Roller Rink Witchcraft (Extended Edition): Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 1) (6 page)

              Despite the spinning and the nausea, I couldn’t help but give a dazed smile. This was one of the benefits of living in a small town— people cared.

              A pair of familiar fingers snapped in front of my face, bringing my focus forward onto Wyatt.

              “Harper, are you all right?” he asked, slightly breathless. “There’s an ambulance two minutes out.”

              I groaned, but stopped when the sound made the color bleach from his face. “I’m fine— just got shook up. No hospitals.”

              “Not up for negotiation.”

              An officer whistled, pulling Wyatt’s attention away. “Detective… you’ll want to see this.”

              Wyatt and I both looked over at the man standing by the remains of my car. The collision had popped up the hood, making the scrap pile look even more pathetic.

              That wasn’t what the officer had been talking about, though. On the bottom side of the hood, written in the same scrawling script was another satanic symbol. This one, unlike the one painted to Matt’s chest, I recognized.

              “That’s a chaos symbol,” I said, my words slightly slurred. “Must have messed with the car.”

              “Think it’s in her blood again?” the officer asked, but he quickly fell silent at the look Wyatt sent his way.

              The ambulance rolled up at that moment, and Detective Bennett helped the EMTs get me on a cot and into the rig. Grabbing him by the tie, I held him with me when he would have gone to investigate the crash.

              My gurney shook from the uneven road as we sped away, and I grabbed the railing to hold myself steady. “It was my blood used to paint the threatening message on the Funky Wheel?”

              Wyatt’s silence was answer enough.

              I let my head fall back against the gurney, and let the hurt have me while they ran me into the emergency room. Right by my side through the CAT scans and examinations, Wyatt was obviously feeling guilty for keeping the blood a secret from me.

              Good. He should.

              “How would someone get my blood?” I asked finally as were left alone in a room to wait for a doctor.

              “I was going to ask you that,” he said dryly. “But it doesn’t matter right now. You could have a serious brain injury.”

              “Ah, the doctors have been saying that my whole life.” Since I didn’t particularly want to talk about the crash, my head, or the murderer with my blood, I changed the subject. “Wanna talk about your son’s social life now?”

              “I really wish you two hadn’t met.”

              I barked out a laugh. “Why didn’t you warn me about him?”

              He sat back in the bedside chair and pinched his nose. “A lot has been going on for me— for both of us lately. It slipped my mind.”

              “I’ll accept that,” I said. “So, Cooper says his mom’s not in the picture.”

              His face closed over. “She left town when he was five. Never looked back. Pretty much everyone in my family thinks I should’ve gone after her. You going to give me a lecture on how hard it is to be a single parent, too?”

              “I was raised by just my mother. Look how I turned out.”

He drew a hand over his face, but he was smiling. “Maybe I should’ve gone after her.”

              Springing up as the doctor entered the room, Wyatt asked, “Is the head wound serious?”

              The man shook his in a distracted manner. “No, it’s just a minor concussion. We’ll have you come back if you experience any adverse symptoms, but you’re free to go, Miss Beck.”

              “See, what did I tell you?” I rapped my fist against my skull. “No damage here.”

              “This really isn’t necessary,” I protested as Wyatt helped me from the car and up the walkway to his house. It was a charming little Victorian— not the clinical apartment I’d pictured for him. There was even a playground in the back and a porch swing near the front door.

              “The doctor said you need to be watched for the next couple hours, so you don’t seize or fall asleep.”

              I stopped just before the threshold, holding up a cautionary finger. “You know, once you invite a vampire into your home, they can show up whenever they like.”

              He pulled me through the door, herding me towards the kitchen. “You’re a witch, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

              Sitting down at the small breakfast nook across from Cooper, I rested my head on the table and watched him eat a bowl of chocolate cereal for dinner. “Hey, weirdo. Ever heard of the five food groups?”

              “Relax,” Wyatt called from the hallway. “I’m ordering Chinese.”

              “You have a big, fat bruise on your forehead,” Cooper said, mouth overflowing with chocolate puffs. “Did Dad beat you up?”

              “Does your father bring home many women he’s abused?”

             
Crunch. Crunch.
“You answer a lot of questions with questions. Dad says criminals trying to get away with something do that.”

              Wyatt stomped into the kitchen, throwing off his coat and pouring an inordinately large glass of milk. “Criminals and brats. Which one are you, Harper?”

              Grinning, I stretched, and over half of my bones popped at the same time. “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

              “Wanna see my room?” Cooper chirped, springing from his seat.

Frowning, Wyatt said, “Maybe climbing stairs isn’t the best idea right—“

              But Cooper had already taken my hand and was dragging me towards the stairs. I had to crouch over a little just to allow him access to my hand, but the whole thing was very sweet. His eager expression tugged at heartstrings I didn’t know I had.

              “Bye, Dad!” Cooper called back.

              “Yeah, bye, Dad,” I said, grinning back at Wyatt.

              The boy’s room was a lot more organized than I could have hoped— his bed was made, no clothes cluttering the floor. I even had the sinking suspicion his books were organized alphabetically. At least the Batman sheets were typical enough.

              Just like in the bathroom earlier that day, once Cooper and I were alone, words started pouring from his mouth like someone had forgotten to put the stopper in. There was the usual talking-up of his father. I was beginning to expect this, but it took on a cuter light since I knew who he was talking about.

              After that, I got the grand tour. First, he showed me the model of the solar system he was making, which looked much too official and meticulous for a kid.

              “How long have you been working on this for?” I asked, peering closer.

              He shrugged. “My teacher only assigned it a couple days ago, but I’ve got all day after school to work on it.”

              “Wouldn’t you rather hang out with friends or do sports or something?”

              He bit his lip. “No.”

              I didn’t have to be a cop to see through that, but I was a guest, not his therapist. Interfering came naturally for me, so letting it go and following Cooper back downstairs was like trying to breathe water.

              Being with Cooper was almost like hanging out with myself at that age: awkward, on the outside of society, not sure of his place. That last one is true of everybody, not just Cooper and me or other children. Still, it’s especially hard when you don’t have friends who are going through the exact same stuff as you.

              The rest of the night was spent eating Chinese food and watching nighttime television. Cooper had control of the remote, and he always chose crime shows, shouting out who he thought did it at any random moment.

              I grinned over at Wyatt when he did it, saying under my breath to him, “I think you’ve got another detective on your hands.”

              Wyatt sent Cooper to bed far later than I would’ve thought for a ten-year-old, and he went, moaning and groaning the whole way. I watched him disappear with a smile on my face, but listened for the sound of a door shutting before I said anything.

              “He’s cute.”

              Wyatt raised an eyebrow, stood to turn off the TV, and sat next to me on the leather couch. “I thought I was cute.”

              I leaned closer, resting my shoulder against his. “You are cute, but in a vastly different way.”

              “I’d hope so.” His calloused fingers traced softly over my jaw, sending shivers down my spine.

              He stopped my lips inches from his. “Your head.”

              Licking those lips in a way I
knew
he’d like, I said, “Well, the doctor
did
tell you to keep me awake. But if all we’re gonna do is talk…” I gave an enormous yawn.

              Wyatt’s lips curled into a crooked smile. “Witch.”

              “Always.”

              “So….” Oliver tilted forward towards me, almost spilling his tea. “What happened next?”

              Settling further into the mismatched seat behind the counter at Hanes’ Magic Shoppe, I said, “Unfortunately, he was a perfect gentleman. Relatively no funny business.” I let out a put-upon sigh.               “After a little play— a lot of play, actually— he sent me off to bed. Alone.”

              “Boo,” Oliver said, sounding like a helicopter parent at a soccer game. “Foul!”

              “Exactly,” I agreed, sipping my hot drink. “I left this morning after breakfast with him and Cooper— who was very curious for a ten-year-old about where I slept. Then I came straight here.”

              Oliver nodded. “Glad you did. This is still juicy, even if there wasn’t any hanky-panky.”

              “Well, at least it took my mind off waiting for the results of that pill. Not like a go under the sheets would have, but still.”

              “Still no word?” he asked, sympathetic.

              “No, apparently everyone and their cousin is ahead of me on the pharmacist’s to-do list.”

              “That’s rough.”

              I gave the desk a little kick. “And while I’m waiting, Jeb is in jail, and Irina is walking around free, without a care in the world.”

              “Well, her husband did just die, so perhaps there are a few cares in her world.”

              Shaking my head, I said, “Only if she’s worried about getting caught. Not only did they find her hair on Matt, but they found one of her broken nails, too. That’s a little harder to explain away unless they like rough sex.”

              “Who doesn’t?” His eyes were troubled in a way that was atypical for my easygoing friend. “Maybe you should back off, Harper. Call off the pharmacist and let the police handle it.”

              “What?” I put my cup down on the glass counter with a little more force than needed. “But I’m so close.”

              “And the killer knows it, Harper.” He laid a hand on my knee and squeezed. “The vandalism, the threat, the car. It’s all because he or she knows you’re looking into the murder, and that you won’t let Jeb take the fall.”

              “Oh, so now you believe he didn’t do it?” I asked bitterly.

              “Just listen to what I’m saying, sweetie. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

              Oliver had to work all day, so I borrowed his car and made the trek up the hill to Grandma’s. His Taurus liked the incline even less than my bug did, and I spent much of the trip praying and wondering what it would feel like to fly backwards all the way to the Funky Wheel. None of the lights were on in the house, but her car was there.               Steeling myself, I entered without knocking, walking into the kitchen.

              She was sitting at the counter in the same blood red robe she’d been wearing the other day. Large circles graced the space under her eyes, and her skin had a drawn, grey quality to it.

              “Horrible things happen to children who wander into a witch’s house uninvited,” she said into her mug.

              “I’ll let the neighborhood rug rats know.” I plopped down into a seat next to her. “You don’t look so good.”

              Her gaze went to the window, where her neighbor’s house was visible. “I’ve been up all night, watching.”

              “Watching— watching Thelma Gibb’s house? Why?”

              “There’ve been strange noises the last couple of nights, like she’s yelling to herself. And candles lit all over the house.”

              I left her sitting there to pour myself a glass of water, trying not to let the skepticism show. “She’s in mourning, Grandma; she’s bound to act a little… different.”

              Her eyes turned cold and hard, like little rocks surrounded by ice. “I remember well what it’s like to lose a son, thank you.” Getting up, she poured out the rest of her coffee. “The behavior warrants watching.”

              I held up my hands in surrender, and that seemed to sharpen her gaze for the first time since I’d gotten there. Pursing her lips, she seemed to really digest my presence.

              “Why are you here?” she asked, getting back to her normal level of cranky and paranoid. “You want something, don’t you?”

              I rolled my eyes, but she was right. I did want something.

              “Someone put a chaos symbol on my car, and it made the brakes malfunction,” I said. “I’m okay, but I was wondering if there was something you could do— something more than just protecting me while I sleep. Just seems like this witch is more interested in killing me while I’m awake.”

              She nodded slowly, the wheels in her head turning. “I’ll consult the books and see if there isn’t anything… portable I could whip up for you.” Plucking the glass from my hands, she put it in the sink. “That it? You couldn’t call for that?”

              “Thought I’d check in on you,” I said, heading for the door. “Oh, and ask for some money for drugs.”