Page 21 of Wicching Hour

“Hey, Arwyn.” Hernández’s voice was almost lost in the roar of the surf.

“Detective Hernández, this is Arwyn Corey at the Sea Wicche gallery. I have a man trespassing on my back deck. He’s threatening me and refusing to leave. This is at least the third time he’s been here, and he’s been asked every time to leave.”

“Stay on the phone with me,” Hernández said. “I’m calling now for a car to pick him up.”

“I need a restraining order,” I continued, still staring at the man and slowly walking toward him. Calling for help went against every instinct I had. I wanted to deal with him myself, but if he was recording me, I needed to play human.

“I bet if you looked into his past,” I continued into the phone, “you’ll find other stalking complaints against him.” The quick spike of panic I felt from him told me I was right.

“The detective is asking your name?” I lied. I knew he wouldn’t answer me, but I hoped he’d think it. And he did. Brandon.

“Fuck you,” he ground out. “This isn’t over.” He turned and retreated while trying to look tough, which isn’t easy.

I followed him to make sure he left. Once he’d turned the corner, he started jogging. A police car pulled up as Brandon made it to the front of the gallery. The cop looked at my stalker and then slowly got out of his car, letting Brandon run down the road to wherever he’d left his own vehicle. The cop turned his head, checked his phone, spoke into the radio on his shoulder, and then slowly started walking down the side of the gallery.

My eyesight might not be as good as Declan’s, but I saw that cop let my stalker get away just fine.

“Arwyn, what’s happening?” Hernández demanded.

“I’m going to keep the line open,” I whispered. “The cop just watched the guy run away. He didn’t do anything to detain him. I recognize the cop, though. He’s the one I warned you about. The one who resents the hell out of you and Osso, two brown-skinned people who made detective before him.”

The cop was getting close so I drew back, put the phone in my pocket, and then pretended to run around the corner, just seeing him for the first time.

“Oh, my goodness! You scared me, Officer.” Eyes wide, I said, “Did you see him, the man who was waiting for me?”

He held up his hands. “Calm down, ma’am. No. I didn’t see anyone. Are you sure you saw a person? Shadows can play tricks.”

The moon had slid behind a cloud again, but I could see his smug sneer well enough.

“Yes, Officer. I’m sure,” I said with forced politeness. “He was sitting on my deck, waiting for me. He threatened me. Shadows rarely do that.”

Anger flared. He was not happy about the sarcasm. He was a petty little tyrant who handed out sarcasm. He didn’t take it. After an extended period of glaring, his hand on his gun, he flipped open the portfolio in his other hand, asking me basic questions in a bored voice.

When we were finally done with the report he was filling out, he flipped it closed and said, “Well, none of what he said or did is illegal. I’ll file it, but…you said you didn’t know who he was, right?”

“He was trespassing,” I reminded him.

The cop looked around at the deck and the tentacles. “This is a business. You invite the public onto your property all the time.” He was taking a great deal of joy in blowing off my concerns.

“I see. So if a business exists on private property, it’s no longer private? Is this a new law?”

He gestured with the portfolio in his hand. “No fences. No signs. Access to the water. It’s almost like you’re asking for it, don’t you think?”

“Officer Harding,” Hernández barked as she came around the corner of the gallery, phone still at her ear. “We do not tell victims of crimes that they were asking for it.”

His eyes went flat and mean. He didn’t appreciate being reprimanded.

“You’re relieved, Officer. I’ll take it from here,” she said.

He turned on his heel and stalked away. Hernández waited, watching him go. When his patrol car peeled out, she turned to me and shook her head.

Pointing at the back door of my studio, she said, “Let’s go in and you can tell me what I missed.”

ELEVEN

The Return of Sleepless Baking

Ihadn’t invited Officer Asshole in because I didn’t want that horrible negative energy in my workspace. Now, though, I opened the back door, hit the lights, and invited Detective Hernández in.

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