Harper and I hadn’t known a thing about Kyle Chadwick until a month ago when Starla opened up to us, telling us her fateful story of love gone wrong. According to Ve, Starla didn’t talk much about her tumultuous marriage at all, telling people only that she was divorced and that it most certainly hadn’t been amicable.
That had been an understatement of a lifetime.
It was a miracle she was sitting here.
There was a tap at the back door, and Nick stuck his head inside. “Darcy? You called?”
Missy squirmed, and I set her down. She bounded over to the door as I waved him inside. He bent down to rub Missy’s ears before coming into the kitchen.
All it took was one look at our faces before his dark eyes shifted from curious to on-the-job. “What’s going on?”
Standing close to him, I felt the warmth of his body heat and moved a little closer. I cared for him more than I ever dared admit. I was working up my nerve to confess those three little words, even within the silence of my own head. It had been a long time since I’d said them to a man—my ex-husband had been the last, and we’d been divorced for years now. But even as lousy a husband as Troy had been, he had been a saint compared to Kyle Chadwick.
Starla related what she’d seen on the village green and fresh tears filled her eyes. “Except for being a lot thinner, he was exactly the same as he was two years ago. The same haircut—long and shaggy—and the same square face, the same piercing blue eyes. I always thought that if he came back he’d wear a disguise. Change his hair color, grow a beard. But no. He was just . . . him. And he was watching me.”
I shivered.
Harper shuddered.
Nick dragged a hand through his dark hair. He knew the history of Kyle Chadwick, the village’s most notorious fugitive. “Starla, are you sure it was him?”
“The longer I sit here, the more I doubt myself. But I took pictures. They’ll prove it one way or another.” She pushed the camera toward him. “You know what he looks like, right? From his mug shot and the wanted posters?”
Fortunately, Kyle was not a Wishcrafter—or else his photos would be nothing but bright starbursts. He was a Manicrafter, a witch with magical hands. And he was most likely a sociopath.
“I’d know his face anywhere.” Nick drew in a deep breath as he reached for the camera and flicked the power switch. He hit the button to review the photos and clicked and clicked and finally looked up at Starla.
“What?” she asked, lifting off the stool at his strange expression. “It’s him. Isn’t it him? I know it’s him.”
“How many pictures did you take this afternoon?” he asked.
“Of just Kyle or of everyone?”
“Everyone.”
“Hundreds. I was wrapping up my afternoon rounds when I saw him.”
Nick’s brown eyes were flat and unreadable as he turned the camera around. “Then it looks as though someone might have tampered with your camera.”
“What do you mean?” She grabbed for the Nikon and let out a little cry.
I leaned over her shoulder as she continued to click a button, despite the message on the review screen.
FOLDER CONTAINS NO IMAGES
There was no photo of Kyle.
There were no photos at all.
They’d all been deleted.
Chapter Two
None of us knew what to say as a stunned Starla stared at the camera. Finally she broke the thick silence. “I don’t know what happened to the pictures.”
“Could you have accidentally deleted them?” Nick asked. “Sounds like you were in a bit of shock.”
Her shoulders hunched in a shrug. “Maybe.”
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
I was beginning to hate that word.
Harper’s small fist banged the countertop. “No, that’s not what happened. For the love. It’s obvious he erased them. He saw that you left your camera behind and took the opportunity to wipe the camera’s memory clean. I’ll go ask around the rink, see if anyone saw something.”
“No,” Nick said in a determined tone. “I’ll go. This is police business. If Kyle Chadwick is back in town, then the police will look into it. He’s a fugitive, a dangerous one at that.”
Nick and I had gone through a rough patch around Halloween after Glinda Hansel, a village police officer, had complained that I was too involved with an ongoing murder case and that Nick had violated regulations by sharing information with me. She had not so subtly threatened his job if he kept it up.
The shake-up had created a wedge between Nick and me. He’d become overly sensitive about keeping me out of police business, and I’d become resentful that I had to share everything I learned about the case with him but he couldn’t tell me a thing.
I’d been relieved when that case had ended (thanks mostly to my sleuthing), and we’d been able to put it behind us and move on.
Until now, apparently.
Harper’s big elfish eyes narrowed—she hated to be challenged—but then her gaze flicked to me. I silently begged her to let it go.
“Fine,” she said. “You look into it.”
“Thank you,” I mouthed to her.
“Listen,” Nick said, his gaze sweeping over all of us. “I know this situation is upsetting, but until we know anything for certain, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll let patrol know to keep an eye out for Kyle Chadwick, that there’s been a possible sighting in the village. I’m going to make a call.” He spun and went out the back door.
A gust of icy wind swept inside and swirled around my feet as I watched him go. Starla didn’t stop him, so I figured she’d come to terms with taking her plight public.
I hated what I saw in her eyes. The angst. The despair.
“I don’t want to go through this again,” she whispered.
Putting Missy on the floor, I wrapped my arms around Starla from behind, resting my jaw on the top of her head. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. As soon as Ve gets home, I’ll talk to her about casting one of her famous protection spells, too.”
Sometimes being a witch came in handy.
“Thanks,” she murmured. Tilda let out a reow as Starla scooped her up and passed her off to me. “I think I’m going to head home and rest for a while.”
Tilda squirmed in my arms, and then leapt out of them and raced up the back staircase. I didn’t take her abandonment personally. Though we’d had a rough start, we got along fairly well now as long as I remembered that Tilda was boss. “You can stay here, Starla.” I didn’t like the idea of her being alone right now.
The zipper on her coat stuck and she gave it a good yank, drawing the metal tab up to her chin. “That’s all right,” she said. “I just want to be home.”
“Will Evan be there? Or is he still at the bakery?” Harper asked.
The siblings shared a brownstone together, along with Starla’s tiny dog, Twink, who, though adorable, couldn’t protect her from a gnat, never mind a deranged ex.
“He’s out delivering a cake,” she said.
I doubted Evan even knew what was going on since Starla had run straight here after seeing Kyle. But if he wasn’t around . . . “I can call Vince.” I was proud of myself for making that offer without a hint of animosity in my voice.
With fists balled at her side, twin red spots bloomed on her cheeks. The angst had shifted out of her eyes, replaced now with a simmering fury that made her blue irises appear purple. “I’ll be fine.”
I had the feeling she was talking more to herself than us.
Her knuckles had turned white from clenching her fists so hard. “I refuse to let him do this to me again. I will not be a victim.”
“Damn right,” Harper said in solidarity. “Thatta girl!”
Resolutely, Starla nodded, picked up her camera, and turned toward the back door. She took a few calming breaths, inhaling softly and barely exhaling. “I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” I said, wishing she’d just stay.
/> “Okay, I’m going.” She took two steps forward, then stopped. Another step, then stopped. “Really, I am.”
When Nick opened the back door, Starla took the opportunity to rush out, flying past him as fast as her booted feet could carry her. He pressed himself against the door to avoid a collision.
“I’ll follow her,” Harper said, giving my arm a quick squeeze, before she, too, blew past Nick.
Missy bolted out the door, too, and I hollered, “Make sure the gate’s closed!” That little dog was sneaky as could be and had run off more times than I could count. She never failed to return home, however, so I wasn’t too worried.
Nick closed the door and said, “Did I miss something?”
“A demonstration of courage at its finest,” I said.
“Starla’s a tough cookie.”
I didn’t agree. If Starla was a cookie, she was a Mallomar. Tough on the outside, yes, but one crack revealed a marshmallow middle. Right now she was putting on a courageous act.
But I was a big believer in the “fake it till you make it” philosophy she was using. If she could make it through this test of her fortitude, she could make it through anything.
Nick said, “The village force is on high alert, and I sent Glinda over to interview Kyle’s family. She’s a friend of theirs, so hopefully they’ll open up to her.”
Glinda. Great.
“Is there anything magical I need to know about this case?” he asked.
Nick had grown up mortal but had been tuned into the witchy world around him, thanks to his deceased ex-wife Melina. She’d been a Wishcrafter who gave up her Craft to let him in on her secret world once they were married, making him a Wishcrafter-by-marriage (known as a Halfcrafter in our circle). He had no powers but he was privy to the magical world in which he lived and was able to help raise his twelve-year-old daughter Mimi as a Crafter. She had inherited her mother’s Wishcrafting abilities and was slowly learning the ins and outs of the Craft.
Mimi and I had a lot in common.
My father had also been mortal, and my mother had also lost her Wishcrafting abilities when she told him of the magic she possessed. Unlike Nick, my father wasn’t supportive of the witch world and insisted his children be raised as mortals. I liked to think that my mother would have eventually changed his mind, but she never had the chance. There had been a car accident when she was pregnant with Harper—my mother had died. Harper was born prematurely.
My father never told us of our heritage, and it wasn’t until after his death that we learned of our abilities from Aunt Ve. It didn’t take long after that for Harper and me (and Missy) to pack up our lives in Ohio and move here to the Enchanted Village.
“Kyle Chadwick is a Manicrafter, so this definitely is not a mortal case.” I was still a little shaky as I walked back to the sink and picked up the pot I’d abandoned when Starla had come in. “But I don’t think his Craft has anything to do with him being a sociopath.”
“What kind of abilities do Manicrafters have?”
Drawing my hands out of the soapy water, I wiggled my fingers at him. “Manis have magical hands. They are exceptional with tactile adeptness. They’re great with delicate work, small objects, and arts and crafts. As you probably know, Kyle’s mom, dad, and brothers are all artisans and own Wickedly Creative.”
“Mimi loves that place.”
“She does?” How didn’t I know that?
“Glinda teaches basket weaving there, and has taken Mimi there a few times to paint ceramics and take some classes. They did a glassblowing class last weekend. Mimi couldn’t stop talking about it.”
Glinda again. She was a Broomcrafter, so basket weaving was right in her wheelhouse. She was extremely adept at woodworking as well. I sponged down the inside of the pot and rinsed it clean. I couldn’t help but feel an ache bloom in my chest. Mimi hadn’t said a word about the outing to me, and I’d seen her every afternoon this week. Four days and not a word about glassblowing with Glinda.
Letting out a sigh, I supposed I couldn’t blame Mimi for keeping mum. She was a smart girl and sensed the tension when Glinda’s name came up. I grabbed a spoon from the soapy side of the sink and scrubbed it for all it was worth.
It wasn’t too long ago that Glinda revealed she’d been Melina Sawyer’s best friend once upon a time. She attached herself to Mimi under the guise of helping Mimi learn more about her mother.
On the surface, it seemed like a nice gesture.
Beneath the surface, I smelled a rat.
I’d been seven when my mother was killed and understood Mimi’s grief at the loss of her mom to cancer two years ago—and her desire to learn as much about her mom as she could.
I just wished that it wasn’t Glinda who held the information. “She’s a friend of the family and works for them, too? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
In the reflection of the now-sparkling spoon, I could see anger flashing in my golden blue eyes. Glinda hadn’t really disguised the fact that she wanted Nick for herself, and I couldn’t help but suspect she was using Mimi to make that happen. She even went out of her way to be nice to me.
The woman wasn’t stupid.
“Ordinarily, yes,” Nick said. “But not in this case.”
“Why not?”
“Because I asked her to take the job.”
I looked over my shoulder at him. “You did what? Why?”
“Undercover mission to discover where Kyle’s been living while on the lam. When I heard the rumors about Kyle’s family harboring him, I hoped Glinda would overhear something while working at the studio. . . .”
I couldn’t keep the doubt out of my voice as I said, “And she agreed to go undercover?”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Being a family friend and all . . .”
“Her first priority is being a police officer. Kyle’s case remains unsolved and is a stain on the department, seeing as how he broke out of our jail. If anyone can learn where Kyle is, it’s Glinda.”
With more force than necessary, I tossed the spoon into the drying rack and pulled the plug in the sink. The glug glug of the water draining echoed through the kitchen.
Nick came up behind me at the sink and slid his arms around my waist and dropped his cheek onto my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t like that Glinda Hansel.”
His laughter vibrated against my neck, tickling the sensitive skin there. “No, really? I guess I shouldn’t invite her to your birthday party then.”
I gave him a playful jab to his stomach. “Don’t even joke. And I told you, no parties. Let’s just treat it like any other day.” My birthday was next weekend, and I was already dreading it.
“Not a chance.”
“No parties,” I warned.
Smiling, he said, “All right, all right. I won’t plan one.” He crossed his heart and planted a kiss on my nose. “And I know Glinda’s not your favorite, Darcy, but she is Mimi’s friend,” he said reluctantly. “It would be best if we can all get along.”
Hmm. Glinda may be Mimi’s friend, but was Mimi a friend of Glinda’s? Or a means to an end? “I suppose.”
His warm lips kissed a spot behind my ear, and I tipped my head to the side, giving him better access.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” I argued, resting my hands on his chest. “I just don’t trust her.”
Okay, I was a smidge jealous. But that smidge wasn’t over Nick. It was over Mimi. I trusted Nick enough to know Glinda had no power over him. But Mimi . . . she was young. Naive. Defenseless against Glinda’s guile.
“Do you like her? Trust her?” I asked.
“I like her just fine, and I trust very few,” he said.
I knew. I sighed.
Warmth filled his brown eyes and he laughed. “Let’s not talk about Glinda. How about you come over tonight after dinner? I’ll make you dessert and show you just how much I like you. Mimi’s been invited to a slumber
party, so I have the house to myself. Well, Higgins will be there, too.”
I smiled grudgingly. “You know I can’t resist his drool.” Higgins was the Saint Bernard Nick and Mimi had adopted last summer.
“It’s a date then?” Nick asked.
“It’s a date.”
He was giving me a preview of just how much he liked me when the back door burst open, slamming against the wall.
Nick and I jumped apart as though we were two teens being busted by our parents.
Harper stomped into the kitchen carrying Starla’s camera. She took one look at the two of us, rolled her eyes, and said, “Starla spotted me following her, so she let me walk her home. And she let me have this.” She held up the Nikon, and then shoved it at Nick. “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, Chief, but I’d think you’d want to check that for prints, no?”
Spinning, she stormed out as fast as she came in and slammed the door again.
Nick looked at me.
“I’ll talk to her,” I said.
“I’m going to go interview people at the ice skating rink.” He smiled and held up the camera. “And get this checked for prints.”
Chapter Three
There were some days I was beyond grateful that my work hours were so flexible. Yes, it helped that I worked for my aunt, and she gave me a lot of leeway, but because As You Wish wasn’t a retail store it was easier to slip out when I needed to run an errand . . . or a background check on a best friend’s crazy ex-husband.
At As You Wish, our services ranged from the fantastical (one client wanted a carnival complete with elephants set up for a weekend party—on two days’ notice) to the sweet (an impromptu getaway to an exotic locale) to the practical (help with cleaning a hoarder’s house). Calls came in at all hours of the day from clients who usually desired something on short notice. They wanted, needed, wished for something impossible. Or at least impossible to them.
Not for us.
With Ve gone for the day, off to the Cape to manage a midwinter clambake, I made sure the voice mail system was switched on as I got ready to head out. Truthfully, our voice mail was probably the hardest worker at As You Wish. Today it would be working overtime as I prepared to seek the counsel of the village’s resident historian—I needed to talk to someone who knew exactly what had gone down two years ago between Starla and Kyle.
The Goodbye Witch Page 2