The Witch's Grave Part 6

Pushing myself back in my chair, I gave up reading the catalogs. Maybe it would be better if I took a vacation and left town. Could Abby hunt me down using her psychic talents? Nope. Remote tracking hadn't worked that well when we were trying to find Tink, but knowing Abby, she'd give it her best shot. I'd already mentioned to Abby that I wanted to know why Stephen.

What if I changed my tactics? Went back to acting like the "old" Ophelia-the one who had to be dragged into a mess like this kicking and screaming. I'd pretend that I had no intention of being involved, keep them in the dark about any potential danger to me. Say nothing about any dreams, premonitions, rune warnings, etc. Neither one of them knew I felt a strong connection with Stephen. It might work.

I slapped my forehead. Darci-I'd already shot my mouth off to her about what I intended to do, and she knew about my dreams. If she thought I was up to something, she'd go straight to Abby with her concerns. I'd have to fix that. I'd use the same approach with her as I planned with Abby. I'd tell her she was right, that I'd reacted out of stress.

Come on, Jensen, Darci's no dummy. I scratched my head. I scratched my head. Okay, so I'd wing it when the time came. Okay, so I'd wing it when the time came.

I leaned forward, picked up a pen and doodled on my order form. Exactly what were my options? I felt deep inside that staying out of the investigation wasn't one of them. If my instincts were correct, I was being led down some preordained path to, at this time, a murky conclusion. One choice would be to pursue what few leads I had and get get in trouble. I wrote the word in trouble. I wrote the word trouble trouble and underlined it. and underlined it.

Or, if Bill was right and I was the intended victim, unless he put me in protective custody, he couldn't watch me 24/7. I'd be waiting for the killer to come after me and be be in trouble. I wrote in trouble. I wrote trouble trouble again. again.

I stared down at the order form. Hmm, trouble versus trouble. Hmm, trouble versus trouble. Either way I was screwed. So which approach did I take? Offensive or defensive? The answer hinged on how much faith I had in my ability to find a solution. Bill blew off my ideas, Ethan doubted me, and even Darci was skeptical. I wouldn't be getting any support from them, and I couldn't risk asking Abby or Tink for help. I'd be on my own. Either way I was screwed. So which approach did I take? Offensive or defensive? The answer hinged on how much faith I had in my ability to find a solution. Bill blew off my ideas, Ethan doubted me, and even Darci was skeptical. I wouldn't be getting any support from them, and I couldn't risk asking Abby or Tink for help. I'd be on my own.

Did I have enough strength to see me through?

Yes.

I picked up the phone and dialed Claire.

Eight.

Claire picked up on the second ring. "Hi, Claire-Ophelia."

"Ophelia." She sounded pleased. "I've been meaning to call you today. How are you?"

"I'm fine." I picked up my pen and began to draw little stars around the first trouble trouble written on the order form. written on the order form.

"Have you heard anything about Stephen La.r.s.en's condition?" Claire asked.

"I drove to the hospital this morning before work-" I hesitated, remembering the pat line the receptionist had given me. "He's in critical but stable condition."

Claire sighed deeply. "I feel terrible about what happened, and I'm worried about how this will affect our fundraising efforts."

"Claire," I replied in a shocked voice. "A man's lying in the hospital, and you're worried about bad press bad press?"

"Yes, I'm concerned about bad press. Recently, a new employee kidnapped your daughter, now an author is shot at our fund-raiser," she chided. "Let's be honest...that's not the kind of attention we want for our library."

"No, of course not, but the two incidents were unrelated," I argued as I moved to the second trouble trouble and continued making stars. "The shooting could have been an accident. And with Tink's kidnapping, it was a case of something out of the past coming back to haunt us. No one had control over either situation." and continued making stars. "The shooting could have been an accident. And with Tink's kidnapping, it was a case of something out of the past coming back to haunt us. No one had control over either situation."

"True," she replied cautiously.

"I really wouldn't worry about it, Claire. You know how small towns are," I said, my pen flying over the paper as I scribbled more and more stars. "People will forget about what happened as soon as the next scandal comes along."

Here's hoping I'm right.

I could almost hear Claire turning my words over in her mind.

"That's a valid statement. No sense in antic.i.p.ating trouble," she finally replied.

I looked down at the words trouble, trouble, with stars circling around them, and stifled a snort. with stars circling around them, and stifled a snort.

Nope...no sense looking for it when it seems to come looking for you. I cleared my throat. I cleared my throat. Time to cut to the chase, Jensen. Time to cut to the chase, Jensen.

Shoving out of my chair, I stood and walked around the corner of my desk. "The reason I called-may I have a copy of the guest list?"

Claire hesitated. "Why?"

"Um, well..." My voice trailed away as I began to pace the floor. Dang, I hadn't thought this through. Why did I want the guest list? Dang, I hadn't thought this through. Why did I want the guest list? Inspiration flashed and I froze. "Thank-you notes," I blurted out as I crossed my fingers. Inspiration flashed and I froze. "Thank-you notes," I blurted out as I crossed my fingers.

"Thank-you notes?"

"Yes," I answered, and resumed my pacing. "Even though the day ended badly, shouldn't we still thank everyone who attended?"

"Well, yes..." She paused. "But how are you going to address the shooting?"

"I won't. Everyone knows what happened. I'll simply say something like. 'Thank you so much for your support.'" I talked faster. "It will be a good project for me. Help distract me."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "A handwritten note is always a nice touch...but I'll take care of the note to Chuck Krause. He came at my specific invitation. Hmm, good idea," she murmured more to herself than me. "A personal note from me will show there are no hard feelings."

"Hard feelings?"

"You didn't meet him, did you?" she mused. "In all the excitement, I didn't have a chance to introduce you to Chuck. He's running for state representative in the next election, and we had a very heated discussion concerning his politics."

"A tall man with blond hair?" I asked, remembering the man I'd seen Claire give "the look."

"That's him. Chuck was born and raised in California, but he moved here when he married Jolene. Did you meet him?"

"No, but I noticed you talking with him. I take it his views are conservative?"

"In some ways. You'd think someone from California would be more liberal. He's taking a hard line on crime prevention, but I mainly disagree with his views concerning undoc.u.mented immigrants."

I didn't get it. "Undoc.u.mented immigrants?"

"Illegal aliens," she explained, "but that's not a politically correct term."

"I see."

"I like Chuck," she said, warming up to the subject, "but he doesn't see the big picture. He thinks it can be addressed at a state level. He wants a deportation crackdown, to cut state spending on educational programs"-she continued to rattle off a list of Krause's policies-"to penalize employers who knowingly hire undoc.u.mented workers, make it harder for low income-which these people are-to receive public ser vices."

"Well, those programs do spend tax dollars," I answered, crossing back to my desk and sitting. "And if he grew up in California, that state-"

"These people pay taxes, too-sales tax, for one," she interjected, cutting me off. "And if they have a false Social Security number and work for an employer, they pay not only federal and state taxes, but Medicare and Social Security." Claire caught her breath. "There are billions that they've paid in, but that will never be claimed because of their legal status."

Picking up my pen, I tapped it on the edge of my desk. "That's interesting, but you know how nonpolitical I am. I don't keep up on these things."

"Ophelia," she said in a frosty voice, as I imagined her peering at the phone over the top of her gla.s.ses, "how can you make an informed decision at the polls if you don't keep abreast of the issues?"

She had me on that one.

"Well, ah, I..." I stuttered.

Claire ignored my mumbling. "The status of undoc.u.mented workers needs to be addressed on both a national and international level." Her voice rose in excitement. "And between the countries engaged in the fair trade agreements..."

My eyes glazed over listening to her as I tried to think of a graceful way to end the conversation. Claire would keep me on the phone for hours expounding her political views.

"...then there are the corporations that actually lure immigrant workers to this country with flyers promising jobs. Once here, without doc.u.ments, these people have no voice. They-"

"Gee, Claire, sorry to cut you off," I interrupted, "but I'm down in my office and someone's at the door." I rapped a couple of times on the corner of my desk. "I'll pick up the guest list later and get right to work on those thank-yous."

I groaned after hanging up. I felt guilty lying to Claire, but while she might be focused on an upcoming election, I had more weighty matters on my mind...like attempted murder. I appreciated Claire's pa.s.sion-people like her changed the world.

All I wanted to do was save mine.

At four o'clock I ventured out of my office and upstairs. Darci stood at the counter, looking bored.

"Slow day?" I asked, crossing to her.

"Yeah," she replied with a toss of her head. "I think it's too hot for people to venture out today. Did you know school was let out early?"

My thoughts flew to Tink. Did she ride the bus out to Abby's? Another pang of guilt hit me: What kind of mother was I? I didn't even know where my kid was.

I grabbed the phone from behind the counter and called Abby.

"Abby's Greenhouse," Tink answered.

A hand flew to my chest. "Good. Darci just told me that school was dismissed early, and I-"

"Ophelia," Tink interrupted with a tinge of exasperation. "You've got to quit worrying. I'm okay. I rode the bus like I was supposed to."

"Okay, okay," I replied, trying to hide my relief. "How's it going?"

"Hot." She sounded grumpy. "Abby had me repotting plants all afternoon."

"How was your first day of school?"

"All right...Mrs. Olson gave us homework. Can you believe it? The first day of school and she a.s.signs an essay."

I gave a low chuckle. "You're in ninth grade now. Your teachers are starting to prepare you for what it will be like when you go to college."

A tiny feeling of loss squeezed my heart as I said the words. Tink had been in my life such a short time, and already we were planning for the day when she'd be on her own.

Her voice in my ear broke the spell. "I don't care what they're trying to do, it's still not fair."

"Is the essay going to be hard?"

"Ha," she said with snort. "It's one of those stupid 'how was your summer' things." She giggled in my ear. "Think I should write about Gert and Winnie?"

"Ah, probably not," I answered with a shake of my head.

The kid amazed me. She was held captive for a week, yet had never been afraid. When we finally found her, she was more annoyed at Gert and Winnie than anything else. Her total lack of fear was just one more reason that I needed to keep her out of the current situation.

"You're right, I guess," she said. "I'll write something about working at the greenhouse." She paused. "What time will you pick me up?"

"Um...I've a few errands to run, so it will-"

"What kind of errands?" she asked, breaking in.

Great, another lie. I sure seemed to telling a lot of those today.

"Oh you know, get groceries, stop by Claire's, that kind of thing."

"I was going to ask if I could go with you, but forget that if you're going to Mrs. Canyon's. You'll be there for hours," she groused.

"I promise I won't be long."

"Aw, that's okay," she said, her tone abruptly changing. "After we close, Abby's going to show me the journals."

Ah yes, "the journals"-private diaries kept by the women in my family for over a hundred years. They held spells, incantations, folk remedies-things my ancestors had used while living in the mountains of Appalachia.

"That's fine, but don't be getting any big ideas," I warned. "Remember-"

"'Don't conjure what you can't banish.' Like I haven't heard that before."

In my mind, I could almost see Tink rolling her eyes as she said it.

"Exactly."

"Hey, speaking of conjuring, I've been thinking about yesterday, and-"

Nope, couldn't let the conversation go there. "Hey, I've got some work I need to finish before closing," I said in a rush, not letting her finish, "so I need to go. We'll talk later." "Hey, I've got some work I need to finish before closing," I said in a rush, not letting her finish, "so I need to go. We'll talk later."

"Okay, see ya-love ya."

"Love you, too."

I turned to see Darci watching me with a bemused expression. "Tink busy at Abby's?"

"Yeah," I said with a laugh. "And she's ticked that she's got homework tonight."