Opal Fire (17 page)

“No.” I shook my head and pointed between us. “I mean WE are done.”

CHAPTER 22

Anger has a strange way of keeping a body warm. Despite the arctic temperatures and the clouds snatching the sunshine, my blood boiled as I thought of Leo’s utter gall of trying to send me on a cruise so I wouldn’t impede the case.

Okay, so I slipped up with Kathy’s parents and the coroner took one in the neck, but I was getting closer to the truth. Obviously someone wanted to hide any evidence Kathy’s autopsy might have revealed and poor Mr. Sagnoski got in the way. But I didn’t ask for that, anymore than I asked for a rock through my window or a chicken with a firework shoved up its butt.

Did he really think my leaving would make everything all better? And if he did, what did that say about his feelings for me?

My moon boots carried me up the hill to the cottage where I was hoping to find a car. Thankfully, Gramps came through.

It was a beast of a vehicle with four-wheel drive and the perks you would expect from a man of wealth. The keys were on the seat and his note said simply, “enjoy.”

The car was warming up as I dashed inside for my checkbook, the necklaces, and the Blessed Book. I ran several errands, which included replacing my cell phone, picking up a long wool coat, Sherpa-lined boots, hats, gloves, and a canvas tote.

Then I called Derek and told him I would be around late in the day to pick up Thor. I left out my encounter with Monique. That needed to be reprimanded face-to-face. I fantasized of all the ways Cinnamon would make him cry as I drove out to the Sims’ place. The chimney was puffing out smoke as I rolled into the driveway half an hour later. I sat there for a minute, working up the courage to knock. I had to find out who Carol was.

A pane of ice covered the steps leading to the bell. After a moment, the lace curtain fluttered and Mrs. Sims’ owl eyes stared through the glass.

“You go away!” she said.

“Mrs. Sims, I understand you’re upset. Please. I have a few more questions for you.”

“Go away!” Her face was an angry knot.

“Please, I just want to help.”

She flapped her arms and screamed, “GO!”

And her eyes said, “Haven’t you done enough?”

I turned and shuffled down the steps, stabbed with guilt.

In the parking lot of a fast food restaurant, I called information and connected to Matt Huckleberry.

“Huckleberry Tree Farm,” said Matt.

“Hi, Matt, this is Stacy Justice. I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

“Sure, Stacy.”

“Did you know a Carol back in high school?”

Matt didn’t hesitate. “Sure. She was Kathy’s best girlfriend.”

“Do you know where I might find her?”

“Sure.”

I guess when you own a tree farm, the tendency is to send everyone you ever met a Christmas card in October.

Carol lived a few blocks from the Sims’ and thanks to Gramps’ super mobile, I found it easily through the GPS.

The house itself, a stately mini-mansion, with etched glass windows and round pillars, overshadowed the tiny lot it sat on. Carol had done well for herself.

A tall, frazzled woman with a baby on her hip greeted me. “Come on in,” she said. “The room is upstairs. I have no idea what to do with it, but I can’t stand the pink.”

I followed her in and said, “Um, I think—”

“Billy!” she screamed. “Stop hitting your brother!”

Billy put the bat down and pouted. His brother looked pleased. Seemed like a setup to me.

“Go on, I have to feed the baby, but I’ll meet you upstairs in a minute,” she said.

“Excuse me, Carol?”

“Yes?” She brushed her hair back and wiped spit off the baby’s mouth at the same time.

“Hi, I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Aren’t you from Defined Concepts?”

“No.”

Carol looked disappointed.

“I’m Stacy Justice. I wanted to talk to you about Kathy Sims.”

Carol blinked, then swayed. I grabbed the baby just before she fell into the carpet.

“She never told me his name,” she said fifteen minutes later.

We were sitting at Carol’s kitchen table, me with a baby in my lap and vomit on my new coat, Carol with a glass of water.

The baby fussed and Carol lifted him from my lap. “Sorry about your coat.”

“No problem.” I pulled the necklace from my pocket. “Did this belong to Kathy?”

Carol examined it and shrugged. “I’ve never seen it before.”

I tucked it away and asked. “Do you know if she was pregnant?”

Carol nodded. “A week before she left, we took a pregnancy test together. I did it just so she wouldn’t be nervous. Hers was positive.”

“Did she tell anyone?”

“Not that I know of. I don’t even think she told him. But she wanted the baby. She was a wild child, for sure,” Carol’s eyes flicked to her own children, “but she said to me that she was going to keep it no matter what. I figured that was why she ran. Her parents never would have understood. Her Dad would have killed her.”

“And you have no idea who the father was?”

She shook her head. “Just that he was a cop.”

I snapped to attention. “A cop? Are you sure?” Of course! The star. The star from the scrying session. It was a badge.

“Yes. That’s why she wouldn’t tell me who he was. He was older and she didn’t want to get him in trouble. You don’t think he had something to do with her disappearance do you?”

I wasn’t about to stick my foot in my mouth again so I just told her I didn’t know.

But I did.

I knew now that a police officer was the father of Kathy’s unborn child.

And she lost her life because of it.

CHAPTER 23

My rearview mirror got a workout as I sped towards Amethyst. I wasn’t about to lose another vehicle to water damage. Thankfully, there was no sign of anyone following me.

A cop. I didn’t see that coming. If a police officer got an eighteen-year-old girl pregnant, it might not ruin his career, but if that girl was under-age when their relationship began, that was a whole other ball game. A statutory rape conviction would put him in prison with criminals he had sent away. He wouldn’t last a second. Carol didn’t know what town the guy worked in, or if he was with the county sheriff’s office.

Which made it harder to identify him.

I spotted Eddie McAllister patching a wall along the river as I coasted into town. I still didn’t understand what the conversation meant between him and his brother, but I was certain I could squeeze more out of Eddie than Kirk.

I pulled over and trotted to Eddie. His breath sliced the air in short bursts and his gloves were covered in wet cement.

“Hi Eddie. Got a minute?”

He didn’t look up. “Very busy. Need to work.”

“Well, that’s okay. Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee when you’re through?”

Eddie mixed up more cement which didn’t look easy given the frigid temperatures. “Why?”

“Well, because you look cold and coffee is hot.”

Eddie’s head was bent over his work. “Hot chocolate tastes better.”

“Hot chocolate it is, then. Meet me across the street at Muddy Waters?”

“Okay.” He tested the goop with a small shovel.

“What time do you think you’ll be done?”

“I stop at five o’clock.”

“Five o’clock it is then.”

When I got to the paper, I marched into Derek’s office first and slammed the door.

Thor trotted to greet me and I told him to lie down.

“It’s about damn time, Justice,” Derek said. “This dog snores, farts and burps more than my grandpa. It’s disgusting.”

“Where did you go to journalism school?”

Derek gave me an odd look. “Why?”

“Because I want to know what kind of school teaches students to discuss stories with the town tramp.”

Derek swigged his water and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I plastered my hands on his desk and said, “I had a conversation with your booty call.”

Derek looked away, then met my eyes. “Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” I threw my hands up.

“Monique was scared about the fire and the arson rumors, so I was just trying to ease her mind.”

“That doesn’t sound like Monique.” I folded my arms.

“Then she got me drunk and I didn’t know what the hell I was saying.”

“That sounds like Monique.”

Derek humbled for the first time in front of me. “My bad,” he said.

Thor trotted to my hip. “Just don’t do it again,” I said. I clutched the handle and added, “In fact, don’t go near that woman without protection.”

“You mean a condom?”

“I was thinking more like Cinnamon.”

I gave Derek my new cell number and told him to pass it on. Then I polished some copy and sent Thor to do his business before I paid a visit to Gladys.

Her nose was hidden behind a paperback book titled,
A Witch in Every Woman.

I cleared my throat and Gladys looked up. “Oh hello, Stacy.”

“Hi Gladys. Interesting book?”

“Oh, yes. We are all witches. Did you know?”

“I did not.” Hoped not anyway.

Gladys launched into a description of the chapter she was reading on how a woman’s menstrual cycle mirrors that of the moon and how the moon controls the tides, and since the tides are water and humans are made up of mostly water, that means women control all human life.

I wondered if Gladys had ever heard of the miracle of birth before I cut her off.

“Listen, I have some work for you.”

“Oh good. What you need?” She pulled her glasses down and waited.

I explained that I wanted her to try to dig up a police roster for the whole county from 1989.

Gladys agreed and I ducked out for my hot chocolate date.

Muddy Waters was empty when I got there and the clock told me I had some time to kill. I ordered a cappuccino, found a table, and pulled out the Blessed Book for a cram session. I didn’t find anything on hunting down a crazed maniac, but the first chapter after the history was “Calling on Your Spirit Guides.” I figured I could use all the help I could get so I sunk in.

I wasn’t sure how many pages I had devoured before darkness descended, but the clock on my phone read 5:30. I was just about to shut the book when a gust of wind fluttered the pages. They flipped back and forth before finally resting on this passage:
The Seeker of Justice shall cross with one who embodies the old soil, the force of which will have great impact on Geraghtys, past, present, and future. The choice she makes shall decide her fate. One path leads to unity and three become one. The other leads to destruction that shall never be repaired.

I sat back. One who “embodies the old soil.” What the hell did that mean? I read the words again. Skimmed the script with my fingertips.

Two paths.

One choice.

Why were witches so cryptic? Why couldn’t she just write,
if you come to a fork in the road, take the one on the left and you won’t completely screw up your life.

I read on, hoping there would be a hint as to which was the right choice. Because if the wrong path was set in motion, it didn’t sound like the outcome would be favorable for anybody. And I had enough bad decisions behind me.

Suddenly my cheeks grew hot, like someone was watching me.

Slowly, I lifted my eyes. The mustache man stared at me through the window.

Call it stupidity, call it blind faith, call it a coffee high, but I grabbed my stuff and sprinted out the door after him.

He was gone by the time I made it outside. I looked right, then left, before spotting him climbing the steps. I was about to call out when a Tri-state tourism bus loaded with passengers blocked my path. The driver let a carriage horse carting a young couple pass by before I could squeeze around it. By then my stalker had disappeared.

I stood for a minute, chastising myself, before I decided to backtrack to the river and catch up with Eddie.

The cement bucket was there, hardening, and it looked like the wall wasn’t quite finished. I wandered the embankment, calling his name. No answer.

The viaduct was close so I ducked in there, thinking he may have gone in to warm up.

That’s when I learned a new sign. Shivers down the spine? Understood. Nausea? Nailed down.

But for the past few days, I was equating the cold in my lungs to the calendar date. Now I knew it meant something more.

Death was near.