The Trouble With Witches (18 page)

A scene unfolded in my mind. A book with a black cover sat on a table surrounded by candles. The cover flipped open, moved by unseen hands, to show pages yellowed with age. And as the flame of the candles wavered madly, a huge spider with dark hairy legs crawled across the table and onto the book. The voice turned from a whisper to a growl. Frightened, I jerked up right and opened my eyes. Dizziness and nausea swamped me and I closed them again.

The growl grew louder and louder, but now, over the sound, I heard someone calling my name. Forcing the nausea away, I opened my eyes again and looked out over the lake.

A small fishing boat approached with a figure waving an arm in the air and calling to me. I didn't recognize the man, but I did the voice.

Rick. How did he sneak up here?

I lowered my head and inhaled deeply through my nose. The last of the dizziness faded, but left me shaking inside. Lifting my head, I stood and gave him a weak wave.

When I saw the way Rick was dressed, I would've laughed if I hadn't felt like crap. His clean-cut, kind of preppy look was gone. He wore a sweat-stained T-shirt and ripped cutoffs. A baseball cap, worn with the bill in back, covered his dark brown hair. And beneath his dark sunglasses, the three-day shadow of a beard covered his face.

So he hadn't shaved for his hot date last night.

Rick cut the motor and the boat slid alongside the dock. He threw me a line and I tied the rope to a piling. He pulled his dark sunglasses off and bewilderment crossed his face.

"Hey, you don't look good—"

"Thanks," I said shortly.
"Nice to see you, too.
How did you—"

"I meant you're pale," he interrupted as he stepped onto the dock. "Are you sick?"

I thought about the stomach cramps. No need to tell him, so I lied. "No, I'm fine."

"How long have you been in the sun?" he asked, his eyes mirroring his disbelief. "You might be dehydrated."

Reaching into the boat, he grabbed a jug and handed it to me. "Go ahead—
it's
water. And I haven't touched it."

After the scene I saw in my head, catching germs from Rick was the least of my worries.

Gratefully, I took a sip. The cold water slipped down my throat and I felt better. Maybe he was right, I thought. Maybe what I'd seen was some kind of peculiar reaction to heat stroke.

Yeah, right.

Lowering the jug, I handed it back to him.

"Better?"

I nodded, unable to find my voice.

Rick's gaze shifted away from me, and he stared out over the lake. The minutes ticked by and the silence remained unbroken. Like neither one of us wanted to be the first to speak.

"Where are Abby and
Darci
?" he asked, ending the standoff.

"They went to Melcher for breakfast."

He turned toward me. "Why didn't you go with them?"

I wasn't ready to tell him about the visions.

"I had things to do," I said tersely.

A typical reporter, Rick persisted. "Like what?"

He wouldn't cut me any slack until I told him everything. My stomach cramped again and I knew I wasn't up to playing any games.

Throwing up my hands and taking a deep breath, I let the words spill out. I told him everything—the cabin, the strange lights, the unusual dreams.

He listened without expression until I'd finished.

"What do you think?" I asked, hoping for his approval.

"That's it?" he asked, his face still a mask.

My expression fell. "For now," I replied defensively. "I've found more clues than you did."

"We've got suppositions, visions, not clues. I don't see how any of this can help find Brandi." He shook his head. "There's a logical explanation for all of your 'clues.' "

I crossed my arms.
"Yeah?
Like what?"

Rick looked up at the sky and shook his head again. "Duane Hobbs is a nutcase who thinks he sees the boogeyman; Walks Quietly resents being spied on by you; and the Finches are a couple worried about their sick child."

"I told you, I don't think she's sick," I said in a stubborn voice.

"And your medical degree is from where?" he shot back.

I ignored his sarcasm.

"What about the abandoned cabin?" I asked. "How do you explain
logically
what happened to me there?" Irritated, I narrowed my eyes and glared at him.

He lifted one shoulder and settled his sunglasses back on his face.
"An overactive imagination?
You were alone, in a strange place, maybe a little spooked, and you started seeing things that weren't there."

My irritation boiled over into anger. "I know what I know," I said, my voice rising.

"
Which isn't much.
" His jaw clenched while he continued to stare out over the lake. "We've got to find her, Ophelia."

My anger faded to frustration. I slapped my hand against one of the pilings. How could I explain that underneath all this beauty, something evil was lurking? The truth was I couldn't. As he'd said, visions and suppositions weren't proof. We were no closer to finding Brandi today than we were yesterday.

Defeated, I looked over at him. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged again. "I felt so helpless after I finished talking to you on the phone that I threw some stuff together and drove up here in the middle of the night. I'm staying in Brainerd. It's a big enough town, no one will recognize me." He turned and looked at me, his eyes mirroring his impatience. "I don't like feeling helpless."

"You don't want to feel helpless? Find out why, of all places, the Finches are renting the Butler estate." I picked up my shirt lying on the dock and turned away. Walking toward the steps leading to our cabin, I called over my shoulder, "See you later, Rick."

"Wait a second," he exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

"To pursue my overactive imagination," I said loud enough that he could hear me, and kept walking. "Right now, it's all we've got."

By the time I'd reached the top of the stairs and crossed the deck, I heard voices from inside the cabin. Abby and
Darci
were back.

Darci
ran over to me before I'd finished sliding the door shut. "Where did you go on your walk this morning?" she asked, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the kitchen table. "Did you go back to that cabin? I saw you on the dock with Rick. What did he say?" Pausing for a breath, she jerked out a chair from the table and gently shoved me into it. "I've got so much to tell you, but you go first."

Abby's eyes met mine from where she stood over by the counter. She smiled and shook her head before joining us at the table.

After a deep sigh, I quickly related all that had happened from the time I left the cabin until now.

Darci
seemed a little deflated when she learned I hadn't returned to the cabin by myself. But it was Abby's reaction I cared about the most.
"So what I saw on the dock—a dream or a vision?"
I asked her.

She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. "I don't know. Have you been dreaming at night?"

"No… yes… maybe…"I said, hesitating while I tried to remember, but all I could recall were vague impressions and the same feeling of growing uneasiness that had been troubling me. Maybe Rick was right; my imagination had gone into overdrive.

I rubbed the knotted muscles in the back of my neck. "One thing I do know—Walks Quietly does not like whites or cops," I said emphatically. "I don't understand why—"

"I do, I do,"
Darci
said, squirming forward in her chair. "Duane Hobbs killed Walks
Quietly's
wife and got away with it."

"
What
?" My hand dropped away from my neck and I stared at her.

Abby turned to
Darci
. "You'd better explain, dear, before Ophelia goes into shock."

"Okay,"
Darci
said,
her eyes wide as she scooted her chair closer to the table. "Fifteen years ago the body of a woman was found by the side of the road. She'd been a victim of a hit and run driver."

"Walks
Quietly's
wife?"

"Yes."

"That's really sad,
Darci
, but what's the connection to Duane Hobbs?" I asked.

"He was driving the truck that hit her."

I was confused. "I thought you said the accident was a hit and run?"

Darci
nodded once. "I did. There were no witnesses—no evidence."

"But Duane was a suspect?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Why him?"
I still didn't get it.

"Fifteen years ago Duane was just wild, not crazy. He had a job, did pretty well during the week, but on the weekends he cut loose. At the time of the accident, there had been several complaints about his driving."

"But he was never arrested?"

"No."
Darci
gave me a sly look. "Did I tell you, at the time of the hit and run, his cousin was the sheriff?"

Finally, I got it.

Leaning back in my chair, I massaged the back of my neck again.
"A cover-up."

Satisfied that I finally understood,
Darci
straightened and hooked her arm across the back of her chair.
"In a way.
Everyone thinks that since the cousin couldn't prove Duane was the driver, he did the next best thing.
Threatened him enough that Duane never drove again.
He sold the truck right after the investigation closed. Walks
Quietly
tried to get the sheriff to dig a little deeper, leave the investigation open, but he refused."

"Why didn't Rick know about this?" I asked, my eyebrows coming together. "He's a trained investigator, and people froze whenever he brought up Walks Quietly. He said they acted scared and wouldn't talk to him."

"
Please
,"
Darci
said, drawing the word out. "A bunch of old fishermen sitting at the counter in the coffee shop told me about Duane and Walks Quietly. You really think they'd be as talkative with Rick as they were with me?"

I looked
Darci
over—halter top, shorts, clouds of blond hair falling around her shoulders. I smiled. No, I didn't suppose they would've been as anxious to talk to Rick.
But with
Darci
?
They would have wanted to impress her with their insider's gossip.

My smile disappeared. "Did anyone speak out? Did anyone agree with Walks Quietly?"

"No."
Darci
shook her head. "Everyone approved of the cousin's solutions."

"Everyone except Walks Quietly," Abby said, breaking her silence. "And I don't blame him. No one was brought to justice for his wife's death. It would—"

A knock on the door stopped her from finishing, and our three heads turned simultaneously to the door.

Crap—Winnie dressed in her white tunic uniform.

After pushing back her chair, Abby crossed the kitchen and opened the door.

"Winnie, how nice of you to stop by," she said in a gracious voice.

My jaw clenched. I'd had a rough day, and those knots in the back of my neck were sending currents of pain up to the base of my skull. I didn't feel like being social, but as Abby held the door wide and Winnie stepped in, I knew I had no choice.

Abby quickly introduced
Darci
, while Winnie joined us at the table.

"Thank you, thank you," she said, her hands fluttering.

What she was thanking us for, I had no idea. My expression must've mirrored my thoughts—
Darci
shot me a quick, questioning look. I gave my head a slight shake and turned my attention back to Winnie.

"I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced," Winnie said in her high, girlish voice. "But Juliet and Jason would like to invite you to the compound for dinner tomorrow night." Her hands flapped at the air. "Jason feels he made a poor impression on you when he met you, Ophelia, and he wants to correct it."

Puzzled, I sat back in my chair. "Why would he think that?"

"Well, he was in a hurry to get
Tink
home, and he feels he was short with you." She picked up a napkin and started pleating it like a fan.

"Not at all," I said, sitting forward. "I understand
Tink
isn't very strong?"

Winnie unfolded the napkin and smoothed out the creases. "No, she isn't."

"What's wrong with her?"
Darci
piped in.

"She isn't…" Winnie's voice trailed off while she studied the napkin lying on the table.
"… healthy."

Darci
leaned closer to Winnie. "What do you mean—
Ouch.
"

"Oh
Darci
," I said. "I'm sorry. Was that your leg? I thought it was the table."

Darci
turned to me with her eyes narrowed in a frown, but before she could open her mouth, Abby took charge of the conversation.

"Winnie,
it's
lovely Jason and Juliet thought of us, but
Darci
and I have already made plans."

Darci
looked at Abby in surprise, but Abby ignored her.

"But Ophelia would love to join you, wouldn't you, dear?" Abby said with a sweet smile.

Trapped by my darling grandmother, I had to agree, and nodded my head silently.

"Oh that's wonderful." Winnie discarded the napkin and hurried to her feet. "Juliet will be so pleased. And
Tink
," she said, her voice rising a few decibels. "She'll be so excited. She loved meeting
you,
and the poor child…"

Her attention shifted from me to
Queenie
, who had strolled into the kitchen to check out all the commotion.

"What a lovely cat!" Winnie exclaimed, bending over to pet
Queenie
.

But before Winnie's hand touched her,
Queenie's
eyes scrunched into narrow slits and her back arched in a high curve. Her fur fluffed out like porcupine quills, and from deep in her throat came a low, unrelenting hiss.

Startled,
Darci
, Abby, and I watched the scene in surprise.