Page 86 of Crossroads Magic
Benedict
Harper
Broch
Trevalyan
Juda
Frida
Then:Where were they all?
I wrote again:
Hirom – Rolling barrels out in the forest
Olivia
Wim
Benedict – With Harper
Harper – With Benedict
Broch – With Hirom.
Trevalyan – NOT the killer.
Juda – drugged and out of it.
Frida – agoraphobic.
I studied the list. I only had everyone’s word about what they were doing that night. There was no evidence for any of it, except in Trevalyan’s case, I believed him absolutely. My gut was the evidence.
Then I remembered what he had said at breakfast, which had been lost beneath the general amusement of the moment.
I’m just glad I had three backups to hand. Even the Spirit Hour might not have been enough, otherwise.
Backups. Three with power to supplement his own.
I put my feet on the floor and stood, my heart thudding.
Threewith power.
?
The bar did not officially open until ten a.m., even though Hirom never seemed to leave the room. The locals’ table was empty and clean.
I had brought down my mother’s poncho because I suspected it would be so. I put it on and stepped outside and paused in surprise. I had forgotten it was snowing.
The roads—both of them—were flat white strips. On the greenway, longer stalks of grass stuck up through the snow, giving the road a prickly appearance. Everything else was covered in a crisp cool blanket of snow, including the tops of the iron hoops around Wim’s garden. The snow peaked at the top of the hoops in little pyramids.
More white flakes were drifting down slowly. Silently.
The whole town was shrouded in a muffled silence that stole my breath. It was mysterious and marvelous. I could not hear wind, nor animals in the trees. No birds flapped or sang.
I paused with my boots on the edge of the sidewalk, reluctant to step onto the road and mar the perfect white cover.
