Was it a perfect theory? No. But it was reasonable and blamed a dead guy that everyone had hated, while freeing a beloved member of the community. Good enough.

“So they let me go,” Paula said as Kayla returned. “Not only that, but while I was talking to the officer doing my release paperwork, we got to chatting about my days working for Sheriff Bruyn. This officer told me how they’d just lost their cleaning lady. Next thing I know, I’ve got the position.” She smiled. “I bet I’m the first person to walk in there in handcuffs and leave with a new job.”

“That’s great,” Adam said. “When do you start?”

“Next week. In the meantime, I’m going to look for a new place to live. Get Kayla and me out of Columbus and start fresh, just like I wanted.” Another smile, one that made her look as young as her granddaughter. “I keep pinching myself, thinking I’m going to wake up back in that cell. It’s amazing how much can change in a day.”

How much indeed.

Kayla returned. We ate breakfast and talked. Then, before we left, I excused myself to use the restroom and Paula followed.

When we got inside, she lowered her voice and said, “I don’t know if you had anything to do with this—”

“I—”

“I don’t know and I’m better off not knowing. But Cody was already dead, and he did kill the others. He must have. That guard and Michael and Claire Kennedy, maybe even Tiffany. Part of me is always going to feel like I got away with something I shouldn’t have, but I do believe Kayla is better off with me free.”

“She is,” I said. “Infinitely better.”

Paula dropped her gaze, then squeezed my arm and murmured, “Thank you.”

Back at the table, I gave Kayla my e-mail address and she made me promise to come see her in her new home.

Once we were back in the Jeep, I said to Adam, “I’d really like to stay in contact with her. I know this sounds weird, but earlier, before all this happened, I started thinking I wanted to . . . make a college scholarship fund or something for her. With my trust fund, I have the money.”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all. I’d say I think it’s nice, but I might get smacked for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not in a smacking mood.” And probably wouldn’t be for a while. I took a deep breath. “So, I guess I’m screwed, aren’t I? I offered a deal and the Fates took me up on it. I don’t think I’d back out now even if I could.”

“If the Fates really did this, then they’re the ones who screwed up. You didn’t make any deal. You were upset and vulnerable. Yes, you wanted to fix this problem, but not at that cost. If they took advantage of that—”

The heat of his fury simmered between us, and I basked in it. I wanted this so badly. Someone to say it wasn’t my fault. To be angry for me.

He reached out, his warm hand squeezing mine. “We’ll fix this.”

I looked at him, his eyes dark, his voice harsh with determination. God, I loved him. I could insist I was okay with just being friends, that I’d find someone else and get over him, but I was fooling myself. There was no getting past this. I loved him, and fifty years from now we could be married to other people, never having exchanged so much as a kiss, and I’d still look into his eyes and know he was the one. He’d always be the one.

He leaned across the seat, pulling me into a fierce hug. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

One last squeeze, then he released me and put the Jeep into gear. “Let’s get back to the motel before the manager calls a tow truck to remove the motorcycle parked inside one of his rooms.”

“Hey, I wasn’t leaving it outside at a place like that. Can we hold off on the motel, though? There’s one more stop we need to make.”

three

The stop was the cookie cult—a commune outside town that sold gourmet cookies online. Hey, if you’re going to have a house filled with young women, you might as well get them baking.

The de facto leader, Alastair Koppel, was Ginny’s father. He’d taken off before Ginny was born, only learning he’d had a daughter—and granddaughter—when he came home to set up his commune.

The real force behind the place was Megan, a former Wall Street drone who’d seen a much better entrepreneurial future with Alastair, running the cookie business while he played therapist and commune leader.

It was neither Alastair nor Megan who brought me back now. My witch-hunter had become a commune girl to get access to the community and kill Cody’s wife, Tiffany. Then she’d discovered there was a second witch in town in need of killing. Namely me.

I’d come by yesterday to confront the girl—Amy—but she’d already moved out. While I was certain Amy was a fake name, there’s often some truth in a false identity. It makes the lies easier to pull off. So I wanted to see Amy’s application. Yet I knew better than to waltz up to the door and ask. Yesterday, Alastair had run me off. Megan could be a little more reasonable, if it was in her best interests, but I wasn’t taking the chance.

Considering it was ten in the morning, a break-in required finesse. Or a distraction. I used Adam again. If you want to distract a household of young women, nothing quite does the trick like a hot guy.

“Forgetting something?” He handed me a set of lock picks as I climbed out along the roadside. “You’re going to need these.”

“Right.”

“Do you remember how to use them?”

He got a pfttt and an eye roll for that.

“In other words, no, you don’t. You weren’t paying attention when Lucas taught you, because you have your unlock spell.” He turned off the engine. “Let’s switch. You can distract the girls while I—”

“I’m the one who’s had the grand tour, including Alastair’s office. And I might be out of practice, but I do remember how to pick a lock.”

Adam hesitated. He’d hate to suggest that I was less than competent without my spells. So I set out for the house before he could stop me.

I honestly thought I remembered how to use the picks. But Adam knows me well. As with the self-defense lessons, I’d barely listened to Lucas’s tutorials because I figured I didn’t need them. After five minutes of fussing with the side door lock, I jangled the handle in frustration . . . and discovered it had been left open.