Page 84 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

“Chloe.”

Chloe was tall for her age, and her body hunched over itself—the bad posture taller girls often adopted in adolescence to downplay their height. She was staring at her shoes—lightly kicking them back and forth like a much younger child on a swing. She’d pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head, which created a blinder on either side.

Saga was careful in her approach, making sure to slightly twist her toe before she lifted her foot for the next step, giving a soft scuff sound against the gravel.

The girl didn’t look up, but her head did incline toward the sound, so she was at least present enough to acknowledge outside stimuli.

“Hey, Chloe,” Saga greeted softly, slowing her approach. “May I join you?”

The girl shrugged.

Saga allowed a foot of room between them when she lifted herself to sit on the wall next to her; Chloe would feel like she had space, but they would be close enough that the conversation still felt private. She waited a moment, allowing her own feet to lightly kick as she stared straight ahead. “My name is Saga. I’m a consultant with the police.”

Silence answered her. That was fine. There was nothing to grasp on to with that statement. She’d made it for contextual purposes only.

“I’d like to help, if that’s okay?”

“How?” The immediacy of the question was good. Chloe was present and able to respond directly to questions.

“By listening. Talking about what you saw can help you process. I’m a really good listener.”

Chloe’s knuckles paled as her fingers dug into her knees. They watched the crowd across the street together and neither said anything for a while, listening to the distant sound of cars on the thoroughfare. A few times Chloe took a breath that sounded like she might start to speak but then decided against it. Together they kicked their feet, knocking their heels gently against the brick in unison. It was comfortable, finding a similar rhythm, soothing.

“I didn’t see anything. Not really.” When Chloe finally spoke, her voice was a hoarse whisper.

“That’s okay.”

“I saw her on the floor, and I pushed Wallace outside. He didn’t see it, but there was a lot of blood. I made him run to Mrs. Pearson’s to call an ambulance and Dad’s cell.” She sniffed loudly, her face still obscured by her hood. “She’s retired, so she’s usually home. I went back inside and…”

Saga waited. Pushing the girl wasn’t going to get the answers they needed. She breathed slowly in for five counts and out for six, hoping Chloe might be able to hear the rhythm and match it subconsciously.

A hand raised from Chloe’s knee and vanished into the hood. Saga could hear more sniffling.

“I…I know you’re supposed to check if someone is breathing, but I couldn’t get close enough, I just couldn’t… I wanted to, I swear, but I could see the knife, and I just…” Her voice got too tight, and she bent over, sobbing into her hands.

Tentatively, Saga placed a reassuring hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “That was very brave, Chloe. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“What if I could have helped?”

“You did. You protected your brother and called an ambulance. That was the best thing you could do.”

“I don’t understand… What happened to her?”

It was not a question Saga could have answered even under the best circumstances, but she found some solace in that nothing about what the girl saw made her believe her mother had done it to herself. Instead, she asked a question of her own. “Before you found your mother, did you notice anything strange? Out of place? Could be really small.”

Chloe shook her head. “No, the door was locked. We came in with our key. Took our shoes off—Mum’s really anal about the carpet. ‘Stain-resistant, not stainproof,’ she always says…” She sat up a little, and this time her silence seemed thoughtful. “It’s…not usually quiet, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“If she’s awake, she’s usually listening to talk shows.”

“Listening?” Was Theresa Abernathy visually impaired?

At last Chloe turned to look at her, wiping at her face with the heel of her palm. “Yeah. She doesn’t really watch TV—like ‘sit down and pay attention’ watch—but she owns like…every episode of Loose Women, and she’ll just have it going in the background.” Her mouth twisted in a pained smile. “I think she liked feeling like someone was in the house with her, y’know?”

“Do you think your mum was lonely?”

Chloe nodded in affirmation. Then, she kept nodding until the repetitive motion melted into a self-soothing rock of her body. “Especially after she and Dad split up.”