With You In Spirit (The Bassinville Witches Series) (4 page)

She followed Jackson inside, her eyes adjusting to the darker interior after the stinging brightness of the sun outside. There were three desks, all covered in various papers and sorters, and a bulletin board that had several notices up, most of them about community events, rather than police notices. It really was a sleepy community. The cells lay just beyond, but there was nobody locked up in them today. Joe and Ellis, his deputy, were stood talking over by the coffee machine, sipping from thick mugs. Joe spotted Jackson and Catherine, and nodded over at them, walking slowly over to his desk.

Joe Frankson
was a man in his late forties, still good-looking, but years of good living had given him a slight pot-belly. His light blond hair was just turning peppery at the edges, and he had a small beard covering his chin
, with a matching moustache
.
He sat down heavily in his office chair, setting his mug down on the desk, where the coffee rings of mugs long past still showed through.

“Well, how can I help you folks?”

Jackson gestured for Catherine to go towards the two battered looking chairs in front of the desk, and began to walk over. She grimaced, and followed him over, sitting down lazily, crossing her legs. “Well, I need to talk to you about this weird note I got Joe. It...
well
, it came with a dagger. And it said that someone was coming for me.”

Joe leaned f
orwards on his desk, placing his
arms in front of him
self
. “Wait, this isn’t a joke? Have you got the dagger or note with you?”

Catherine nodded, and pulled her bag in front of herself, rummaging around amongst the sweet wrappers and make-up. Eventually she found the offensive object, wrapped up in a plastic bag with the note, and passed it over to Joe
, who took it gingerly, narrowing his eyes.
He unravelled the plastic, and looked closely at the note, which was clearly visible through the bad. Raising his gaze, he gave a sharp look at Catherine.

“Have you told your mo
m
?” He knew about the problems Catherine and her mother had when her father had disappeared; her mother and Joe were old friends. Catherine shook her head slowly.

“Good. I think it would be best if we didn’t tell her for now.
I’ll have to take these in, of course.” Catherine nodded silently. “Okay, now when did you find this? And where?”

“Well…” Catherine gave a glance towards Jackson, who pulled a
go-on-then
face. “I found it in my bedroom last night. I’d been out all day, and there was only my mum in. She would have said something, as you know
,
if she had seen anyone. The note was wrapped around the hilt, and someone had shoved it underneath my bed.”

“There was nothing else?
Nothing missing, nothing broken into?”

She shrugged. “Anyone could have walked in, I guess. My mum had the front door open, and she was out in the garden. Anyone could have sneaked in and left without her seeing. And nothing was missing as far as I could see.”

Joe stood up awkwardly, pushing his chair out, and passed the bag across to Ellis. “Ellis, get that down to the main office, pronto. I need to find out if there are any fingerprints left on it, and whether they can find out anything else that will help us.” Ellis nodded, and began to rummage around in a steel drawer for a proper bag, picking up the phone at the same time to ring ahead.

Joe sat down again, hitching his trousers. His expression was one of confusion. He scratched at his beard for a moment, and then pursed up his lips, shaking his head. “I just don’t know how to go about this...
I think we’re gonna have to tell your mom.”

Catherine’s mouth fell open in protest. “No, you can’t! You don’t know what she was like last time-“

Holding up a hand to indicate he hadn’t finished, Joe continued, as Jackson put his arm around Catherine’s shoulders, trying to comfort her. “Now listen, young lady. I know full well how it might upset her, but I have no choice. I can’t pursue this and
not let her know that there are strange people creeping around her house, can I now? We’ll need to make sure that there’s protection at your house tonight. Now, is your mom out right now?”

Holding back another bubble of protest, Catherine nodded. “Yes, she’s out visiting a friend. She won’t be back until late though.”

“Alright.
I’ll come over to your house and talk to her then. I’d appreciate it if you were there.
I’ll stay over for tonight, and I’ll work out a schedule with the other officers to make sure they can stay nights too.”

Grasping her bag tightly, Catherine nodded again. “Okay. Is that all?”

“Yes
, until tonight. I’ll talk to you more then. Now you take care, you hear?”

Catherine smiled at him, forcing it to look brighter than she felt, and then rose up, walking over towards the door. Swinging it open into the bri
ght sunlight again, she squinted, looking up into the sky
. Jackson was following her closely, kicking a pile of dust up into the air. He sighed, and crossed his arms over his chest,
creasing his
forehead tiredly. “Catherine, promise me you’re not going to do anything tonight that could get you into trouble.”

Letting out a breath of annoyance, Catherine spun around, and narrowed her eyes at him. “You see, this is why I didn’t want Shawna to tell anyone. I don’t need fawning over, Jackson, I’m a big girl. I know not to walk into dark alleyways and talk to strangers.” She snapped her mouth shut,
thinking of Caden, who she had agreed to meet in just a few hours.

Jackson saw the movement, and caught her arm, going in closer to her. “Catherine. What was that?” His tone was low and warning. Getting really annoyed with him now, Catherine pulled her arm away,
and scowled.

“It’s nothing Jackson. Please stop it; I don’t
need
a protector, okay?”

He saw her determined look, and let his hands fall by his sides, placing them on his hips instead. He hung in head in silence, and looked across to the peaceful town centre, with mothers pushing their babies in pushchairs, and couples walking hand in hand. Nodding, he looked back up at Catherine. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you and your mom, that’s all. Surely you can understand that?”

The expression on Catherine’s face softened, and she smiled slightly. “Sure, I can understand that. But please don’t worry about me, okay? I promise I’ll look after myself.
Friends?”
She held out her hand in a gesture of friendship, and he grasped it, smiling warmly.

“Of course we are.
Always.”

As she walked away, Jackson continued watching her, his brow furrowed. He hadn’t missed that strange look on her face, and he knew her better than she thought. Maybe he would have to ring Shawna to check…

C
atherine fumbled nervously with her
blouse
button; first doing it up, and then unbuttoning it again. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so worried about how she looked for a man. She must have spent at least two hours trying on different outfits and make-up, before settling on
jeans and a simple white cotton blouse. Her make-up was kept to a minimum, with only foundation and mascara. As a last minute thought, she had slicked on a coat of red lipstick. Now she wished she hadn’t, it felt strange and far too flirtatious on her lips-she half expected old Mrs Delfoy to open the door and begin screaming “
Harlot!
”.

Trying to peer through the thick lacy curtain that hung behind Mrs Delfoy’s pristine front door, Catherine raised her arm, and rapped sharply on the glass. The sound of cicadas added to the soft, dream-like feeling of the evening. The air was sticky and humid, with no relief from a gentle breeze, and Catherine was suffering for it again. She was suddenly interrupted from her reverie by the sound of small footsteps making their way across the creaking floorboards within. The lacy curtain was thrust aside, and the wrinkled face of Mrs Delfoy appeared.
Smiling as she saw Catherine, she let the curtain fall, and the door was pulled open, a scent of dried violets bursting forth into the night.

“Why, hello dearie. What are you doing here this evening?”

“Well, I um…arranged to see Mr
Rouquette,
I believe he said he was staying with you?”

Mrs Delfoy nodded, enthusiastically. “Oh yes, dearie, he certainly is. Come on in, come on in, he’s out in the garden round the back. Just go on through, I’ll bring you out some lemonade.”

“Thank you Mrs Delfoy.” Catherine squeezed past her into her antique-filled hallway. The darkened hallway was crammed with expensive antiquities, tall exotic-looking vases, several old grandfather clocks that had stopped chiming a long time ago, and
gilt-edged mirrors. A smiling Japanese porcelain dog sat comfortably next to a wilting spider-plant, and a French carriage clock. A green carpet was rolled throughout, and the walls were covered in fading Victorian print wallpaper. There
was something comforting and cosy about the whole atmosphere. Mrs Delfoy bustled behind her, disappearing into her kitchen
. Catherine knew where she was going, and walked through into Mrs Delfoy’s sitting room, where the porch doors were wide open, letting the sweet night air filter in.

Peering outside, Catherine took in the sight of the dimly lit garden, tall willow trees gently swinging their fronds in the stillness around the edges. The garden burst with colourful flowers, all arranged in delicate patterns. In the centre of it all, was Caden, digging out some of the grass with a large spade. He was dressed only in his jeans and boots; a sheen of sweat slicked across his muscle-rippled torso, a white Stetson on his head. Trying to be as silent as possible, Catherine began to walk across the garden, the soft grass shushing at her footsteps.

Caden looked up, and grinned at her, turning and leaning on his spade. She nearly fainted when she saw that grin, along with the rest of him displayed so freely in front of her.
Gods, he looks good!
He tilted his hat back, and watched her closely as she made her way shyly towards him.

“Hello, Mr Rouquette. I um…was going to talk to you about your family tree and stuff, but…if you’re busy?
Please say no, please say no, please say no…

He chuckled;
a rich chocolaty sound. “Not at all, I’m happy to stop now. I just offered to help Mrs Delfoy dig up a little of her garden for a new flower-bed. Why don’t we sit down here?” Caden gestured to a raised part of the garden, still covered in grass, but shaped for a seating area.

Her heart beating nervously, Catherine sat herself down, trying to look as elegant as possible.
Caden sat down next to her, and leaned on his elbow, stretching himself out. Catherine felt that slow blush returning to her face again, and she quickly turned away, but not before he noticed.

“Why, Miss Catherine! You seem to gotten quite warm all of a sudden…are you okay?”

When she looked back at him, he was grinning devilishly, his eyes twinkling. She smiled shyly at his flirting, breaking it into a full grin the more she thought about it. She shrugged. “I’m fine. I’m just…” Pausing, Catherine thought about something. “You know I’m not really that good on history, right? I did start a degree, but my mum moved here before I could finish it.”

Caden shrugged in turn, and took a deep breath. “That’s okay.”

“But I thought you wanted help with your family tree?” Frowning, she stared at him, confused by what he meant.

Licking his lips, Caden seemed to think about something for a second, his eyes going far-away looking. He sat himself up slightly, and the boyish twinkle disappeared from his eyes. “Look…I uh…I made that up.”

“What!”

As she went to jump up, he gestured for her to sit back down again. “No, wait! Please!
It isn’t as bad as it sounds. I…saw you from outside the bar yesterday, and couldn’t think of what I could say to you. When I went in and that barkeeper spoke to me, it was the first thing that popped into my head. I’m sorry. I just…god, you looked so pretty.” He abruptly sat himself up, hugging his knees.

Catherine bit her lip, and shuffled closer to him, placing her hand on his arm. He looked at it in surprise. “Look, while I don’t appreciate you lied to me, I understand what you mean. I kind of get tongue-tied around men too.”

The sparkle returned, and he smirked, turning his face to raise an eyebrow at her. “Even me?”

Giggling, Catherine nodded.
“Especially you.
You’re gorgeous.”

“Am I?” He tried to keep the grin of his face, trying to look modest instead. He didn’t succeed, and broke into that brilliant flash of whites again. “So are you.”

He turned to face her, and gently put his palm to her cheek, staring deep into her eyes. Catherine almost let out a gasp; they were so vivid and bright, even with their dark grey hue, like silvery pools she could just sink right into. He stroked his thumb along her soft skin, and she couldn’t help closing her eyes at the electric touch. Opening them again, she saw with surprise that he was just as entranced; his mouth parted with shallow breaths. He began to lean in, his firm lips just begging for her touch-