embrace and
spoke in a comforting tone. “That’s good then.”
We were standing in the entryway to Randy and
Nancy Harper’s two-story home on Arkansas, just a block off Grand
Avenue in the city. We’d been here several times before when they’d
hosted circles for the Coven. Those happier recollections now
seemed to dull against the painful sharpness of this new memory in
the making.
I glanced around and noticed a small, wheeled
suitcase, which was parked at an angle against the wall,
pull-handle still extended. It had obviously been forgotten in
light of the current circumstances. In the opposite corner, a
bentwood coat tree stood at attention beneath a crush of winter
outer garments. Next to the stairs, a small, antique telephone
table sat with a pile of mail strewn across its top. A digital
answering machine occupied one corner, its green power indicator
glowing in the muted light of the hallway. I absently wondered why,
at times like this, the normally insignificant things around us
would stand out in stark contrast to everything else. Without
warning and for no apparent reason, they would become illuminated
details in a darkened tableau. It was more than just curious to me.
In a sense, it was almost disturbing.
“Oh, Rowan…” Cally let her voice trail off
for a moment as she released Felicity and wrapped her arms around
me. “The police were just here. They looked around for a while and
asked a few questions.”
I gave her a reassuring pat on the back as I
returned the hug, feeling her conspicuous anguish connect with my
own purposely subdued emotions. “It’s okay, Cally. It’s okay. They
have to do their jobs.”
“She’s been asking for both of you,” she told
us as she pulled away.
“Aye, we’re here now,” Felicity said. “But
let her rest. She’ll be needing it.”
“Everyone else is here,” Cally continued.
“They’re in the back.”
“Go ahead.” I nodded to them. “I’ll wait for
Ben.”
“Detective Storm?” the young woman asked.
“Aye, he brought us.”
“He’s finding a place to park the van,” I
added.
“He’ll be along in a bit,” Felicity told her
as she took her arm and guided her back down the hall.
I watched them disappear through a doorway at
the end of the corridor, then turned and opened the front door as I
heard a familiar voice and shuffling feet on the other side. Ben
had just raised his hand to knock as I swung the barrier open and
moved to the side.
“How’d you know I was there just now?” he
asked as he stepped in through the opening.
“You mean besides the fact that we arrived
together?” I asked, not really expecting an answer to the sardonic
question.
“Don’t be a smart ass. I mean how’d you know
I was there right at that moment? You doin’ that hocus-pocus
stuff?”
“Nothing quite so ethereal,” I answered. “I
heard you talking.”
He seemed almost disappointed. “Oh.
Okay.”
I cast a glance outside before swinging the
door shut and noticed a uniformed officer getting back into his
patrol car, which was parked on the street in front of the house.
Moderately sized flakes of snow were beginning to float down from
the grey sky, drifting at ever changing angles on the gusts of cold
wind.
“Starting to snow,” I said, announcing the
observation for lack of anything better to say.
“Yeah.” Ben nodded as he shrugged off his
coat, keeping his voice low. “Gonna get bad out there. They’re
callin’ for three to six inches.”
“They were saying just one to two last
night.”
“Yeah, well you know how it is,” he answered
while looking around the foyer. “Nice digs.”
I took his coat and hung it from an available
hook on the dark, bentwood tree, then slipped out of mine and did
the same.
“Randy is…” I caught myself and reformed the
sentence. “Randy was a real estate agent,” I continued the
explanation as I turned back to my friend. “He picked this place up
back when property down here was going
M. J. Arlidge
J.W. McKenna
Unknown
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