Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I’m not far from Susy’s café and we’re a good hour before the dinner crowd comes in. I find a spot in the parking lot, grab my umbrella, and get out, waiting a beat before heading inside. I stop under the awning and wait for Officer Maxwell and then feel awkward walking through the little café with him. Several members of the coven work here and I pray they’re not working tonight.
“You’ve caught my interest,” Officer Maxwell says when we sit down. “Who killed those girls?”
“It was Stuart Brown, the groundskeeper.”
“He was ruled out as a suspect. Solid alibi.”
“Some gardening thing in Michigan, I know. But it was him. He killed them and others. There are trophies buried under his cabin, which was turned into a storage shed. They’re still there.” I close my eyes, remembering the vision. With it comes the uncomfortable feeling of Stuart pushing me out of his mind. “He kept them in a coffee tin under the steps. Buried maybe only a foot or two down. He intended on moving it and destroying the evidence but then he had a heart attack and died.”
“And how would you know all this?”
“I told you, I’m a psychic.”
Officer Maxwell narrows his eyes. “Like your great aunt.”
His words catch me off guard. What else does he know about Aunt Estelle?
“You knew my aunt?” I lean back, shock obvious on my face. Before he can answer, a waitress comes over. She knows Maxwell and brings a cup of coffee to the table and asks if he wants his usual, which is a double bacon sandwich.
“And what about you, miss?” the waitress asks. I don’t recognize her, thank the fucking stars. “Do you need a minute to look at the menu?”
“Um, no, I’m good. Can I have an iced tea and a side of fries?” I tell her, feeling bad about not ordering anything when we’re sitting here.
“Sure. I’ll bring that right out for you.” She smiles and walks away and I look back at Maxwell.
“You knew her?”
“My father did. Before he was shot on the job.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. He was a police officer too?”
“He’s the reason I became one. Wanted to follow in his footsteps.” He wraps his hands around the cup of coffee, looking at me like I’m a suspect. “I knew of your aunt. Most of this town did.”
“She seems to have had that effect,” I say with a nervous laugh. “She told you she was psychic?” The more I learn about her, the more questions it raises. And now that I know about the whole dark side thing, I’m almost scared to hear about her reputation among law enforcement.
“She did. You’re like her then, aren’t you?”
Fuck, that’s a loaded question. “She was much more gifted than me, but…uh, yeah. In a sense being psychic seems to run in the family.”
“She must not have been that good,” he spits. “It was thanks to a so-called tip from her that led to the death of several police officers.”
“Your father was one of them,” I say, connecting the dots.
“Yeah,” he replies and now it makes sense why he’s been so on guard.
“What happened?” I ask softly.
He slowly spins his coffee mug on the table and looks out the window, watching raindrops roll down the glass. “A family known for their organized crime was fleeing Chicago and had plans to shelter in Thorne Hill on their way down south. Your great aunt tipped off the police but when they showed up, they were greatly outnumbered. When she was brought in for questioning, you know what she said?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“She said she shouldn’t have bothered with human law enforcement and should have handled it herself, whatever that means,” he scoffs. “The whole thing had ‘set up’ written all over it.”
“But she did exactly what she said, right? Gave the police a tip about what I think you’re alluding to is the mafia?”
“That’s what the records show.”
“Look,” I start. “I’m not here to defend my aunt or get into what she did or didn’t do. If I’m being honest, I didn’t know her all that well and I’m realizing she had a lot of secrets that I probably don’t want to know. But she’s dead and I’m not trying to set anyone up. Marissa and Allison deserve to have their cases closed so maybe they can move on.”
“Move on?”
“Allison’s spirit is still in that house. It’s how I know what I know. And their families can finally get closure as well.”
Maxwell inhales and leans back, looking right into my eyes. “Say I believe you and find this coffee tin full of trophies. It still won’t be enough to get the rest of the force on your side. I might be able to convince a couple of my guys in the Thorne Hill department—unexplainable things happen in this town—but the PV force will laugh in our faces,” he says in such a way that leads me to believe they’ve laughed before.