Page 85 of Bewicched

I nodded, knowing I’d be waking in the middle of the night screaming for little Ana for years to come. “The dress is under the bush at the base of the tree.”

“Okay. Thank you,” she said.

I nodded, pulling on socks and stuffing frozen feet into boots, suddenly exhausted. “We’re going to go now.”

“Sure. We’ll come to you if we have any questions.”

I nodded. “Not today, though, okay? No more today.” My eyes filled with tears and I scrubbed them away. The poor baby was chosen because she was happy and loved. “The babysitter knows his face. You go get him, okay? Prove it’s him. He won’t stop on his own. He needs to be stopped.”

Hernández nodded. “We will.”

We walked around the side of the house to Declan’s truck. I didn’t want to walk back into that nice house with her death playing over and over in my head.

Once we were in and buckled, I gestured to the house. “Where’s the family?”

“The cops asked them to go.”

Confused, I turned to Declan as he started the engine and swung his truck around. “And they did?”

Glancing over, he continued, “I asked the same question. They told the parents they wanted to bring in a psychic. The house was filled with family and friends getting ready to go search the woods again. At first there was some pushback. A few people heard and were giving the cops a hard time about grasping at straws. Osso ignored them and explained to the parents that this was the woman who had just found another victim.

“The parents agreed after that and their whole group moved to another house a mile or so away to wait.” Declan turned onto the main road and headed back to the gallery.

“It’s good that they have each other. They thought the day she disappeared was the worst day in their lives. It wasn’t. Today is.”

36

Cookies & Milk

When Declan pulled up in front of the gallery, there was a new truck parked at the curb. I knew Phil, Juan, and Mike’s vehicles. This wasn’t a construction vehicle. It was big and shiny, not battered and dusty.

Two brawny men stood shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed over their chests, leaning against the side of my building. They didn’t look alike or dress alike, and yet they gave the impression of being the same. One was Latino, wearing a plaid flannel, jeans, and boots like Declan’s. The other was Asian and wearing a dress shirt open at the collar, with suit trousers and shiny black shoes. He looked as though he’d just taken off his tie and jacket before commencing to lean menacingly.

Declan went on alert. “Stay here. I’ll deal with this.” He slammed out of the truck and strode over to the two men, who instantly came to attention.

Not one to be told what to do, I hopped out and came around the front of the truck. I tapped my magic and relaxed my eyes so I could see their auras, know what we were dealing with. Werewolves.

“Looks like you had some trouble here last night,” the almost-suit wearer said.

“That’s right,” Declan responded. “Did you put your stalking to good use and see who it was?”

“We’re not stalking you, boss,” the casual one said.

“I’m not your boss,” Declan ground out.

“Yet,” the dressy one added.

“Ever,” Declan shot back.

“I don’t know about that,” the casual one said, scratching his cheek. “Ever’s a long time.”

In my vision, when Declan had revealed his true nature, his Quinn lineage, to the pack at the moon run, two wolves had moved to flank him, seemingly to protect them. I was assuming these were those two wolves. If their goal was to watch out for Declan, they were okay in my book.

Stepping forward, I held out a gloved hand. “Hi. I’m Arwyn. This is my gallery you’re loitering in front of.”

Both men relaxed their stances. The well-dressed one reached for my hand and shook it. “Kenji, ma’am.”

Casual man then offered his hand. “Daniel.” Returning his focus to Declan, he said, “We can help you rebuild the deck, do whatever repairs are needed to the walls and roof.”

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