Page 105 of Dream Weaver

I grimaced, glad I hadn’t gone home.

But nothing they might say changed the fact that I couldn’t let Claire down. I couldn’t risk losing her. I was a mother, and that would always be my priority.

I had Claire. I had Roscoe. I didn’t need a man. No matter how much I wanted him.

I sat in the parking lot for a long, long time, listening to cars zoom by on the main road. Not many, though, because it was Sunday, and most folks were sleeping in…enjoying the company of their loved ones…relaxing…

I shoved the car door open, punched in the metal shop’s key code, and stomped inside to fire up the forge. I had a couple of hours before picking up Claire. Enough to start on the next ax head.

Eighteen down, two to go.

Bang!I slammed the metal with all my might, making sparks fly.

I waited instinctively for Cooper’s echoing hit.Wham!

But, duh. It never came.

I grimaced and went at the metal with a sullenbang! Bang! Bang!No rhythm. No joy. No teamwork.

Two hours later, I sat back, staring at the result. That wasn’t an ax head. It was a battered lump of steel.

I threw it into the scrap pile and started a new one. Walt would be furious at the waste, but that wasn’t my problem right now.

At lunchtime, I stopped for a grocery run. Not because I was hungry, but in order to stock up for Claire’s sake. I got all our usual staples, plus brownie mix. Claire loved making brownies. We could make them together. Everything would be fine.

I threw in two more boxes of mix, then three rolls of chocolate chip cookie dough. Then the edible stuff you used to write on cakes, plus a few edible flowers, plus—

I caught myself there, knowing full well what I wanted couldn’t be found on a shelf in the supermarket.

But that didn’t matter, I decided, briskly pushing my shopping cart to checkout. As long as Claire was happy, I was happy. I had her, my sisters, and their fathers. I had Roscoe and the ranch. I had everything I needed, and everything would be fine.

* * *

Everything was not fine. Starting with the news I got from Ingo, once we met back on the ranch.

That had indeed been Jay in the pickup Cooper and I had spotted on our way to Devil’s Bridge.

“Security cameras at one of the resorts along Dry Creek Road caught him passing early that morning — twice,” Ingo said, looking grim. “Once on the way in at four in the morning and again on the way out, closer to dawn.”

“What about Liselle?”

“The camera didn’t get a good enough view to ID his passenger.”

“Well, Cooper can ID her. He caught her scent at Devil’s Bridge.”

Ingo shook his head. “Unfortunately, his word isn’t enough without corroborating evidence. I got a team up there as quickly as I could, but the storm destroyed any evidence we could have used. Still, we’re working on it. I promise you, we’re working on it.”

Unfortunately, working on it didn’t involve hustling over to Liselle’s place and arresting, or even questioning, her.

“We can’t do that without firm evidence linking her to Jay, the storm, or the vortex disturbance,” Ingo said.

I know he was doing his best, but that was a bitter pill to swallow. Who knew what Liselle was plotting next — and what role Jay played in her nefarious plans?

On the other hand, something didn’t add up. Liselle wasn’t that powerful a witch. I was sure of it. How could she have stirred up a storm that big alone?

I was starting to think my third theory — the one where Liselle was involved with a stronger witch or warlock — was most likely. If so, why the hell were they after me?

So, things were not at all fine, and even a batch of double fudge brownies couldn’t change that.

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