“I can see why the cops were looking at you. You have an angry streak, don’t you, Charles? What happened, you got pissed because Brooke wasn’t coming home, and you decided to make her pay? Make the whole coven pay?”
His mouth dropped open. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“Then maybe you hired someone. Someone who’d teach the bitch that she shouldn’t have left you, huh?”
“Don’t call her that. She wasn’t a bitch.”
“Oh yeah? Cause I heard that’s exactly what you called her when she left.”
Charles’ face turned red, and then slowly drained of color. He met my eyes for a long moment, and then buried his head in his hands. Kyla stepped forward and sat next to him.
“How about we all take a breath,” she said softly. “Can I get you some water, Charles?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have hurt her.” The words came out muffled and he lifted his head, his expression desperate as he appealed to Kyla. “I swear.”
“I believe you,” she soothed. “But these are the kinds of questions that have to be asked. Once you’ve told us what you know, we’ll be able to move on.”
“I wouldn’t have hurt Brooke. I was going to marry her.” Charles got to his feet and stalked over to the circular table in the kitchen where a small velvet box was sitting. He opened it and stared down at the ring.
“I was going to marry her. I was going to convince her to come back. I was going to go to therapy, do whatever she wanted.”
“Okay,” I said. “Did Brooke ever tell you about anyone she argued with? Anyone who gave her a bad feeling?”
“The guy at the corner store. Marty. He sold her some fruit that was bad. She said she wasn’t paying enough attention, but they had words the next time she went in.”
“Anyone else? Where’s her family?”
“Dead. Her mom and dad were killed in a car accident. She said she’d found her family with the coven.” His red eyes met mine. “If she’d never found that family, she’d still be alive.”
Kyla glanced over her shoulder as we walked out of the house. “So what did you think of him?”
“I think he’s a putz, but he’s a putz who’s grieving.”
“You can grieve someone and still have killed them.”
“Exactly. He goes to the bottom of the list, but he’s still on that list.”
She glanced at me. “But you don’t think he did it.”
“Nope.” I rounded my car and opened the door.
“My trusty dagger didn’t glow. He was telling the truth. I don’t think he’s smart enough or motivated enough to pull off the attack.” I frowned. “I don’t think corner store Marty did either, but we follow the steps. You never know who could’ve noticed someone watching Brooke.”
Kyla followed me to the small store. A neon sign hung in the window, the word readingMart’s. Theywasn’t lit.
Marty was standing behind his counter, wiping it with a grimy cloth. I’d put him in his fifties or sixties, with deep frown lines carved between his brows, his mouth turned down as we stepped inside. Above the counter, a large white sign statedNo refunds!
“We need to ask you a few questions.”
“This is about that woman from down the street? I heard she was dead.” Marty wiped his hands on his apron. Then he narrowed his eyes at me. “I know you. You’re the witch who kept that demon alive.”
“She also stopped an insane coven from rampaging through the city,” Kyla said. “You’re welcome.”
Marty sneered at me. “She was a witch, too, that girl who died. Tried to hide it, but I know the signs. This is a good human neighborhood.”
“Wow,” I said. “You’re a flaming asshole, aren’t you, Marty?”
“I don’t have to take this from you. You’re not even a cop.”
