The Witch Is Dead

by Shirley Damsgaard

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You gave her the same feeling.”

  “Are you telling me she sensed Buchanan was dead?”

  “No, not exactly. I don’t know how to explain how Tink’s sixth sense works, or how it feels, since I’m not a medium.”

  “How did she take Buchanan’s death?”

  “She felt guilty. She thought the spirits were trying to give her a message, and if she’d been open to listening, she might have been able to warn him.”

  Bill scratched his head. “Buchanan would’ve thought she was nuts.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I told her, too, but the guilt she felt caused her to react the way she did at the campgrounds when T.P. brought her the skull.”

  Bill’s eyes traveled around the property. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where the dog found the skull.”

  I squinted my eyes, staring at the old farmhouse and thinking of all the unburied. “If Silas hasn’t been cremating the bodies, what’s in the urns he’s giving to the families of the dead?”

  Bill’s jaw worked as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. “The medical examiner will have to determine that.” He rubbed his head and exhaled a long breath. “It will be necessary to go through all his records, contact the families, and test all the ashes.”

  “When you do look at his files, you’re going to find he falsified death certificates and family consent forms for tissue donation,” I said, still watching the farmhouse.

  He turned to me in surprise. “How do you—” Breaking off abruptly, he held up a hand. “No, don’t tell me. I’m going to pretend you figured it out from a vision.”

  I dropped another piece of information. “Silas was selling the tissue to Dr. Christopher Mason’s biomedical supply company.”

  “Should I assume that was from another ‘vision,’ or am I going to get a complaint from Dr. Mason? Did you sneak around his property, too?”

  I gave Bill a small grin. “I think for your peace of mind…let’s go with ‘vision.’”

  Bill pulled a pad and pen from his front pocket. Flipping it open, he wrote Christopher’s name. “Is this the doctor in Des Moines?”

  “Yeah, Darci could give you the address of his biomedical supply office.”

  “Darci, huh?” he said with a scowl.

  My grin widened to a smile in response. The smile fled as another thought occurred to me. “I’ve got a question for you. Ethan mentioned that harvesting would require some skill. The bodies? Were they, um, um—”

  “Hacked?” he asked, finishing my sentence.

  I paled. “Yeah.”

  “Hard to tell.” His mouth formed a grim line. “Some were…well, in pretty bad shape.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, wincing. “I get the picture.”

  “We’ll know more after the autopsies.” He tapped the pen on the notebook. “You’re thinking maybe someone with a medical background helped with the tissue retrieval? Maybe Dr. Mason was more than just the buyer?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  Bill focused on the old house. “I don’t know how much skill it would take. That’s another question the M.E. will be able to answer. I do remember Silas worked for a meat packing plant up north before he went into the business with his dad.”

  “So he would know—”

  “How to use a saw.” He faced me. “You’re still convinced Silas is tied to Tink’s disappearance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ve got a warrant issued for him. Once we find him, we’ll haul him in for questioning—”

  “Once you find him? You mean he’s gone?”

  Bill patted my arm reassuringly. “Silas wasn’t at his house when Alan stopped, but he’s checking out Silas’s known hangouts. Don’t worry. We’ll find him, and—”

  One of Bill’s deputies stepped out of the barn and, cupping his hands to his mouth, yelled, “Hey, Bill, you’d better get over here. We’ve found more bodies.”

  As one of the deputies drove me home a short time later, we had to pass the group of gawkers gathered at the end of the lane. Slouching down in the seat, I shielded my face with the palm of my hand. Sooner or later the grisly discovery at the vacant Green farm would have the rumor mill churning. And sooner or later my role would be known.

  I preferred later. I had enough to think about at the moment.

  The house was empty when I walked in. After wandering through the kitchen, I went out the back door.

  Aunt Dot sat at the patio table, tossing a ball to T.P. with her good hand. Lady lay at her feet, and Queenie watched from her perch on the table.

  “Where’s Abby?” I asked, flopping down in the chair next to her.

  “Abby’s at the greenhouse.” She gazed at me with concern. “You were gone a long time. We were beginning to worry.”

  “Sorry. Ran into some problems.” Giving a long sigh, I related my morning to Aunt Dot.

  Her eyes flashed with anger as she smacked her cane on the patio. “That awful, awful, man!” she exclaimed in disgust. “Ack, such disrespect. Bad enough carving up the dead, but then to treat them like garbage.”

  Her words brought back vivid images of what I’d seen in that basement. I held up a hand, stopping her. “Okay, okay. Could we please not talk about it?”

  She turned to me, her face full of sympathy. “Would you like some hot tea?”

  “No, thanks anyway.”

  “A sandwich?”

  I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue. “Absolutely not.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you do,” she said with a sad shake of her head.

  T.P. gave up on Aunt Dot continuing their game of fetch and abandoned the ball to chase a butterfly flitting around the backyard.

  I watched Aunt Dot and could almost see the wheels spinning underneath the cap of blue frizz. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “Kevin—I want to grill Kevin,” she replied with a determined nod.

  A laugh escaped me. “Why Kevin? He’s not involved with Silas.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I suppose in a way he is—he worked for Mr. Buchanan, so he would have had dealings with Silas.” I gave her a puzzled look. “I thought you liked Kevin. You invited him to Abby’s for dinner.”

  “There’s something fishy about him.”

  “Aunt Dot, yesterday you were convinced Mrs. Buchanan and Dr. Mason were involved in Buchanan’s death. Today you suspect Kevin. What changed your mind?”

  “Humph, he gossiped about his employer’s wife.”

  “Well, yes he did, but—”

  “The fairies don’t like him.”

  Ahh, jeez. Not the fairies again. I noticed that whenever Aunt Dot needed a reason to justify her opinion, she used the fairies. Must be nice to have such a handy excuse. Oh well, at ninety-one, I guess she was entitled. I decided I might as well play along with her.

  “Did the fairies give you any more information about Tink?” I asked, trying to keep the doubt out of my voice.

  Her head bobbed once with certainty. “Yes, Tink’s sending you a message.”

  My hand shot out and touched her arm. “What? What kind of a message? Do you mean she’s trying to reach me with her mind?”

  “I don’t know. The fairies didn’t say.” She lowered her head. “They don’t like to meddle in human affairs, you know.”

  Peachy. Why couldn’t they just be like the rest of us?

  Thirty

  The need to wash away the scent of death I felt clinging to me had become overpowering, so I left Aunt Dot on the patio and went to take a shower. Grabbing the sea salt, I sprinkled tiny grains in my hair as I stood and let the hot water cascade over me. Immediately, a sense of cleansing came to me. I hadn’t realized it, but the scene I’d witnessed in the basement had infiltrated me to the core with its ugliness.

  I scrubbed my flesh until it felt almost raw, trying to drive the images from my mind and soul. I’d never forget what I’d seen, but I had to detach
myself in order to continue my quest to find Tink.

  When I finished my shower, I sprayed the rosewater that Abby had made for me all over my body. Now, instead of decay assaulting my nose, the warm summer smell of roses surrounded me.

  Dressed in my long terry-cloth robe, I padded down the stairs and into my office. A quick check out the window revealed Aunt Dot still on the patio with the pets.

  Good. I could count on being undisturbed for at least a little while.

  Crossing to my desk, I removed my bag of runes. Just like I had several nights ago, I made a circle of salt in the middle of the room. Lighting sage and a pure white candle, I picked up an amethyst from my desk and seated myself cross-legged in the circle’s center. I unfolded a square of linen and laid the runes in my lap.

  Tink was trying to send me a message, huh? Let’s see if the runes would deliver it.

  Placing the amethyst next to the candle, I tried to calm my fears for her safety and let each deep breath I took carry them away. I picked up the bag and focused on my senses one at a time.

  Outside, I heard T.P. yapping playfully, and Aunt Dot’s low chuckle.

  I felt the cool stones contained in the worn leather pouch slip through my fingers.

  With each breath, I inhaled the sweet aroma of sage mingled with the scent of rosewater.

  I let my eyelids drift closed and saw stars dancing in the darkness as I concentrated on seeing with my mind instead of my eyes.

  Carefully, I framed my question. How to find Tink?

  My hand tingled as the runes called to me. Removing one of the stones from the bag, I placed it to my left on the linen cloth. I drew another and laid it in the center. The next rune went to my right. Two more runes followed. I placed the fourth rune above the center and the fifth one below.

  I studied the pattern of runes laid out before me: a Celtic cross. I began with the center rune—the second one I’d drawn. It would show me the present problem.

  Hagalaz: haw-gaw-laws.

  Hail, limitations, delays, circumstances beyond one’s control, not an opportune time for new beginnings.

  I tapped my chin as I studied the rune.

  Tink’s kidnapping had been beyond my control. I’d tried to protect her and failed. Not the time for new beginnings? The only new beginning that sprang to mind was the adoption. Was that what it meant? If so, what did the adoption have to do with Tink’s disappearance?

  I moved to the first rune, the one to my left. It indicated what factors from the past were affecting the current problem.

  Ansuz: awn-sooze.

  Wisdom, advice from an older person, the spoken word.

  Crud. It was inverted. Not a good sign. Inverted, the rune had the opposite meaning. Lies, trickery. Someone from the past was causing the situation I now faced through deception.

  How far in the past? One week? Six months? A year? I ran over a list in my mind of people who had cause to wish ill upon my family. Hmm, the ones with the most compelling reasons either were in prison or confined to a state mental hospital like Juliet. And Bill hadn’t informed me of anyone’s release.

  I flipped over the top rune: What help I could expect to receive with my dilemma?

  Tiwaz: tea-waz.

  I sighed in relief.

  Success, victory, enough determination to overcome all odds.

  Determination? The runes had that one right—nothing would stop me from finding Tink.

  Tiwaz also indicated a strong male figure. A man who would help me.

  I didn’t need to be a genius to figure who that rune meant: Ethan. Its appearance also confirmed what Abby had seen. An eagle circling above a man in the shadows, and that man would help me recover Tink.

  My gaze fell on the rune below center. Its position stood for that which cannot be changed. Fate. Destiny. If the rune was inverted, or perhaps one like Isa, it could indicate that I’d be powerless to change what was to be.

  With trembling fingers, I turned the stone.

  Thank goodness. Raido: rye-through.

  Movement, change, a journey, possibly an emotional one.

  Best of all, the stone wasn’t inverted, so it told of a positive change, not a negative one.

  I knew in my heart what the rune was trying to tell me. Never again would my life be the same. I’d welcomed Tink into my home and into my heart. For now and forever we’d be bound together with love. My friendship with Darci, for instance. Our argument had hurt more than I thought possible, and never again would I be able to shut people out of my life and return to hiding behind my wall.

  Staring at the last rune, the one on the right, the one that would show either the success or failure of my quest, I took a deep breath and slowly turned it over.

  Berkano: bear-kawn-oh.

  Birth, family, children—what we hold dear.

  It was the same rune that had showed up in my first reading several days ago. Only this time it wasn’t inverted.

  The runes blurred as my eyes filled with tears. Tink would be restored to us. All would be well. Unfortunately, other than showing me that I could expect Ethan’s help, the runes were kind of iffy as to how I would achieve this feat.

  I wiped my eyes and stared thoughtfully at the past and present runes. They were negative, but the rest were positive.

  I picked up Ansuz and studied it. Lies and deceit. Silas Green lied. He’d deceived the families of the departed, falsified documents, and maybe even killed Raymond Buchanan. Maybe he’d lied to Christopher, too.

  Pulling my fingers through my hair, I tried to think of a plan. Buchanan was dead, Silas had disappeared, and they were out of my reach.

  One person was left.

  I intended to have a little talk with Dr. Christopher Mason.

  Mid-afternoon. Would Christopher be home, or on the golf course? I hoped home. I had questions.

  I checked in with Abby, but ignored the call from Darci. If I talked to her now, it would take me at least twenty minutes of arguing to convince her she couldn’t accompany me. And knowing Darci, the arguments would be futile, she’d follow me.

  I’d put effort into my appearance—a red silk blouse, tan linen slacks, and three-inch heels. I even wore makeup.

  Grabbing my purse and shoving my sunglasses on my face, I flung the door open just as Ethan raised his hand to knock.

  “Oh, you startled me,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest.

  Ethan didn’t speak as his eyes traveled from my feet to the top of my head. He gave a low whistle and took a step back. “I didn’t expect to find you like this. I expected distraught and disheveled, not attractive with attitude. Got a date?”

  I leaned against the doorjamb and pulled my glasses down my nose. “Not exactly,” I said, and peered over the rims.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Before I answer…you warned me earlier that you’re an officer of the court. Are you a cop now or not?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Not.”

  Shoving my sunglasses back on my nose, I jingled my keys in front of his face. “You want to take a ride?”

  “Where to?”

  “Des Moines.”

  “Are you going to get me in trouble?” he asked as he shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned.

  I gave Ethan the same look he’d given me, starting at the top of his boots, past his narrow waist, to the top of his streaked blond head. His jeans hugged his lean frame, and the corduroy jacket he wore made his shoulders look even broader. His gray eyes were full of humor as he watched me scope him out.

  With a smile, I marched past him and down the steps.

  “Buster,” I called over my shoulder. “I think your middle name is ‘trouble.’”

  The closer we got to Des Moines, the more agitated I felt. I fiddled with the air-conditioning control. I turned the radio up. I turned the radio down. I’d just reached for the dial a fourth time when Ethan’s hand reached out and took mine. He gave my fingers a quick squeeze.

  “How are you going to
play this?” he asked.

  My eyes darted to him before focusing on the highway again. “Play what?”

  “Dr. Mason. Do you want to play ‘good cop, bad cop’?” He winked. “I’ll let you be the bad cop.”

  I appreciated his attempt to lighten the building tension inside me by teasing. But his efforts failed. All I wanted was to find Tink.

  “No thanks.” My hands clenched the steering wheel. “I want to know where Silas Green is.”

  “You’re still convinced he took Tink?”

  “Yeah.” I purposely loosened my grip. “I didn’t mention this before, but in my vision, Silas carried a pile of bones—”

  He frowned. “Doesn’t surprise me, considering what we found in that basement.”

  “I saw Tink’s bracelet dangling from one of the bones.”

  Ethan jerked his head toward the window and said nothing. An uncomfortable silence followed.

  “What are you thinking, Ethan?”

  “Ophelia,” he said gently, “the bracelet was hanging from a bone?” He paused. “I’m not a psychic—”

  My head whipped from side to side. “No, no! I told you, I’d know if something had happened to her. The runes said we’d find her.”

  “What you saw today didn’t change your mind?”

  “No. I have to believe in what I feel, what I know. It’s the only thing giving me hope.” My voice sounded strained.

  “You need to calm down before we reach Mason’s. You can’t go in with guns blazing,” he insisted. “With a guy like Mason, you have to use finesse. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.” My lips tightened. “I can do whatever it takes to find Tink.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “We’ll get your answers. You’ll do fine.”

  I inhaled then exhaled slowly. “Thanks, Ethan,” I said, grateful for his confidence in me.

  Twisting in his seat, he peeked over his shoulder at the back. “You don’t have your Louisville Slugger back there, do you?”

  “No,” I said, giving him a wicked grin. “But if Mason doesn’t give me the answers I want, I can always go home and get it.”