Your time has run out.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sitting in Nate’s car in the police department’s parking lot, Adam didn’t mince words. “Are you kidding me?” he growled. “Since when do you choose a woman over a case?”
“I can’t help it, Adam. I think I’m in love with her.”
“So, who cares? Not only might you be jeopardizing the case by getting involved with her, you’ll definitely be making it that much harder for me to do my job. I mean, you’re telling me I’ve gotta only work with idiots?”
“I’d be careful about accusing me about jeopardizing the case,” Nate said. “You obviously have some connection to a pretty shady character. You’ve been secretive about that, haven’t you, partner?”
Adam sighed heavily. “Yes, I have a suspicious childhood friend, but I made it crystal clear that I’m not going to have anything more to do with him. But you, what can I say? I can’t believe you’re risking your career on her.” He paused. “Besides—I count on you, bro.”
“I know, I know. Believe me, Adam, that’s why this decision doesn’t come easily. But I’ve been thinking. So, I’m off the case ‘officially,’ but you know me, I would never jeopardize a case. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t do a little digging on the side carefully, right?”
“I’d sure appreciate that.” Adam said. “Okay. You obviously haven’t been invited to Chief Hutton’s meeting today, so I’ll let you know what comes up at it––using our usual code. Then you can go from there. Capiche?”
“Capiche.”
As soon as the meeting ended, Adam texted Nate. “No can go to our bar tonight. No moulah. Later, partner.”
Entering the squad room, Nate noticed a few dirty looks aimed at him as he walked back to his desk, but he didn’t care. Judging from his partner’s text, nothing of consequence had happened at the meeting. Still, he wanted to print out a document he himself had created about Rebecca’s case.
At his desk, he quickly turned on his computer, chose the file he wanted, printed it out, folded it, then dropped it into his jacket pocket. So far, so good. Next, he opened up a manila file folder on his desk and pretended to be actively reading it, just as Chief Hutton came over. To check up on him?
“How’s it going, Detective Meeks?” he asked. “What are you working on?”
Oh, boy. “I’m doing some research on that cold case from last year. You know, the one about the stolen gem, remember?”
“Hmm.” The chief shook his head twice before he went off.
After lunch, as Nate and Adam huddled together in a back alley halfway across town, Nate carefully looked around before he spoke.
“We know Rebecca’s latest journal possibly has some answers. And the fact that it’s missing means a couple of things. One, she hid it in such an out-of-the-way place, or two, it was stolen by some unknown person because it was so incriminating.”
“Since Gillian’s family seemed to know Rebecca well, maybe you should ask Gillian––wait. You can’t do that now, can you? Thanks, partner.”
Nate sighed. “Adam, I get it. You’re mad at me. Meanwhile, why don’t you go back to Marsha’s and Lilith’s different contacts and probe there. Maybe get another insight into why their connection to Rebecca got them killed.”
* *
Cross-examine Gillian about the case? Thank God, he didn’t have to do that. Nate sat on his couch with his pulse steadily gaining speed while he waited for her to come over. Again, he had mentioned to her that he would gladly pick her up from her house, but the second he saw her rub the back of her neck, her hesitancy was obvious, even before she spoke the words, “As I already told you, I’d rather come to you.”
Okay, his being with her and her family wasn’t what she wanted, so he’d let her call the shots—just as long as they could be together. Hopefully, in time her hesitation would ease.
He’d bought a frozen veggie pizza as well as a nice chardonnay and nestled in his freezer was a pint of chocolate chip gelato. He’d even looked up what movies were streaming, but it was only a half-hearted search. He knew exactly what he wanted to do after dinner, and it sure didn’t involve watching a TV screen. It was all about a repeat performance of the other night.
The doorbell rang, and when he opened up the door, he actually gasped. Standing in front of him was a vision of true loveliness. Gillian’s mesmerizing violet eyes, her cherubic-like lips, her slim, well-proportioned figure, and her long, shiny auburn hair literally took his breath away. Steady, boy.
Still, he was all set to be the perfect gentleman. He helped her off with her jacket then carefully hung it up in his closet. But when he turned around to slowly walk back toward her, she was already there putting her arms up around his neck as her body pressed against his. All his polite etiquette dissolved in a hot second.
Thrilled again at her instant response to his kisses and strokes, he gently maneuvered them over to his bedroom, where they quickly disrobed. He unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it down her arms, she pulled off his long-sleeved T-shirt and tossed it aside. Then she shimmied out of her leggings and panties as he jerked off his jeans. Sinking down onto the bed together, he unclasped her bra, and she helped him off with his boxers.
“Forget dinner,” he murmured.
“Oh, yeah.”
Her delicate, roaming hands and soft, caressing lips spiraled him into the most sensuous world he’d ever known. Every part of his body was on fire, and judging by her insistent rubs against his chest, her low moans as their lower bodies pressed together, she felt exactly the same.
“Gillian,” he growled, fondling every part of her he could reach. With their kisses deepening and their passion growing more intense, they soon came together as one. After that, no words were spoken as their slow, steady rhythm grew in speed, and their mutual fog of pleasure soon plunged them both into wave after wave of ecstatic release.
Later, while they cuddled in bed and their heavy breathing had almost returned to normal, the topic of Rebecca did come up. But not by Nate.
“So, tomorrow is Rebecca’s funeral,” Gillian said. “Nate, I still can’t believe it. I mean, she was so alive, so vibrant. I’ve been wracking my brain to try and think who would want her dead. Having personally read part of her witch article, I saw how it was not kind to some of the members of our coven, but I just can’t believe anyone at the Gambit House would ever kill her over it.”
Absently trailing his fingers up and down one of her arms, he said, “I hear you. Actually, I’ve decided to attend her funeral, even though I’m officially off the case.”
“Really? Oh, Nate, I’m so glad.”
His gentle smile was immediate. “After all, because you were so friendly with her, out of respect for her––and you––I feel it’s the least I can do. Do remember, though, we’ve got to be discreet about our relationship.” He paused. “But for now…”
She snuggled even closer. “I agree. For now, round two?”
* *
Rebecca would be so proud was Gillian’s first thought the moment she saw the church packed to maximum capacity. The announcement over the loudspeaker of standing room only in the back against the doors was a true testament of honor and respect for the locally famous writer. Greeted by a young girl who was to take them to their reserved seats, the Goods tread slowly forward down the aisle toward the front. When Gillian caught Nate’s slow nod as she passed him, she knew this was too solemn of an occasion to give him such an overt gesture as a smile. But her feelings inside were a completely different matter.
Delicious was the word that came to mind about the night before as her heartbeats quickened. Suddenly, she felt ashamed. After all, this day was supposed to be only for poor Rebecca.
Continuing on to their pew seats, Gillian also spied various coven members seated together. Craning her neck slightly, she noticed Phoebe McCann wasn’t there. That didn’t surprise her. The stern herbalist had been the most vocal against Rebecca when the writer had aggressively in
terviewed various members at the Gambit House for her article.
Once everyone was settled, a cavalcade of speakers stepped up to the podium one by one, to lend their stories of love, respect, and admiration. Cousin Esther was quite eloquent, talking about Rebecca’s long friendship with her family, and how, over the years, she had learned just how brilliant and tenacious the author was.
When one Newell family member grew pointed in his condemnation of the lack of any suspects, Gillian was so tempted to look back at Nate, but restrained herself. This is not the time or place. Agreeing with the man’s anger, she again wondered when a single clue out there might suddenly crop up. And with Nate no longer playing an active part, it might take even longer. She gulped. Will he regret choosing me over the case?
While surveying the crowd, she noticed Harvey Nelson was seated with his family off to one side. Surprised that he wasn’t one of the speakers, she knew that according to Rebecca, they had always had an excellent publisher/author relationship. Speaking may not be politically advantageous for him right now.
Next up was a pretty choral number then on to the minister rendering a quick eulogy. Short and sweet because the clergyman had never met the authoress himself, Gillian thought his words seemed pretty standard issue. But after catching Rebecca’s family wiping their tears, she figured if it was all right with them, then that was all that mattered.
Finally, came the announcement of the burial outside and that all were welcome. Would Nate be outside, too? She noticed Adam had also been present in the church, sitting toward the back.
“Maybe you’ll get to see your boyfriend,” Carly whispered, and holding Josh’s hand, gave a little nod of approval to her sister.
“Thanks,” Gillian said. How far we’ve come in the past few days. Maybe she’d lost her powers but finally connecting with her ex-enemy sibling was well worth it. Just like Sarah Good said––protect my loved ones.
Stevie pulled at her sleeve. “We’re rooting for you, Sis.”
Well, at least my sisters have given their full approval of Nate. We’ll see about Mama.
Outside, the weather was glorious. The wash of blue sky, intermixed with multiple white, puffy clouds spread out across it, reminded Gillian of the soft, fluffy batting her mother would place between her quilt tops and bottom layers. And with a slight breeze kicking up, the leaves on the ground and those still clinging to branches held a stunning palate of colors.
Following their condolences to the Newell family, the Goods moved off to one side to watch the burial from a short distance. Still standing separately from the nearby Nate and the farther away Adam, at one point Gillian did smile when she thought she saw Nate give her a tiny wink.
Then she saw her mother’s face scoping out the detective herself. Ellen did not look happy.
Uh-oh.
Gillian drew a long breath and glanced around at a smaller crowd gathered than had been at the earlier service. After the minister spoke briefly, each family member placed a flower on the casket. Again, Gillian glanced over at the two detectives. But neither one of them was paying any attention to her or the proceedings. From their body language and different head directions, the detectives seemed to be looking at different people.
Nate acted like he was interested in Harvey Nelson, who was standing with his family. To Gillian, the widened eyes showed fear on the politician’s face and felt out of place. Curious, she followed where Nelson’s gaze had focused.
His eyes were aimed at three men, lined up in front of several trees. Although outfitted in suits, judging by the way they kept fidgeting with their collars and ties, she could tell they were probably not the usual suit types. Then, all of a sudden, one of them made a little finger salute to Harvey, who quickly gathered up his family and left.
Why are you scared of those men, Harvey Jensen?
Next, Gillian followed what Adam was observing—and immediately gulped. It was that tattooed man she had seen at the hospital when she was there to support Carly and Josh. The same guy with whom Adam had had words, and who later made such a scary gesture toward her. Swiveling her eyes back toward Adam, she noticed that he now was shifting from foot to foot.
What’s really going on, Adam? Why do you even know a guy like this?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I saw the way you and that detective ogled each other yesterday, Gillian. Do you want to explain that?” Ellen asked, in the midst of their eggs Benedict and fruit cup breakfast.
The clatter of forks laid down on plates and mugs clunked onto the table circled the room.
Off in one corner, even Joselyn stopped her foot nibbling long enough to cock her head and let out a single, low throaty trill.
“Mama, I really don’t need this right now,” Gillian said.
“I think right now is perfect. What in the world has possessed you to get involved with a human?”
Carly shifted in her seat as Stevie actively examined her napkin.
“Detective Meeks is not only a very competent detective, he is the kindest, gentlest being I have ever known.” Let that sit for a while.
It didn’t. Instantly, Ellen went on the warpath. “First, you stop using your tremendous powers. That was bad enough. I mean, even when you were a child, we were all so amazed at your powers.”
Carly laughed. “No kidding. As much as I’ve always resented you, Gilly, I gotta admit, you were great. Remember when you helped me pass my math class by putting a spell on my teacher?”
“That’s right,” Stevie chimed in, “and remember how your spell got me that doll I wanted so badly for my birthday, when they were all sold out in our local stores? You were a life saver!”
Ellen continued. “Just think how much you could help out in the Rebecca case if you still did them, for goodness sake. And now you claim you have no powers? Oh, please. Spare me. I believe you have just become lazy.”
The sting of her words instantly catapulted Gillian back to when she almost got Willy killed. And for her mother not to even believe her? Blinking hard to stop her tears, she sat up straight on her chair, her chin raised.
“Look, Mama,” she said, “you know exactly why I stopped using my powers in the first place. Willy almost died.”
“Maybe he deserved it,” Ellen muttered.
Gillian stood up. “Are you kidding me? Why would you say that? Papa would never say something like that, and he was a real warlock with real powers.”
“Your father, your father. Always looking up to him. Always putting him before me. Always––” Suddenly Ellen stopped mid-stream to look around at her two other daughters and their horrified expressions.
“I’m getting out of here for a while,” Gillian announced. “Bottom line? Mama, you’ll just have to face facts. I want to be with Nate, and I don’t care what you say. Yes, he is a human, and yes, he’s my choice. Just live with it. He’s my flattie, my blue serge.”[26]
Turning to go, she couldn’t help noticing Stevie’s grin and Carly’s subtle thumbs-up.
* *
Walking through Didion Park was the perfect escape for Gillian. Fresh air, deep breathing, and a “believe in yourself, believe in yourself” mantra soon did the trick. The final upshot? Her mother would just have to come around. End of discussion.
As she strolled along, she started to think about Rebecca and the uncertainties of life. Yes, her friend had always ruffled feathers. Yes, her curiosity could get the better of her. Going back to their teenage years, she suddenly remembered the time when they were both vying for the same boy. Of course, Gillian knew that the moment she put a spell out, the guy was hers. But she did admire Rebecca’s tenacity. Her friend never gave up. Even when the boy took Gillian to the senior prom and Rebecca had no date but got him to dance with her while Gillian went to the bathroom.
“Was that what did you in, Rebecca?” she asked out loud. “Did you come across something that was none of your business? Was it someone in our coven? Or was it—”
Even through her haze of rem
iniscing, the click of a gun was unmistakable.
“Turn around, bitch,” a man said, his voice raspy.
Slowly, she rotated around to face him. As soon as she did, the shock of recognition charged through her. It was the same tattooed man who kept appearing.
“Why me?” she asked, trying not to panic.
“Because you keep showing up, babe, and from what I’ve heard, you probably know too much. I’ve been told you gotta go.”
“By whom?”
He aimed his weapon directly at her head. “Nice try, honey. Say your prayers now.”
If ever there was a moment to try a spell, this was it. Closing her eyes, she thought of an “Ask for a miracle” chant her father had taught her many years before.
“Come here, come fast. Make this be the past. Come here, come fast. Make this be the past. Come here, come fast. Make this be the past.”
Beyond her spell, she could vaguely hear him chuckling.
Is this it? Goodbye, Mama, Carly, Stevie. Oh, Nate––
Then the man was choking.
What the–?
Opening her eyes, she saw Nate gripping the guy in a chokehold. For several seconds, they both struggled—until the detective side-kicked the guy’s knee, incapacitating him for a couple of seconds. It was enough time to cinch a plastic flexicuff so tightly over the man’s hands, the perp let out a yelp and fell to the ground. Punting the attacker’s gun several yards away, Nate stepped back, his handgun trained on the prone man’s head.
“Gillian, you okay?” he asked, his dark eyes checking her out for just a second.
“Oh, Nate! I can’t believe it,” she cried and rushed over to him.
His hug, although warm, was fast. “Luckily, I was just driving through the park and saw what was going on. Can’t imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t been around. You sure you’re all right?” He picked up the attacker’s gun carefully.
She nodded.
Endangered Spells (Witches Academy Series Book 6) Page 14