‘First aid kits should be where they’re needed, likein the kitchen,’ I hear a man’s voice grumble as the door swings wide.
I picture Whitman standing there dripping blood from his cut hand onto the carpet, but have more sense than to turn and look. I stuff the photoframe into my pocket and scramble for the window.
‘What the hell!’ Whitman bellows, lunging at me. The window is only one floor up. Speed rather than elegance, Mags. And anonymity, too. My heart is thumping right outta my chest. Whitman reaches for my ankle as I slide head first, aiming to grab the top of the window frame below to slow my fall. His hand snatches at my pantleg and as I wriggle and kick he bellows in pain – must have used his injured hand – and I slither bruisingly to a heap on the ground.
He peers out into the night as I pull up my black hoodie and run for the fence.
‘Fucking crackhead!’ he yells after me. ‘Thieving, no-good—’ And then I hear it. A word I still occasionally get called when making an arrest but have never heard screamed from a congresswoman’s window by an Ivy League professor.
Bastard, I think, hatred burning its way up my throat. Entitled, bigoted, hatefulbastard. I want to call Charles Okoye right now and tell him what the guy he dined with last nightreallythinks of people like us.
At the far end of the side street I collide with Naomi. She wraps me in a swift, fierce hug.
‘I heard,’ she whispers in my ear. ‘That fucker. He’ll be seen for what he is one day. Now c’mon.’
We hare down the side street and I fall panting and aching into the back of the car. Fenn slides across to the passenger side as Naomi steps on the gas.
‘Hope the street CCTV won’t pick up the car,’ I gasp.
Fenn turns and gives me a sharp smile. ‘Charmed the license plates before we even crossed the state border. You’re riding with witches now, Maggie.’
We rest up at Fenn’s that night. I’d feel weird sleeping in Harper’s room, so Naomi takes that while Fenn fetches me blankets for the couch. She comes down, arms heaped with colourful crochet, to find me staring at a photograph of Pierre and Harper. The girl’s about four or five, riding on his shoulders, reaching up to the sky. Pierre’s big hands wrap right around her shins. The sun is on them both but the joy in their faces is brighter.
‘Harper blames herself,’ Fenn says. ‘I blame myself.’
I turn the photo toward her, holding the frame high. Tears sting my eyes, prickling for release. ‘You know what he’d say to that,’ I tell her, and drop my voice as low as it can go. ‘Don’t you both be fools, Sarah Fenn.’
‘That sounds nothing like him,’ Fenn says, but she’s smiling. ‘And mostly he called me his Magic Girl.’ She drops her voice, too. ‘Don’t you both be fools, Magic Girl. Nope,reallynothing like him.’
She’s laughing. We both laugh. And that gives our tears permission to fall.
Early the next morning I make coffee, while Sarah runs Naomi through possible techniques for tracking Luka. I’ve been doing some thinking overnight, and my conviction settles as I plunge the fancy French press and carry it over to the witches.
‘Sarah, I don’t want you to come today. And Naomi, onlyget me close enough that we can be sure Luka’s not going to move in the time it’ll take to scoop him up. If Ortiz kicks off about how Luka’s been handled, like she did with the initial arrest, I don’t want you two anywhere near it. No more pretexts for her to slander your community.’
Fenn looks like she’s about to protest, but Naomi tells her I’m right.
‘This is your contribution, right here,’ she says, gesturing to the balding teddy bear and the photo of little Luka and young Sandra. ‘Crafting a lead from this that we can follow.’
‘It’ll take me longer if I’m not going to be with you to read it,’ Fenn says.
‘We’ll wait.’
Just as I’ve poured coffee, my phone lights up. Theodorou. I feel like letting it go to voicemail. Or dropping the phone in the steaming pot. But I’m still enough of a cop that I accept, stepping into Fenn’s garden to give the witches some peace. I’m careful not to let any of the pretty but presumably highly witchy plants brush against me.
‘How can I help you, Theo? Assuming I’d even want to.’
‘Maggie! Yeah!’ he squawks, like one of the birds he loves watching through binoculars on a weekend. ‘Look, I’m really sorry about what happened. Wasn’t entirely my choice. And now I’m getting heat because you’re gone. Please tell me you have a plan for recovering Luka?’
‘Depending on how far he’s absconded, you’ll have him back tonight,’ I say. ‘Could have had him a few days ago if you’d let me do the job instead of locking me up.’
‘Ahh.’ I can hear his tension releasing like steam. ‘That’s great. Yeah. I’ll sit tight then.’
‘You do that.’
When I glance back inside, it’s to see Fenn frowning with concentration and Naomi looking politely appalled. Then Inotice Luka’s teddy bear, floating in mid-air and pointing forward with one arm like it’s got a bad case of demonic possession.
‘Here’s your wayfinder, Maggie,’ Naomi says.
