18. Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
A fter Evan returned from dropping Calvin at The Overlook, he insisted on driving and took the wheel of my car.
“Hold on,” he instructed as we took off.
My car didn’t have a lot of get up and go—Landon kept insisting it was time for me to get a new one—but somehow, he managed to draw multiple sets of eyes as we headed out of town thanks to the tires screeching on the pavement.
“You drive like Aunt Tillie,” I complained.
Evan grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Torch Lake was only a fifteen-minute drive. When we got to the construction site, he parked next to the stacked pallets, excavators, bulldozers, and tractors. No one was working, but it looked as if they were gearing up to get going soon.
“It’s kind of sad,” Clove noted as we stood in front of the car and took in the serene view. “In a year, this place will be crowded with tourists. The lake will be filled with fudgies. It will never be quiet again.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” I said as I looked around. “Maybe the naiad has lived here for a long time and now her home is being destroyed. That would be enough to put me in a bad mood.”
“Why kill three people from Detroit?” Thistle challenged.
“Maybe the victims have ties to the construction,” I suggested. “I’ll have Landon look into it.” I scanned the area. “So, the question is, if you were a naiad, where would you call home?”
We scanned the shoreline.
“That way,” Evan said, pointing east. “There’s more cover from the elements but clear access to the water.”
“We could split up and look in two directions,” I suggested.
Clove’s headshake told me she hated the idea.
“Or we could stick together,” I said on a laugh.
“That’s definitely the better plan,” she agreed.
We headed into the woods with Evan in the lead.
“Look here,” Evan said after a few minutes. He pointed to a worn pathway. “Hikers didn’t do this.”
“This is leading somewhere.” I scanned the ground but there were no prints. “Just out of curiosity, if naiads prefer being barefoot all the time, how do they make it through winter? Wouldn’t their toes fall off?”
“I think they’re sturdier than humans,” Thistle replied.
We hadn’t walked much farther when we stumbled into what looked like a campsite, including a firepit. A number of sticks had been poked into the ground surrounding the pit.
“What are those for?” Clove asked.
“Humans,” Thistle replied. “They chop them up and dry the meat.” She looked far too amused with herself when Clove shuddered.
“Can you not get her going?” I complained. “She’ll start whining if you keep it up.”
Clove was offended. “I don’t whine.”
I snickered, then caught myself. “Of course not,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Don’t placate me.” Clove insisted. “I’m a mother now. Mother’s don’t whine.”
“Obviously, you haven’t met our mothers,” Thistle offered.
“I’m telling.” Clove’s upper lip curved into a sneer. “They won’t like that you called them whiners. You won’t be getting a cookie delivery this week.”
I froze and turned to Clove. “What cookie delivery?”
“We get a cookie delivery every week,” Clove replied. “They stop in to visit us. Are you saying you don’t get a cookie delivery?”
Anyone else would’ve assumed the innocent expression on her face was legitimate. I knew better. “How long have they been delivering cookies to you?”
“Since we moved out.” Clove clasped her hands in front of her. “I just assumed they were doing it for you too. Maybe you’re not as loved as we are.”
That was the evil side of Clove that most people never saw. She wanted to be the family favorite. That’s why she got pregnant first … and married first, although the marriage happened right on the heels of the pregnancy.
Even when she wasn’t the favorite—something she refused to acknowledge—she was always angling to get back to the top of the triangle.
Magic-wise, I was at the top. I was the most powerful.
When it came to brains, Thistle was the dominant force.
Clove was always working to be at the top in terms of popularity.
“We have some very strange dynamics in this family,” I complained. When I looked up, Evan was grinning. “It’s not funny. We don’t get a cookie delivery every week.”
“Maybe that’s because you eat ten meals a week at the inn and get your cookies there,” Evan replied. “Why would they make a special visit to you when you’re already the favorite because you spend the most time with them?”
Clove’s lower lip jutted out. “That is the meanest thing you’ve ever said. I thought you were on my side.”
“I’m not playing that game.” Evan vehemently shook his head. “I don’t have favorites.”
“Aunt Tillie is your favorite,” I countered. “Don’t pretend you’re not worried about her.”
“I am a little worried,” he conceded as he moved to the fire pit, intent on finishing the search. “Tillie probably shouldn’t be going after Millie on her own.”
“Why is that?” Thistle challenged. “She created this mess. She needs to deal with the fallout.”
“She didn’t do it on purpose,” I argued. “I saw the look on her face this morning. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that she unleashed a whole other her. You can’t hold this against her.”
“Oh, give me a break.” Thistle wasn’t having it. “The only reason Millie exists is because at some point Aunt Tillie either opened a door to let her into this world or created her to be a scapegoat. Don’t pretend there’s another explanation.”
I wanted to argue—sometimes it was fun to fight with Thistle just for the cardio workout—but I couldn’t. She was right. Millie was here because Aunt Tillie had used her to solve a problem in the past. Now we were in trouble because nobody had control of whatever Millie was.
“Casting blame won’t make things better,” I argued. “If Aunt Tillie turns defensive, it will only make things worse. Millie is a problem—and I have a feeling that she’s going to become a bigger problem—but playing the blame game won’t make things easier.”
Thistle made a face. "You always take Aunt Tillie’s side. Even when she does something stupid, you make excuses for her.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I do not make excuses for her.”
“You do.”
“I do not.”
“You do.” Thistle looked at Clove. “Tell her she makes excuses for Aunt Tillie way too often. We’ve talked about this. We agree.”
Clove’s eyes were the size of saucers, and she made a slashing motion across her throat. “I would never talk about Bay behind her back. Why would you even suggest that?”
If looks could kill, Clove would be dead. Thistle looked as if she was imagining wrapping her hands around Clove’s neck and squeezing the life out of her. “You suck as a person … and a witch … and especially as a cousin.”
“There’s a pile of dirt right there.” Clove pointed for emphasis. “Say it again. I am a great person.”
It was interesting that she didn’t care as much about being pegged as a crappy witch and cousin.
“Let’s not do this.” I raised my hands. “A fight won’t help matters. For the record, I don’t make excuses for Aunt Tillie. I simply refuse to believe that pointing fingers will help.”
“At what point does Aunt Tillie face repercussions?” Thistle shot back. “She never has to account for the things she does. We just say ‘Oh, that’s Aunt Tillie’ and let her get away with murder. Heck, for all we know she conjured Millie to do just that.”
It took me a moment to figure out what she was getting at.
“You think Aunt Tillie brought Millie into this world to murder someone.” That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.
“You might not like everything she does—I know I don’t—but Aunt Tillie is no murderer. ” I looked to Evan for backup.
“I don’t like this entire conversation.” The vampire folded his arms across his chest and glared between us. “She is who she is. You can’t try to change her eighty years into her development. As for creating Millie to murder someone, I guarantee she didn’t.”
I was suspicious. “Do you know something?”
“No. I had no idea Millie existed until you told me. Tillie doesn’t get her thrills killing people.
She likes to dole out justice. My guess is that she created Millie as an alibi.
She went out to torture someone and sent Millie downtown so she would be seen by others.
Whatever she did—probably some form of malicious vandalism—can’t be blamed on her. ”
“But someone still would’ve known,” I guessed. I thought about the two Aunt Tillies and the way they’d appeared when we were modifying Mrs. Little’s memory. “I bet Millie was created for some elaborate scenario involving Mrs. Little.”
“That would be my guess too,” Evan agreed.
“I know what happened with that Floyd guy, how he was beating his wife and Tillie got involved. I can see her creating Millie to help with a situation like that. If I remember correctly, Floyd and Mrs. Little had ties.” He sent Thistle a stern look.
“No matter what you believe, there’s no way Tillie created a clone to murder someone. ”
Thistle harrumphed. “I didn’t say I thought she actually murdered someone.”
“Just stop.” Evan looked tired. “Tillie is who she is, and no matter how much you puff yourself out, you love her, even though she drives you crazy from time to time.”
“It happens weekly.”
“You’ll live.” Evan smirked. “Millie is here. We have to deal with her. We also have to deal with this.” He gestured to the campsite. “I have some bad news.” He turned grim. “I pick up two distinct scents here, and neither are human.”
He had my attention. “Arachnids?”
He shook his head. “I’m familiar with their scent.”
“Are you saying there were two naiads here?”
“Yes, and we need to go that way.” He pointed to the trees to the north.
“Why that way?” I asked, almost fearing the answer.
“Something has died here.” He inclined his head.
As much as I didn’t want to see what had been left in the woods to rot, he wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t worried. Besides, we were looking for a motive for what was happening.
“Let’s go,” I said, tilting my chin down.
Evan led the way. He reminded me of a bloodhound the way he stopped, scented left and right, then started out again. It took him a few minutes to find what he was looking for. “There.” He pointed to a spot in a tiny clearing. The earth was mounded, denoting something—or someone—had been buried.
“Crap.” I started forward, then stopped. I had no idea what I was supposed to do.
Perhaps reading my mind, Evan extended a hand. “I’ve got it.” He moved forward, his jaw clenched.
Clove, Thistle, and I remained at the outskirts of the clearing. He worked fast, and he didn’t get very deep before the odor became overwhelming.
“Oh, geez.” Clove bent at the waist and gagged. “Is that a body?”
Evan nodded. His eyes locked with mine. “You should probably look.” He was apologetic about the suggestion. “I’m sorry but … you know how it is.”
Resigned, I left Thistle and Clove to huddle together and moved toward him.
The body in the hole was female. She looked to be about thirty, although looks could be deceiving with a paranormal creature.
The only true sign that she wasn’t human was her feet.
Her toes were much longer than that of a human and her feet looked longer.
She was covered in cuts and bruises.
“So that’s a naiad?” Thistle asked nobody. She’d edged closer, keeping Clove behind.
“It’s not a human,” Evan replied. “I feel comfortable guessing she’s a naiad.”
I exhaled heavily. “How long has she been here?”
“At least a week.”
“There are two of them?” That was the part I was having trouble wrapping my head around. “Are naiads always female?”
“I don’t know enough to hazard an opinion. It could be there were two sisters here, minding their own business. They could’ve been lovers for all I know too. We don’t have enough information yet.”
“Can you tell how she was killed? I see the bruises. Is that what did it?”
“I would have to pull her out to look.” Evan hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll do that. I don’t want to risk coming out here again knowing that construction will begin soon.”
My stomach constricted as Evan dropped to his knees. He rolled the naiad, looked at her back, then placed her in the hole again.
“She was stabbed with something on top of everything else,” he said. “It could’ve been a knife, maybe a sword.”
I thought about Aunt Tillie. There were no circumstances under which I could imagine her hunting the lake for naiads.
I instructed Evan, “Bury her again. She deserves some respect.”
He set to work with no further prodding, and I allowed my mind to wander.
“What are you thinking?” Thistle asked when I’d been quiet for a long time.
“I’m guessing the naiad was killed by someone who had something to do with the construction project. Why the second naiad went after those three men, I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
“And then what?” Evan asked. “We can’t let the naiad kill people … even if it’s warranted. We can’t just wave our hands and say ‘Have at it,’ and look the other way.”
“Especially with the Feds around,” I agreed. “But if those men killed this naiad, I don’t know how keen I am to dish out punishment to the second.”
“We need motive.” Evan rolled his neck. “You need to get on Landon about the victims. What are you going to tell him about the naiad?”
“The truth.”
Evan bobbed his head. “You should head back to town. I’ll stay and look around. I’ll meet you back there once I’m satisfied I’ve seen everything there is to see.”