“Hey, Steve.” He bobbed his head in greeting as the man arrived at the edge of our table. “I don’t know if you guys have been properly introduced. Hadley Hunter, this is Steve West. He’s one of the assistant pathologists at the medical examiner’s office.”
I smiled at him because it seemed the thing to do. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Steve took a moment to look me up and down — I had no idea what he was thinking — and then grabbed a chair from a neighboring table so he could sit at the end without crowding us. He focused his full attention on Galen. “I have some news for you.”
“Is this good or bad news?” Galen looked grim. “If it’s bad news, you might want to hold off until tomorrow. It will be easier for me to absorb it then.”
“I don’t know that it’s good or bad news. It’s just news.”
“Oh, well, lay it on me.” He winked at me and tapped his feet on top of mine under the table. It was a companionable move, which I appreciated. I still felt the overwhelming urge to take care of him.
“We’ve managed to match the wounds on Salma Hershey’s body to an athame,” Steve started. “Before you ask, we’re sure. There was an odd notch on the blade that made a distinctive mark.”
Galen’s forehead wrinkled. “You found the exact murder weapon? How?”
“We didn’t find the exact murder weapon. Or, well, at least we don’t think we have. The athame in question is sold at three different stores on the island. It’s one of the kitschy pieces we sell to tourists.”
“And they all have the same notch?” I asked.
Steve briefly glanced at me, not bothering to hide the momentary flash of annoyance. Still, he answered the question. “It’s a product of the design.”
“Do we know if the athame was purchased recently?” Galen asked.
“No. I don’t have answers for you on that front. I figure that’s your job.”
Galen rolled his eyes and nodded, his hand going to the back of his neck to rub at the tension I was certain was pooling there. “Well, at least we know what sort of weapon to look for.”
“I sent a photocopy of the athame to your email. There’s more.” Steve paused for dramatic effect. “The same athame that killed Salma Hershey was used to take out Alastair Herne ... and it looks as if the murders were committed within three hours of each other.”
I did the math in my head. “That probably means Salma died on the beach first, maybe after she argued with Alastair. He took off because he knew people were about to find out about his duplicity, and someone must’ve followed him.”
“That makes the most sense,” Galen agreed. “Except for one thing.”
“The sirens,” I surmised. I’d been wondering about that myself. “How did someone get on their property without them noticing?”
“That’s also your job to figure out,” Steve said as he stood, his eyes briefly traveling to the group of witches in the corner. He seemed to like what he saw. “I need to get going. My wife has dinner waiting for me and she hates it when I’m late.”
I gaped. “You’re married?”
Steve didn’t respond, instead waving to Galen and turning on his heel and stalking toward the door. He took the time to glance back at the witches ... twice ... before disappearing.
“I can’t believe he’s married and was checking out those women that way,” I complained as Galen chuckled at my outrage. “I’m serious. If you ever check out women like that while we’re together I’ll tie something you’re very fond of into a knot ... and, yeah, I’ll let you use your imagination as to what that is.”
Galen’s smile never wavered. “I guess it’s good that you’re all I want, huh?”
I went warm all over. “Yeah.”
He held my gaze for an extended beat. “How do you feel about getting the crab legs to go and eating at home?”
I was already moving to scramble out of the booth. “You read my mind.”
“Funny how that happens, huh?”
21
Twenty-One
Galen didn’t last long once we got back to the lighthouse. He put up a good effort, and demanded romance before starting the second half of our day, but he passed out on the couch before he could follow through on any of it, including eating his late lunch.
I packed away the extra food for later, put a blanket over him while kissing his forehead and then escaped. I left a note so he wouldn’t worry, but I knew he would be down for at least two hours. He slept hard, but always woke rejuvenated. I figured it was a shifter thing. Either way, the morning and afternoon excitement had taken it out of him and he needed quiet, so that’s what I gave him.
I didn’t have a specific destination in mind when I left the lighthouse. I considered heading back to the beach to see how the sirens were doing with festival security. I very much doubted things would get out of hand again quite so soon, so instead I headed toward June’s hotel.
I had no idea what drew me there. My brain told me it was a bad idea because I was likely to run into Bronwen. Her group had scattered once the sirens had shown up, and I was fairly certain they had only one place to retreat to. I wasn’t fearful of her as much as curious, though, and that was one of the reasons I set the hotel as my destination.
Bronwen was alone on the patio, a large book open on the table in front of her. She seemed intent, as if she was reading about one of life’s great mysteries. I took the opportunity to study her, and found that despite everything that had happened I wanted to like her. It was an odd feeling.
“Don’t just stand there and gape, Hadley,” she said without looking up from the book. “It’s rude ... though I don’t think you’re much bothered by that prospect.”
I huffed out a sigh and shuffled my feet against the concrete. “How did you know I was here?”
“You have a certain presence. Also, you’re casting a recognizable shadow.”
Oh, well, so much for her using her witchy powers to detect me. “I guess I should get better at this spying thing, huh?” I offered her a smile when she finally looked up, and slipped into the chair across from her. “What are you doing?”
“Why don’t you invade my mind like you usually do and find out?”
I wanted to act annoyed and argue with her, but she wasn’t wrong. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Really?” Bronwen leaned back in her chair. In this light, I could see the fine lines in her face much better. She was much older than I’d originally guessed, although she’d preserved herself ridiculously well ... which I found intriguing.
“Really.” I refused to back down. “It was an accident.”
“You also need to work on your lying while you’re practicing to be a better spy,” she said dryly. “I don’t believe a word of what you just said. You’ve already admitted you were playing a game on the docks, testing out your new powers. That’s the reason I didn’t slap you harder that afternoon. I understand about curiosity.
“What you did yesterday is completely different,” she continued. “You went rooting around my head with an express purpose, though I’ve yet to figure out what that purpose was. I thought I had the upper hand and was going to teach you a lesson, but you thought otherwise ... and you turned out to be right.”
“I don’t think it’s a case of right or wrong,” I countered. “I just ... thought I saw something between you and June. It seemed weird and I went digging. I was wrong, but sometimes I can’t stop myself from being an idiot.”
Bronwen’s lips curved into an easy smile. “I think we’ve all been there. Still, not everything in this world is your business.”
“It is when I’m trying to find a murderer.”
“And do you believe I’m a murderer?”
“Probably not, but I have no reason to rule you out. You had as much reason as anyone to hate Alastair. He stole your idea ... and apparently millions of dollars that could’ve been yours. That has to be a hard pill to swallow.”
“And now that he’s
dead you think I somehow tracked him down and killed him? How did I manage that? When was he killed? Where? How? I might be able to help you rule me out as a suspect if I have access to more information.”
“Fair enough. He died the night before you arrived on the island.”
She cocked an amused eyebrow. “And you think I somehow managed to teleport here from the cruise ship and kill him? I think you’re giving me more credit than I deserve.”
“I don’t know. Can witches teleport?”
“Not usually.”
“Can they fly on brooms? That sounds kind of fun.”
Her expression turned pinched. “You don’t know anything about being a witch, do you?”
The question felt as if it should’ve been insulting, but I couldn’t figure out exactly how. Still, I shifted on my chair, uncomfortable. “I ... well ... I know some things.”
Her grin only widened. “What do you know?”
“I know that I cast a protection spell yesterday, but I’m still not sure how I did it. I know that at the festival earlier today there was a warning in my head telling me Galen was in danger and I reacted on instinct. I also know that I can feel power coursing through my veins.
“Intellectually, I know it must’ve been there before I moved to Moonstone Bay, but I think I would’ve noticed if it were, so I’m starting to wonder if the island is the key to my magic. I haven’t brought that up to anyone, because I don’t want to look like an idiot.”
Bronwen’s countenance was calm. “I asked June about you after that first day on the docks. I was curious enough to dig a little. She was reticent about sharing information, but she did mention that you weren’t raised on the island and are a recent transplant.”
“That’s not really a secret.”
“No, but it is interesting. You just said you believe the island gives you power. You’re an adult, have been for a long time, and yet you’re just coming into your magic now. I think it could be several different things, but you haven’t asked so I’m leery of volunteering my opinion in case you take it the wrong way.”
“Why would you be leery about that?”
“Because you’re powerful enough to kill me if you choose. You wouldn’t even have to get up from that chair to do it.”
My mouth went dry. “What?”
“Oh, don’t pretend you can’t feel that magic zipping through your veins. You’re cocky, but I guess you have a right to be. You’re also fearful, but you go above and beyond to hide that.”
“Now who is invading whose mind?” I grumbled, rubbing my forehead.
She chortled, delighted. “Oh, you’re very funny. June has grown fond of you. I tend to trust her judgment, even if you do have a few rude characteristics.”
“To be fair, I don’t even know what’s considered rude in the witch world,” I admitted. “I feel as if I’m constantly behind and trying to catch up on that front.”
“I wouldn’t worry. You’re already so far advanced compared to others of our kind that you’re towering over us. Still, I understand what you’re saying. Power without understanding is a terrifying thing. Have you considered asking your boyfriend?”
I shifted on the chair, suddenly anxious to look anywhere but her eyes. “Galen and I talk all the time.”
“Not about this you don’t. Why?”
“I don’t know. We just ... don’t. He’s the sheriff. He usually has a lot on his plate.”
“In a town the size of Moonstone Bay, I have my doubts. Still, I don’t care what you say. He would want to help you any way that he can. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and you him. Why is it, do you think, that your instincts took over and demanded you protect him this afternoon?”
That was a very good question. “I don’t know. I just figured that it happened because he was in danger and I was meant to help. It probably would’ve happened with anyone.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. Your bond with him is profound. You’ve known each other only a few months, so that’s fairly impressive. You were alerted to the danger to him specifically. You weren’t alerted to what was going to happen to Salma and Alastair, right? No. This was a unique situation and you acted accordingly.”
“Yeah, well ... .” I rubbed my chin as the door to the hotel opened to allow June entrance to the patio. She carried a tray with a pitcher of iced tea on it. Her smile was warm and welcoming when she saw me.
“I thought I heard your voice, Hadley. I grabbed an extra glass just in case. I’m glad you stopped by. Bronwen informed me of what you did at the festival this afternoon. I’m quite impressed. You saved one of my boys, and I’ll forever be thankful.”
My cheeks colored under the praise. “I’m kind of fond of him, too. It wasn’t a big deal … how did you know about it?”
Bronwen smiled. “I was there. Remember?”
“Oh, right. Then why did you let me go on about it like an idiot?”
“Because you crack me up when you babble.”
Well, that was good to know.
“It was a big deal,” June countered, her eyes filling with concern as she looked me over. “What seems to be troubling you? I would’ve thought you and Galen would be sewed together this afternoon. Did something happen?”
“He’s napping.” I saw no reason to lie. “After we got away from the beach, his energy level dropped to almost nothing and he passed out on the couch five minutes after we got home. He had big plans to romance me and everything, but they never came to fruition.”
June snorted out a laugh. “That’s just like him. He was always a big napper, even as a kid. Booker gave him endless grief about it.”
“I think Booker and Galen enjoy giving each other grief because that’s how they express their friendship.”
“Figured that out, have you?” June winked as she poured me a glass of iced tea. “Both those boys are big talkers. True, they’ve gotten into the occasional scrap. I maintain that if they’d been left to their own devices rather than pitted against one another as children they would be the best of friends now.”
“What makes you think they aren’t?” I was serious. “They’re friends. They just pretend they aren’t. When one of them needs something, they immediately go to the other. Sure, they both complain and cry about it, but they still do it. If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is.”
“That’s a very good point. I’m glad Galen is getting the rest that he needs. I’m surprised you left him, though. Bronwen said you basically jumped in front of a bullet for him.”
I shot the witch in question a dubious look. “Um ... no. That’s not what happened at all. I sensed trouble and dragged him to the ground, where he proceeded to roll on top of me and cover my head like I was a small child.”
“You can’t fault his instincts,” June chided. “He loves you. He did the only thing he could think to do.”
“And I did the only thing I could do. We’re figuring things out. On the personal front, despite a few arguments here and there, we’re good. It’s the witchy front that I’m doubtful on, as your friend has figured out.”
“She was trying to get inside my head because she sensed we were keeping something from her yesterday,” Bronwen volunteered, her gaze pointed. “She’s the curious sort and went digging for information. Unfortunately, she thinks what we’re hiding has to do with Alastair’s death.”
The chuckle June let loose was dry. “Oh, you’re hilarious, Hadley. You should’ve just asked instead of invading her head. I would’ve told you.”
“Told me what?” I was practically salivating at the notion that a secret was about to be revealed. “What’s the big deal? Are you two working together? Oh, geez, June, you didn’t kill Alastair, did you? I know you think he’s a jerk, but Galen won’t appreciate having to cover up a murder for you.”
June’s lips quirked as she shook her head. “We haven’t committed a murder. Er, well, at least not together. We’ve been separated for a few years, so I guess anything
is possible where she’s concerned.”
Bronwen snorted. “Nice. I’m glad to hear you have such a high opinion of me.”
I narrowed my eyes as I watched their interaction. Something was definitely off about the way they conversed. If I didn’t know better ... . Realization dawned on me. “You guys are a couple.”
June’s eyes sparked with mirth at my surprise. “It took you long enough to figure it out, though I don’t know that I would say we’re a couple. It’s more that we used to be a couple and we’re debating whether we want to be a couple again.”
I was dumbfounded. “But ... you’re so much older than her.”
The merriment leaked out of June’s eyes. “I’m not that old. I still have a lot of life left to live.”
“And she’s not that much older than me,” Bronwen added. “Ten years is nothing in the grand scheme of things.”
I tossed the idea around in my head ... and then started shaking it. “No, I’m sorry. You must be at least twenty years apart … and forty is a better estimation. I mean, I don’t want to be insulting or anything, but you looked a good ten years younger the other day on the docks. It must’ve been a trick of the lighting. I thought you were in your twenties that day. Now, though, you can’t be out of your forties.”
“I’m in my late sixties,” Bronwen countered.
“You are not.”
“But I am.”
“No way.” I looked to June for answers. “She’s just messing with me, right?”
June hesitated, unsure how to answer. Ultimately, Bronwen did it for her.
“It’s glamour,” Bronwen explained, waving her hand over her face. When it passed by a second time, I gasped because the woman sitting before me looked nothing like the one I’d been introduced to. The lines I’d seen in her face were ten times more pronounced and there were wisps of gray in her eyebrows.
“I don’t understand.” My voice raspy. “How did you manage this?”
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