Shadow Shifter Page 4

  “Continue to stalk Rebecca on social media,” I instructed Paige, “and let me know when she checks into somewhere public.”

  “Will do.” Paige returned to the front of the shop, taking the laptop with her, while I decorated the cupcakes. My inspiration icing was another favorite with my customers.

  Once the baking was finished, I joined the staff out front, helping to clear the tables and stopping to chat with customers. I loved the hands-on aspect of my job, and getting to mingle with my customers was always a thrill. My customer service was one of the things I prided myself on, and it kept regulars coming back time and again.

  I was on my way back to the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes when Paige waved me over. “Rebecca just checked in to the Redmeadows History Museum.”

  “Excellent. I’ll stack these and scoot on over, see if I can catch her.”

  “What will you say?”

  “Probably the truth.” I shrugged. “It kinda backfired with Jodi. Snooping in her apartment freaked her out, and I feel bad about that.”

  “But if Rebecca did it, you’d be tipping her off that you’re onto her,” Paige argued.

  I lifted a shoulder. So what if I did? Maybe she’d do something foolish that would lead the Watcher to her door. Or I could give everything I knew to Ben myself. That would be the sensible thing to do. Grabbing the keys to the van from the hook, I shrugged into my jacket and headed out.

  I’d never been a sensible girl.

  Thankfully, parking wasn’t an issue. The underground garage at the museum was half empty. It’d been a long time since I’d visited the museum—years in fact—but today I didn’t have time to meander through the exhibits. I was on a mission.

  As I power walked through the building, I couldn’t help but wonder what Rebecca was doing here today. After an hour of practically sprinting through the building, frantically searching for her, it hit me. I hadn’t tried the North West Café. Maybe she was there.

  Bingo. I recognized Rebecca straight away. She was sitting across the table from a matronly woman. She had her planner spread open in front of her with a pen in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Some sort of meeting. I waited in line to buy my own coffee, then sat strategically a few tables away, where I could keep Rebecca in view. I’d approach her when the other woman left.

  What I hadn’t expected was that Rebecca was paranormal. I couldn’t tell what she was for sure, but by her glow, especially around her head, I wondered if she were part angel. It had been known to happen—angels and humans getting together and creating Nephilim children.

  Two coffees later, they finally finished, and my bladder was ready to burst. The other woman left. Rebecca was beginning to pack up her belongings. I rushed over and slid into the recently vacated chair.

  “Oh!” Rebecca gasped, a hand going to her throat.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m not sure if you know me, but I’m Kristina Gates—I own the Jam coffee shop.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve seen you around, I think. Certainly heard of you.” A grin tugged at her pink lips.

  “Yes, I’m sure Jodi has shared a story or two.”

  Rebecca’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Jodi. “How can I help you?”

  “Were you having an affair with Ted McNeil?”

  Rebecca’s face drained of color, then flushed a furious red. She shot to her feet, shoving her planner into her oversized handbag, and stormed off.

  “I’ll take that as a yes!” I called after her.

  Spinning on her heels, she stalked back to me, her whole body rigid.

  “I don’t know who told you that, but seriously, it’s none of your business.” Her voice was as cold as snow on a winter’s day.

  “It is when I’m being framed for a murder I didn’t commit. Sit back down. Let’s talk.”

  She assessed me for a few moments before begrudgingly returning to her seat.

  “Here’s what I know. You were seen arguing with Jodi at the Quinns’ afternoon tea. Then, afterward, you were seen arguing with Ted. Looking through your social media photos, you don’t look particularly thrilled to be married to Roger—” I held up my hands in defense. “—although I could be totally wrong. I’m just calling it how I see it. But since it was my cupcake that was poisoned, and my business name being dragged through the mud, you can bet your bottom dollar I’m going to keep digging until I get to the bottom of this.”

  I’d expected Rebecca to be shocked and horrified at the mention of poison and murder. Instead, she went in a totally different direction.

  “How do my photos give me away?” she said. “I’m careful what I post on social media. I have to be, because of Roger’s position.”

  “Let’s just say I’m good at reading body language. And yours is very telling.”

  Her face twisted in a grimace. “I asked Roger for a divorce. He refused. He can only get his hands on the family money if he remains married.”

  “So you had an affair. To force his hand?”

  “Not really. It just sort of happened, Ted and I. I guess he could see I was unhappy, and he started to pay me attention, something Roger stopped doing as soon as we got married. It turned my head.”

  “Did Roger find out?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. A week ago, Ted called it off.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I was heartbroken. I love him—loved him. I thought he loved me too, but then out of the blue, he called, said it was over and not to contact him.”

  Interesting. Did she love him enough to kill him for leaving her? Crazier things had happened.

  “I don’t know why you think you’re a suspect,” she continued, wringing her hands. “The Watcher thinks I did it. He says I had motive, that I had opportunity, and that I was found with Ted’s…body.”

  Holy dickballs. Ben had never mentioned any of this to me. I almost snorted—as if he’d divulge such things! It also confirmed that Rebecca was paranormal; she’d never have known about the Watcher otherwise.

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No. I did not. I loved him. I wanted us to get back together. I was prepared to leave Roger. Even if he wouldn’t divorce me, it didn’t mean I had to stay in a hateful marriage. That’s what we were arguing about. Jodi, Ted, and I. I’d already decided I was leaving Roger. Even if Ted didn’t want me, I couldn’t stay in the marriage any longer.”

  “Couldn’t you use your powers?” I didn’t know for sure whether she had any special abilities, but I hazarded a guess.

  She shook her head. “My talent is that I can heal myself and others, but when I do, I absorb the powers of those I heal. I can’t cast spells or alter people’s thoughts.”

  “Yet you didn’t heal Ted?”

  “I tried. He died almost instantly. The Abatwa poison is instantaneous. As soon as it breaks the barrier of your skin, you’re dead. And I can’t bring back the dead.”

  Interesting. So Ben had told her about the poison already. I don’t know why I felt miffed at that. Maybe because I thought there was a spark between me and Ben, that maybe he’d shared intel with me because of it. Turned out I’d got that all wrong.

  “So Jodi was trying to talk you out of leaving Roger?” I asked.

  “Jodi was all for me leaving Roger, but she didn’t want me getting back together with Ted, either.”

  “Were you and Jodi a couple? Back in your college days?”

  “What?! No! Why would you ask that?”

  “Oh, just wondering. Never mind. Go on. So Jodi was all for you leaving Roger but not in favor of you hooking up with Ted.”

  “She thought Ted was a womanizer. That I’d only been attractive to him because I was married. She seemed to think that he ended things with me because I started making noises about leaving my husband.”

  “So you confronted Ted with that?”

  “Yes.” Her chin wobbled and she blew out a breath.

  “What did he say?” I leaned forward, elbows on the table. This was better than a soap opera.
/>
  “He denied it. He said he’d be delighted if I left Roger, who was clearly using me and had tricked me into a marriage of convenience. But he said he still couldn’t be with me, that he couldn’t explain yet, but he would once the dust settled.”

  “What do you think he meant by that?”

  “Only one thing I could think of. It had to be business-related. I don’t know if he and Roger had a business deal or were proposing one, but that’s the only thing I can think of that would derail any plan of Ted’s. He lived for his business. He would have done anything to protect it.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard he was pretty cut throat in the business world.”

  She nodded. “He is. Or rather, was. He built his business up from nothing. Not with family money, like Roger.” The last part came out on a sneer, and I couldn’t blame her for being bitter.

  “Did Ted talk to you about his business dealings?”

  “Some.”

  “Is there anything he told you that could have relevance to his murder, do you think? If we take you as a suspect off the table, who is left?” I didn’t think she’d killed the man. Her aura was clear, for one, and the love and hurt shining in her eyes made my own heart ache in sympathy.

  “Well, he did have a meeting with one of his employees that he wasn’t looking forward to. Paul Keyes—his Chief Financial Officer. There were some anomalies in an audit Ted had arranged, and he needed to go over the books line by line with Paul. Ted was very upset by the findings.”

  And the plot thickened. People killed over money all the time.

  Thanking Rebecca for her time, I gave her a quick hug before leaving. The poor woman looked a little shaken, and very relieved that I believed her.

  Afternoon traffic was heavy getting back to the Jam, but it gave me plenty of time to go over my options. I’d cleared Rebecca as suspect, and—grudgingly—Jodi too. To be honest, I’d never thought Jodi had done it, but daydreaming about her being carted away in handcuffs had given me a weird sense of satisfaction. Her aggressive nature had been a thorn in my side ever since she’d decided we were competitors, and therefore enemies. I’d extended the hand of friendship more than once, only to have it slapped away.

  6

  Jam was packed when I returned. I stayed after closing to bake more cookies and cakes, since we’d almost been wiped out in the afternoon rush. Not that I minded. I preferred to be here, baking for my store, than at home twiddling my thumbs because all my catering clients had canceled.

  With three bowls of mix on the go at once, the kitchen was a hive of activity, the spoons swirling around and around while I busied myself preparing the different flavors of icing I’d need for decorating. Once I’d gotten all the mix into the pans and in the oven to bake, I scrubbed the kitchen until it gleamed. We had a five-star food quality rating, and I didn’t intend to lose it. By the time I’d finished, it was getting close to midnight. Velma would be worried. And hungry.

  After one final walk around the shop to make sure everything was as it should be, I set the alarm and let myself out the back door. My van was parked directly behind the shop. Even though it was just a five-meter walk, there was no street lighting, making it a little spooky.

  Another ten minutes and I was home, pulling the van into the single car garage at the back of my apartment. Solar garden lights lit my path to the back door. I had just put my key in the lock when the door burst open and a dark figure plowed into me. I flew backward, my head hitting the ground with a loud crack. I lay there, dazed, listening to the sound of footsteps running away.

  Someone had been in my house.

  I scrambled to my feet and put a hand to the large egg on the back of my head. Son of a bitch, it hurt! Looking through the back door, I could see my kitchen in a shambles. Oh no. Velma. Oh, please let her be okay! Racing inside, I called for her, my voice frantic.

  No response.

  Running upstairs, I kept calling, until finally, I heard her. I followed the sounds of her soft, pitiful meows. If he’d hurt her, I’d kill him. I found her locked in the spare room closet. Oh, thank God. I pulled her into my arms and buried my face in her fur, only now aware that that I’d been crying silent tears, now that her fur was stuck to my face.

  “You okay, girl?” I murmured, stroking her.

  “Meow.”

  She purred, rubbing her head under my chin. She was fine. Not hurt. Blowing out a shuddering breath, I held her as I made my way back downstairs to survey the damage—and to close and lock the back door.

  My kitchen was a mess. Every cupboard door hung open. Most of the contents had been dragged out and smashed on the floor. Flour, sugar, milk, and eggs had been strewn around the room, including the ceiling, and I hazarded a guess that I no longer had a single piece of crockery intact. It was in pieces all over the floor.

  The lounge had fared slightly better. Maybe he’d only just gotten started in here when I came home. Sitting down on the sofa, since the armchairs had been tipped over, I put Velma on my lap and pulled out my cell phone.

  “Watcher Hoffman,” barked Ben’s voice. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Just after midnight?” I guessed.

  “Kristina? Is that you?”

  “Yes.” To my utter horror, my chin began to wobble and I felt a lump in my throat.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Someone…” I choked out, but the rest of the words got stuck in my throat. My eyes flooded with tears, blurring my vision.

  “Are you hurt?” His voice was urgent now. I could hear rustling. I must’ve woken him.

  “Only a little bit,” I sniffled, forcing the words out.

  “Only a—? What the hell? Are you at home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stay there. Do not move. Do not touch anything. Are the doors locked? Are you safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m on my way. Just hang on, I’m coming.”

  Words that made my heart sing, although I felt a little embarrassed by the water works. Maybe it was the blow to my head and the shock. And the blinding panic that Velma could’ve been hurt. As if sensing my thoughts, she head-butted my hand, demanding attention, and I sat and stroked her silky fur while waiting for Ben.

  I was still sitting there when a car screeched to a halt outside and a pounding started at my front door. Still unable to put Velma down, I carried her with me and opened the door.

  “What’s happened?” Ben barreled in, kicking the door closed with his boot. Both of his hands came down on my shoulders as he searched my face.

  “Meow,” Velma protested.

  “I’m not going to hurt her.” Ben glanced down at my cat, then back at me—then over my head at the overturned furniture in the lounge, and beyond, to the carnage in the kitchen.

  “A break in,” he said. “I’ll call it in. You sit. You look like a strong wind could knock you over.” He guided me back to the lounge and I gratefully sank down, leaning back until my throbbing head rested on the plush back of the sofa. A headache had begun to thrum at my temples now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off.

  “A squad car will be here soon. Is anything missing?” Ben asked me once he’d gotten off the phone.

  “I’m not sure. Hard to tell in the kitchen. Everything appears to be broken or smeared over the walls and ceiling. I figure he’d just gotten started in here when I got home.”

  “He was inside when you got home?” Ben squatted in front of me, one hand on my knee, warming me through my jeans.

  I nodded. “I was coming in the back door. He must’ve heard the key in the lock. Just as I was opening the door, he pushed through, knocked me down, and ran away.”

  “You were hurt in the fall?” Without asking, his hands moved to my head, threading through my hair to examine my scalp. His lips twisted when I winced. “That’s quite a lump. Once the patrol turns up, I’m taking you to the hospital for a checkup. You could have a concussion.”

  “You could heal me,” I suggested, but he w
as already shaking his head.

  “Not a head injury. Too risky.” I nodded; he was right. With the way my head was throbbing, a little medical attention was a good idea.

  A patrol car arrived, lights flashing. Ben let them in, then came back to me.

  “I’m taking you to get checked out.” He held out a hand to me and I took it, letting him pull me up.

  “Meow.”

  We both glanced at Velma, who I still held clutched to my chest with one arm.

  “She can’t come to the hospital,” Ben said.

  “Right.” I knew that, but couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Ben took her from me and I bit back a protest. “I’m going to put her in your bedroom, okay? I’ll make sure the officers don’t go in there until we get back.”

  “Okay.”

  I let Ben guide me into the passenger seat of his truck, the pounding in my head making my movements slow and sluggish. The ride to the Williams Memorial Hospital was quick and silent. I’d closed my eyes but could feel the heat of Ben’s stare each time we stopped at a traffic light. He was worried. So was I. My head hurt like a son of a bitch and I felt sick.

  I wouldn’t say having a cop with me got me preferential treatment in the emergency room, but I would say I was seen very quickly. It could have been because I had a head injury, though. One that was making me puke. As soon as I’d laid on the gurney, the room had spun, and I’d heaved over the side onto the floor. I was mortified. Tears of pain and embarrassment streamed down my face. The young nurse was wonderful, assuring me it was all okay and that she’d seen worse. She gave me a vomit bag just in case.

  My time at the hospital passed in a blur. There were X-rays and scans. The doctors shone lights in my eyes. Ben and the registrar discussed my care. There was no fracture, thank God, but a definite concussion. They wanted to admit me overnight, but I’d insisted on going home. To Velma. The anguish of thinking something had happened to her tonight had broken my heart and I didn’t want to be away from her, whether she was hurt or not. Ben finally sighed in resignation and promised he’d stay with me, waking me every hour as instructed. It was going to be a long night.