Page 107 of You'll Be Sorry

“But what does it all mean?” Mandy shook her head. “Over two hundred years ago, something terrible happened. The perpetrators covered their tracks by accusing a young woman of witchcraft, then sealed her in a well with evidence of the crime and the bones of at least one infant. Which they happened to have lying around?”

“Satanic cult,” Theo repeated.

“Which brings us to…a record of a centuries-old crime leading to a decades-old family disappearance?” Mandy already didn’t buy it. Looking around the room, she could tell the others didn’t, either.

Betty put it most succinctly: “Who would still care after all this time? Even if one of my own great-greats was involved…shame on them, not shame on me. No one should be held accountable for horrors committed by their elders.” The older woman gave Raquel a sympathetic look. “Let alone so many generations removed.”

“Can I see the journal?” Mason asked, his gaze going longingly to the mangled volume.

“The one you tried to steal last night?” Raquel asked him coldly.

“I would never…Oh, fine. But I never would’ve hurt anyone. I just wanted the diary. If that dog hadn’t been such a menace.” Mason had the audacity to glare at Mr. Man, who gave him the stink-eye in return. “Besides, you can hardly accuse me of stealing something that’s already stolen.”

“Breaking and entering. Assault and battery.” Mandy ticked them off. She gestured in Raquel’s direction. “She has grounds to press charges against you on both.”

“How about…you keep the journal till end of day, and we’ll consider this whole matter resolved?”

“She’ll keep the journal for as long as she pleases.” Theo already negotiating.

“One week,” Mason countered.

“One month.”

Raquel held up a hand to silence both men. “Two weeks. Then yes, we’ll consider the matter resolved.”

Mason relented with a terse nod, though he continued to eye the diary from across the room. “You’re sure, you’re absolutely certain there’s no mention of Continental currency, missing treasure, anything?”

“I’m positive.”

Betty patted the old man’s hand. “Face it, dear, the witch in the well nursery rhyme is actually about a witch in a well.”

Mason shook his head, as if who would’ve thought.

Mandy glanced outside, where the snow was now starting to fall in earnest. A quick check of her phone revealed a text from forensic anthro Debs saying they were packing it in for now.

All these years later, what was another afternoon or two’s delay, but Mandy was feeling hinky on the subject. Too much happening too fast, and none of it making sense.

On cue, her phone lit up with the first of probably many calls from one of her officers, now that the weather was hitting in earnest.

“Ah, Chief, we need you at the town hall briefing,” Sandford stated.

Shit. It was already two o’clock. Mason appeared equally jolted by the time.

“On my way. Good news, Mason’s here with me, so let’s face it, meeting’s not gonna start on time.”

“Actually…we have a bit of a situation.”

“Define.”

“Austin’s here.”

“Austin’s the fire chief. Of course he’s there.”

“He’s uh…He appears intoxicated. And, Chief, he’s armed with a shotgun.”

33

Were you ever going to tell me?”