Witch Raising Situation (Witch of Mintwood Book 5)

by Addison Creek

  “Why are you looking here and not at your own archives?” Hansen asked.

  When I explained about the missing articles, Hansen whistled. He wasn’t as offended as Charlie about missing newspaper clippings, but he was close.

  “We should have all of that in the basement,” said Hansen.

  Lights came from down the road, and shortly thereafter, Charlie and Greer pulled up alongside Jasper’s truck and got out of the car. Paws followed close behind.

  Inwardly, I groaned. I hadn’t planned on the cat being one of the party.

  “Yup, that’s right. I came too. Don’t look so happy to see me,” said Paws as he trotted past Hansen with his tail in the air. “What are you? Slow? Open the door!” he demanded of the reporter, ignoring the fact that Hansen couldn’t hear or see him.

  “Now if we only had Deacon, the whole crew would be here,” I said.

  “He’s having dinner with his parents,” said Greer.

  “Crew?” Charlie challenged. She tried not to glance at Hansen and just barely managed it.

  “My crime-solving friends,” I elaborated.

  “Hey Charlie,” said Hansen. “Nice articles this week.”

  “You too,” said Charlie, crossing her arms over her chest as if willing herself to keep any compliment she might give him contained.

  “Okay then, this way,” said Hansen, as unflappable as ever. He turned back toward the house they’d converted into Caedmon Chronicle offices and led us all inside.

  “Finally,” said Paws. “That took long enough.”

  My friends clearly wanted to take me aside and ask about the date, but Jasper didn’t give them a chance. He stayed right by my side as we walked, something he’d never done before.

  As we entered the building I glanced over my shoulder at the dark parking lot. It was completely empty except for our two cars. Beyond it, trees and shrubs grew so thickly that I couldn’t even see the street lamps. A silence had fallen over the town.

  The second the door was open, Paws trotted inside. As Hansen led us down the hall, we could see that the whole place was nicely furnished and very comfortable.

  “It’s this way,” said Hansen, sounding proud of what they had accomplished at the Chronicle.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” Charlie whispered to me as we brought up the rear. Somehow Jasper had ended up next to Hansen and the guys were now leading the way.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “He’s the enemy. He’s probably luring us here to steal Charlie’s favorite pen, or something even more awful,” Greer grinned, her face lighting up in the dim light. She hadn’t moved so far ahead that she couldn’t hear us, and she wasn’t going to let Charlie’s paranoia pass unremarked.

  “What are you saying back there?” Hansen called over his shoulder.

  “We’re discussing lasagna recipes,” Charlie called. Then she lowered her head again and continued to whisper. “I’m his only competition in the whole county. He’ll stop at nothing. If something were to happen to me, he would rule the county newspaper game,” she said.

  “I’m amazed,” said Greer.

  “Me too,” said Charlie.

  “No, I’m amazed that you actually sound serious right now,” said Greer.

  “You don’t understand,” said Charlie.

  “Truer words were never spoken. Get a move on.” Greer pointed toward the stairwell where Hansen and Jasper had already disappeared.

  “They appear to be getting along well,” I commented. The two men had instantly gotten into deep conversation about the prospects of their flag football league this season, then moved on to other sports-related topics that my brain translated to la la la.

  “Guys have it so easy. They just talk about sports with each other and think the other guy is awesome. Can you imagine women doing that?” said Charlie.

  “You’re stalling. Go down the stairs, now,” Greer pointed, making a face to indicate that she was saying it one last time.

  My friends descended the stairs first and I followed close behind.

  “We’re taking an awful lot of people down to the basement to look at a few silly articles,” Charlie said dismissively. “Hansen just wanted me here to show off all the nice stuff the Chronicle has that the Gazette doesn’t.”

  “Yeah, but maybe not in the way you’re thinking,” said Greer dryly.

  “I don’t get it,” said Charlie.

  “That’s okay. Everybody else does,” smirked Greer.

  We finally reached the basement, where the floor was carpeted and the walls pine-paneled, with rows upon rows of file cabinets lining the entire open space. When Charlie caught sight of the neat rows her face lit up like it was Christmas.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “They haven’t digitalized their system yet. Amateurs,” she muttered.

  “As I see it, we have what you need at the moment, and not the other way around, so there’s no reason to be critical,” said Hansen from right next to her. He and Jasper had circled the basement and come back to meet us.

  Charlie jumped and then glared, but Hansen was undaunted. “Also, any time you need to use any of our files, just let me know,” he added, in a bid of camaraderie and kindness that had Charlie totally flummoxed.

  “Let’s get looking,” I said.

  “What are the dates we’re looking for?” Greer asked.

  Given how long ago Jackie had disappeared, there was a long span of time to go through. The five of us took turns grabbing fistfuls of files and retreating to the nice wooden tables the Chronicle staff had set up for looking through them.

  The first thing we found was the articles about Michael Lorry’s death. He had been in a car accident five years ago, having moved to Pennwood and lived for the rest of his life.

  “Just like the rest of Jackie’s friends, he declined ever to be interviewed about her or about that night,” said Charlie, shaking her head. “He was out of town, so no one thought much about him in relation to the case.”

  “They all said her parents wanted privacy and they were going to respect that,” said Hansen from another table where he sat with files spread out in front of him.

  “Where’d you get that from?” Charlie demanded, always wanting facts.

  Hansen held up a stack of articles. “This was from a year after Jackie went missing. Periodically the papers make a push to get her name back out there, in case anyone had seen anything or knew anything,” he said.

  “I know that,” Charlie rolled her eyes.

  “Anything about Newman?” I asked.

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “Let’s keep looking,” said Greer.

  We’d been there for about an hour when Charlie exclaimed, “I think I found something!”

  There was a scraping of chairs as all of us hurried to her table to look over her shoulder.

  “Three years after Jackie Morris disappeared, Mike Lorry was arrested for trying to break into the barbershop, which was now boarded up. The arresting office was his former co-worker Newman Cutter,” said Charlie.

  “This article wasn’t in the archives in Mintwood when we looked,” said Greer.

  “And we’ve found Newman Cutter,” said Hansen.

  “What do you think Mike Lorry wanted in the barbershop?” I wondered.

  “He used to work there, so maybe he thought he’d left something behind and wanted to retrieve it. This happened an awful long time after he’d last been inside the shop, though. You would think that if he’d forgotten his favorite pair of scissors he’d be over it by then,” mused Charlie.

  “Tools of the trade are very important, no matter what trade,” said Hansen.

  “I left my favorite pen at home,” said Charlie quickly, looking fearful.

  Hansen looked utterly confused, but Charlie had turned back to the articles and was too busy to notice.

  “Are there other articles about Mike Lorry’s arrest?” I asked. I calculated that they might mention Newman Cutter aga
in and give us some new information to go on.

  “He left Greer’s bar drunk once and was arrested. That was before she worked there, obviously. He stopped to sleep, and it just so happened to be on hood of the car that belonged to the police chief’s wife,” said Charlie.

  “Sleep is a good idea, but maybe not there,” said Jasper.

  “That article was also missing from Mintwood,” I exclaimed.

  “It sounds like he only came back to Mintwood when he was looking for trouble,” said Charlie.

  “Too bad he’s dead. It also sounds like he could have been breaking into the barbershop because he knew there was a body there,” said Hansen.

  Charlie, Greer, and I were silent. Hansen might be right, but we needed one more article to prove it.

  “Ah ha! He was arrested AGAIN for trying to break into the barbershop, six months after the first time, same arresting officer,” said Charlie triumphantly.

  “No forgotten scissors are that important,” said Hansen. “Unfortunately, we’ll never get to talk to him now.”

  Since Mike Lorry had passed away in a tragic car accident, Hansen couldn’t interview him.

  But we could.

  We continued to look through the files, but it was soon clear that we’d found everything we were going to find.

  “This has been incredibly helpful,” I said to Hansen, intending to wind down the evening.

  Everyone else was only too relieved to leave the basement; even Hansen looked tired by this time.

  “Putting in long hours?” Jasper asked him as we all stomped up the stairs.

  “There’s been a lot going on recently,” said Hansen. “Hopefully it all calms down soon.”

  “I’m sure Jackie’s real killer will be caught in no time,” said Charlie before she could stop herself.

  Hansen suddenly looked very interested, and Charlie realized her mistake.

  “So that’s why you’ve been writing all those punchy articles about who could be the killer and how the killer might still be out there, while Lena takes every opportunity to make Gerry sound guilty. Are you friends with Gerry?” he wondered.

  “Maybe,” said Charlie.

  “Yes, we are,” said Greer.

  “She’s Liam’s mom,” said Charlie.

  “Ah, I see, so that’s why you think she’s innocent,” said Hansen, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

  “I don’t think she’s innocent, I know it,” Charlie huffed.

  “Do you have proof?” Hansen said.

  “We’re working on it,” I said.

  “That’s what you were doing here tonight?” said Hansen. He didn’t sound upset, just curious.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “If I’m ever in trouble, I hope I have friends like you three,” was all Hansen said.

  Charlie was shocked into silence, a rare feat no matter who accomplished it, but almost unbelievable for Hansen.

  As we headed to the cars, I followed my friends to Charlie’s Volvo out of ingrained habit. But after a few steps I was stopped by a voice.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?” Jasper called out. He was standing by the passenger door to his truck and he sounded amused.

  For a split second I looked at him in confusion.

  “Man has a point,” said Greer.

  Now both she and Charlie were trying to hide grins and doing a terrible job at it.

  “Oh, right . . . sorry,” I said, walking back to the truck and feeling very strange. At least Hansen had gone back up to his office to finish up some last bits of work, so there were no semi-strangers witnessing the scene.

  “Can’t run out on me now. I might get the wrong idea and think you had a bad time on our first date,” said Jasper, pulling the door open.

  I ducked my head to try and hide my furious blush.

  My date with Jasper wasn’t over.

  I really had to get it together.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When I was safely in the passenger seat, I waved goodbye to my friends.

  They were grinning like fools.

  “By the way,” said Jasper. “That would only be one of us.”

  “One of us what?” I said.

  “One of us who had a bad time on our first date,” Jasper smiled.

  “Oh,” was my eloquent response.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t want me to drive you home tonight. Here I was thinking the evening was going so well!” Jasper teased.

  “Sorry. I did think it went well,” I said shyly.

  “Good, so we can do it again sometime?” Jasper asked. He was watching the road, but I could see that his hands were a little tense.

  Did he really think I might say no? I liked even the simple the fact that he was asking me now, so I didn’t have to wait and wonder if he would call. Once Jasper said he’d do something, he would, and if he said he’d call, I knew he’d call.

  By the time Jasper got me home I was very tired. I still felt like a live wire, but one that was having trouble keeping her eyes open.

  The only big question left was the kiss.

  Would he or wouldn’t he?

  I didn’t get a chance to find out the answer to that question in any ordinary way, because the second we came around the bend I knew that all was lost.

  The ghosts were in a circle around something I couldn’t see, and as I tried to figure out what was going on, I saw Tank the ghost rabbit go flying through the air as if he’d been thrown. Something was terribly wrong

  As I got a closer look I knew what it was: Wendell was here again, facing off with Mr. Bone.

  Before the truck had even come to a full stop I opened the door and tried to slide out. Jasper had to slam on the breaks so I wouldn’t hurt myself.

  “I was going to open the door for you,” he called after me.

  I had already started to dash away, but as I heard his door open I skidded to a halt, guilt overtaking me. Meanwhile, the ghost battle had come to an abrupt pause when they saw me approaching through the darkness.

  Knowing that I only had seconds, I trotted back to Jasper and said, “Sorry, I forgot I had something important to do. It was a great evening.”

  Jasper frowned at me and glanced over my shoulder. He knew full well that I had seen something shocking, but all he could see for himself was grass and a porch.

  I swallowed hard.

  This was definitely it.

  I was running away.

  He probably thought I was afraid to kiss him or something true like that.

  The indecision was clear on his face, but then his brow cleared.

  He reached out and wrapped me in a warm hug, pulling me close. He smelled amazing, and I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was smelling him.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, clutching his broad shoulders.

  As if on cue, I heard the start of muttering behind me just as we pulled away from each other.

  “You can trust me, you know that?” he asked, his green eyes searching mine.

  Could I trust him?

  Was he a witch hunter?

  “I’m trying,” I said honestly.

  There was just so much at stake I couldn’t say any more, but for now he appeared to accept my words.

  “I’ll call you for our second date,” he said, grinning. “But right now I’m going to wait until you go in the house. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  “That will make you joining this battle difficult,” I heard Wendell yell, gloating.

  I gulped. I had to think of something and I had to do it fast.

  Wendell was swishing closer and then further away from Tank, who was hopping around. I didn’t know what would happen if Wendell hit Tank, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. Dark ghosts had power, and I expected that Wendell would envelop Tank in a most unpleasant way if he caught the rabbit.

  Very deliberately, with one last smile, I turned my back on Jasper and headed for the porch. As I walked, I made sure I was still fully turned away from him and f
acing the ghosts.

  There was no chance for me to draw my wand, but I wrapped my fingers around my green necklace and glared the living daylights out of Wendell until I heard the truck door slam behind me.

  Wendell’s eyes went wide, and I knew he was seeing a green shimmer around my fingers. Hidden in my pocket, I felt my wand shaking. Sparks were probably flying out of it at that very moment.

  Walking faster, I made it through the throng of ghosts and onto the porch.

  The ghosts parted for me, even Karen looking shocked at the expression on my face.

  Wendell stood motionless.

  The truck started up.

  “TAKE THAT, YOU MANGY DARK GHOST,” Tank cried, hopping forward.

  Just at that moment, Wendell tried to attack, but Tank was faster.

  I put my hand on the storm door handle and turned it.

  Jasper’s truck had now turned and was facing the long driveway. He waved, and I did too. Then I opened the door and stepped inside and the truck drove away.

  Tank landed with a loud thud on Wendell, who gave a surprised cry. I darted back outside just as Jasper’s taillights disappeared around the bend.

  “Get off of him,” Karen was yelling.

  As all the ghosts tried to attack Wendell without actually touching him, I saw why.

  Holding onto the flap of Wendell’s coat with his teeth and kicking him with his hind legs at the same time, Tank the ghost rabbit was starting to turn dark.

  Without thinking, I pulled out my wand and raced back onto the porch.

  Sparks were flying, but if I attacked Wendell directly I was at risk of hitting Tank. Meanwhile, Wendell was shocked and trying to defend himself, but he wasn’t having much luck.

  “Take that, and that,” snarled Tank, shaking all over the place.

  “Get off of me, you ridiculous creature! This is why I never had pets growing up,” howled Wendell.

  “That would explain a lot,” Mrs. Goodkeep cried, trying to hit Wendell with her broom while Wendell hopped around trying to get Tank to let go.

  “Now!” cried Mr. Bone.

  Tank dropped, and I flashed my wand at Wendell. A simple spell, just wind, but the wind sparkled merrily as it rushed over to him and shoved him away. His chest turned remarkably light. From this distance he almost looked like a regular ghost again, but his face was wide with shock.