiped a spot off the butcher-block top with his thumb. “You were right, but you never said why you thought so.”

  “It was a few things,” I said. “One being why she was on the Aural Gorge bridge when she was afraid of heights.”

  “Abby was afraid of heights?”

  “According to Quinn, she was. She was deathly afraid of bridges in particular. She said there was no way Abby would have willfully been up there. Besides the fear of heights, Abby knew those woods inside and out. She would know to avoid the dangers of the bridge and the gorge in the bad weather.”

  “Even if she was dehydrated from being sick all night?”

  I explained how Vince’s hex had worn off, so that theory wasn’t likely. “But ultimately, it was her hat that made me think she’d been murdered.”

  “The hat?”

  “I own one just like it, and it takes some effort to pull it on and off. It’s not likely it came off on its own. So either Abby threw it off, or someone else threw it off.” I let out a breath. “And in that weather, it doesn’t seem likely Abby would have done it.”

  Nick’s deep brown eyes widened. “Well, I don’t know why she was on the bridge—yet—but she was not alone. Someone hit her in the back of the head with a thick branch. Whether she was dropped, or pushed over the railing afterward, or fell because of the blow to her head, I don’t know. There were splinters in her wound, and the branch was found not far from
her body. I suspect there had been a struggle and that the hat came off before Abby fell. Because there’s not a drop of blood on the hat itself, and there would have been if she’d been wearing it when she was hit.”

  As I processed what he was saying, all I could picture was Abby’s face as she left for her warm-up run. Her smile. The twinkle in her eyes. Who could have done such a thing to her? Why? “What now?”

  “Techs are combing the bridge and the area around it. The snowfall…” He sighed. “It’s been a challenge. No footprint evidence, and sifting through the snow for fibers and hairs is near-impossible. Abby’s clothes have been sent to the lab for analysis, but the storm may have destroyed any usable evidence. Her cellphone is locked, and without the code, we can’t access it. The warrant for the phone records should be ready tomorrow, but it could take days for the phone company to get the information to us.”

  So he didn’t have much to go on. It was disheartening to hear, but I’d investigated many cases where the killer’s behavior, rather than the evidence, had led to an arrest. I hoped Nick and I would be able to find that potential error. Soon. “What did Ben have to say for himself?”

  “Not much. He was … evasive. Told me a little about a lot. But not a lot about what I really needed to know. Then he lawyered up. Oh, one thing was especially interesting. He claims he and Abby didn’t have a fight Friday night. Only the argument Saturday morning at the race.”

  “Have you found anyone who can verify there was a fight?” It was entirely possible the late night fight had been only village gossip—and had no merit whatsoever.

  “Not yet, but I haven’t looked too hard. I will now.”

  I had to remember the investigation was only hours old. “Did Ben tell you he and Abby were planning to elope on Tuesday?”

  I’d called Nick earlier and left a message to let him know that particular piece of news, along with the news about Joe and the ledgers.

  “He didn’t say anything to me about an elopement, and I didn’t get your call about it until after he left, so I couldn’t ask him. We’re trying to get him back in for more questions, but his lawyer is stonewalling.”