Page 82 of You'll Be Sorry

“No—”

“Then it is. Nor do you have grounds to procure such an order. Never underestimate a self-educated woman, Chief. Or a witch.”

“You’re not a witch.”

“Ding dong bell, the witch is in the well,”Isla sang.“Red witch, blue witch, black or white. One for love, one for fright. One will dance all night long. One will see you dead and gone.”

“I know the stupid nursery rhyme and local legend! Except the poor woman we found wasn’t a witch, either. Most likely just some midwife who paid for other people’s mistakes. Did you have something to do with that discovery? You who roamed the property.” Mandy glanced down at Lovey III. “And apparently know a thing or two about English Labs?”

“The witch belonged to all of us, and none of us. At least that’s what I was told. You should ask Raquel Collins. She has the journal now.”

“What journal?” Mandy threw up her hands.

“The one I found, then lost for Janet Dixon to find, then lost for Raquel Collins to find. I didn’t know when I passed it along what would happen next. If I had…” A long silence, where Isla’s dark gaze focused on things Mandy couldn’t see. Finally, a shrug. “Nothing stays secret forever.”

Mandy stared at the woman, sweat beading up and rolling down her back as she waited for anything about this conversation to make sense.

“Did you know about the hand-dug well?” she asked point-blank. “The dog, its discovery of the remains, was that your doing?”

“How do you find a witch in a well?”

“Stop with the riddles—”

“How do you find a witch in a well?”

“Do you know what happened to the Dixon family?”Mandy practically yelled.

Only to be met with infuriating calm: “You are your father’s daughter.”

Which once again made her want to scream.

“So help me God,” Mandy grated out, “if I find anything tangible that links you to that night thirty years ago, I’m coming back here with a warrant in hand. And this time, there’ll be no riddles. This town deserves the truth.” My father, she wanted to shout, deserved the truth.

Isla didn’t flinch.

Mandy headed for the door, embracing the cold as it slapped against her overheated cheeks and red-hot emotions. She could’ve handled that better. She could be doing just about everything better.

Fuck it, she needed some sleep.

Then, just as she reached her vehicle, that sensation again. A tickle between her shoulder blades. She whirled, hand on her Glock, but the swirling bursts of snow made it impossible to see.

Her gaze searching the woods. One pass, then a second. Finally, she turned back to her SUV.

Just in time to catch a faint disturbance. Probably nothing but the wind, she told herself. But just for a moment she could’ve sworn she heard the sound of a child laughing.

27

Raquel woke up to the dog scratching at the front door. She roused herself from the sofa, where she’d fallen asleep with the journal splayed on the coffee table before her. No sign of Theo, who’d apparently had the good sense to go to bed. She yawned, stretching out her back.

The dog remained staring pointedly at the front door.

Seriously, Theo needed to take better care of his projects.

“All right,” she muttered to the increasingly impatient canine. “Let’s do this.” Flicking on the table lamp. Donning her boots. Grabbing her coat.

The second she cracked open the door, the dog flew down the steps and hit the tree line. She ventured only as far as the porch, standing with her arms wrapped around her for warmth as she watched light flakes of snow swirl through the night sky.

There appeared to be only an inch or so covering the ground. Mere foreplay before tomorrow night’s big event. The icy flakes glittered like sugar granules beneath the porch lights. Pretty, she conceded, turning back toward the house…