Chapter 13
A pinch of Wickham’s aura rippled with a tense gray. “We should go see if that blue sports car is back.”
“Agreed. I hardly feel like I know what’s going on, and it’s giving me a stomachache,” I muttered. Wickham left cash on the table, and we exited the lodge. As we passed the parking lot, I grabbed his arm. “They’re back. Let’s check it out.”
Wickham pulled out his phone to check his messages. “Bradley hasn’t responded yet. Darcy says he suspected fae involvement, but doesn't know who it was.”
The midday sun and layers of snow made the parking lot brighter than usual, which meant we probably didn’t need to worry about being attacked out in the open. Most of the cars were still covered with snow, but a few had been cleaned off and driven.
“Whoever owns this car knows we’re here, so there might not be much to see. Hopefully, this isn’t some kind of trap,” I said.
We walked slowly toward the car, carefully checking our surroundings.
Wickham shrugged. “As long as we stay together, I think we should be okay. You were right about a vampire and a witch having a better chance than most people, but we still don't know what we're up against. Just please don’t go off and do anything else on your own.”
“Deal . . . for now.” I used my hand to shade my eyes against the brilliant-white snow. “By the way, does the sunlight bother you?”
Wickham, donning a cap and sunglasses, shook his head.
“A little. Don’t worry about it. It’s not going to turn me to ash or anything, but I do have to be careful not to trigger what I’d describe as the world’s worst migraine.
The hat, long sleeves, and sunglasses generally keep me covered.
However, I haven’t been a vampire very long, so I’m bummed that I won’t be able to enjoy the beach as much in the summer. ”
Trying to get to know my husband better in the middle of a murder investigation was certainly unique, as we jumped between topics—murder, sun sensitivity, auras.
Whatever, I’d take what I could get. “That's so sad. I love the beach. I should be careful about the sun, but I can’t help it. Every year, I get tan and the sun bleaches my hair enough that my skin and hair are the same shade. I’ll probably die of skin cancer before any murderer can get to me. ”
“Hopefully not.” Wickham laughed as we reached the blue sports car. “Okay, we need to focus.”
I pulled out my phone to snap some photos. When I got to the license plate, I shot some photos of that as well. “This is great. We can give the plates to the police and . . .”
“Not so great.” Wickham brushed a clump of snow from the back bumper. Reliability Rentals was printed across the back. “This is a rental car, so unless whoever rented it gave their real i.d. to the rental company, we won’t be able to find out anything.”
“Maybe. But even rental companies have security cameras, right? It’s worth a try.” We were getting so close.
We trudged out of the parking lot and back up the tree-lined, snow-covered path to our cabin. Wickham’s phone dinged, and he read the message. “Bradley doesn’t know whether anyone rented a blue sports car.”
Of course not. That would be too easy.
“That figures, but we can still try to contact the rental company.”
When we made it to our little cabin, I fished the key out of my purse, almost confusing it with the key for cabin 319, which I still had.
Wickham was less stressed since he was out of the sun and in the shade of the covered porch. “Of course. If they’ll cooperate.”
I unlocked our cabin door. Fortunately, no unexpected surprises awaited us this time. “Whoever we’re up against is pretty smart.”
Wickham peeled off his layer of gloves, hat, coat, boots and scarf. A small puddle of melted snow formed on the floor underneath the rack of winter outerwear. “Maybe. They made a mistake in coming here.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Well, I’m not about to let them get away with all of this.” Wickham took the iron from the hearth and poked at the fire.
After I’d freed myself from my winter wear, I wrapped myself in an afghan and curled up on a leather sofa near the fireplace.
There had to be something we were missing, maybe even something obvious.
“I don't know any of your groupies well enough, but Harley and Zoe . . . what do you know about their personal lives?”
Wickham joined me on the couch, and I shared my blanket with him. “I should’ve paid more attention.”
“I’m okay with you not paying too much attention to other girls.” I gave him a playful nudge.
Wickham’s right dimple emerged. “Well, I’m feeling guilty because when I’m with the group, I’m so focused on the music that I don’t think much about their personal lives.”
I didn’t know enough about any of them to make any judgments either. But a few things I’d observed seemed a bit off. “Alex helped coach Harley with what exactly? And what do you mean by he and Zoe worked on lyrics? Do you suspect that the girls might be jealous of each other?”
“But wouldn’t that pin them against each other rather than against Alex?” Wickham’s shoulder rose and fell with his breath.
I so wanted to be finished worrying about all of this. I breathed in the scent of the crackling fire and pine. Being snowed in at a cozy cabin with George Wickham should have been the dream of a lifetime.
“Alex was kind of a jerk though. I bet he ticked one of them off,” I said.
The embers in the fireplace faded, and Wickham stood up to add another log.
“I got the impression that he was playing with people’s emotions to get what he wanted.
And more than anything, he wanted money.
He was going to charge me heavy interest on what he lent me.
He kept trying to connect us with huge record labels too . . .”
“Okay, so you’ve got Alex willing to mess with people to make a profit, and maybe wanting to dismantle the band.
If we’re considering the two girls as our suspects, which of them might have had a financial connection?
” Tree branches scratched against the window outside, making me jump.
Then the wind whistled through the cracks around the door.
So much for that break between the storms.
Wickham grimaced and shrugged. “Neither of them seemed to be hurting for cash.”
My head ached. “We should call the car rental place and see if we can see the face of the person in the wig, if they have security cameras. We can lure them out or something.”
Wickham pulled his laptop from his overnight bag and set it up on a writing desk by a window. “It was Reliability Rentals, or something, right?”
It was only about two p.m., so the company should be open still. Wickham looked up the number and dialed, then asked for details. Of course, they wouldn’t help him without a warrant.
I picked up Detective Ortho’s business card from the coffee table in front of me. “Maybe the police will have better luck.”
“I think that woman hates me.” Wickham frowned. I handed him the card, and he read it.
“It’s worth a try.”
He shrugged and dialed the number.
“So?” I asked when he hung up.
“She’s not thrilled about taking a tip from a ‘person of interest,’ but she said she’ll check it out.” Wickham ran his hand over his face. "I think we should leave here as soon as they plow the roads."
“Unless the killer follows us back home. Plus, there’s another storm coming in. Nowhere is safe if they’re stalking us.” I frowned. “This doesn’t feel much like married life, does it?”
Wickham’s expression dropped, and he ran his fingertips down my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry, even considering that is on hold until we know we’re safe. I feel like I’ve put you in danger, Lydia, and I’m struggling to forgive myself for that.”
When people said things like that to me, I always wished I had one of my older sisters, Jane or maybe Lizzy, to help me know how to respond.
“Well, you’re not the killer, so this isn't your fault.” I shrugged. It was the best I could do.
“No, I’m not.” Wickham nodded. “But if I’ve put you on a murderer’s hit list, I might as well be.”
His comment wasn’t funny. Not really. And every part of me was done with all of it. “You know what? You’re a little melodramatic.”
Wickham scoffed, feigning a personal offense.
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s kind of charming. But, come on, you and I are going to take on the world together, and someone else being a murderer doesn’t make you one.” I slid my hand into his much larger one and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s finish this.”
“Where are we going?”
“To cabin 319.”
“Now? Why?” He easily matched his long strides to mine.
“Because that’s where the killer is.”
His steady steps faltered, and his eyes widened. “Vampires aren’t supposed to be afraid of anyone, but you’re freaking me out, Lydia.”
“Good.” I kissed my husband and grabbed my coat. “Coming?”
“Hang on.” He stood up as if to stop me. "If they are a chimera or fae, we could be up against more than you think."
But I opened the door, waiting for him. “We’re confronting whoever’s in that cabin. I mean, you’re a vampire, for crying out loud. I’ll go in acting all calm, and at the first sign of trouble, you can take ’em down.”
Wickham was just a heartbeat behind me, adjusting a pair of sunglasses to counter the midafternoon light as he exited the cabin.
“You kinda do whatever you want, don’t you?” He grinned, but worry creased his forehead.
“You’re just realizing that? Come now, Mr. Wickham.
” I started down the snowy path to cabin 319.
Three, one, nine—those numbers, in my mind, were pink, white, and indigo.
Yes, along with auras, I saw all the numbers and alphabet in color.
It wasn’t that weird. Many witches did. "If the person in the cabin has electrical or fire powers, they have to be able to use their hands.
So I'm going to count on you to hold them down. "
But those numbers and colors reminded me of someone. Only I wasn’t sure who.
"Terrible plan, really. Are you sure about this, Lydia?" Wickham’s phone buzzed, and he answered the call. "Yes. Are you sure? Well, they’re in cabin 319. We’re going—I should say my wife’s going, and I’m following her, to check it out. Backup would be a great idea. Again 319. Hurry, please."
“For a rock star, you sure work well with the police.” I teased as he hung up.
“Well, I can’t have you dying on me. She said the car was rented under Alex Adler’s name.” Wickham tipped his chin. The lightly falling snow increased, dusting his cap and shoulders.
My breath caught, and I stopped walking. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“So we’re being stalked by a dead guy.”
“Well, if he rented the car initially, someone may have taken it after they killed him.” Wickham’s expression was grim.
“Neither of them seem like killers to me,” I said.
“Me either, but he sometimes worked on lyrics alone with Zoe, and he made sure we had money in the budget for a fancy new drum set that Harley had to have.”
Keeping track of band-member romances was probably an impossible task, but it was worth asking. “Did either of them have anyone else they were dating?”
“No idea.” Wickham shrugged. “Neither of them are my type, so I didn’t pay much attention.”
I’d never been the jealous type. Most guys liked me, and if they didn’t, I never wasted my time on them.
But knowing Wickham had never been interested in his bandmates was oddly comforting.
I slipped my hand into his. Thirty or so yards in front of us stood a small log cabin surrounded by pine trees.
“Okay, that cabin just ahead is 319.” Odd how harmless it looked in the daylight.
He nodded, and his jaw clenched. “I’ll go first.”
No one was much of a physical threat to a rock star vampire, but I had advantages as well. “I might be better at emotionally disarming them, especially if it’s a girl. Maybe I can elicit a confession. I wish I knew who was in there.”
“Couldn’t we use some magic spell or something to see who it is?” Wickham asked.
“Probably, but time is ticking. As soon as those roads are clear, what's to stop them from leaving?” I asked. “In fact, they must not have gone very far this morning. I was worried they’d left the resort altogether then.”
“Lydia, you’re going to give me a run for my money, aren’t you?” He slid his arm around my waist, watching the cabin. The curtains in the front window fluttered lightly.
My hands clenched. “I think whoever’s in there saw us.”