Scorpio
Deputy Hart
Merrick gave the sheriff a quizzical look. “Why does that name ring a bell?”
Sheriff Hennesy
snickered. “That’s ‘cause most folks around here refer to her as Miss
Witchley.”
“Why
Witchley?”
“’Cause the
woman has a gift. You could say she’s psychic.”
“Is she?”
Hart queried.
His boss
shrugged. “It depends on whether or not you believe that sort of crap. All I
know is that when she calls us and gives us some information regarding a case
we’re working on, she’s pretty much spot-on.”
“What’s her
batting average?” Hart asked, curious.
“Oooh, I’d
say…” The sheriff looked him directly in the eye. “Around ninety-nine-point-nine
percent.”
“Damn!”
Hart’s exclamation got a laugh from the man. “So let me guess. She’s got
information about the missing Kulp kid.”
“Or so she
says.”
This
comment got him curious. “Are you saying you’re dubious about her claim? After
all you’ve just told me?”
Placing his
elbows on his blotter, Hennesy leaned over his desk. “Let’s just say no one,
and I mean no one, has ever had a perfect batting average. That goes for
this woman. Yeah, I’m hoping that what she has to tell you is another home run.
But sooner or later she has to strike out. Know what I mean?”
Giving the
man a nod, Hart turned to head out the front door. “I’ll let you know what I
find out as soon as hear. By the way, why doesn’t she come here to tell us? Why
do I have to go over there?”
“That’s the
way she prefers it. She’s a very private person. Considering her track record,
we’re more than happy to accommodate her if it means getting the answers we
need.”
“All right.
Talk to you soon,” Hart remarked and left the station.
It was a
good fifteen-minute drive to Benbow Lane. The short stretch of road was no more
than a wide dirt path that wound around the trees rimming Alverson Lake. This
time of year, the poplars and maples had already shed their leaves as they
awaited the first winter snow.
He didn’t
have to ask which cabin belonged to Miss Witchley. Whitley. Whitley! he
chastised himself. You sure as heck better not call her by that other name.
The
little green wood frame home was the only one along that stretch. A curl of
smoke came from the rock chimney and an antique Volkswagen sat inside an
equally small garage.
When he
pulled up to the front, he noticed a figure sitting in the rocking chair on the
porch. The frail figure was bundled up against the chill. As he climbed out of
his squad car, the woman got to her feet.
“Good
afternoon, Miss Whitley. I’m Deputy—”
“Merrick.
Hart Merrick. Formerly with the Yaegerton Police Department. Thank you for
coming.”
Hart almost
froze in his tracks. He’d been expecting a wizened, elderly woman. Instead, he saw
a young woman in her early to mid-twenties. Jet black hair. Eye color,
undeterminable. Features, undeniably captivating.
She looked
back at him from where she stood in the doorway. “Are you coming in or not? I
fixed coffee.”
Coffee?
Didn’t most women fix tea?
Dumbstruck,
he hurried up the steps and walked into a living room that, again, challenged
his expectations. There was no vintage overstuffed sofa with needlepoint
pillows. No chintz curtains. No bric-a-brac figurines on the fireplace mantel.
No sepia-colored photographs of past family members hanging in gilt frames on
the walls.
Hart stared
around him at the leafy green potted plants. A brightly colored rag rug lay on
the floor. The sofa was polished leather and gleamed in the firelight coming
from the hearth.
The place
was cozy and comfortable, and Hart immediately took a liking to it. In fact…
I wish I
had a place like this.
“Deputy
Merrick?” The woman stood less than a yard away. She’d ditched her coat to
reveal a pair of gray sweatpants and a baggy gold sweater, both of which made
her appear more feminine and vulnerable even though Hart knew the opposite was
more like the truth. Two mugs of steaming coffee were in her hands. She handed one
to him with a smile. “One pink sweetener, no cream, correct?”
“How’d you…
Never mind.” He took a sip and immediately approved.
The woman…Aria.
For some odd reason, he couldn’t think of her as Miss Whitley…took a seat
at one end of the sofa. Clearing his throat, he placed his mug—not a teacup
on a saucer—on the side table with the lamp and pulled out his notepad and
pen.
“Sheriff
Hennesy said you might have some information regarding the whereabouts of Lukas
Kulp.”
She took a
sip of her drink. “Lukas Kulp isn’t missing. His stepfather took him over to his
sister’s house in Durberville.”
“His stepfather
took him?”
“The boy’s
mother’s been abusing him. Has been ever since the boy’s father left her three
years ago. The stepfather took him away from her to save the child’s life.”
Aria tilted her head as she studied him. “It’s not what you expected to hear,
was it?”
“Are you
sure it’s the stepfather who’s hiding the boy, and not the mother?”
She gave
him a wry grin. “I know you’re new in town, but when you report back to Sheriff
Hennesy, he’ll confirm what I said about the mother.”
“I’ve no
doubt. In Durberville, you said?” He jotted the name down on his notepad.
“Anything else you can give me?”
“Not at
this time.”
Sighing, he
closed the pad and shoved it back into his pocket. “Miss Whitley…”
“You can
call me Aria so you don’t accidentally call me Miss Witchley like the
townspeople do,” she remarked with a warmer smile.
He
chuckled. “Busted.”
“So what’s
your question?”
“You
could’ve just as easily told us this over the phone. Why did I have to make the
trip over?” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you ask for me specifically?”
“No. I knew
Hennesy would send you instead.”
“Then why—”
Because I wanted to meet you. I
hope to gleam an understanding as to why you quit the police department in a
city like Yaegerton and moved here.”
Hart
crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you were a psychic. You don’t know
already?”
She
casually took another sip of her coffee. “I see events, usually after they’ve
happened. What I don’t see is the reason behind them.”
“You just
told me the stepfather absconded with the Kulp kid because the mother was
abusing him,” Hart reminded her. “That sounds like a pretty valid reason to
me.”
“I know
where the child is and who took him there. The rest is my supposition. My
reason is why, as Sheriff Hennesy told you, I’m correct only ninety-nine-point-nine
percent of the time.”
Hart knew
his mouth had dropped open but he couldn’t help it. There had been no one else present
at the station when the sheriff had spoken with him. “What are you?”
“If I told
you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.
No, let me guess. You’re a witch like the people claim.”
“No. That’s
old hat anyway.”
“But you are
psychic. Did you inherit that ability?”
“You could
say I did. Actually, I’m a Scorpian.”
Hart
knitted his brows. “You’re a Scorpio. So?”
She shook
her head. “Not a Scorpio. A Scorpian. We’re known for our psychic
abilities.”
“What’s the
difference?”
“A lot,
Deputy Merrick.”
“Does
Sheriff Hennesy know?”
“I’ve told
him. Of course, he also assumes I’m talking about my zodiac sign.”
“Why are
you telling me all this?”
“I told you.”
She pointed at his mug he’d set on the side table. “I wanted to get to know
more about you, and I was wanting some company. Have a seat and enjoy your
coffee before it gets too cold. Except I know you like iced coffee, too, so
maybe it won’t matter.”
Hart
chuckled. “You’re a strange woman, Aria.”
“I prefer
it that way.”
“Is that why
you’re up here on this lake all alone? Where’s your family?”
Lifting her
mug to her lips, she smiled again at him over the rim. “Guess you’ll have to
take another trip up here on your day off to find out. There’ll always be a
warm fire in the fireplace and a hot cup of coffee waiting for you when you get
here.”
“Is that a
promise?” he halfway teased.
“Guess
you’ll have to find out the hard way,” she responded.
Reaching
for his mug, he took several swallows. It was good, and a damn sight better
than the stuff brewed at the station.
He glanced
across the room. And the fireplace. The company. The overall ambiance of
this place. He wanted to ask her if she had an idea where all this would
eventually lead up to, but he had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the
answer.
And he
wasn’t the least bit psychic.
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