Ain't Love a Witch? by Dakota Cassidy

Author:Dakota Cassidy [Cassidy, Dakota]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book Boutiques
Published: 2017-07-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Stevie sauntered out of the kitchen and back into the still-packed dining area, where a flat-screen television hung above the tables under raw wood beams running the length of the shop.

My eyes were drawn to the picture flashing across the screen. The red Toyota pickup hung on a hook behind the reporter who’d interviewed Sunflower and Whatshisname. “Stephania! Look at the telly.”

She moved closer in an attempt to hear what the reporter was saying, but as she did, she frowned and sighed simultaneously. “No bodies found,” she whispered before turning away from the television and heading for the door.

Her eyes scanned the parking lot across the street as she relocated her car and stepped off the curb, weaving her way through the busy street.

As she got back in the car once more, her cheeks red from the heat and likely disappointment, she leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment.

“I do not understand how this can be,” Arkady muttered. “Does this mean the flower and plant people were telling us lies? I will haunt them forever if they bring harm to the baby because they tell lies!”

Stevie started the car and let out a ragged sigh. “I’m just not convinced they were lying, Arkady. I think they spoke the truth. I know it’s crazy, but there you have it. What I’m beginning to believe is this was a setup. Maybe Inga set that accident up, hoping her father would think she was dead? I mean, she didn’t live with a monster without picking up a tip or two, right? And she’s married to his right-hand man. You can bet he knows how to make things look like an accident. And what about what Edith told us? If that was Inga in the Moo Barn, which I’m convinced it was, why was she so upset? Because she was being held hostage?”

“Free range in the Moo Barn, Stephania? Why would someone let their hostage wander freely—with a baby, no less?”

She hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. “We finally have a clue, one stinkin’ clue, and it leads us nowhere! Argh!” She began to pull out of the parking lot when she hit the brakes again. “Hold on, you think the Moo Barn has video cameras?”

“Do you think they’ll let you see the footage without raising suspicion from the police?”

She eased off the brake and muttered, “Ugh. Okay, you’re right. No video. Let’s go home. Carmella and Enzo said they’d bring the baby back over for a late lunch.”

As we drove the short distance from town to our house, I racked my brain, trying to remember the conversation Inga and I had shared that day when, in my grief, I’d brought her to see the house I’d bought from a dead woman—a woman I didn’t know wasn’t dead at all.

Most of the day was a blank. I do recall spending the better part of it trying to stay in character for Von Krause. I’m a method spy, I suppose, and it was a rare occurrence I ever broke character.

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