Any Witch Way You Can (20 page)

Edith considered my question seriously. “Maybe it’s not the same killers. Maybe it’s someone who read about the previous killings and wanted to repeat it?”

“Like a copycat?”

Edith nodded.

“Why do it now, though? Why not do it when people still remembered the old case? As far as I know, no one around here even talks about these cases.”

“Maybe the killer is just crazy,” Edith clucked. “You can’t find reason in crazy.”

“That’s a good point, too.”

I gathered up all the articles and shoved them back into the envelope. “Are you done with them?” Edith looked at me quizzically.

“No,” I said. “I have to focus on this week’s edition. I’m going to take this out to the inn later and see what my mom remembers.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Edith acknowledged. Then she brightened suddenly. “If I remember right, your Aunt Tillie was called in as a psychic in that first case.”

Well, this was definitely the first time I heard of anything like that. As far as I knew, Aunt Tillie had a general disdain of law enforcement. “Who called her in?”

“I can’t remember exactly,” Edith said. “One of the families hired a private investigator and they came out to talk with Tillie and to see if she could talk to the dead or something, if I remember right. Which I guess she can actually do, so I probably should stop making fun of her for that.”

“I don’t understand why I’ve never heard about any of this?”

Edith seemed nonplussed. “I would wager there are a lot of things you don’t know about your family.”

I’d give even odds that she was right.

Twenty-One

After my discussion with Edith, I couldn’t really focus on work. Instead, I did something I rarely do – I delegated. I called the paginator Lynn in early and told her I’d be willing to pay her overtime if she could handle a few of my duties. I explained that I was working on a banner story on the murders that would take up most of the edition – and that was essentially true.

Despite the fact that my ankle was still tender, I managed to hobble downtown to Hypnotic. I had brought the files Edith had unearthed with me.

“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be walking!” Clove chided me when she saw me stumble inside the store.

“It’s fine,” I waved her off. “Trust me. It could be a lot worse.”

“What are you doing here? We were going to bring you lunch.”

“I’ll just eat here with you guys.”

“What about Friday’s paper?” Clove was like another mother sometimes, I swear.

“I called Lynn in early.”

Thistle and Clove exchanged wary glances.

“What?” I asked in irritation.

“You just seem a little obsessed,” Clove said gently.

“Really? I seem obsessed? Why? Because we have ghosts living with us? Because we have murderers dropping bodies in cornfields? Because Aunt Tillie is still figuring out exactly how she’s going to get back at me for the Edith situation?” My voiced had taken on a decidedly shrill tone.

Thistle took an involuntary step back. “Fine, you’re not obsessed. You’re acting totally normal.”

I blew out a random sigh as I regarded them. “I know I’m a little . . “

“Nuts?”

“Scary?”

“I was going to say intense,” I corrected the two of them. “I just can’t help it.”

“We know,” Thistle said. “You’re going to get hurt if you don’t watch it, though, and that’s what we don’t want to see. So, just chill.”

I flopped onto the couch and watched them both as they continued to pretend they were actually doing work behind the counter. I knew better.

“Now,” Clove said primly. “What do you want for lunch?”

“Middle-Eastern.”

“We just had that the other day,” Thistle complained.

“I’m hobbled. Don’t you think I should get the food that I want?”

“Oh, nice. You managed to walk down here fine – I don’t think that you deserve special treatment, especially considering how you hurt yourself.”

“If she wants Middle-Eastern we can have Middle-Eastern,” Clove caved.

“You always take her side,” Thistle muttered. “I don’t want Middle-Eastern.”

“What do you want?”

“Mexican.”

“Uh,” I groaned. “I don’t want Mexican today.”

Clove glared at us both. “You’re going to have to decide.”

“You’re the tiebreaker,” Thistle said.

“I don’t want to be the tiebreaker,” she argued.

I stuck my lower lip out and dramatically rubbed my ankle when she glanced over at me. “Fine, Middle-Eastern it is.”

Thistle opened her mouth to protest. “We’ll get Mexican tomorrow,” Clove added.

Thistle didn’t look like she was entirely placated, but she also didn’t look like she wanted to engage in World War III over lunch – and I was prepared to dig my heels in.

While Clove placed the orders, Thistle came over to see what I had in the file. She looked surprised when she’d sifted through a few of the articles. “Are these what I think they are?”

“You tell me,” I answered.

She read through a few more articles and then lifted her eyebrows when she turned back to me. “They sure sound awfully similar. How come we don’t we know anything about this? Wouldn’t this have been big news?”

“That’s a very good question.”

Clove joined us, grabbing a few of the articles from Thistle. “What are we talking about? The food will be here in twenty minutes, by the way.”

“It’s two teenagers that were killed and had their hearts ripped out – only it happened thirty years ago, and like forty minutes away,” Thistle supplied.

Clove looked momentarily speechless. We both watched as she scanned the article on the top of the stack she’d taken from Thistle. When she was done, she let loose a long – and pointed – whistle. “Well, this can’t be a coincidence.”

“How can it be the same person, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that serial killers are usually white males in their thirties,” I explained. “If that is the case, this would be a killer – or killers -- well into his sixties. How is he controlling young teenagers? ”

“How do you know that?” Thistle seemed impressed with my knowledge.

“I watch
Criminal Minds
,” I admitted.

“Shemar Moore is so hot,” Clove laughed.

“He is. They should make the entire show about him solving cases with his shirt off.”

“Is that true, though?” Thistle didn’t seem to think our television detour was nearly as cute as we did.

“I think it’s pretty close to true,” I said.

“Well, Sophie did say she was sure it was a man and a woman,” Clove suddenly broke in. “Maybe the woman is younger and that’s the reason he had to get a partner?”

“That’s possible,” I agreed. “Like maybe it’s his daughter or something?”

“That’s a pretty twisted family,” Thistle grimaced.

“Ours isn’t much better,” I offered.

“True.”

Thistle and Clove went back to reading the articles and I went back to watching them anxiously. The store was so quiet at this point that we all practically jumped out of our seats when the wind chimes at the front door sounded.

We all looked up expecting to see Clyde, the delivery boy for Hazel’s Chinese Food and Other Stuff (don’t ask). He delivered to us at least once a week.

I think we were all surprised to see Landon standing there instead.

Clove jumped to her feet. “Oh, can I help you?”

Thistle and I exchanged knowing looks. It was always fun when Clove got flustered.

Landon seemed surprised by Clove’s reaction. “I’m looking for Bay Winchester,” he said finally. He hadn’t yet noticed Thistle and I sitting on the couch. “I was told that I might be able to find her here.”

“Who told you that?” I asked from my comfortable position on the couch.

Landon turned and finally noticed that Thistle and I were in the room, too. Clove was still flittering around him like a nervous little butterfly.

“Sit down, Clove,” I ordered.

She automatically did as she was told – although she didn’t look very comfortable perched on the edge of the chair she had been sitting on before either. I couldn’t decide if it was Landon’s good looks – or the fact that she thought he might be a murderer – that was making her more nervous.

Thistle and I were more studied with our agitation. We could at least pretend that his presence didn’t unnerve us.

“So, you’re the biker dude,” Thistle said finally.

“You must be one of the infamous cousins.” Landon was trying to be charming, but I could tell he was thrown off by the current situation.

“I’m Thistle,” she said finally. She didn’t get up to greet him appropriately. Instead, she relaxed back into the couch. I could tell she was trying to retain some control over the situation.

“My name is Landon,” he offered. He did extend his hand to her, but Clove batted it away nervously.

“What? He might have poison on it or something,” she hissed. Clove was always good in a crisis.

“What can I do for you Mr. . . Landon?” I realized I didn’t know Landon’s last name. That was a little disconcerting.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said.

“Oh, well that’s so nice of you,” Clove gushed. Thistle and I shot her sharp glares. She can turn on a dime, I swear.

I could see Landon smirk at her sudden change of attitude. He raised an eyebrow as he turned his head back to me. Thistle was hurriedly shoving the articles we had been looking through back into the envelope they came in. He reached down and picked one up and glanced at it quickly. He seemed surprised when he looked back at us.

“This has happened before?”

“So it would seem,” Thistle said nonchalantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Landon asked the question to the room, but it was clearly pointed at me because his eyes never left my face.

“I didn’t realize I was now reporting to you,” I said sarcastically.

Thistle snickered, but Clove was looking at both of us disapprovingly. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“He’s not staying,” I interjected quickly.

Landon must have noticed my discomfort because he sat down in Clove’s vacated chair, fixed me with a hard look and then turned to Clove with a warm smile. “I would love a cup of coffee.”

Clove seemed happy to have something to do with her hands. If she was like me at all, she was probably having to constantly remind herself not to run them through his silky black hair. Whoa! Where had that come from?

I turned my steely gaze back to Landon, who was accepting his cup of coffee from Clove in a congenial manner. He even shot her a flirtatious smile – complete with a saucy wink -- when she started to walk away from him.

When Clove tried to squeeze herself between Thistle and me, we both balked. “There’s no room,” Thistle complained.

“Be careful of my ankle!”

“Oh, just stop your whining,” Clove countered.

“Hey, I’m injured here,” I reminded them.

Landon sipped from his coffee contemplatively for a few minutes. He seemed comfortable just to watch us interact with one another.

“So you all grew up together?” He asked finally.

“Yes,” I said.

“Up at The Overlook?” He smiled to himself when he said the name.

It was one thing for us to make fun of the new name of the inn, it was quite another for a stranger. Thistle looked like she wanted to jump out of her chair and throttle him. “Do you have a problem with that?” She asked icily.

Landon seemed surprised by her sudden vehemence. “Sorry, did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to offend anyone.”

As much as I loved watching Thistle get under Landon’s skin, he still hadn’t told us what he was doing here. “Did you find out who the bike belonged to?”

Landon feigned ignorance. “What bike?”

“The motorcycle in the ditch,” I said shortly.

“Oh,
that
bike,” Landon said smoothly. “I have no idea. I had almost forgotten about it until you reminded me.”

Liar.

Landon turned his attention back to the article in his hand. “Where did you find out about this?”

“Edith,” Clove answered before she thought.

“Who is Edith?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Thistle grumbled, kicking Clove viciously.

“Sorry, I forgot,” Clove whined. “You know how I get when I get nervous.”

If Landon wasn’t confused before, he definitely was now. “Who is Edith?”

“She didn’t mean Edith,” I lied smoothly. “She meant Lynn. She just got her confused with the woman that used to work at the paper.” What? That’s not entirely a lie.

“Lynn remembered the case?”

“She remembered something similar, yes. We pulled out the file to get all the details, though.”

“So you found the stories and brought them down here to your cousins instead of taking them to Chief Terry?” Landon seemed flabbergasted – and yet I couldn’t figure out why. He may have just met me, but this was nowhere near out of my realm of usual behavior.

“Why do you care?”

“I would think this is information that would benefit Chief Terry,” Landon said hotly.

“Well, when we’re done reading them, we’ll take them to him,” I lied again. Hey, we’ll at least call him. I promise.

Landon surveyed the three of us suspiciously. Thistle and I reflected the glares right back in his direction, while Clove was steadfastly studying her nails. No one was going to break – even Clove. We wouldn’t let her.

Landon got up slowly. “I actually did stop by here for a reason,” he said reluctantly.

“And what reason is that?”

“I just wanted to warn you that running around corn mazes in the middle of the night probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“Thanks. I would never have figured that out without your valuable input,” I seethed.

Landon tensed up when he heard the front door open and I swear I saw his hand hover under his coat – like he had a weapon – for just a second. He visibly relaxed when he saw Clyde wandering in with a big box of food. “Got your food ladies,” he said with a simple smile. He wasn’t exactly slow, but he was pretty far from quick. Still, the whole town loved him.

Thistle got up and paid for the food, including giving Clyde a $10 tip. He smiled when she handed it to him and ran out the door excitedly. He didn’t even say goodbye to us. He never did. We always gave him a big tip, which he proceeded to take right down to Mr. Culverson’s bookstore and buy comic books.