Chapter 19
“Good afternoon,” Dahlia said, smiling at her new client. “Who is it we’re trying to contact today?”
Catherine Kosta appeared to be in her early thirties.
She had shiny, straight black hair, red glasses, and was wearing jeans and a bright red T-shirt.
Her style was chic and effortless, and she seemed at ease when she’d walked into the office.
But as soon as Dahlia asked about the spirit she was trying to contact, the woman started to fidget with the small music box she held in her hands.
“Uh… my grandmother. Do you think she’ll really appear? ”
“There are no guarantees,” Dahlia said, leading her over to the couch on the far wall.
She’d already learned that some of her clients were more comfortable contacting the dead if she was sitting near them instead of across from them at her desk.
“But if she was close to you and had a particular connection to the object you brought, then the chances are good.”
“Okay,” Catherine said, frowning slightly.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dahlia asked gently. “Speaking to spirits isn’t always for everyone. If you’re not comfortable—”
“It’s not that she’s a spirit,” the woman said, sounding more confident now. “It’s her.” She let out a humorless laugh. “I don’t necessarily want to contact her, but I have to. I need some answers.”
“All right. Well, hopefully I can help with that,” Dahlia said. “When you’re ready, just hand me the music box, and we’ll see where that takes us.”
Catherine took a deep breath and held out the box.
Dahlia let it settle in her palm. Usually, she could feel a little tingle of connection when she held a cherished item. But all she felt was the cool metal. She pressed her lips together while she concentrated. “What’s your grandmother’s name?”
“Ruthie,” Catherine said. “I wouldn’t put it past her to stay away since I’m sure she knows what this is about.”
Dahlia raised one eyebrow, intrigued now. “Ruthie, if you’re here with us, we’d love to talk to you.”
There was an unexpected chill in the air.
“She’s here,” Dahlia said. Then the chill vanished. “But she’s resisting. Maybe we’ll try this.” Dahlia clicked open the music box, unleashing the tune inside. It sounded like an instrumental of “The Way We Were.”
The chill was back, and it intensified until Dahlia was almost shivering.
“Grandma. There you are,” Catherine said.
Dahlia turned and spotted a well-kept spirit who was wearing slacks and a flowing top. Her hair was perfectly styled into a poufy bob, and she wore a tennis bracelet on her right wrist.
“I don’t appreciate being summoned, Catherine.” Ruthie looked down her nose at her granddaughter.
“But we need to know where you hid that locket, Grandmother,” Catherine said, sitting up straighter and looking more confident.
“No, you don’t. No one needs that trash.” The spirit turned her back on Catherine.
Dahlia stared between them, dumbfounded. Had she really just summoned a ghost so that they could continue an argument?
“That locket contains the only photo of Sissy’s mother! It’s also spelled, so we can’t have it out there just waiting for someone to find it!” Catherine yelled, completely losing her cool.
“Spelled?” Dahlia asked, unable to help herself. “How?”
“It’s a very old glamour locket that had started to go wonky,” Catherine explained. “It either needs to be neutralized or respelled. Otherwise, if someone finds it and wears it, they could get hurt.”
Dahlia winced. She’d heard of cases where spelled objects had gone haywire and injured people who touched them… or in this case, wore them. Catherine was right. An unstable spelled locket could really hurt someone.
“No one is going to find it,” Ruthie said. “I buried it where it belongs.”
“Buried it?” Catherine asked. “You buried it on the family property?”
“Dammit,” Ruthie muttered, and Dahlia took that to mean she hadn’t meant to say that. “Let it go, Catherine. I buried it because I didn’t want Katie to find anything that belonged to that woman in her family home.”
Dahlia was completely confused on the players here. “Who is that woman?”
Catherine sighed. “My dad had an affair that produced a baby. Sissy was a product of the affair. Her mother passed away in childbirth, and my mother raised Sissy as one of us. The locket was to be passed down to her on her eighteenth birthday, but Grandma here had other plans.”
“Sissy doesn’t need that locket. Katie was her mom from day one. She might not have given birth to her, but she raised her,” Ruthie insisted.
“That’s all true, but we both know mom would want her to have that locket,” Catherine said.
Ruthie huffed.
“I will dig up every one of your prized irises looking for it if you don’t tell me where it is,” Catherine threatened.
“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.” Ruthie glared at her.
Catherine glared back. “Try me.”
“You ungrateful— Fine. It’s buried behind the old outhouse where it belongs!” Ruthie huffed and then vanished.
Dahlia sat there, mouth agape, while Catherine threw her head back and laughed until tears ran down her face.
“I should have known,” Catherine gasped out.
“The old outhouse. Grandma hated that thing and always told Grandpa to get rid of it. But he refused, saying it came in handy for the boys when they were working on the farm.” She shuddered slightly.
“But you couldn’t pay me to go in that old thing. I’d rather pee behind a tree.”
The door burst open and Harlow hurried in. “Dahlia, come quick. It’s Dutton!”
“Dutton!” Dahlia stood suddenly and automatically moved toward the door, not even sure where she was going. Just as she stepped out of the office, she glanced back at her client. “I’m so sorry. I have to go.”
Catherine waved her off. “I hope everything’s okay!”
“Thank you.” Dahlia clung to Harlow’s arm. “Where is he? What happened?”
“He’s out there, about a block down. It’s trouble with the Magical Task Force.”
Dahlia’s heart began to race, and without another word, she ran out of the office.
Once on the street, Dahlia came to a stop and frantically glanced around.
There he was. About a block away, standing in front of a building with the roof on fire.
Three men stood behind him, the Magical Task Force agents and Drew Baker, the town sheriff.
They were having what looked like a heated argument.
Dahlia sprinted toward the scene. Right before she got there, Dutton was released and had already turned to combat the fire. Sirens blared in the distance.
“Sheriff?” Dahlia asked. “What happened?”
He turned to glance at her and said, “Later.”
She then belatedly noticed that he was talking into his phone. More than a little anxious, she took a step back, trying her best to stay out of the way. A hand wrapped around hers and squeezed. Her gaze landed on Harlow, and Dahlia choked out, “Thank you.”
Harlow just nodded.
The sirens got louder as they pulled up to the scene, and a firefighter jumped off the truck and went to help Dutton. Only his presence didn’t seem to make a difference. It was only when Yvette Townsend arrived and threw her magic in with Dutton’s that the fire finally winked out.
Dutton stumbled away from the compromised structure in Dahlia’s direction.
She hurried to his side, slipping her arm around him. “Dutton, what in the world happened?”
“I was accused of starting the fire,” he said.
Dahlia wanted to vomit, but she willed herself to keep it together while she led him to a bench under the awning of a store a few doors down so they’d be out of the rain.
He sat heavily. “If it wasn’t for Drew, I’d already be locked up.”
Dahlia was about to ask what he meant by that, but Agent Parker from the Magical Task Force appeared next to them and said, “Mr. Williams, you’re going to need to come with us now.”
“What? But the sheriff already told you—” Dutton started, his voice gruff and his expression stormy.
“This isn’t the sheriff’s call, and I only let you go so that you could fight the fire. Now that it’s out, you need to come with me.”
“He’s not going anywhere,” Dahlia cried as she got to her feet. “He isn’t the one you’re looking for.”
Agent Parker ignored her while he reached down to yank Dutton onto his feet.
“Take your hands off Mr. Williams,” the sheriff said, his voice low and steady.
“You can’t stop me from doing my job, Sheriff,” Parker said.
“I can if you don’t have a warrant. Until I see some paperwork, you’re going to stop terrorizing this man. I won’t have the residents under my jurisdiction be treated like criminals, especially when you have no solid proof.”
“With respect, Sheriff, you have no idea what kind of proof we have,” Agent Avery spat when he joined them.
“True,” Drew agreed. “But if you produce a warrant signed by a judge, then I won’t need any, will I?”
“Can I speak to you privately?” Parker tilted his head and then walked a few steps, indicating he wanted Drew to follow him.
But Drew stood his ground. “This isn’t a negotiation.”
Agent Avery stepped in. “We’re talking about a crime ring, Sheriff. We have every reason to believe that Mr. Williams is a part of it.”
“I still don’t see an arrest warrant, Agent,” Drew said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Parker glared at him. “You’re going to regret this when someone in this town gets seriously hurt.” He looked at his partner. “Come on, Avery. Looks like we need to find a judge.”
The pair stomped off, and Dahlia let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Sheriff. You have no idea how grateful I am that you stepped in to do the right thing.”
“Yes, thank you, Drew,” Dutton said, looking exhausted.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Drew said, his expression full of frustration. “If you are in any way a part of this rash of fires, you’re going to wish you’d never met me. Understand?”
“I promise you, I’m not,” Dutton said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Up until about twenty minutes ago, I had no idea who was doing this.”
Drew’s eyes widened. “That man who attacked you. The one in gray. You know him?”
“Someone attacked you?” Dahlia exclaimed, placing a hand on Dutton’s shoulder.
“Yes. He cast the fire spell and then jumped me. I don’t know why. I suppose I could guess, but that’s speculation.”
Drew pulled a small notebook from his front pocket. “What’s his name, and how do you know him?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent positive he’s my former foster brother, Grady Brock,” Dutton said. “His face was covered, but I recognized his voice, and he called me a name he used to taunt me with when we were teenagers. One only he and the kids we went to school with would know.”
“Do you have any idea why he might be in town? Or why he attacked you?” Drew asked.
Dahlia reached for Dutton’s hand, wanting to show him some support. She knew he must feel like he was living in a nightmare.
He closed his eyes briefly, acknowledged her hand with a squeeze of his own, and then focused on Drew.
“I have not seen or heard from anyone related to my foster family since I was eighteen years old. So, no, I have no idea why he was here. But if the agents from the Magical Task Force know who he is, then that’s probably why they think I’m involved in some sort of organized crime.
My foster father was a crime boss and fostered teenagers so that he could force us to do his bidding. It wasn’t… a good time in my life.”
Drew nodded. “I see. That’s why you have a record.”
“Yes, but it’s supposed to be sealed. And my foster father is supposed to be incarcerated. So I don’t know exactly why Grady is here, but it probably has something to do with all that.”
“Okay. I’ll look into it,” Drew said.
“Can I take him home now?” Dahlia asked, wanting to get Dutton out of there as soon as possible.
“Yes.” He stuffed his notebook back into his pocket. “But, Dutton?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll do my best,” Dutton said.
The sheriff nodded once and walked off.
“Come on,” Dahlia said, tugging him away from the scene. “Let’s go before the Magical Task Force agents come back.”
Dutton didn’t resist, and together they walked to her car.
“We’ll get the T-bird later,” she said as she opened the passenger door for him.
He didn’t say anything. He just climbed in and then leaned back and closed his eyes.
“I’ll be right back.” Dahlia gently shut his door, ran into the office for her purse, and called to Harlow, who had already returned. “I’m leaving for the day.”
Harlow hurried over to her, gave her a quick hug, and said, “Tell Dutton we’re here for anything he needs.”
“Thanks. I will.” She ran back out, relieved to find Dutton exactly where she’d left him. Once she was in the car, she sped back to her house and got Dutton inside. Then with Shortcake keeping an eye on him, she went to work on making him a healing tea.
While she was busy in the kitchen, she couldn’t help but think about the journal and what Gwynn had said. That man will only bring you trouble. Then she’d said something about knowing someone on the other side who was feeding her information.
She walked over to the drawer, retrieved the glowing journal, and flipped it open.
How dare you lock me away in a drawer!
Dahlia sighed. “You were yelling at me with all that light. Anyway. I think you got it wrong. Dutton doesn’t bring me trouble. But it does appear he’s a magnet for trouble. I’m just here to tell you I’m not abandoning him. If you know anything about what’s going on, I’d appreciate a heads-up.”
The journal immediately stopped glowing. No words appeared on the page. Dahlia waited for a few more minutes, only to be met with nothing. “Is this you giving me the silent treatment?”
The journal suddenly closed on its own, confirming that Gwynn was indeed done talking to her.
“At least you stopped yelling.” She put the journal on the bookcase this time and then took the tea to Dutton, who was fast asleep on her bed with Shortcake snuggled right on his chest.
Dahlia put the tea on the nightstand, kicked off her shoes, and crawled onto the bed, curling up at his side.
Shortcake lifted her head just long enough to give Dahlia a kiss on her cheek before snuggling up on Dutton again.
“You’re a good girl, Shortcake,” Dahlia whispered. She closed her eyes, rested her hand on Dutton’s shoulder, and prayed that when they woke up the nightmare would be over.