Everybody was already seated at the dining room table when I walked in. Thistle and Clove were nowhere to be found. Marnie, Twila, and Mom were present, and they were smiling.
“Good.” Mom nodded when she saw me. “I was worried you were going to skip dinner. You need the fuel if you’re going to solve this.”
She was a lot more gung-ho than I expected. A quick look at Chief Terry told me he was the reason. He’d likely begged her to be on her best behavior. Winnie Winchester was going to be in super mom mode.
“I’m hungry,” I assured her. “I was just talking to Peg.”
The pig scurried toward the kitchen, seemingly eager to get away from the newcomers. Winchester, Landon’s Christmas present, was under the dining room table sniffing for scraps even though the food had just been delivered to the table.
“Sit down,” Mom instructed.
I took my normal place between Landon and Chief Terry. Mom had situated Spencer and Steve across from us, in the spots she and Marnie usually occupied. Everybody was digging into the chicken, potatoes, and home-baked bread.
“What did you find out there?” Marnie asked as she sat at the far end of the table. It was unusual for me to see her there, which made me more unsettled.
“Nothing good,” I muttered, trying not to let my bad mood ruin a perfectly nice meal.
“Three bodies,” Chief Terry replied. He was obviously determined to treat this like any other meal. We sharedinformation with Mom, Marnie, and Twila regularly. He wasn’t going to stop simply because we had guests.
“Locals?” Mom asked.
“I didn’t recognize them,” Chief Terry replied. “It’s possible they have relatives in the area, or they were up here hunting.” He made a face. “Of course, it’s not hunting season.”
“They could’ve come up from the south,” Landon offered. “Maybe they rented a cabin and were off-roading or something. It’s not the time of year for that either—still a bit early—but if money was a consideration, they would’ve gotten a deal.”
“That’s a good avenue to chase tomorrow,” Chief Terry agreed. He flashed me a wan smile. “What are your thoughts?”
My thoughts were that this felt like a very stilted and odd meal. Having outsiders at the table was weird. We were supposed to act like ourselves, but nothing felt normal about this conversation.
“I think we’re dealing with some sort of paranormal.” Easing into it was a waste of time. “I’m not sure if whoever it was decided to track us, but the timing seems suspicious. They managed to hit a pretty tiny window from when we left the inn to when we were coming back. It was less than an hour for the entire trip.”
Steve sat straighter, his fork gripped in his hand and his eyes searching as he regarded me. “I didn’t think to ask about that. What were you doing out there?” It wasn’t suspicion fueling him as much as curiosity, but I cringed all the same.
“Oh, well…” I pursed my lips, debating, then sighed. They would start questioning my motivations if I held back now. “We had something we needed to do at Mrs. Little’s house.”
“Margaret Little?” Spencer asked. “I thought she was your aunt’s mortal enemy.”
“Arch nemesis,” I corrected. “We weren’t there to do anything evil. We’re trying to help her.”
“Help her how?” Steve asked. His voice was free of implication, but there was a wariness in his eyes that couldn’t be ignored.
“She’s been having issues since what happened with Brad Childs,” I replied, cutting into my chicken. It was soft and smelled amazing. “The changeling fed off of her, and she was very close to death.”
“Patrice has been having issues too,” Spencer volunteered. “She pretends she doesn’t remember, but she’ll talk about things that happened when she was taken over, so we know she was privy to that information. She doesn’t want us to know that she remembers for some reason.”
“That’s probably easier for her,” Chief Terry replied. “She likely believes you’ll blame her or maybe question her too vigorously if she tells the truth. It’s not uncommon for people who have gone through a paranormal trauma.”
“You seem to know a lot about paranormal trauma,” Steve said appraisingly. “I’m guessing you’ve seen a lot during your time in Hemlock Cove.”
Chief Terry’s eyes flicked to me. “I’ve seen my fair share of things,” he said finally. “I spent a lot of time with Bay and her cousins when they were little.”
“That must have been interesting.”
“Only because they were often with Tillie, and she’s never met a problem that she didn’t want to make worse, whether with magic or her snowplow.”
I smirked.
“As for why they were out there tonight, Margaret has been showing some alarming displays of … paranoia,” he continued, smoothly changing the subject. “She is struggling, and nobody wants her put into a hospital.”
