Laced With Magic Part 8

At least that was the way Chloe had explained it to me.

If I'd learned anything these last few months, it was not to ask too many questions because sometimes the answers were more than you could handle.

The ex-husband might have kept his hands off Karen's wallet, but the cop wasn't about to let any clues to her mental state get by. Besides, I needed her car rental receipt to get the repair in motion so she could go back to Boston.

Lucky for me, she was still a pack rat. I found the rental car receipt neatly folded behind her cash. I tossed it on the seat next to me and continued searching. Her Stop & Shop frequent shopper card. An ATM card from Bank of America. Health insurance card. A receipt from Golden Wok. Nothing that gave me any idea what the h.e.l.l had pushed her over the edge.

But something had. After two years of silence she'd driven up to Vermont to find me with a crazy story about Steffie and some special ringtone only the two of them knew. And where were all the photos she used to carry? She carried her life around with her on a daily basis. Our wedding day. The day we brought Steffie home from the hospital. Her first Christmas. And her second. And her third.

But now there was only one photo. Steffie and Santa taken the Christmas before she died.

"What do you want from me? I'm working on a case and I can't break away."

"It's Christmas Christmas Eve, Luke. Steffie's all excited about seeing the mall Santa. You promised you'd be there. She's counting on you." Eve, Luke. Steffie's all excited about seeing the mall Santa. You promised you'd be there. She's counting on you."

So was the eighteen-year-old kid we found beaten half to death on campus. I switched the office phone to my other ear so I could tap info into the computer. My mind was fully engaged. I had nothing left for anyone but the young girl who was clinging to life in the ICU.

"Twenty minutes," Karen urged. "You know how much Steffie misses you when you're working all these hours."

"I've gotta go," I said, already gone. "I'll see what I can do."

I didn't make it back in time for Steffie's visit with Santa. I wasn't there when she opened her presents Christmas morning. I missed the first grade Valentine's Day pageant.

The girl in the ICU? She was a junior at BU and doing great.

That was our daughter's last Christmas.

It never got easier. I kept waiting for the day when it wouldn't hurt so d.a.m.n much but so far that day hadn't come. Our marriage had been on shaky ground before Steffie's accident. After her death there was nothing left but anger and guilt.

I disappeared into my work. On the job n.o.body asked me how I felt. n.o.body monitored my emotional temperature on an hourly basis. I did my job and I did it well, and if there were days when I felt like driving the squad car into a brick wall, that was my business and n.o.body else's.

Karen had it tougher. She took a sabbatical from nursing and spent her days watching old movies on AMC. She didn't have brothers or sisters to turn to. Her father died when she was in her teens; her mother lost her battle with cancer early in our marriage. She had one cousin that I knew about, a teacher in Natick who showed up every Christmas like clockwork to criticize.

It was a long shot but maybe the cousin could shed some light on what had been going on. I drove back to the office, where I kept a Bankers Box filled with old contact info that I'd brought with me from Boston.

The storefronts were all dark. The streetlamps gave off an old-fas.h.i.+oned yellow glow that washed the sidewalk with nostalgia. It was so quiet you could hear an owl hooting in New Hamps.h.i.+re. I tried not to think about all the things I couldn't see or hear.

What can I say? The place unnerved the h.e.l.l out of me after dark. I let myself into the station and flipped on the low-wattage fluorescent overhead. It flickered twice, then came to life.

The police station was a renovated pet shop that still smelled like the monkey house at the zoo, but I was slowly getting used to it.

I dug through a stack of old Rolodex cards and found the cousin's number. Like everyone else on the planet, Nancy screened her calls and I didn't make it through the net. I'd be surprised if she phoned me back. I'd never been one of her favorites.

I tried calling a couple of old friends. They answered their phones but neither had seen or heard from Karen in months.

So I did what I'd done a thousand times when I worked for the Boston PD and needed help. I called Fran, the chief of police's right-hand and my good friend.

"Are you drunk dialing," she asked, "or did you forget how to tell time?"

"It's ten thirty, Frannie. Your grandchildren are still awake."

"I guess there's no morning s.h.i.+ft up there in Sugar Maple."

"I need your help."

That was the best thing about old friends. When you needed them, they were there for you. And as it turned out, they didn't gossip about your ex-wife until you asked them to.

"You didn't know any of this?" Fran said after she'd finished. "Sorry to dump it on you but you asked."

I'd asked and now I knew. Karen had quit her job at the hospital, let her friends.h.i.+ps go to the point where the few that remained were on life support.

"I don't know if this means anything," Fran said as we were saying goodbye, "but she called me about two weeks ago. She wanted my cousin Noreen's phone number."

"Noreen the psychic?"

"She prefers to be called a transdimensional therapist."

I let it pa.s.s. "Did Karen tell you why she wanted Noreen's number?"

"I didn't ask and she didn't volunteer."

The reason wasn't hard to figure out.

"So don't be a stranger," Fran said after we'd exhausted the Noreen/Karen connection. "If you won't come down to Boston, maybe I'll drive up to Sugar Maple to do some shopping. We can catch up." She laughed knowingly. "You can introduce me to your new girlfriend."

There's a great idea, I thought. I hadn't intended to tell my old pal about Chloe, but when she asked if I was seeing anyone, I couldn't hold back. She'd grilled me like I was the prime suspect in a murder investigation and I was lucky I'd stopped short of telling her that Chloe was a sorceress-in-training. There wasn't a protective charm in the universe strong enough to keep Sugar Maple's secrets safe from Fran. I thought. I hadn't intended to tell my old pal about Chloe, but when she asked if I was seeing anyone, I couldn't hold back. She'd grilled me like I was the prime suspect in a murder investigation and I was lucky I'd stopped short of telling her that Chloe was a sorceress-in-training. There wasn't a protective charm in the universe strong enough to keep Sugar Maple's secrets safe from Fran.

There was nothing more I could do for Karen. Her problems weren't my problems anymore. They hadn't been for a long time now. Whatever it was she was looking for, she'd have to find it someplace else.

I logged off the computer and was stuffing the Rolodex cards back into the file when I heard the front door open.

"h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo," Midge Stallworth's cheery voice rang out. "I saw your lights on and wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Everything's fine, Midge." I shoved the file back into the closet and smiled at her. "I had a few calls to make."

"About your ex, I'll bet. Can't make those calls with Chloe around, right?"

"Something like that."

"So what brings her to Sugar Maple to see you?"

"Just pa.s.sing through," I lied.

"Oh, you can tell me," Midge said in her Betty Boop voice. "I won't tell anyone."

"Nothing to tell. She'll be back on the road tomorrow."

"She's a tiny little thing." Midge stepped farther into the room. "Not at all like Chloe. I've always loved a big tall man with a teeny woman."

Midge barely topped five feet in heels.

I nodded and took a step back. What the h.e.l.l? Midge was old enough to be my grandmother-and that was just counting human years-but the vibe in the room had become s.e.xually charged.

"I'd better get back to the cottage," I said. "Chloe will be wondering what's taking me so long."

"I brought some donuts." She aimed a full-wattage smile up at me. "Why don't you put on a pot of coffee and I'll run back to the car and get them."

"Maybe some other time, Midge."

I'd never seen anyone over two actually pout before.

"Sit down."

"What?"

She motioned toward the desk. "Sit down."

Okay, now I was getting seriously freaked out. When it's after midnight and a vampire tells you to sit down, you have reason to worry.

"Oh, don't you look at me like that," she said with one of her high-pitched laughs. "I'm not going old school on you."

"Old school?"

"Interview with the Vampire. Bela Lugosi." She pretended to bite down on her forearm. "My grandkids call it direct access." Bela Lugosi." She pretended to bite down on her forearm. "My grandkids call it direct access."

"That's a relief."

She laughed again and patted my hand. "You had that scared human look around your eyes. The young ones toy with the old ways, but trust me, they'll learn soon enough. Life is easier all around without the hunt."

Which was all terrific information but I didn't have a clue what it had to do with me. Or why I needed to know it tonight.

"Midge, you know my office is open to you anytime, but tonight I need to get home and take care of some personal matters."

"Honey, I hate to say this, but it really is is time you went back home." time you went back home."

"That's what I'm saying."

"Not Chloe's home. Your Your home: Boston." home: Boston."

"Are you joking?"

Her big brown eyes brimmed with tears. "I wish I was, honey, but it had to be said. One human was tolerable but two is something else again. Now don't get me wrong. I I don't feel that way. I'm a firm believer in live and let live. We were welcomed here years ago by open-minded humans who believed we had rights too. There's no reason why we can't all get along together. But some of us-and I'm not naming any names but you can figure it out if you try-are seriously questioning whether or not Sugar Maple belongs in this realm at all." don't feel that way. I'm a firm believer in live and let live. We were welcomed here years ago by open-minded humans who believed we had rights too. There's no reason why we can't all get along together. But some of us-and I'm not naming any names but you can figure it out if you try-are seriously questioning whether or not Sugar Maple belongs in this realm at all."

"The Weavers," I said. They hadn't exactly hidden their feelings from anyone since Isadora's banishment. They were Fae so moving beyond the mist would be as natural as breathing to them.

"You didn't hear it from me."

"They're only two people. You'd need a h.e.l.l of a lot more to bring about that kind of change."

"There were whispers before, but the whispers got a lot louder tonight after your wife showed up."

"What does Karen have to do with anything?"

"The general feeling-and again I'm just telling you what I heard-is that it starts with one human and then another, and before you know it, they're building summer houses and sending their kids to school here."

"Karen is going home as soon as her car's repaired."

Midge's expression lightened. "Well, that's no problem. The boys can have it ready in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

I explained to her that because the accident was already on record with the rental car agency, we needed to follow procedures by the book. "They'll probably toss her another rental and she'll be on her way."

"Honey, you'll have to make sure of it or I won't be held responsible for what happens."

"Don't worry, Midge," I said as I moved her toward the door. "n.o.body's going to hold you responsible for anything."

One way or the other, the responsibility was all mine.

Just ask Karen.

8.

CHLOE.

Clearly this was my night for lurking. This time I was positioned outside the bathroom door when I heard the unmistakable squeak of the medicine cabinet door sliding shut. I did a quick mental inventory of the contents and breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing incriminating in there. At least nothing that I remembered. For a second I considered barging in and catching her red-handed, but I kind of understood where she was coming from. The sad truth of it was I would be up to my elbows in her battered Coach tote bag right now if I wasn't afraid I'd get caught.

All things considered, I'd rather have her poking around my medicine cabinet than unconscious on the bathroom floor looking all pale and wan and needy. I had never been the rescue-me type. When you were taller than most men of your acquaintance, damsel-in-distress wasn't a card a girl could easily play.

I left her to her investigation and walked down the hallway to the laundry room to see what I could do about getting our clothes clean.

I see hand knits every day of my life. Everything from garter-st.i.tch dishcloths to wedding ring shawls like the one that had come close to putting me into intensive care. I knew great knitting when I saw it, and her cardi was great knitting. Even spattered with mud, the ribbon-tie sweater was a thing of beauty. Intricate trim, clever short-row shaping, a dressmaker's attention to detail.

But that unfortunate six-inch gash across the back was an affront to knitters everywhere.

I'm pretty good at repairs but this one was beyond my skills. My human skills, at any rate.