Waking the Witch
Page 23

More curses as she stuffed the cigarettes back into her bag. Now came the big test. How badly did she need that smoke? I held my breath until she yanked out her car keys and stomped off to her vehicle.
When she was gone, I slipped into the station. I knew from my diner small talk that there was a security alarm, installed a few years ago after evidence—small amounts of drugs and money, then a gun-disappeared from lockup. I knew how to disarm most systems, but didn’t need to-the cleaner hadn’t turned it on.
I found the case file easily enough. I knew I had a limited amount of time before the woman returned, so I took only what I needed, bypassing the files Bruyn gave me and the crime-scene photos I got from Jesse. I copied the rest as fast as I could, then hurried out and was gone before the cleaning woman came back.
* * *
 
WHEN I GOT back to the motel, it was almost two. As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep. I wasn’t used to being alone at night except at home.
There was a time when I couldn’t wait to leave home, but when I was finally old enough to move out, I didn’t. We had a big enough house. Paige and Lucas didn’t mind me being there. I pulled my weight with chores and I paid rent. I liked where I was. Liked it too much maybe.
My phone chirped. Paige, quietly sending a text to call her in the morning. I read it a few times, hearing her voice in my head and relaxing.
It helped. But not enough. I hit speed dial. It rang three times. Then Adam’s drowsy voice came on, yawning a hello.
“You said to call you later,” I said. “Is this late enough?”
He swore.
I smiled. “Couldn’t resist. Go on back to sleep. I’ll call in the morning.”
Another yawn. “No, I’d better take the update while I can.” A squeak of the bed, as if he was sitting up. “So what’s happening?”
I told him. He didn’t laugh at my fake black mass lead, just said, “Those mannequin props don’t sound like anything from a black mass, real or fake. What time of year did you say that guy stumbled on the stuff?”
“Last fall.” I thumped back onto the pillow. “And something tells me it was late October.”
“Yeah. I’m betting it was on display because it was supposed to be on display.”
“A haunted house for Halloween.”
“It’s a possibility. Ask around.”
We talked until I was the one yawning. He chuckled and said, “Now it’s my turn to keep you awake.”
“I can just hang up.”
“That would be rude.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. And I won’t pester you with a dozen texts tomorrow, but call, okay? I know you don’t want me holding your hand. But toss me a bone. I just spent two days listening to lectures on research techniques. I’m dying here.”
“And who signed you up for the conference?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Aren’t you done anyway? I thought your last thingy was canceled.”
“Thingy? Glad you take such an interest. Someone asked me to sub on a panel tomorrow afternoon, and since you don’t want me around ...”
“There’s a hot chick on the panel, isn’t there?”
He snorted. “Just an old colleague of Dad’s that I couldn’t say no to. Meaning I’m stuck here another day at least, so you’re stuck amusing me. Got it?”
I smiled. “Got it.” I yawned some more.
“Okay, okay, I’m hanging up. Call tomorrow, though. Preferably before three A.M.”
 
A RAP AT the door woke me. I groaned, rolled over, and squinted at the bedside clock. 7:12. Another rap, louder now.
“Miss Levine?” A woman’s voice.
I rolled out of bed, grabbed jeans and a T-shirt, and yanked them on as I called, “Just a sec!”
I opened the door to a smiling middle-aged woman holding a takeout cup of coffee and a bag. I was pretty sure this place didn’t have room service ...
“I work at the coffee shop around the corner,” she said before I could ask. “I was asked to deliver this to you at seven o’clock.”
“Okay...” I took the bag and coffee.
“There’s a message, too.” She took a sheet from her pocket and read it. “If I had to wake up at an ungodly hour, so do you. Get to work and don’t forget to call me.”
Adam.
“We don’t usually do delivery, but I figured I could make an exception,” she smiled. “Especially when he tacked a ten-dollar tip onto the bill.”
I thanked her, then said, “Before you go, I’ve got a crazy question for you. I was talking to a friend of mine in Portland last night, and she swears she was here last fall. Said some service group was running a haunted house in the old furniture store. I think she’s got it mixed up with another Columbus, but now we’ve got a bet on it. You don’t remember anything like that, do you?”
“Sure do. Our high school put it on. The kids were raising money for a family whose place burned down. They couldn’t afford house insurance after losing their jobs at the sawmill. The kids even got Manny Radu to let them use the empty furniture store, which, believe me, was an accomplishment in itself. His grandkids were all for it, though, so the old man couldn’t say no.”
Manny Radu—I’d heard the name around town. Cody’s father, who must own the empty building, which would explain why Cody had been there. The rest explained what I’d found at the empty shop—everything teens need for a makeshift house o’ horrors. As someone not far past her teens, I really should have seen that. My brain was too rooted in the supernatural world. That’s what I saw, even when a simpler explanation was right in front of my nose. I had to remember that.
After the woman left, I set my coffee down and opened the bag. Two muffins-double-chocolate and blueberry bran.
I texted Adam a thank-you. I’d just started eating the chocolate muffin when he texted back Put that one down and eat the bran. It’s better foryou.
I laughed and carried the case file and my coffee and muffins outside, ignoring the cold concrete under my feet. There were weathered plastic patio chairs along the front walk and I pulled two of them over—one to sit in, one as a footrest. I stretched out, sipping my coffee, nibbling my muffin, and reading the interview reports.