Witch Me Luck (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 6)

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Witch Me Luck (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 6) Page 18

by Amanda M. Lee


  “I want her to get a win, too,” Thistle said. “I don’t want her to win a murderer, though. You did the only thing you could do. You can’t turn back time. We can only move forward.”

  “That means we have to prove Sam is innocent,” I said.

  “Then let’s do it,” Thistle said, gripping my hand briefly. “Let’s get Clove a win.”

  THISTLE, Marcus and I regrouped two hours later.

  “Have you found anything?” I asked, sucking from my malt dejectedly.

  “I found out that Martha Morrison hasn’t had an orgasm in ten years and she’s interested in having Marcus break her streak,” Thistle replied dryly. “She promises it will only be once and we never have to talk about it again.”

  “Martha Morrison?” Marcus made a sour face. “She’s like … fifty.”

  “Age is just a number,” Thistle said. “You shouldn’t turn anyone down just because they’re old. That’s ageist.”

  “Oh … um … .”

  “You should turn her down because I’m the best lover you’ve ever had and you can’t imagine being with anyone but me,” Thistle said.

  “That’s what I meant.”

  “There you go.”

  I smirked.

  “How about you?” Thistle asked.

  “I found out that Ned Thompson has an abnormal lump in his groin,” I said. “He doesn’t think it’s cancer, but he wanted me to check it for him. Just to be sure.”

  “Didn’t Ned Thompson teach biology when we were in high school?”

  “Yes.”

  “He was also the guy who married two of his former students, right?” Thistle was grossed out.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s sick.”

  “Yes.”

  We both turned to Marcus expectantly.

  “I found out that I’m afraid to talk to people,” he said.

  “What?” Thistle dipped her spoon into the banana split they were sharing.

  “I walked up to five different people,” Marcus said. “I didn’t know what to ask any of them, so I asked them about the weather. I think Maddie Johnson thinks I was hitting on her.”

  “Maddie Johnson is thirteen,” I countered.

  “I know. I was very uncomfortable with the way she talked to me. She kept asking me whether I wanted to go to a One Direction concert. She said her mother would drive us down to Detroit.”

  Thistle and I giggled.

  “I think you’re just shy by nature,” I said. “I can’t believe you ever asked Thistle out.”

  “I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “She was always so pretty, and she kept coming in for feed she didn’t need. I knew why she was coming in, and I also knew she would stop coming in if I didn’t ask her out.

  “When I finally got up the courage to ask her, I thought I was going to puke,” he continued. “She was so … gorgeous, and she was wearing this skirt that had my mind spinning. I just kind of blurted it out. I thought for sure she was going to laugh at me because I was such a … spaz.

  “She didn’t laugh, though,” he said. “Her face got all red, and I could tell she was as nervous as me, and it was like this weight was lifted off my shoulders. I knew at that moment that everything was going to work out.”

  I’d always liked Marcus. When Thistle first expressed interest in him, I was surprised and intrigued. She was a loudmouth and overbearing. He was shy and sweet without being a pushover. I couldn’t decide whether they would be a good match. The time they’d been together had been a growing experience for her and an expanding experience for him. I knew now they were a perfect match.

  “You’re so sweet,” I said. Thistle’s eyes shined with unshed tears as she gazed at him, which made me choke up. “So sweet.”

  “Are you crying?” Thistle asked, brushing a tear away hastily. “Don’t cry. It’s so … stupid.”

  “You’re crying,” I shot back.

  “I am not.”

  “You are so.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “You guys are a trip.”

  Thankfully for all of us, the conversation was cut short when someone screamed. We all swiveled as a woman ran out of the bakery down the street. She yelled for help.

  We all started moving in unison, running to the woman’s side and leaving our treats behind without hesitation. As we approached, I realized I recognized the woman. Sarah Stillman. She’d been two years ahead of me in high school – and leagues ahead of me in the popularity department.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, gasping for breath as I stopped at her side.

  “I … Mrs. Gunderson … she’s been … someone hurt her.” Sarah was beside herself.

  I pushed Sarah toward Marcus and ran inside bakery, finding Mrs. Gunderson on her side on the floor. I moved to her and knelt, touching her arm lightly. “Mrs. Gunderson?”

  She held her head, and her eyes were glassy as she tried to focus on me. “Tillie?”

  Well, that was disconcerting. Do I look like Aunt Tillie? Shoot me now. “It’s Bay. Bay Winchester.”

  “I … what happened?”

  She was confused. Blood pooled around a wound on the back of her head.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “What do you remember?”

  “What’s going on?” Thistle asked, running into the bakery. “I … crap. What happened?”

  “Call for help,” I instructed. “She’s kind of out of it.”

  Thistle pulled her phone from her pocket. “Should I call 911 or Landon?”

  “Both,” I said. I forced a smile as I focused on Mrs. Gunderson. “What do you remember?”

  “I was pulling a tray of rolls out of the oven,” she said. “I … oh … I didn’t get them out. They’re probably burning.”

  “I’m on it,” Marcus said, moving past me and toward the ovens. I had no idea when he’d gotten here. I thought he was still outside comforting Sarah.

  “Marcus is saving the rolls,” I said. “What else do you remember?”

  “I heard the bell over the door,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “I … I remember yelling that I would be right out. Then I heard the buttons on the register being pushed.”

  “Can anyone open the register, or do they need a key?”

  “It’s an old register. If you push the right buttons you can open the drawer.”

  “Did you come out to see what was going on?”

  Mrs. Gunderson nodded, grimacing as she reached for the back of her head. “I came out and … there was a man behind the counter.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  “He was wearing a mask,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “It was one of those masks people wear to ski.”

  Well, that was interesting. That meant that the person who dumped the mask at the Dandridge had more than one. “How do you know it was a man?”

  “Broad shoulders. Narrow waist.”

  “Go on,” I prodded. “What happened?”

  “He pulled all of the money out of the till,” Mrs. Gunderson said. She was slurring her words and struggling to remain conscious. “I tried to stop him. He was strong.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I … he hit me. He hurt me.”

  I pursed my lips. Mrs. Gunderson spent years married to an abusive man. Floyd Gunderson drank without reservation, and beat her without reason – or mercy. His death freed a tormented woman, only to have her hurt again now. “You’re going to be okay,” I said.

  “I know how to take a punch,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “Floyd taught me that.”

  My heart constricted. “What happened then?”

  “I tried to grab the money,” she said. “I knew it was stupid even as I was doing it, but it was instinct. I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “You’re going to be okay.”

  “I grabbed his arm,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “I really dug in there. He pushed me, and I slammed into the corner of the doorframe. I hit my head.”

  “Did he take the money?”

  “Yes.”

 
“Did he … I don’t know … say anything to you?”

  “Just that he was sorry,” Mrs. Gunderson said, closing her eyes. “He said he was sorry and that he needed the money for the Dandridge.”

  My heart stuttered. “For the Dandridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “I … did it sound like Sam?”

  “I have no idea,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “I’ve talked to him a few times, but I don’t know him well enough to know whether it was him.”

  “Do you think it was Sam?”

  “He said he was Sam.” Mrs. Gunderson’s voice trailed off. “He said he was Sam and he needed the money. He said he was sorry.”

  This was a nightmare.

  “Floyd always said he was sorry, too,” Mrs. Gunderson murmured. “He never was.”

  Mrs. Gunderson slipped into unconsciousness.

  “Well, this is not good,” Thistle said.

  “This is the worst thing ever,” I said.

  “What’s the worst thing ever?”

  Landon and Chief Terry stepped into the store.

  “I was wrong,” Thistle said. “This is the worst thing ever.”

  Twenty-Four

  Landon stepped out of the bakery, making room for the state police crime scene team, and pulled me in for a hug.

  “Is Mrs. Gunderson going to be all right?” I asked, raising my face and resting my chin against his chest.

  “I don’t know for sure,” Landon said. “Her head wound is pretty serious. The paramedics were hopeful, but they couldn’t be sure until a doctor looked her over.”

  “I … did she wake up again?”

  “No.”

  I bit my lower lip. “She was beaten by Floyd for years,” I said. “This is so … unfair. To have this happen to her after everything she’s gone through, it’s just so wrong.”

  Landon pressed a kiss to my temple. “Floyd was an ass. I remember his poltergeist well.”

  “You really hated that poltergeist.”

  “That’s what happens when a jerkoff goes after the woman you … care about.” Landon kissed my forehead again. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Hugging me?”

  “I need to ask you a few questions,” Landon said. “This isn’t usually how I collect my witness statements.”

  “I hope not.”

  Landon smiled, but the expression didn’t make it all the way up to his eyes. “You’re the only one I question with kisses. Don’t worry about that.” This time he pressed his lips to mine softly. “Still, I have to be a professional.”

  I ruefully pulled away from him. “Ask away.”

  “Are you two done cuddling?” Chief Terry asked, moving up next to us. “I’m starting to feel uncomfortable.”

  “You’ll live,” I said, rubbing the spot between my eyebrows.

  “Are you okay?” Chief Terry asked. “You look … sad.”

  “I’m sad for Mrs. Gunderson,” I said. “I think she’s gone through enough. This is just … wrong.”

  “She’s going to be okay,” Chief Terry said.

  “Did you hear from the hospital?” I was hopeful.

  “No,” Chief Terry said. “I have faith. You should try it someday.”

  “I have faith.”

  “You’re a defeatist sometimes,” Chief Terry countered. “Don’t take it personally. I don’t think you can help yourself.”

  “I’m not a defeatist.”

  “You’re a total defeatist,” Thistle said, stepping up on the curb. “What’s going on?”

  “We have a few questions,” Landon said. “How did you guys end up in the bakery?”

  “We were eating ice cream at the table over there,” I said, pointing. “We heard Sarah scream and ran over.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said someone hurt Mrs. Gunderson.”

  “What was the first thing you noticed when you went into the bakery?”

  “I didn’t notice a lot,” I replied honestly. “I saw her on the ground and I went to her.”

  “What did she say?” Landon asked.

  “She … she seemed a little confused,” I said. “She thought I was Aunt Tillie.”

  Landon pressed his lips together.

  “Oh, that must have killed you,” Thistle said. “I missed that.”

  “I don’t look like Aunt Tillie, do I?”

  “If any of us look like Aunt Tillie, it’s Clove.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” I said.

  “Don’t ever tell her I said that,” Thistle said. “She’ll never forgive me … and she’s got enough to deal with now.”

  Landon’s gaze bounced between us. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  The moment of truth was upon me. Would I lie for Clove? Could I? “I want to stress that Mrs. Gunderson seemed confused,” I said carefully.

  Landon waited.

  “She said the robber told her he needed the money for the Dandridge.”

  Chief Terry and Landon exchanged a look.

  “Is that all she said?” Chief Terry asked.

  I opened my mouth … and then shut it.

  “Bay,” Landon prodded me. “What else did she say?”

  I glanced at Thistle, hoping she could save me from the one thing I didn’t want to say. I knew she couldn’t, and yet I still hoped. All Thistle could do was shrug.

  I steeled myself. I couldn’t lie to Landon. I didn’t have it in me. “She said the man identified himself as Sam.”

  Landon reached for me again, pulling me close. “Thank you for telling the truth.”

  “I … .” Tears started falling. I had no idea I was about to cry.

  Landon kissed the top of my head. “It’s okay.”

  I didn’t think Clove was going to feel the same way.

  “ISN’T there something else we can do?”

  I was in the backseat of Landon’s Explorer, and we were heading to the Dandridge.

  “What do you suggest?” Chief Terry asked from the passenger seat. “Do you think we can ignore this?”

  “No,” I said. “Mrs. Gunderson said she didn’t see his face, though. Anyone can say they’re Sam.”

  “Bay, we know that,” Landon said, his eyes focused on the road. “We still have to take him in. Mrs. Gunderson identified him.”

  “What if she changes her mind when she regains consciousness?”

  “Then we’ll cut him loose.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair to him,” I said. I was grasping at straws. I kept picturing Clove’s face, though. Sam’s arrest was going to wreck her.

  “We don’t have a choice,” Chief Terry said. “She identified him.”

  “She didn’t identify him,” I countered. “In fact, she said she didn’t know Sam well enough to say that it was his voice.”

  The two men in the front of the Explorer remained silent.

  “She said the robber wore a mask,” I said. “I found a mask at the Dandridge. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “No,” Landon agreed.

  “Someone is setting him up.” I tried again, desperate. “Someone is trying to make Sam look guilty to cover their own tracks.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you, Bay,” Landon said.

  “Our hands are still tied,” Chief Terry said. “We have to follow the evidence. We have to … follow the letter of the law.”

  I knew they were right. It still hurt. I focused on the landscape as it sped by. After a few minutes of quiet, Landon couldn’t take my silence any longer. “We’ll do what we can for him, Bay.”

  “I know.”

  “We’ll make sure he has a lawyer.”

  “That will make everything perfect,” I said bitterly.

  “We can’t ignore this.”

  “I didn’t say you could.”

  Chief Terry reached over and put a hand on Landon’s arm to still him before he could say anything else. “What are you worried about, Bay?”

  “What do you think I’m worrie
d about?”

  “I think you’re worried about Clove,” Chief Terry said. “Do you think she’s so weak that she can’t take this?”

  Weak? Clove wasn’t weak. In a way, she was stronger than the rest of us. “I think she’s going to be crushed.”

  “And you blame yourself,” Chief Terry said. “Bay, I’ve known you for most of your life. I’ve loved you for all that time. You are the type of person who tries to fix things. You can’t help yourself.

  “When you were a kid, it was Thistle who always swooped in to fight your battles,” he continued. “She was the brawler … and she liked to do it. You were the brave one, though, because you took all the abuse so Thistle wouldn’t have to fight.

  “Clove was always different,” he said. “She was amiable and pleasing, and she was desperate for approval. I always knew how to handle you and Thistle. I never knew how to handle her. It was as though she was searching for something, and I had no idea what that was.”

  “She wanted to be loved,” I said, my voice small. “That’s all she’s ever wanted.”

  “Everyone wants to be loved,” Chief Terry said. “Clove is desperate for it, though. As hard as this is going to hit her, she does have love. You and Thistle love her. Your mothers love her. Hell, Aunt Tillie loves her. She’s not going to go through this alone.”

  “She’s still going to be … broken.”

  “I don’t happen to believe you can break a person,” Chief Terry said. “I believe you can hurt a person. I believe you can wound a person. I believe you can kill a person. I don’t believe you can break a person.”

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t find the words.

  “Look at Mrs. Gunderson,” Chief Terry said. “Floyd terrorized her for years. He broke her jaw. He broke her arm. He didn’t break her spirit, though. She didn’t give up. She wasn’t broken inside.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  I rubbed my forehead, uncertain. “She’s strong.”

  “Clove is strong,” Chief Terry said. “She’s strong because she was born that way … and she has all of you.”

  “This is still going to crush her.”

  “No one has been convicted yet,” Chief Terry said. “We’re arresting him. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s guilty.”

  “Then why arrest him?”

  “You know why,” Chief Terry said. “I know you’re going through it right now. You’re terrified that Clove is going to fall. She can’t fall while she has all of you. You won’t let her.”

 

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