The Trouble With Witches (12 page)

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. I sat calmly under my tree, watching, and left my place only long enough to stand in line with Abby for a plate of spaghetti. While we ate, I filled her in on my conversation with Juliet.

"So does the name Duane Hobbs jangle any psychic bells for you, Abby?" I asked as I reached over and took her empty plate.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. A moment later she opened them. "No, sorry, not even a jingle. What about you? Did you sense anything when Juliet mentioned his name?"

"Nope, but I'm not as good as you are at picking up stuff quickly," I said with a shrug, and stood to dispose of our empty plates. When I returned, Abby sat staring off into space. A light touch on her arm brought her attention back to me.

"Where do we go from here?" I asked.

A frown marred her face while she looked at me. "I don't know, but it's almost as if I can feel a clock ticking."

A similar frown now wrinkled my face. "I know. I feel it, too." Sitting down again in the lawn chair, I watched the crowd as people began to gather up belongings and call for their children. The event at the park had almost ended and we'd learned nothing. Only that Duane Hobbs liked wandering around the woods.

Standing, I folded up my lawn chair and extended a hand to Abby. "Come on, we might as well leave."

Abby grasped my hand and rose gracefully to her feet.

She picked up her lawn chair and folded it, and we began our trek back to the SUV. We were almost to the car when I heard the sound of hurrying feet in the grass behind us. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the woman named Winnie rushing up to us.

"Oh my.
I was afraid I wouldn't catch you and I wanted to introduce myself," she said while she gasped for breath and stuck out her hand. "I'm Winnie Donner."

The sound of Winnie's voice startled me. There was no doubt in my mind that the woman had to be at least in her late fifties, but her voice sounded like that of a girl, high-pitched and a little breathless.

Abby stepped forward and took Winnie's hand in hers. "Abigail McDonald and my granddaughter, Ophelia Jensen," she said, waving her other hand in my direction.

"Hi, Ophelia," Winnie replied, releasing Abby's hand and grasping mine. "Juliet told me you're our neighbors, well sort of neighbors. We're right down the lake from your cabin, on the other side, of course.
Great to have you at the lake.
I hope you enjoy your stay here.
So nice of you to come tonight."

Her words ran on and on, and with each one, Winnie pumped my hand vigorously. My arm felt like it was coming loose in the socket. I gave my hand a slight tug and she released me.

Fighting the urge to rub my shoulder, I gave Winnie a small smile.
"Nice to meet you, Winnie."

She took a step closer to me. "I saw you both today in the grocery store," she said, and waved a finger in front of my face.

I took a step back, but she closed the distance with another step of her own, and it set my nerves on edge.

Hadn't this woman ever heard about personal space?

I gritted my teeth and held my ground.

Abby, aware of how I felt about strangers standing too close to me, took Winnie's arm and gently turned her around until Winnie faced her, allowing me to take another step back. "Really, I didn't notice you," Abby said.

A sly look crossed Winnie's face. "Well, I noticed you. I was standing down the aisle from you when those boys tripped Walks Quietly—"

"Walks Quietly?" I cut in.

"Yes, the Native American, the one the boys tripped," she repeated. "I noticed they acted rather odd after you spoke to them, Abigail."

Great, this fluttery little woman had witnessed Abby zapping that kid. Eyebrows raised, I looked at Abby. Okay, how are you going to get yourself out of this one? I thought.

Seeing my look, Abby lifted her chin a fraction and turned her head back to Winnie. "Oh, the young man only felt embarrassed. I'm sure he didn't expect to be reprimanded for what he did."

I raised my hand to my mouth to cover my sudden grin.
Reprimand?
I guess you could call momentarily jumbling someone's circuits a reprimand
.

Abby noticed my reaction and gave my foot a nudge with the toe of her shoe.

Forcing the grin off my face, I looked back at Winnie. She seemed perplexed.
"Really?
Embarrassed? I thought something more had happened—"

"Don't be silly," I broke in. "What more could there be? You know how teenage boys are. They don't like being called on bad behavior, especially in front of their friends."

Winnie slowly nodded as she thought about what I'd said. "I guess you're right. It's just—"

"Oh dear, look at the time," Abby said, glancing at her watch. "Didn't you want to be home by eight, Ophelia?"

Again I felt my foot being nudged. "That's right. I don't want to leave Lady
shut
up in the cabin for too long." Glancing over my shoulder at Winnie, I hurried toward the SUV.
"Nice to meet you, Winnie.
Umm, stop by some time," I called back to her.

I could've bitten my tongue off. The last thing I wanted was Winnie stopping by for a visit.

After returning to the cabin, Abby and I decided to table any discussion about what had happened at the park, so after Lady's quick run around the yard, we said goodnight.

But I couldn't sleep. The air in the cabin seemed oppressive, stifling. Grabbing a blanket from the bed, I quietly slipped out onto the deck. I made myself comfortable in one of the chairs and stared out over the lake.

Much better, I thought after taking a cleansing breath. A thousand stars hung above me in the night sky, and below, on the surface of the lake, the reflection of a crescent moon played upon the water. The air felt cool against my skin, and I let the peace I'd felt here earlier wash around me.

Leaning my head back against the chair, I closed my eyes and thought about my impressions of this place. It was a place of
magick
, as Abby had said. Even now, in the stillness of the night, I could feel the hum of energy around me.
A positive energy.
Had the lake always been this way? Had the Native American tribes once living along its shores, before the white man came to displace them, felt the same kind of peace? I wished I knew. Maybe Walks Quietly could tell me?
Could give me the history of the lake.
No, for some reason I knew he wouldn't want to talk to me. The look he gave me at the store told me he wanted nothing to do with Abby or me. And the power I sensed in him. What was that all about? Was he some kind of shaman?
A psychic?
If so, how did he feel about Jason Finch's group? Who could answer that question? Juliet? Winnie?

A shudder ran up my arm. I didn't want to talk to Winnie again, but I had a feeling I would. Especially since I'd opened my big mouth and invited her to stop by. The sound of my groan bounced across the lake. Something about that woman was intrusive, and it made me uncomfortable. She did like to talk, though, and maybe if I could tamp down my discomfort long enough, I might be able to learn something from her.

And then there was Juliet. I had a feeling she'd be more guarded than Winnie. Questioning her wouldn't be easy. She'd shut down immediately as soon as I mentioned her niece.

Unanswered questions flitted through my brain. I opened my eyes and scrubbed my face with my hands. Who was I kidding? Although I'd never admit it to him, Henry had been right. Abby and I weren't trained investigators. We didn't know how to question people. And we didn't have any business trying to find Brandi. Our ill-advised blundering might even make the situation worse, if Brandi truly were in danger, like Abby thought.

The peace I'd felt earlier faded like an old song. The melody was still there in the corner of my mind, but I couldn't remember the words anymore. The feeling had been replaced by another, one more disquieting, more sinister.

Giving up, I gathered the blanket and stood to walk back inside the house, and then I saw it. Across the lake, little bursts of light bobbing through the trees. Was it Duane Hobbs, armed with a flashlight, wandering around the woods as Juliet said he did?

I crossed to the edge of the deck and leaned against the railing, while I strained my eyes against the black night to see the lights more clearly.

They seemed to hover near the ground, flickering on and off. Someone with a flashlight wouldn't do that, would they?
Unless they were signaling someone.
But why would anyone
be
signaling this time of night, and to whom?

I rubbed my eyes and looked again. The lights were still there, hanging right above the ground. They seemed to pick up
speed,
and with a movement that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, they shot up through the trees, paused, and shot back down again.

Dropping the blanket, I ran to Abby's room. "Wake up. Abby, wake up," I said, gently shaking her arm. "There's something odd going on across the lake."

"What…" she asked, her voice heavy with sleep
. "
What's going on?"

"There are strange lights bobbing around across the lake." I tugged at her arm. "Come on, you've got to see this."

I drew back the covers and handed her the robe at the foot of her bed.

Sighing, Abby slipped her arms into her robe. "It's probably just that Duane Hobbs," she grumbled.

"Not unless he climbs trees. The lights shot off the ground and into the upper branches."

"How odd," she said, standing.

"No kidding. Now come on." I propelled her forward. "You need to see these lights."

We walked quickly through the cabin and out onto to the deck. Silently, we stood side by side and stared out over the lake.

"I don't see any lights," she said, not looking at me.

Of course she didn't see any lights. They were gone.

The sound of a motor pulled me out of a restless sleep.

Damn, who would be mowing their yard this time of the morning?