Witchdependence Day: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 8) (8 page)

“Are you sure it was a man?” Landon asked, briefly locking gazes with me.

“He was too big to be a woman,” Bay answered. “He was tall. Like … Bigfoot tall.”

“I thought it was Bigfoot,” Clove admitted.

“Oh, my poor Clove,” Sam said, kissing her forehead.

“We were just wandering around talking,” Bay explained. “We didn’t see him at first. He was hiding behind that big wooden thing.”

“That’s a tool bench,” I said, running my hand down the back of Thistle’s head. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

“No,” Thistle answered. “He ran into the office when he realized we saw him. We kind of froze for like twenty seconds. I swear that’s what it felt like. Then he took off and ran into the office.”

“Okay,” Landon said, grabbing the pitchfork from Bay. “Move over there with Sam, Clove and Thistle. Marcus and I will check out the office.”

Bay, her face white, shook her head. “What if he hurts you?”

“It’s going to be fine, sweetie,” Landon said, brushing a quick kiss against her forehead before pushing her toward Sam. “I’m trained for this.”

“Then you should do it alone and leave Marcus with me,” Thistle interjected.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” I said, cupping Thistle’s chin and giving her a light kiss. “Go over there with your cousins.”

Thistle didn’t look thrilled with the suggestion, but she followed my instructions and shuffled to Bay’s side.

Landon reached inside the office, feeling around on the wall for a light switch. “Are you ready?”

“Let’s do this.”

Landon flicked the switch and the overhead lights in the small office flashed on. I steeled myself for action and found … absolutely nothing.

“Well, do you see him?” Thistle asked.

“The office is empty,” Landon replied, striding toward the open window and scanning the field behind the stable. “He must have hopped out the window.”

“There’s more blood,” I said, pointing toward a spot near the corner. “He must be seriously hurt.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Landon admitted. “He clearly needs help, but he’s acting like a criminal and is hiding from law enforcement for a reason.”

“Maybe we should get dogs out here,” Sam suggested. “They should be able to track him.”

“I don’t know anyone willing to send dogs out here for a guy stealing pies, especially on a holiday weekend,” Landon said, extending his hand so Bay would take it and then pulling her close. I jumped when Thistle appeared next to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “I think you and Thistle should spend the night at the guesthouse, Marcus. Don’t risk staying here again.”

“What about the animals?”

“He doesn’t appear interested in the animals,” Landon said. “I think he’s just looking for a place to sleep.”

“Should I let him sleep here?”

Landon shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t know what to think.”

“
W
hat are you doing
?”

Landon found me sitting on the side patio of the guesthouse the next morning, my feet bare as I studied my injured toe under the bright sunshine.

“I’m trying to decide whether I have sepsis,” I admitted, flashing a sheepish smile. “That stuff Sam said about organ failure kind of freaked me out.”

I thought Landon would make fun of me. Instead he was all business as he sat on the paver stones and leaned forward. “Let me see.”

He was gentle as he reached over and touched my toe. It was bruised and sore, but it didn’t look particularly life threatening.

“Do you think it’s going to fall off?” I asked, offering a lame chuckle. “Do you think my organs will fail?”

“I think you stubbed your toe and it looks sore,” Landon replied. “There’s no broken skin, though. Sam also said it generally starts with a bacterial infection. I don’t think you have that problem because there’s no open wound.”

“That’s good,” I said, relieved. “Were you surprised he knew all that stuff?”

“Bay makes me watch home renovation shows and I now know more about putting ceramic tile in bathrooms than I ever would’ve imagined,” Landon replied. “I have to keep reminding myself that he’s smarter than I give him credit for.”

“He lied when he came to town,” I said. “I can see being leery.”

“Yes, but he’s proved himself in multiple ways since then – including getting shot while trying to save Bay,” Landon said. “He deserves a clean slate.”

“Plus, he makes Clove really happy.”

“There is that,” Landon agreed. “I worry about Clove because she seems somehow … needier … than the other two. Sam seems to understand that, and gives her what she needs to feel secure.”

“I worry about Clove because Thistle and Bay get mean,” I admitted. “Sam takes it in stride and bolsters her confidence.”

“They are mean little cusses sometimes,” Landon said, smirking. “I think your foot is going to be fine. If you’re really worried, though, you should see a doctor.”

“I thought you were my doctor,” I teased.

“I don’t care what you do, Bay and I are not playing nursemaid,” Thistle said, popping around the side of the guesthouse and fixing us with a curious look. Landon instinctively snatched his hand away from my foot, and for a reason I couldn’t fathom, my cheeks burned. “Do you want to tell me what you two are doing?”

“I … Marcus stubbed his toe the other night and he wanted to make sure it wasn’t serious,” Landon explained.

“Uh-huh.” Thistle arched an eyebrow as she locked gazes with me. “Do I have to be worried about this little relationship?”

Landon and I shot her twin scowls of mortification. “No.”

“What’s going on?” Bay asked, exiting the guesthouse and pulling up short when she saw us sitting together on the patio. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Landon and Marcus are playing doctor,” Thistle said, her eyes sparkling. “I think my heart may break.”

“We’re not playing doctor,” Landon snapped, brushing the seat of his cargo shorts off as he stood. “Don’t be gross.”

“It’s okay,” Thistle said, her expression earnest. “We’ll cry a little bit, but we truly wish you the best.”

Bay giggled. “I don’t wish you the best. I can’t fight it, though. Follow your hearts.”

“You’re in trouble,” Landon said, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her in the air. “You’re not funny.”

“Is there something seriously wrong with your foot?” Thistle asked, turning sober as she knelt down. “Does that hurt?”

“Some,” I replied, refusing to admit I was in agony whenever I stepped wrong on it. I was too much of a tough guy for that. “Landon says the skin isn’t torn, though, and it’s not infected.”

“Is it broken?”

I shook my head. “I stubbed it when I was looking for you the other night,” I replied. “It will be fine in a few days. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” Thistle said. “I think you might be, though. We can have Winnie look at it. She should be able to give you a healing poultice.”

“I’m fine,” I said, tugging my sock over my foot and then gingerly pulling my tennis shoe on before climbing to my feet. “I’m perfect. See.”

“You are perfect,” Thistle agreed, squeezing my hand. “I still think we should have that looked at just to be on the safe side.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, let her play nurse, man,” Landon said. “She might put on an outfit or something.”

“You really are a pervert,” Thistle said, flicking the spot between Landon’s eyebrows and causing him to growl. “Aunt Tillie says you’re all hormones and hunger. I’m starting to think she might be right.”

“I’m also manly and strong,” Landon said. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“How could we?” Thistle teased. “You tell us every day we’re together.”

“You know what? You’re on my list today,” Landon said, grabbing Bay’s hand and turning her toward the inn. “Let’s get breakfast. I’m starving.”

“I’m starving, too,” Bay said. “Dinner last night was terrible. I hope breakfast is better.”

“It won’t be if Winnie is still stewing,” Thistle said, falling into step next to me and slipping her finger through my belt loop to stay close. I’m not big on grand romantic pronouncements. Thistle isn’t either. The little things she does to show her affection get me every time, though. “I hope Marnie and Mom cooked breakfast if Winnie is still in a funk.”

“No one had better burned my bacon,” Landon said. “I’m going to join Aunt Tillie’s ‘end of the world’ prediction bandwagon if my bacon is bad.”

“You’re nothing if not predictable,” Bay said.

“Are you calling me boring?”

“I’m calling you the handsomest man I know,” Bay replied.

“Nice one,” Thistle said, laughing as Landon rolled his eyes. “All men love a good ego boost in the morning, especially if they’re contemplating a career change.”

“Career change?” I was confused.

“Landon wants to be your nurse,” Thistle said. “I hear he’s going to try giving you a sponge bath before he makes his final decision.”

Thistle delightedly darted out of my reach as she did a little dance on the pathway. Bay joined in her laughter as Landon locked eyes with me.

“I blame you for this,” Landon said. “You’re the one who made me look at your toe.”

“No one said you had to get on the ground with me,” I pointed out. “That’s what made the whole thing weird.”

“You have a point,” Landon muttered.

We lapsed into comfortable silence as we made the trek to The Overlook, Bay and Landon swinging their joined hands as Thistle carefully drew closer to me. I think she was worried I would pay her back for the “sponge bath” comment, but I was already over it. Er, well, mostly.

The entry to the family living quarters at the back of The Overlook is generally quiet in the morning. Winnie, Marnie and Twila busy themselves with breakfast preparations early, and Aunt Tillie likes watching the morning news programs so she can hurl insults at the anchors and tell them how stupid they are.

This morning was different.

“That did it,” Winnie barked. “Call the police. I’m pressing charges.”

“Against who?” Twila asked. “We have no idea what happened. For all we know a dog could’ve taken it.”

“Or Aunt Tillie,” Marnie added. “She might be messing with us.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Winnie said. “Aunt Tillie!” Her screech was loud enough to jolt me, and when I risked a glance in Landon’s direction I found his face twisted with confusion.

“What’s going on?” Bay asked, increasing her pace as she approached the back patio. “Did something happen?”

“Yes, something happened,” Winnie said, gracing her daughter with a look that would’ve been comical under different circumstances but was outright frightening now. “We’ve been robbed.”

“Is this about the pie again?” Landon asked, releasing Bay’s hand and moving his fingers to her hip. He looked ready to run if the morning conversation didn’t shift in a more appealing direction. “I understand losing the pie contest has upset you, but … it’s a pie. You can make another one. I suggest blackberry … and make it big so I can have three slices.”

“Listen, glutton, no one is talking to you,” Winnie snapped. “This is much bigger than the pie. I’ve come to grips with losing my pie and never seeing it again. Stop smirking, Thistle! This is not about my pie!”

“Oh, good, it’s meltdown morning at The Overlook,” Aunt Tillie drawled as she sauntered out the back door of the house and joined her nieces on the patio. “Does anyone want to tell me why all this screeching is going on? I’m trying to watch the news. They’re being real idiots this morning, and I don’t want to miss my daily laugh.”

Winnie was in no mood for games, and when she swiveled in Aunt Tillie’s direction the persnickety elder aunt had the grace to look abashed. Winnie clearly meant business. “Did you steal my bread?”

“Oh, man. Now the bread is missing? It really is the end times,” Landon intoned.

Winnie ignored him as we joined everyone on the patio, her attention remaining fixed on Aunt Tillie. “It would be just like you to steal the bread as a joke. If you did, you’d better tell me. I’m not in the mood for games.”

“Oh, and here I thought we were about to join in a rousing game of Ring Around the Rosie,” Aunt Tillie deadpanned. “Why would I take your bread? That really sounds nothing like me. I can’t list the ‘Bread Heist of 2016’ on my resume.”

“Maybe not,” Mom conceded. “You do enjoy torturing me, though. That’s right up your alley.”

“Well, I can’t deny that,” Aunt Tillie conceded. “I didn’t steal your bread, though. I have no interest in stealing bread. Wait … there’s no bread? What am I going to put my jam on? This day went down the toilet quick.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing at the dejected look on Aunt Tillie’s face. Since no one asked the obvious question, I took it upon myself to do so. “Why was the bread was on the patio?”

“I’d like to hear the answer to that, too,” Landon admitted. “Don’t you usually keep the bread in the kitchen?”

“Yes, but the counters were full and we needed a place for the bread to cool,” Winnie explained. “We put towels over the pans and put them on the edge of the table. They were only going to be out here thirty minutes. They were perfectly fine.”

“And what?” I prodded. “You came outside and they were gone?”

“No, Marcus,” Winnie deadpanned. “They’re right here. They’re just invisible.”

This family has a serious snark problem. “Are you sure one of the guests didn’t take it?”

“Why would they?” Marnie challenged. “None of the guests ever cross into this portion of the yard because they know it’s our private area.”

“We have signs,” Twila added, pointing for emphasis. “Even if they did somehow manage to wander over here, why would they steal the bread?”

That was a pretty good question.

“It was the creeper,” Aunt Tillie said, her tone ominous. “He’s gone from trying to steal my … herbs … to stealing bread. He must have the munchies.”

“Yes, that sounds totally plausible,” Landon said, his eyes flashing. “The creeper climbed up into Marcus’ loft to bleed, left that area and came out here to break into your pot field, went back to the festival to steal Winnie’s pie, showed up at the stable last night to scare the girls and then came back here to steal bread. That’s completely normal.”

“It does sound strange when you put it like that,” I admitted, rubbing my chin. “What if this guy is confused because of the blood poisoning thing?”

“What blood poisoning thing?” Winnie asked, confused.

Landon related his discovery from the day before, explaining about the man in the stable. When he was done, Winnie’s demeanor instantly shifted.

“He’s sick?” Winnie asked. “Why not ask for help if he’s sick?”

“Sam says he might be confused because of a fever or something,” I replied. “We’re not sure why he’s not asking for help.”

“Or what he really wants,” Landon added. “We simply don’t know what’s going on right now. Given that fact, though, I want you locking the back door until we catch this guy. If he gets bolder, he might enter the inn.”

“I’m not particularly worried about that,” Winnie said. “We have bread in the freezer, and if this man honestly needs help I’d like to offer it. There has to be something we’re missing here.”

“I agree,” Landon said. “I’m going into town after breakfast so I can talk to Chief Terry. He might have an idea I’ve overlooked. Until then, I want you all to be careful. I don’t think this guy is dangerous, but if he panics … .”

“Then all bets are off,” Winnie finished. “Okay. We’ll get the bread out of the freezer and finish breakfast. I hope you find this man. If he really is hurt … or dying … we could be running out of time.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Landon said, ushering Bay toward the inn. He stilled when something else occurred to him. “He only stole the bread, right? The bacon is still okay, isn’t it?”

“You make me tired, Landon,” Winnie said. “I need a nap.”

I
DROPPED
Thistle off at Hypnotic, promising to meet her at the festival for lunch. She offered to go to the stable with me, but I declined. If someone was inside the last thing I wanted to do was put her in danger.

I opened the door to the stable as quietly as possible, scanning the horses in their stalls. They were calm, Marigold’s dark eyes solemn as I gazed into them.

I glanced around the stable to see if anything looked out of place. Nothing had been moved or appeared to be missing. I set about my morning tasks, forcing my thoughts to something more entertaining – like tomorrow’s fireworks – and almost stepped on something as I passed the grain bin.

I frowned when something red caught my attention out of the corner of my eye and I leaned over. I pressed my fingers to the ground, lifting them so I could study my fingertips under better light. It was blood ... and it looked fresh.

I shook my head as I studied the ground, finding a small trail through the stable leading to the back door. There, the telltale signs of a bloody print against the doorframe – almost as if someone braced himself there to gather strength – told me someone fled in that direction.