A dark SUV. The automobile was coming toward her.

  It was being driven by …

  A witch. Someone also facially painted green, a prosthetic nose added on and wearing a pointed black hat.

  The vehicle …

  She needed to see the plate and the make and model of the vehicle!

  She turned, trying to see as the SUV took off with its burden of people and raced past her heading toward town.

  The license plate! It had been covered by mud; it was impossible to read.

  Not a natural spray of mud from going through mushy ground …

  No. Whoever owned the SUV had very purposely seen to it that the license plate couldn’t be read.

  Her eyes flew open and she turned to Zach.

  He waited for her to speak. “This was the place, all right. And I’m beginning to believe more and more that someone in law enforcement—maybe a cop, an attorney, or even a judge—might be involved. They knew to completely cover the license plate in mud.”

  Zach nodded. “Of course. What kind of a vehicle?”

  “Black SUV.”

  “That will help on the traffic cams. Anything else. What about the driver?”

  “You’re going to love it. Another wicked witch.”

  “Of course. Once you turn green and have prosthetics on your face …”

  “Still, if we could get a picture, a close-up of a face, maybe the facial structure could give us a person, a name—a suspect at the least.”

  “Possibly. Let’s get to our next destination and see if you see the same thing, the same vehicle waiting on the road. If it’s there waiting for any length of time, the person might have stepped out of the car—and that will give us a better idea. In the meantime, we’ll get Angela on a search for black SUVs,” Zach said.

  “Maybe we’ll add ‘dark’ to the description,” Skye said thoughtfully. “A dark car in the dark … I thought black, but maybe something in a deep, dark blue or green.”

  “All right. You drive this time. I’ll call.”

  She slid into the driver’s seat; the keys were in Zach’s pocket, but the car’s sensor knew they were near, and their vehicle started right up when she hit the ignition button.

  She listened as he made the call, explaining to Angela what they were doing and sharing the bits of information they had gleaned.

  “Can you do some deep dives on people up here, too? As in, people that Gavin works with,” Zach added on the call.

  When Angela had all the information that she needed and Zach had ended the call, Skye mused, “‘A few bad eggs.’ But here is what I don’t understand—if Gavin can read minds, why hasn’t he—”

  “Okay, think about it. Just because I’m holding an object, I don’t get an automatic read. Every once in a while, something just pops in, yes. But that’s rare. Usually, I need to concentrate; and from what I’ve seen, it’s the same with you.”

  Skye nodded. “But, still—”

  “He can’t go around to everyone in the department—and every prosecutor and defense attorney and judge—in the area and stare at them and do what he can to get a real read on them.”

  “But he’s watched people from the observation room and—”

  “Skye, it’s not Gavin.”

  “Because you don’t want it to be Gavin?” she asked.

  “Do you really think that it could be Gavin?”

  She sighed, staring at the GPS in the car’s dash, following the directions Zach had fed into it.

  “Skye?”

  “No. No, I don’t. Because he’s been with us when a few things were happening—or, I should say, we have verified information on where he’s been at certain times. And I like him; he seems to be decent, and he’s done amazingly well without getting himself into an uncomfortable position or …”

  “Being committed?”

  Skye laughed softly. “Exactly. Anyway …”

  “Right now, let’s keep going on what we can do that others can’t,” Zach said.

  “Right. Okay … this area is bigger than one might think. When you want to be somewhere in a hurry, anyway.”

  “Okay, trivia as we drive. What now-deceased but incredibly popular animator and creator was related to someone hanged as a witch?”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, hanged during the Salem Witch Trials.”

  “Uh, which witch?” she asked.

  He laughed softly. “The one who said the Lord’s Prayer before he was hanged—something a witch wasn’t supposed to be able to do.”

  “George Burroughs?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, I haven’t a clue.”

  He smiled. “According to genetic research, Walt Disney was Burroughs’s sixth-great–grandson.”

  “Oh, hm. Well, I’m glad George Burroughs had kids before he was executed, since I was a kid in love with just about all things Disney!”

  “Got any for me?” he asked.

  “Why did Nathaniel Hawthorne change his surname from Hawthorne?”

  “Easy! Because his great-great-grandfather was John Hawthorne, one of the judges responsible for the twenty people being executed for witchcraft!” Zach said. “Hey, I was one of those kids who read everything.”

  She laughed softly. “Me too. But it sounds like you know more trivia than I do!”

  “All right. A fellow named William Towne arrived in Salem with his wife, Joanna, in the 1630s. They had eight children altogether. I imagine it was lucky for the couple that they died before the trials—three of their daughters were accused of witchcraft; Mary Towne Eastey and Rebecca Towne Nurse were among those condemned and hanged. Only one survived in jail until after the insanity had ended. That was Sarah Towne Cloyce—and one of my favorite actors, and one of the most eloquent of all time, was one of her great-great-greats. He was her and Mary Eastey’s seventh-great–grandnephew. And, there fore, the seventh-great–grandson of their sister, Rebecca Nurse.”

  “No clue.”

  “Vincent Price! Yes, he’s been gone awhile; but thanks to the wonders of streaming, young people across the world can see House of Wax, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Raven—not to mention hearing his voice in The Great Mouse Detective—a Disney classic.”

  Skye laughed and groaned. “Man, have you been studying up on this!”

  “Couldn’t help myself,” he told her. “Art imitates life. Actress Sarah Jessica Parker played one of the three Sanderson witches in Hocus Pocus. And she’s the tenth-great–granddaughter of a woman, Esther Dutch Elwell, who was accused of witchcraft, but who also survived the insanity.”

  “Life imitates art, art imitates life!” Skye agreed. “Wow. Hm.” She laughed. “Thankfully, my parents were both firstgeneration kids, so—”

  “People move around, you know. And think of what went on in other countries.”

  “I don’t really want to. But feel free to keep going with silly trivia.”

  He kept it up and kept her guessing and laughing.

  And being amazed by the number of known descendants who had ties back to a time of such tragedy.

  And then she realized that they were arriving where they needed to be.

  She pulled the car off on the embankment.

  They both exited the vehicle. Once again, Skye sat on the hood. And she realized she was grateful that he was there behind her. She was almost always able to snap back quickly from a vision, but it was still so wonderful to have someone there—someone who understood; someone who could catch her, if her mental images caused her to fall too deep.

  Once more, she saw nothing at first, just a slow drift of traffic.

  Blinking, she tried again.

  Night fell. The darkness, the sound of crickets, very little traffic on the road. And then …

  Then a dark SUV pulled over on the side of the road. It sat …

  And it sat.

  And then the driver emerged.

  The person appeared to be tall. Even as he leaned against the car, she thought that he was tall. But …

  The sweeping black cape, the black pointed hat, the green face, and the prosthetic nose kept her from even beginning to wonder what he might have looked like without the makeup.

  He waited, and waited …

  Swore.

  Still swearing beneath his breath, he pulled a phone from a pocket in the encompassing black cape he wore and stared down at it.

  He was looking at the time. He’d been there way too long, and he realized that something was wrong.

  He got back in the car.

  And the SUV pulled back on the road, heading in the direction of the center of town.

  “Skye.”

  Zach’s voice lifted the darkness from her vision.

  It was daytime again. And he was helping her back to her feet; she’d slumped down from the hood of the car to the ground and was leaning against the grille.

  “Thanks!” she murmured, coming to her feet with his help. She smiled, feeling his arms.

  He had really nice arms. And, of course, she knew that well now.

  “Are you—”

  She smiled at him. “I’m fine. And thank you. Thank you for being with me. It gives me a better feeling about … well, being me!”

  “So—”

  “If anything, I’m frustrated, Zach! He waited. Got bored. Got out of the car. He was angry! He was there, waiting—and waiting—and he was angry. And once again in costume. I mean, don’t they worry about people thinking that they’re deranged when they run around the city in those costumes?”

  “He, he, he?” Zach queried, a brow hiked.

  “Tall, the description. Possibly a woman, but more likely a man!” Skye said, groaning softly.

  “Well, they get them off before they get to the city, or they go to wherever it is that they take people before they do anything else. That must be where they dress up as well.”

  Skye nodded. Of course, it was Salem. But still, if they were seen by many people in such a getup, wouldn’t it surely be noted by someone, somewhere?

  “Zach!” she said. “They can’t let Nick Sandoval go; and they need to make sure that someone is guarding him. He failed—and I’m afraid that the price of failure in this thing really is death.”

  “I’ll give Gavin a call when we’re at the costume store. While you’re doing your thing,” Zach said.

  “Maybe you should do some things. Try picking some things up?” she suggested.

  “The problem with the store is that items have been touched by so many people!” he said. “But I can walk around and do a bit, too.”

  “Is Mr. Howell going to be there?” Skye asked, wondering why she hadn’t checked on that important bit of information.

  Apparently, though, Zach had.

  “No. Gavin texted me the code; we use it to get in.”

  They arrived at the store.

  Zach used the code, and they entered; inside, he coded in the numbers to see that the store remained locked while they were in it.

  Skye wasn’t sure where she wanted to go or what was it she was expecting to find. She walked to the little room where Sophie Howell did homework and played on school days, while her parents finished their workdays. Skye closed her eyes.

  Sophie was seated on her little bed, playing with a doll she’d created from a build-a-doll kit. Her mother entered the room, looking terrified at first, then trying so hard to smile, to convince Sophie that she was fine, while telling the little girl they had to go.

  Skye blinked. She knew what Sophie looked like, and she knew what Mrs. Howell looked like, but what was it here …

  Skye walked back out to the main body of the store.

  Zach was standing by the register.

  He was holding something in his hand. He was intense, staring at it …

  Seeing something.

  She didn’t know whether she should let him continue, or …

  As quietly as she could, she walked in his direction. He didn’t move; he just kept staring.

  And he appeared to be intensely disturbed by what he was seeing.

  She moved closer.

  He shook his head and set the object down. It was an apple. A golden apple, with a little sticker on it, describing it.

  It was a poisoned apple from a little display on Snow White’s evil stepmother.

  “Zach, are you—”

  He smiled. “Fine. My turn. I’m fine. I just …”

  “What? What did you see? You didn’t take a chunk out of a poison apple, did you?”

  He smiled.

  “No. In fact, I idly picked it up. But then, I saw someone who was standing right here, holding this, holding this for a long, long time.”

  “Who was it?” Skye demanded.

  He hesitated. “A bad apple, I guess. Skye, it was Detective Constance Berkley.”

  CHAPTER 14

  It didn’t mean anything, Zach determined. Of course, Connie Berkley had been in the store, probably standing restlessly at the counter forever, while …

  While what?

  Forensics had been there, yes. But it was a store, a place where people came and shopped, all kinds of people, some just looking, some buying things.

  Skye was staring at him.

  He winced, shaking his head, thinking he should not have spoken those thoughts out loud already.

  And Skye was staring at him skeptically.

  “So,” she said dryly, “you’re thinking Connie Berkley is ‘a bad apple,’ and she might be one of ‘a few bad eggs’?”

  Zach shook his head. “Ouch. No, I mean, there was every reason in the world for her being here. The apple was here before and after Mrs. Howell and Sophie disappeared.”

  “When the green witch spirited them away,” Skye murmured. She hesitated. “Well, we could see if Gavin could speak with her, one on one. Since we’ve been here, I haven’t seen Gavin with either of them. Gavin is the one in charge of managing the case, but he seems to send out orders and spend much more time with us than he does with Berkley and Cason.”

  “I think he has more faith in us finding an answer,” Zach told her. “But before we go to Gavin … I know she was holding this apple. And for a while. Maybe you could see what she was doing, what was happening, while she held the apple?”

  Skye nodded. “Of course, I can try.”

  “I’m going to be right here,” he told her.

  She smiled. “I know,” she said softly. “I’m going to stand in front so that I have a pretty good view of the store itself, the register area, and a few of the aisles. You know she was standing there for a long time; we don’t know what else was happening in the store.”

  “Right. She could have been just standing, while a forensic team was seeing if there was anything at all that they could do. I mean, Connie … Okay, so apparently, she and Vince Cason can be rude and hardline as detectives, but that doesn’t make either one of them a criminal, a witch, or … a murderer,” Zach said.

  “Okay, here we go.”

  Skye took a position just inside the shop with her back almost against the door. She closed her eyes and opened them.

  Nothing, just the store.

  She closed her eyes again, concentrating, thinking about the store, her visions of Mrs. Howell with Sophie, the register …

  Then time seemed to sweep by.

  There was Detective Berkley, just standing at the register, holding the apple, moving it impatiently in her hands, waiting, just waiting.

  No one else seemed to be in the store.

  There was a silence so complete that … as the saying went, it was almost deafening.

  Then the detective set the apple down and the silence was broken.

  Her phone was ringing.

  She looked at it anxiously, then looked toward the back, toward the little room, where Sophie played and studied.

  A look of confusion and fear crossed the detective’s face.

  She reached to the holster at the belt of her pantsuit, drawing her service weapon. But then she turned and fled, the image of her race to the door and out of it was so strong, Skye felt as if she’d been slammed back …

  She had been, or she’d leapt back as the woman had raced for the door.

  Skye’s vision of the past disappeared as the sound of the glass rattling behind her brought her instantly back to the present.

  “Okay, what the heck happened?” Zach asked, standing before her, taking her by the arms and drawing her gently to him. “Seriously, this time, are you okay? I’ve never seen you react so physically!”

  She smiled at him, glad of his warmth at that moment, and of the sense of security his presence gave her.

  Of the caring—the deep caring.

  “I’m fine. No, I will be fine. Need to shake that one off a little,” she told him.

  “Breathe,” he said gently.

  She smiled. “If all else fails, you could make a great Pilates instructor!” she told him.

  He arched a brow. “Ah, but here’s the thing. We will not fail.”

  “I hope not!”

  “So, was Connie here to destroy evidence? Were there others around? Is she guilty of something? Is she innocent?” Zach asked.

  “Well, here’s the problem with what we’ve seen. Connie was here, just as you said. She was standing impatiently in front of the register, playing with the apple. I couldn’t see anyone else in the store at all. Her phone rang; she drew her weapon. But then she bolted toward this door and out so quickly that it was as if I felt her hurtle herself against me!” Skye explained. “Zach, I just don’t know! What could scare an armed detective so completely?”

  “I think we need to ask her. With Gavin,” Zach said.

  “I’m going to get ahold of him and have him make sure she gets to the station, somewhere we can put her down in a chair and question her,” Skye said. “I don’t want to believe … All right, I can understand that a woman detective doesn’t want to let anyone know she was frightened—”

  “Anyone can be frightened,” Zach said.

  “Yes, but trust me, it’s not something she would want advertised,” Skye told him. “But we need to find her. We need to speak with her ourselves—and Gavin needs to speak with her.”

  Zach nodded and put a call through to Gavin, frowning as he did so. Things just kept twisting and twisting.