by Tegan Maher
"Her character?" Rae said, scrunching her forehead.
"Yeah. Somethin' about her bein' on the Chamber of Commerce." She rolled her eyes. "Cause, you know, bein' part of this town’s politics means you’re an upstandin' member of the community."
"So what did you tell her?" I asked.
"I told her if she wanted to know anymore, both y'all were in the back and I'd introduce you. When I turned around to give her her change, she was gone."
"She just left?" Rae asked.
"No. I mean gone. Like, poof. The door didn't open, but she was just ... gone."
That sounded maddeningly familiar. I narrowed my eyes. "Redhead? Tall and slender? Long hair?"
"That's her," Angel said, nodding. "You know her?"
I met Rae's eyes. "Nope, but I sure would like to meet her."
CHAPTER THIRTY
I made myself a fresh cup of coffee, then decided at the last minute to make Matt one, too. He was off that morning and was spending it working on his bike.
As I rumbled up the drive, I smiled, in awe as always of the beauty of the bright white fences, the horses grazing in the pasture, and the huge old oaks draped with Spanish moss that formed a tunnel over parts of the driveway.
I'd been through my share of rough patches—Mama dying, Daddy leaving us shortly after, teenage breakups, and losing first Uncle Calvin, then Addy. But through it all, this place had been there, a comfort zone where I could feel the pain without having to hide it.
All I had to do was look out over those pastures or walk through the barn and pet a couple muzzles to feel my soul settle into its rightful place.
I pulled in front of the barn and saw Matt over in the garage, squatting down beside the bike with a wrench in his hand. He waved and I jumped out of the truck, grabbing our coffees before pushing the door shut with my elbow.
"Sure hope that's for me," he said when I was within talking distance.
"Nope." I said. "Got myself two."
"Gimme my durn coffee, woman."
I laughed and handed it to him.
"Count yourself lucky,” he said. “Hunter's comin' over this evenin' and I'd hate to have to tell him you were mean to me."
Max had trotted across the yard to meet me, looking for treats. "Where are the pastries? What else did you bring?" he asked, sticking his nose in the air toward my purse and waggling his ears like antennae.
"I took 'em to Brew." I said, swatting his nose away from my pocketbook. "And all I brought home was coffee.”
He laid his ears out flat. "I suppose it would be too much to ask for a little consideration for the cursed members of this family."
"Yeah, you’re so abused. Poor Max." I motioned to the bike. Max made his way to a sunny spot several feet behind Matt, then circled and laid down close enough to Wiz, the dog he complained about so often, that I narrowed my eyes. He saw me and curled up his lip, then scooted a couple more feet away from the friendly German Shepherd.
"Whatcha workin' on?" I asked.
"Rebuildin' the clutch. We're gettin' it close to a test ride," he said, pride in his voice. They'd been talking about paint schemes lately, and I had to admit I was almost as excited as they were.
I'd gotten my motorcycle license a few weeks before but was still relegated to a dirt bike Hunter had bought to teach me to ride on. I was hoping that when Matt got this one finished, I wouldn't take too much flak when I announced I was buying my own. It was nice that Hunter cared, but the testosterone-induced overprotection was starting to wear me thin.
"Will you help me bring that door and table over here? I wanna start sanding it down, but now that we have a couple horses in the barn during the day, I don't want them breathing that."
"Sure," he said, pushing to his feet and wiping his greasy hands on a rag.
We moved both pieces over and worked in silence for a while, he on the bike and me on the table. The comforting rhythm of sanding and the peace of the late morning were wearing the ragged edges of my nerves smooth. It was nice having somebody at the farm who was both good company and appreciated the value of silence.
For a long time, the only sounds were the scratching of sandpaper and the clink of metal against metal, with the everyday sounds of the farm in the background—birds, an occasional horse squeal or chicken ruckus.
"So what's the deal with that girl last night? You know as well as I do she meant to run you over."
I ran my finger along one of the deeper scars in the wood then went to work on it. "Yeah, I know it looks that way, but it doesn't sit right. I'm just not sure why she did it. She's a lot of things, but she's not a murderer."
He let that float for a few minutes while he pulled the new clutch plates from the oil and started to feed them onto the spindle. "So what is she, then? What do you think happened?"
Max snorted from his sunspot. "Sounds to me like it was exactly what it looked like."
"I don't know. Things have been jacked up all week. The kid at the store, Roberta, the preacher, the mailman deckin' the mayor. Hunter was even actin' funny for a minute. It seems too—"
"Coincidental?" Matt said.
"Yeah. I don't put much stock in coincidence, especially when there are so many."
Max raised his head. "You know, this vaguely reminds me of a trick Shayna used to employ to manipulate people or seduce men—not that she needed it, but sometimes a little extra nudge lined her pockets." Shayna was the Irish witch who’d cursed him.
"And?" I prodded when he paused for several seconds.
"Don't rush me," he groused. "I'm getting there. She used to curse stones and give them to her targets in the guise of protection, or virility, or whatever else she knew would work."
He gave a sappy donkey grin. "She was magnificent."
Matt raised a brow. "She sounds like it. She was powerful enough to grant you immortality in the body of an ass."
Max scowled, his furry eyebrows hooding his eyes.
That tickled something in the back of my mind, but my phone rang before I could connect any dots. I dusted my hands off and pulled it from my pocket.
It was Hunter. "Hey, handsome!"
Max made hairball-hacking noises and I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Hey, Noelle. I figured I'd better be the one to call and tell you—I arrested Olivia."
The sentence hung between us while I digested what he said.
"What do you mean you arrested Olivia? Why? I told you I wasn't pressing charges."
"And I thought about it over coffee and made the decision to pursue charges on behalf of the county. This place has been lax far too long. There's a system in place for a reason and I'm tired of trying to play along with everyone’s version of how things are supposed to work. Rules are rules, and she broke one of the bigger ones—she tried to kill you. She had motive and she's shown malice."
"But—"
"But nothing, Noelle." His formal tone was making me suspicious. "I hope this doesn't cause a problem between us, but things can't just keep bein' overlooked." He lowered his voice. "And I talked to the judge who's going to be presiding over Raeann's hearing while he was here setting Olivia's bond and taking care of some other business. He's not pleased that I released her on her own recognizance, but understands. That bein' said, if she's held over for trial next week, he's revoking that. I'm sorry."
He clicked off and I slid my phone back in my pocket, poleaxed both by the news and the way he delivered it.
I motioned toward an overturned five-gallon bucket and it swept toward me, getting there just in time to catch me before I plunked to the ground.
Matt looked up from what he was doing and frowned. "What's up?"
After I told him what Hunter said, he frowned. "You know, I'm startin' to think there's something to all this hocus-pocus stuff you're considerin'."
"Not to be ineloquent," Max said, "but to quote modern society, duh. The problem is that magic used to be out in the open. Everybody knew it existed and when an apple went rotten, it was rem
oved from the barrel. Then it fell out of religious fashion and a bunch of lunatics decided to start burning innocents at the stake. And I do mean innocents. No self-respecting witch is going to let somebody set her on fire."
He snorted, and the long hairs in his eyebrows waved. "Now magic is secret, and it's easy for the bad ones to get worse."
Matt raised an eyebrow. "I figured you'd hate magic. You're"—he motioned up and down Max's body—"like that because of magic."
Max looked at him like he was being ridiculous. "Of course I don't hate magic. Magic is all around. I suppose Shayna was a bit ... extreme, but I was also arrogant and foolish enough to cross her, so really, who's to blame?"
"That's generous of you," Matt said.
Max shrugged. "Being bitter won't solve anything."
While they debated the unfortunate consequences of superstition and ignorance, I pulled my phone out to call Rae. Before I even swiped it open, it rang and Coralee's name popped up.
"Hey Coralee." I could hear excited chatter in the background.
"Hey, Noe," she said, then her voice became muffled as she barked out for somebody to zip it. "Sorry, sug. I just heard Olivia Anderson was arrested for tryin' to send you to the great hereafter with that monstrous pink boat of hers. That's so bizarre I had to fact-check."
Translation: she wanted more info.
"Lordy, Coralee. I feel like I should say somethin' like no comment or something. What I can tell you is that she did have an accident last night, and it was near me, and she has been arrested. Though as bad as I hate to say it, I personally don't believe that was her intent."
"Then what was her intent?" Coralee asked. "Noelle, you all right? You didn't take any of the brownies out of the back of the fridge when you were here yesterday did ya?"
I huffed out a breath. "No, Coralee, I didn't nip on your special brownies. I'm just sayin' I don't know what happened, but let's me and you be honest here. She's a skank, but she's not a murderer. That's my official line."
“I reckon. I’ll try to keep it from spinnin’ too far before we get more facts, but you know how news travels.”
“Yeah, thanks. You’ll know more when I do.” I shook my head and hung up.
The guys had finished their debate and were staring at me, waiting to hear what came next.
My mind churned as I paced back and forth though the dust motes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
After a few minutes, I had a plan outlined. It was shaky at best, but it was all I could come up with on the fly. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pulled up Skeeter's Automotive and Appliance Repair as I headed toward the house. Skeet was an old friend of mine and I knew I could trust him. He knew all about me and my family.
"Hey, Noe! What's doin'?" he said in his familiar twang.
"Hey Skeet. Things are a hot mess. I need your help. It may seem a little shady, but hear me out." He had a heart of gold, but was one of the good guys. Fibbin' wasn't something he was good at, and normally I would never ask it of him, but I was grasping at straws.
"Okayyy," he drawled. "Let's hear it." Lord love a duck, I was grateful to have him. Now just if my luck held for the next part.
"Olivia tried to plow me over last night and had to have her car towed. Please tell me you're the one she called."
"I sure am. And she seemed a little weird, too. She was actually nice to me." I huffed. What in the name of little green apples was I about to do? I had the chance to send the evil bat up the river and make the town a more pleasant place, but I couldn't do it. And on top of it, I was gonna ask one of my closest friends to lie to the man I was dating, who was—oh yeah—also the sheriff.
"Here's the thing, Skeet. I think she was cursed somehow. You and I both know she's a miserable mutt, but she ain't a murderer. My problem is nobody else is convinced. And while I'm thinkin' about it, I think Hunter's been hexed somehow. This is the second time this week he's gone all squirrelly on me."
He was quiet for a few seconds, chewin' on it all. I held the phone between my shoulder and face while I pulled the envelope I needed off the top of the refrigerator. "They ain't the only two you're worried about are they?" He said. "All that stuff with Roberta, and the revver, and Gene? Though Gene's iffy. The mayor's had it comin' for a while on that one."
Most people saw the lanky, home-grown country boy who was covered in grease more often than not and took him at face value, but Skeet was sharp as a tack. It was a rare thing to get one over on him, but I was surprised he'd put all that together.
"You're exactly right. But for now, until I can figure it out, I need you to stall. Check her brakes extra good. You know, maybe there was somethin' cut or something that would have made her lose control of it," I hinted.
"I'm pickin' up what you're layin' down, Noe, but are you sure?"
I switched my phone to the other ear as I dug my truck keys out of my purse. "I sure hope so, Skeet."
He sighed and I could practically see him shifting his weight back and forth, taking off his grimy Jeff Gordon work hat, rubbing the back of his neck, and putting it back on. "All right," he said at last. "I'm in. I’ll stall first though, to give you time to make sure it’s the right thing to do. Keep me posted."
"Thank you Skeet! You have no idea how much I appreciate this."
"Sure I do, else I wouldn't do it. Pay me back in muffins and those blueberry turnovers."
I laughed. "Count on it."
My next call was to Camille. I ran things past her, and even floated Max's theory that there was a witch in town compelling people. The redhead drifted through my mind. Nobody just disappears into thin air.
We tossed ideas back and forth but neither of us could come up with an answer. None of the victims or crimes had anything in common other than one thing: the person was temporarily uninhibited and free to do that one thing that only social or peer pressure kept them from doing.
Thinking about that made me wonder. Olivia's dislike of me was so deep that she would kill me. That made me rethink what I was about to do, but I mashed down the accelerator before I could change my mind.
I pulled up in front of the courthouse and found a spot, then grabbed the envelope off the seat. I was glad Addy was otherwise occupied because she'd have killed me if she knew what I was about to do. For that matter, I was questioning my own sanity at that point.
But Olivia had nobody. She wasn't married, her best friend was dead, and her other two friends were loser hags who'd followed the "ring by spring" philosophy their senior years in high school.
Though I had no doubt they regretted the fat, bald dudes the quarterback and pitcher turned into, their lifestyle choices didn't put them in a position to help their friend. And apparently she and her beau, Bo, were on the outs. Her mama—who was actually a very nice woman—was old and living on a fixed income.
The clerk I needed to see was a girl I'd gone to school with and I racked my brain to remember her name. I gave up and counted myself lucky I could remember my own at that point.
"Hey, Noelle. What can I do for you today?"
"Hey ..." I cast a quick glance at her nametag. "Connie. I'm here to post bail for Olivia Anderson." I pulled the document from the envelope and handed it to her.
She looked at what I'd handed her, then back up at me. "Come again? I don't think I understood."
"No, you heard me right. And no, I'm not drunk. Is that enough to cover her bail?" I motioned with my chin to the paper she was holding.
She raised her brows when she read it. "Yeah, I'd say the full deed to prime real estate a block from the courthouse will cover her bond."
Yes. I had potentially lost my mind. But she was in jail for something she didn't mean to do, and for some twisted reason, I felt responsible.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Fifteen minutes later, the paperwork was done and Olivia exited the double doors that led to the jail. She froze when she saw me. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.
Connie raised her brows. "She jus
t bailed your fanny out, that's what. I see you're every bit as hateful as you were in high school." She glanced at me. "You sure you wanna do this? I haven't filed it officially yet."
I nodded, exhausted. "Do I want to? No. But I'm going to. Thank you, Connie."
She shrugged a shoulder. "You're a better woman than I am, that's for sure. Or a dumber one, but that don’t hold with what I know about ya. Good luck." She turned to Olivia. "If you skip and make her lose her business, we'll find you and make you wish you were dead."
With that, she slid the glass window closed and walked away.
I glanced at Olivia. "Well, it's nice to see you're as well-loved now as always."
She stared at me, suspicious. "Why'd you bail me out?"
I took a deep breath and counted to five as I released it. "Because I don't believe you did it. I don't know what happened, but I don't think you tried to kill me."
Stepping closer, she sniffed the air. "You been into the hooch?"
"God, no. If I'd been in the hooch, I'd be beatin' on you right now rather than waitin' for you to move your tail so we can get out of here."
That lit a fire under her. "I don't have a car."
"So call Uber." When I said that, I pulled my hair back from my face. Jerry Jenkins was the only Uber driver in town and was probably working at the pizza parlor right then.
Resigned, I motioned toward the front doors. "Follow me. I'll give you a ride to wherever you need to go."
As far as tense silences go, the one in my truck as we rolled toward her mom's house was one for the record books. A mile or so before we were there, she looked over at me. "I didn't try to kill you, you know. I can't stand you, but I wouldn't kill you."
I cut her a look out of the corner of my eye. "I know it."
"Did you really put your business up for me? I heard you got the place beside the Clip N Curl."