Page 38 of Dead and Gone

I'm not well I'll see you tomorrow

"She's home. Come on, Rowan. Leif, keep the mole on your person, and stay with these two in case they abscond."

"Abs-what?" asks Dale.

"Don't leave or call the police. If a witch is causing trouble, that's outside of human jurisdiction. If the invader is human, then you may call the authorities later." I look at Dale. "How long until her mother returns?"

"Around nine usually."

An hour.

"How do we even know someone's with Corrie?" asks Dale.

"One way to find out." I push at Rowan to open his door. "We're wasting time."

"Wait," he says and takes a furtive look around.

Once Rowan's happy that nobody is walking in the street, we leave the car and cross to Corrie's house. I scale the tall wooden gate beside the garage and jump down before opening it just enough for Rowan to sidle through and join me. A covered patio area at the rear overlooks a small rectangle of grass, with wood-paneled fences as tall as the gate penning us in.

"No lights switched on upstairs at the back either," whispers Rowan, then points at the staircase. "But there're some lit downstairs."

Grayson's lithe figure emerges from the edge of the gardens, and Rowan clutches his chest, swearing. "Don't do that."

He grins. "Reporting back to Detective Violet. Nothing suspicious, although a dog tried to chase me through a neighbor's garden."

"A large dog? Not noisy, I hope." I slant my head. No loud barking. Good.

"Rat dog. Yappy."

"Excuse me?"

He holds his hands a small distance apart. "Chihuahua? Could've squished it easily if needed."

"Grayson. That would not be helpful."

"Kidding." He jerks his chin. "Want me to climb up and try to open an upstairs window? I might be able to get in and take a look."

"Good plan. I can't sense who's inside the house. You try that, and we'll attempt to enter the traditional way."

Grayson nods and melds back into the dark.

Rowan and I make our way to the front of the house again. We're hidden from passersby due to the unlit porch, but Rowan shuffles from foot to foot as he presses the doorbell, eyes darting towards the sidewalk as we wait. Dale's car remains on the street, and the occupants still sit inside. Impressive—they followed instructions.

"Hello?" asks a disembodied voice, and I startle, spinning around.

"Remote doorbell." Rowan points at a silver contraption on the wall to the left of the entrance. "Has a camera too. Whoever is inside will see us."

"Right. I had no idea such a thing existed. We don't need a doorbell at my family's house, let alone an elaborate one." I chew my lip, watching the door. "Nobody visits us."

"I'll bet," mumbles Rowan. "I'm not keen on a return visit to your parents."

"That isn't an unusual response from the rare visitors to my home." I ring the doorbell again. "We need to speak to you, Corrie."

The girl doesn't answer the door, and no disembodied voice comes from the silver box. Ignoring me because I'm Violet Blackwood or because she's unable to answer?

"About the mole's eyes. We know where they are," I inform the box. Rowan hisses at me, and I whisper, "If the witch hears, they'll want to let us in. Leif has the mole with the correct eyes. Nobody will get a hold of the gems."

I'm about to speak again when Corrie's muffled voice comes from the other side of the door. "Do you have the eyes?" she asks. "Help me leave. He locked the door and took the keys, and I can't get past him to run through the back door."

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