“Have a seat, dear. I’ll bring you a glass of lemonade. You can use a drink in this heat.”
“Yeah, it’s unseasonably hot today.”
“You must think we’re crazy not having air conditioning.”
“No,” I say honestly, shaking my head. “I don’t either. My house was built in the late 1800s.”
“As was the center of this one.” Beth smiles and motions to the couch. I watch her go into the kitchen, which is the room next to the large living room. There are double doors connecting this room to it, and they’re both open today. She takes two glasses from a cupboard and fills them both with lemonade from the same pitcher. I can rule out her trying to poison me…unless she pulls a move fromThe Princess Brideand is immune to the poison.
“Thanks,” I tell her, and take the glass, waiting for her to sit down and take a sip first before I try it. And dammit, it’s really good.
“Were you close with Gemma?” Beth asks.
“Not really,” I say, and feel like it’s a lie, though it’s the truth. Gemma was a fake friend, trying to get info on me to pass along to Marissa. I felt like we could be close, and I wanted to be close. I’ve never had a best friend before and I still feel stupid and mad at myself for being too willing to turn a blind eye to the weird things Gemma did that should have raised a red flag. “I haven’t known her that long.”
But she is the only human on the planet who knows about my abilities. I used my fire magic to save us from a psycho murderer.
“She’s a good girl. Misguided, but good.”
“Yeah, she seemed like it. Caring and all. I mean, she’s a nurse.”
Beth smiles and nods again. “Thank you again for rescuing her.”
“It’s my job.”
“Gemma talked about you, you know. The night we took her home,” Beth adds quickly. “Seemed to think very highly of you. That’s why I thought you two were close.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure she was just grateful I got there in time.”
“I’m sure too. She said you two had a lot in common.”
Is she trying to ask if Gemma and I had a romantic relationship? Closed-mindedness is an instant button pusher for me. “I suppose some things. Too bad Gemma isn’t around to ask. When was the last time you spoke with her?”
“The day we took her home. Though she was pretty quiet.”
“How’d she leave?”
“I’m guessing she hitched a ride with a few of the other youths into town and got a cab. She had friends in Philly, maybe she’s back there.”
I shake my head. “I checked her house on the way here. No one has been there.”
“Maybe she has a boyfriend she’s staying with.”
That’s a nope as well. Where the fuck are they keeping her? “Thanks for the lemonade. I should be on my way.” I tap my badge. “Gotta get back to work. If you do see Gemma, can you tell her to get ahold of me somehow?”
“Of course.” Beth takes my glass of lemonade and goes into the kitchen, putting both glasses into the sink. There’s no running water, just a pump where a faucet would be. I stand, edging out of the room.
And then I hear someone cough.
It’s muffled and coming from upstairs? No…the basement. I blink and the scene from my dream plays out before me. Beth stepping into the dark basement, holding up the lantern. Gemma’s down there, sick and in desperate need of medical attention.
I readjust my purse again, right hand inching toward my gun. Dammit. Why did I go about this as the cop version of me? I can’t pull out my gun and demand Beth take me down to see Gemma. I need probable cause to carry out a move like that, and the rules are fuzzy when a group like the Amish are involved.
“Beth,” I say in a level tone. She turns around, face pale. “Where is she?”
“Who?”
“Cut the bullshit. I know Gemma is here, and I know she’s not doing well.”
