American Witch

by Thea Harrison

  “Sometimes visions come when a witch is in crisis even if they’re not normally a seer.” He sat beside her.

  “I keep running over everything in my head.” She rubbed her face. “I have a restraining order on him, and he signed the house over to me. A jury would take one look at the damage he caused, and whether I killed him or not, I’d get off on a verdict of self-defense. But then I remember his damn car was in park, and that swings everything back around to arson.”

  He put a hand on her arm. Obeying the slight pressure from his fingers, she turned to face him.

  His amber gaze was intent. “I had one of my people check things out. Molly, Austin wasn’t at the scene when the emergency responders arrived.”

  She had thought she had used up her body’s store of adrenaline, but there was enough left for one tired pulse. “Are you saying he’s alive?”

  “It looks that way. At least it appears he was alive when he left the scene.”

  “Dammit.” She started shivering. “I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved. He deserved everything he got and I’m not sorry, but…”

  He pulled up a section of the bedspread and tucked it around her shoulders. “But it’s a hell of a thing to kill somebody,” he said quietly. “Especially if you’ve never killed before.”

  Did he know that from experience? She darted a quick glance at his unrevealing expression and decided to let that go. “This means Austin has to explain things, not me. What he was doing in the neighborhood. How he got hurt. Why his car was parked so close to the house. How it caught on fire. I can claim to know nothing about any of it. I met with the real estate agent at the house, left shortly afterward, and I didn’t see a thing.”

  “If he survives the night, yes.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “The way I see it, there are two possibilities. He may have gotten up and left on his own, or somebody moved him. If that happened, we still don’t know if he’s alive or dead.” He hooked one bent leg on the bed so that he could turn to face her directly. “Think back. Did you notice anything different or see anything that might have indicated someone else was there?”

  Josiah was a strong personality at the best of times, and now, sitting this close to her when she felt so low and vulnerable, he was almost overwhelming.

  Fighting the urge to retreat, she said drily, “I was pretty busy at the time. You know, getting the shit kicked out of me and fighting for my life and all.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted at her sarcasm, but he was dead serious when he replied. “We take in a lot more than we realize. Think about what was to the left of you and to the right.”

  Blowing out a breath, she tried. “The copse of trees bordering the back lawn was to my left. I didn’t sense any presence or movement over there. To my right was the back of the house, until we walked toward the side street where he had parked his car. Then there was the intersection of the two roads at the front of the property. Nobody was there. The house across the street was dark. I remember looking that way after the car exploded.”

  “What lay straight ahead?” he pressed. “Did you hear anything behind you?”

  “I told you already,” she said impatiently. “The side street lay ahead, where Austin parked the car. He put it under the shadow of a maple tree, probably so it wouldn’t be very noticeable. And no, I didn’t hear anything behind me other than Austin before I got free.”

  Austin’s voice in her ear. His body pressing against her shoulders while his arm pressed against her windpipe, forcing her to arch back. She shuddered, and Josiah’s sharp gaze caught it.

  “What did you remember?”

  She pressed shaking fingers against her mouth. When she forced out the words, her voice sounded scraped thin. “He had his arm around my neck when he was forcing me to the car. Do we need to do this right now? Why do you think someone else might have been there?”

  “Yes, we need to do this now. I need every detail I can get while the experience is still fresh. As for why I think someone else might have been there…” He rolled one wide shoulder in a shrug. “You thought you might have killed him, but he wasn’t there when the police showed up. I’m just pursuing every angle.”

  She glowered. He sounded like a cop, one that knew the whole story and knew what to ask. “You think someone else is involved, don’t you?”

  “It’s possible, even probable. The money in the Seychelles account came from somewhere. He didn’t conjure it up on his own.” He studied her. “Did Austin give you any indication before now that he might be capable of committing murder?”

  Shifting to try to ease the ache in her ribs, she snapped, “If I had ever once seriously entertained that possibility, I would have left him a long time ago. At worst, I expected unpleasantness. An inappropriate confrontation. Maybe a slap, or he might have grabbed me again and left more bruises.”

  “You’ve known him a long time. You also have good instincts, possibly even a touch of precognition. Now that he’s attacked you, what do you think? Is this a part of his personality that he’s been hiding, or is this outside his norm?”

  The way he asked the questions made her consider things in a way she hadn’t before. “While you wouldn’t know it from what happened at the party, Austin’s a charmer. He likes things to go his way as easily as possible. It’s only when you cross him that his uglier side comes out, but even so, this is something far outside what I would have predicted he might do.” She shook her head. “I’ve been feeling so stupid this evening, like I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t.”

  “So it’s outside his norm.”

  “Yeah. I’m surprised he was capable of it.” Her mouth tilted in an ironic slant. “But you’re giving me too much credit. I lived with him for a long time, and I never really knew him. We were both playing the roles that were expected of us.”

  “How long were you married?”

  She blew out a breath. “Twenty damn years.”

  His eyes narrowed. “He liked playing the married role.”

  “I think we both did. He likes the trappings of a successful life and the reputation that comes with it. He likes being a partner in a successful law firm…” Her voice trailed away as she remembered the night of the party.

  And Russell as he turned away, telling Austin, Get her under control.

  Then Austin, moving to obey. Austin always moved to obey Russell. Holding parties when Russell told him to, going to the right dinners, taking on the right clients.

  Austin was smart and cunning, but he didn’t have the power of personality that Russell did, nor did he have the same kind of power politically or financially. Russell was the undisputed alpha at Sherman & Associates. Where he led, Austin would follow.

  And Russell Sherman wasn’t just the firm’s managing partner. He was the founder, and he had built his firm from the ground up. Now Sherman & Associates was the largest, most powerful corporate law firm in the state.

  Josiah watched her with the patience of a predator. He looked like he could wait all night if he had to.

  She said softly, “Austin takes orders. He’s not a maverick. He’s a team player.”

  “That would have been my assessment,” Josiah replied. “But I don’t know him like you do.”

  She felt it then, a click of certainty, the way she had known Austin would think like a lawyer when she left him. Only instead of telling Austin to get her under control, this time Russell had said, Shut her the hell up.

  And Austin had tried.

  She was so sure it had happened. She could see it as clearly as she could see what had happened the night of the party. As clearly as she had seen the gas cans and rope in the back of the BMW. Was this what Josiah had meant by precognition?

  Rage flared, as hot and fiery as the car’s explosion. How dare they—how dare they think they could just end her life as if she were a disposable commodity? She wanted to hurt them. She needed so badly to make them pay it left her shaking. S
he didn’t have the physical reserves to sustain that kind of powerful emotion.

  She met Josiah’s waiting, calculating gaze. “Austin might have been the one who tried to kidnap and kill me, but Russell was the one who ordered him to do it.”

  His expression turned fierce. “Are you sure?”

  “I’d bet my entire divorce settlement on it,” she said grimly. “And I’m going to get a lot of money.”

  Chapter Nine

  After she said that, exhaustion slammed home. Her mind ground to a halt and blackness hovered near. Even though she fought to stay upright, she couldn’t and sank down on the bed.

  Josiah took note. Standing, he tucked one arm underneath her legs and lifted her up while he yanked the covers down. Then he let her back down and pulled the covers over her supine body. He sat beside her again, bracing one hand beside her head as he leaned over and looked into her gaze.

  “I can’t stay,” he told her. “I have too much to do. In the open area, there’s a microwave on a cabinet. If you get hungry, there are cans of soup and packets of popcorn in the cabinet, along with some instant coffee, bowls, and mugs. It’s pretty basic, but it will have to do until I return.”

  “I don’t care.” The thought of trying to eat something made her feel queasy.

  The mattress bowed under his weight, shifting her against his hip. Light from the bedside lamp gleamed in his dark hair, along the tanned skin of one lean cheek, and sparked in amber eyes.

  He had a knowledgeable gaze, like a man who had seen too much of the world and had not thought highly of it. Something rough had weathered him. She wondered if she would ever learn what it was. Yet despite that, he had probably saved her life tonight.

  For the second time, she touched him voluntarily, resting the fingers of one hand on his hard, muscled forearm. His skin was warm and sprinkled with dark hair. He looked down at her hand and took in a quiet breath as if he might say something.

  Her eyelids drifted closed as she waited for him to say what was on his mind.

  The bedsprings creaked as he eased away. She hurt too much to lay flat on her back, so she curled on one side.

  He must have thought she had fallen asleep, and she very nearly had. She watched him through her eyelashes as he began to walk out, but then he paused, his head angled to one side. She followed the direction of his gaze. For the first time she realized her purse sat on the floor, her phone and keys thrown on top of it.

  Bending, he took her phone and pocketed it. Then he continued out the door.

  He took her phone.

  A cold knot settled in the pit of her stomach, but it was a problem that had to get in line, because meeting the imperative demands of her abused body had to come first. Closing her eyes for real, she let the darkness take her.

  * * *

  He’d fucked up. Molly was a distraction, and now he was going to pay for it.

  Grimly, he stepped into the tech room to check his email and scan the security monitors. Everything looked quiet and normal. The protection spells that surrounded the basement felt solid, unbreached. Maybe they would block anyone who might try to trace her whereabouts by using the GPS on her phone.

  But maybe wasn’t something he relied on, ever. Checking Molly’s phone, he found that she hadn’t bothered to lock it with a password. He wasn’t surprised. Most people didn’t.

  That meant her texts, phone calls, contacts, and settings were easily accessible. She had the location settings turned off, but that wouldn’t disable the phone’s GPS.

  Quickly he exported her contacts to his email address. After the transfer had completed, he took out the phone card, dropped it on the floor, and crushed it under his heel.

  Then he sat to compose an email to his coven.

  “The integrity of the safe house here has been compromised. Do not approach. Seek other options if necessary.”

  If someone searched Molly’s phone records, they would find several calls connecting to his number, but that didn’t concern him. The number was registered to a local laundry service, and he had another phone specifically for the DA’s use.

  His main concern was how likely it was that someone might have tried to find Molly over the past several hours. For decades he had felt like he was playing chess with the unknown. This was another move on the board.

  If Sullivan had left the scene on his own, he might not have had a chance to confess to Russell Sherman or to anyone else that he had failed to take care of the Molly problem. But if he’d had help—if he was dead—then interest in Molly would have spiked.

  So it was possible.

  His computer pinged. He had a response from Steven, who was a night owl. He clicked on the email, which said: “What’s up? Need help?”

  He replied rapidly. “Unclear. I brought subject back to the safe house. I didn’t consider her phone’s GPS until too late. Would the protection spells block traces?” When he finished composing, he hit Send.

  His email pinged again. Steven had written: “Let me think. I’ll get back to you in a sec.”

  He sat back, arms crossed, and waited while he watched the screens. In the far corner of the property, a possum trundled past the security camera.

  Another email came through. He clicked Open. Steven had written: “You should be good while you’re in the basement. But you’d be vulnerable before and after. My best advice—destroy the phone card ASAP.”

  “Already done,” he typed. And he hadn’t wasted any time when he had brought Molly here. He thought of the speed with which he had gotten her under cover and relaxed slightly. “Thanks and have a good night.”

  The risk was minimal enough that it wasn’t worth moving her again. She was as safe as he could make her tonight.

  He pushed to his feet and locked the door of the room as he stepped out. When he checked the bedroom, Molly lay still and quiet. It was time to head back into the city.

  He paused just before climbing into the car and looked at the quiet country scene. Moonlight illuminated the back of the dark house. It was a creepy, isolated setting, and he didn’t like leaving her like this, but that was no reason to stay. She was hidden, and she had all her essential needs met. She wasn’t going to die.

  She messed with his head too much.

  Swearing under his breath, he drove away. First item on the agenda was to drive through the neighborhood of her rental. He did so with disciplined patience, all his senses wide open. It was close to three in the morning, and there were a few houses still lit where people were active, but most were dark and peaceful. The last thing he did was park the car and walk over a few blocks to the rental itself.

  Everything looked as it had when he had last seen it. The Jeep still sat where Molly had parked it. He scanned the vehicle for magic but didn’t find anything. He eased up the stairs to the rental to test the door. It was locked, the interior dark and silent. The location appeared to be secure.

  Maybe Sullivan’s attack on Molly was all of it, at least for the time being. Finally satisfied, he drove to the apartment. As he pulled into his parking space, his phone rang. It was Anson.

  Instantly, tension came roaring back. Throwing the Audi in park, he answered. “Anson.”

  “You took her to the safe house, didn’t you? That’s why the location is compromised.”

  “Yes.”

  Anson’s sigh was audible over their connection. He said somberly, “It’s probably just as well.”

  He had expected friction from Anson, especially after their earlier text conversation, but that surprised him. He narrowed his eyes. “Something happen?”

  “There’s another fire. This time it’s a house near the university. One body has been discovered, a female. There’s no official ID on her yet, but tax records list a woman named Nina Rodriguez as the property owner. I’ve been doing some searching. Apparently she’s a divorce attorney.”

  Josiah’s thoughts winged back to the conversation he’d had with Molly in the park. She’d said, Nina Rodriguez is my lawye
r. Ever heard of her? He swore.

  Anson asked, “Do you know who she is?”

  “Unless there’s another divorce lawyer in the area named Nina Rodriguez, she’s Molly’s attorney.”

  “So the two incidents are connected,” Anson said heavily.

  “Looks like it.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Text me the address, will you?”

  “Sure. Are you going to check out the site?”

  “You bet your ass I am.” He started the car again.

  The district attorney’s office in Fulton County had a hundred assistant district attorneys statewide and close to a hundred and fifty other staff that included administrative personnel and investigators.

  It might be quirky for the DA himself to show up at a house fire in the early hours of the morning on a weekend, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Besides, it might be useful for him to develop a reputation for being a quirky, hands-on kind of guy, and two suspicious fires in one night warranted some attention.

  Once he received the address, he plugged it into his GPS, and twenty minutes later, he parked half a block away from a house fire that turned the night sky red. Despite the odd hour, the scene had drawn several onlookers who clustered across the street, clad in pajamas, bath robes, and other random, casual outfits.

  Patrol cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance were parked nearby, along with a black van with white lettering that identified it as a medical examiner’s vehicle. All standard operating procedure. He scanned the area for any present or residual magic but didn’t sense anything.

  His phone buzzed, but he ignored it as he breached a simple police barrier constructed with tape run between two parked squad cars. When a uniformed policeman strode over to turn him back, he introduced himself and showed his ID.

  Within a short amount of time, he had located the fire chief on site and introduced himself again. Together they stood watching the firefighters work. “It always saddens me when a house goes down, and this one was a beauty.” The chief gave him a sidelong look. “Kinda late for most people to be out and about.”