It Takes a Witch: A Wishcraft Mystery (12 page)

Do no harm.

If the wish had been granted—and it had—that meant there had been no harm done.

Immediately, I felt better. Amanda and Laurel Grace would not be harmed. I was still left to wonder if they’d be
returned
.

Ve would know.

She had to know.

I recalled what she’d said earlier.
You need to use extra caution. You’re still new to your powers. You have no idea of what you’re capable.

Her words had obviously been proven true. There was so much I still had to learn.

A dog started barking, a loud vibrating
woof
,
woof
, and I turned around to find Gayle Chastain being walked by a Saint Bernard.

“Shush, Higgins,” she was saying. “You’ll wake everyone within three blocks.”

I slowed and let her catch up. Missy started sniffing the bigger dog as if she had no clue that one of his paws was bigger than her.

“Who’s walking who?” I joked with Gayle.

She smiled. “Do you have to ask?”

“He’s huge.”

“I know. Practically breaks my arm every night on these long walks. Russy used to do the leash holding.”

Russ—her husband who had passed away.

“Just one of the many reasons I still miss him,” she said, her heartache plain.

“Losing someone you love never gets easier.”

She glanced at me. “That’s right. Both your parents have passed?”

Had to love small towns and how fast gossip spread. “My mom from a car accident when I was seven; my dad four months ago from a heart attack.”

I was grateful the green was well lit at night as we walked along.

“That’s what Russ died from, too. A heart attack. So young. So preventable.” She shook her head, sadness emanating from her every pore.

“How old was he?”

“Just fifty-three.”

My dad had been almost sixty, and the heart failure hadn’t been a surprise. He’d purposely avoided the surgery that could have cured him. He’d wanted to die. He’d wanted to for twenty-three years.

Gayle sighed. “He knew he had heart problems, but they weren’t anything major, which was good, because he hated doctors. But then last December he caught the flu, and it was just too much for his heart to bear. If only he’d seen a doctor early on…”

The flu had been particularly nasty last year. “How are you coping?”

Higgins barked again, and she shushed him. “Some days are good; some bad. The bookshop helps. Keeps me busy. Harper’s been a great addition.”

We passed in front of the bookshop and Higgins pulled hard left, taking Gayle with him.

Missy tried to follow, but she was a little easier to control.

Gayle laughed. “I guess he’s ready to go home.” She lived in the apartment above the bookshop. “See you later, Darcy!”

I glanced down at Missy. “I’m glad Harper didn’t shoplift a Saint Bernard.”

She barked, as if in agreement. We’d done two more laps around the green when I suddenly stopped, having spotted something unusual. A light flashing up and down.

It was coming from inside Lotions and Potions.

As if pulled by an unknown force, I walked toward the shop, not sure what to do. Someone was inside, searching around with a flashlight. Every once in a while, the thin beam of light would stop, focused on something in particular.

I didn’t have my cell phone on me, and there wasn’t a
pay phone in sight. I was afraid to dash back to As You Wish, afraid that if I did, whoever was inside would get away scot-free.

Was it a scavenger? Someone who read about Alexandra’s death and came to rob the place? I’d heard about people like that, burglars who read obituaries in search of their next mark.

Was it the person who killed her? Looking for something left behind? A clue missed by the police?

I looked down at Missy. “What would you do?”

She stared back at me, then headed toward the shop, her nose to the ground.

I didn’t want to yank her back, because of the slipknot. I hurried behind her. She stopped abruptly at the edge of the green. From here I could see a shadowy figure moving about the shop. I had a clear view of the front door, but not the back. If someone headed out that way, it would be easy to escape.

Scooping up Missy, I sat on a bench, pretending to stargaze. My plan was that I’d stay put and wait for someone to happen past. It wasn’t terribly late. There was a chance I could flag down a car, or come across another dog walker. Hopefully someone would have a cell phone and could call the police.

My leg jiggled as my gaze darted back and forth down the street and then back to the shop window. I wanted to move closer, peek in. See if I recognized the intruder. But I’d seen enough horror movies to keep my distance.

“Boo!” someone whispered in my ear.

“Eeee!” I screamed, jumping up.

I clutched my heart and turned to find Nick Sawyer holding in a laugh. I punched his arm.

“Hey,” he protested. Then, when he got a good look at me, he said, “The sparkles suit you. But where are the wings?”

“Hung up for the night.” I grabbed his arm and yanked him down onto the bench. Missy immediately
climbed into his lap and lavished his jaw with kisses. I frowned at her and said, “Do you have your cell phone?”

“No, why?”

I pointed to the now dark shop. “We need to call the police.”

“Why?”

“Watch.”

After a second, the dot of light reappeared, making sweeping passes. Nick stood up. I pulled him back down. He stared at my hand on his arm. I quickly removed it.

“Stay here,” he said, moving toward the shop.

I went after him, Missy trailing after me. “You can’t go in there alone. That could be the killer in there.”

“All the more reason for you to stay here.” He stopped and I bumped into him. Reaching out, he steadied me. His hands lingered on my arms. “Stay here.”

I shook my head. “We need to call someone.”

In the moonlight, I saw him roll his eyes. “Did you forget I used to be a state trooper?”

I had, but still. “You’re not one anymore.”

“I’m not going to argue with you.” He broke into a jog, heading toward the back door of the store.

Missy followed him, and I followed her. Okay, I was more than willing to follow him, too. Abruptly, he stopped again. “I told you to stay back there.”

“I thought you weren’t going to argue with me. I’m coming along.” Partly because there was power in numbers, partly because I was dying to know who was in the shop. Was it someone I knew? Why was the person in there? What, exactly, was the intruder looking for?

The back alley was dimly lit, with a tall wooden fence separating it from the neighborhood behind the shops. Hulking Dumpsters sat every few yards. Wind whistled down the narrow lane, bringing with it foreign noises—
a scattering of leaves, rustling of branches, the movement of nighttime critters. I scooped up Missy and edged closer to Nick as he crept along the back of the building.

Suddenly there was a loud noise a few yards away, and I jumped. “What was that?” I whispered to Nick.

“Probably raccoons,” he answered, looking toward where the noise had come from. “I don’t see anything.”

His explanation didn’t settle my nerves. Bricks scraped my shoulders as we neared the back door of Lotions and Potions. The jamb was splintered where someone had taken a crowbar—which lay on the ground—to the frame.

He held up an arm and nudged the door. It swung open into a dark hallway. We stepped inside. Missy sniffed the air and wiggled, but I held her tightly. An office was to my right, a storeroom to my left. I tapped Nick’s shoulder. He turned. I could barely make out his features in the darkness, but I could feel how tense he was.

“Phone,” I mouthed. There was one sitting on the desk inside the office.

Nodding, he motioned me to go in, but he kept moving toward the front of the shop.

I took a step into the office. Moonbeams streamed in through a high window, lighting a space that was small and tidy with a desk, a filing cabinet, and some shelves. There wasn’t much personality that I could see. No pictures, no knickknacks, no clutter. I removed the phone from its base and punched in 911. I left it off the hook, knowing that the operator would trace the number while I darted back into the hallway. To borrow one of Harper’s phrases, I was feeling some seriously bad juju.

The musky scent of herbs mixed with sweet perfumy undertones filled the air as I caught up with Nick at the end of the hallway. He held a finger to his lips. Missy, normally a yapper, was quiet as could be, as if she could sense the danger.

The shop’s layout was a smaller version of the bookstore’s: Narrow floor-to-ceiling shelving lined one whole wall, and the shelves were filled with glass bottles tiny,
large, thin, and wide. There were three rows of shelves directly in front of us, neatly stocked with bottles of lotions, bath scrubs, and beauty supplies. To our right was the cash register area, a horseshoe-shaped counter that had a large chest of drawers behind it. This was where the burglar was rummaging, bent over, back to us. It was hard to tell whether the person was a man or a woman. All I could see was that the person wore a long flowing black satin cape, hood up. The counter concealed the burglar’s lower half.

The person obviously hadn’t heard us come in, as he or she continued to rummage through the chest of drawers. Stacks of papers sat on its top, tossed aside after a quick scanning. The burglar was apparently looking for something specific.

A beautiful wooden box sat on the counter next to the cash register, and atop that, the pink pointy hat Mimi admired. I wanted to snatch it for her, and wondered if Nick would care.

He looked at me over his shoulder and nodded downward—telling me with his eyes to stay right where I was. I was already thinking ahead, to if the burglar somehow got away from Nick and came my way. Being hidden had its advantages. All I’d have to do was stick out my foot, and the thief would go sprawling face-first.

Keeping low, and out of sight beneath the countertop, Nick crept closer to the intruder. Closer and closer. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel my pulse beating near my ear. Missy’s heart, too, was working overtime. I could feel it thumping against my palm.

In the distance, I could hear the faint bleat of an approaching siren. Nick had reached the opening leading behind the counter. There was really no escape for the burglar unless the person scaled the counter—and I was ready if that happened. Nick slowly rose from his crouch.

Missy barked.

The intruder jerked upward, and suddenly there was a puff of sparkling bright light.

Nick lunged forward and grabbed…nothing at all.

The intruder had vanished.

Just. Like. That.

T
he next morning, I propped one foot on the bench beneath the birch tree in a pose I’d seen other runners strike and fought back a yawn as I waited for Starla Sullivan. It was early, just after six. The green was quiet, eerily still, with an early-morning haze that would be sure to burn off as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Across the green, I studied Lotions and Potions. There was nothing out of place, no reminder of what had happened last night.

Maybe because what
had
happened wasn’t clear.

By the time the police arrived, Nick and I had agreed to lie and say the intruder had evaded both of us and escaped out the back door. Our statements were taken and we had been sent on our way.

Neither of us had really talked about what had happened, what we’d seen.

He’d been stunned. I’d been left wondering what kind of Crafter had been at work. I didn’t know of a Craft family that could make themselves disappear. I hadn’t known what to say, or how to explain. All I could do was act as baffled as he was—which wasn’t much of a stretch.

If it was indeed a Crafter in the shop, what was he or she looking for? Had Alex really known something about the Craft, as she had intimated at the bookshop
the night she died? Was it possible she
had
been a Crafter?

I glanced over at As You Wish, looking spectral in the spooky light. I’d been eager to talk to Ve this morning, but I had been quite surprised to find her room empty. Missy and her leash were gone, too, so I figured they were out on a morning walk, but I hadn’t seen them on the green.

I was trying my best to ignore the little knot of worry in the pit of my stomach. I really needed to talk to Ve about the Goodwins. And how I could bring them home.

Harper had been sleeping when I left, but she had plans to work in the bookshop today. I was curious to see what she would learn about the latest incident at Lotions and Potions, Alex’s life, and Griffin Huntley after another day on the job.

I had my own sleuthing to do—namely, get Evan’s alibi and find out what was bothering Mrs. Pennywhistle. Whatever it was had to be related to Alex Shively.

I switched legs, stretching my muscles. Hearing footsteps, I turned to find Starla jogging toward me, a bright spot in the murky morning. She wore a bright blue T-shirt, matching shorts, and neon green sneakers. Her blond ponytail swung wildly as she bounded up and jogged in place. Beads of sweat pearled along her hairline, and I noticed she was huffing and puffing just a bit.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Fine! Great! I love running! Ready?”

I was as ready as I’d ever be. I hadn’t had a chance to get new running shoes yesterday, and I wasn’t nearly as color-coordinated as Starla. I wore an old pair of black gym shorts, a vintage
Tom and Jerry
T-shirt, and my old sneakers. My hair was pulled high atop my head and coiled into a sloppy bun. My face had been scrubbed clean of any glitter.

We started at a slow pace along the path that wound
around the green. “How’s Evan?” I probed. “Is his face any better?”

“I haven’t seen him this morning, but he looked terrible last night.” She breathed hard. “We’re not sure what to do.”

I reached up and rubbed the spot on my forehead where Dennis Goodwin’s hands had cured my headache the night before. Would he—or Cherise—be able to help Evan?

Carefully watching my words, I said, “I’ve heard of a local doctor, Dennis Goodwin, who comes highly recommended. Maybe Evan should try and see him.”