A Witch Before Dying: A Wishcraft Mystery Read Online Free Page A

to wait to see, as Elodie hadn’t arrived yet. I’d walked over to Patrice’s with my dog, Miss Demeanor, better known as Missy. She was the product of a dog-snatching, one that had landed my sister, Harper, in lockup and charged with a misdemeanor herself. The judge had let her off easy since her actions had helped reveal illegal activity by the pet shop owners and uncoveredthe operations of a horrible puppy mill—which had been Harper’s intent all along. When all was said and done (and fines paid), Missy had been ours to keep.
    Missy was a Schnoodle, half mini schnauzer, half teacup poodle. She was quite small, even for being less than a year old. Her light gray and white curly coat was freshly trimmed and her dark eyes gleamed as she barked at an orange tabby that streaked by.
    I glanced at my watch. Elodie was late. I strolled with Missy around the house and noticed that all the curtains had been pulled tight. An air-conditioner hummed loudly, and a white picket fence separated the yard from its only neighbor. The trees in the woods rustled in the breeze, their leaves a brilliant green against the blue sky. Squirrels scampered and birds flitted from branch to branch. It was a peaceful yard, a nature lover’s retreat, and I felt myself relaxing even more.
    A small deck extended from the back door, leading to a tidy flower garden and shed designed to match the house. The shed door was ajar, and I couldn’t help but peek inside.
    Hinges creaked loudly as I pulled the door fully open. Disbelieving, I kept blinking, hoping the image before me would change. It didn’t. The entire space, except for a spot right near the door, was crammed with boxes. Floor to ceiling. Not so much as a dandelion fluff could fit between the cracks. Missy backed away from the door, using her leash to tug me along, toward the front of the house.
    Goose bumps rose along my arms as we walked, and that knot was back, tight, twisting my stomach.
    Was the house filled with that kind of clutter?
    Standing on my tiptoes, I tried peeking through a side window, but the shade had been pulled all the way down. Someone didn’t want people looking inside. If the interior looked anything like the shed, I could understand why.
    When we reached the front yard, I was surprised to see a bright yellow village police car in the driveway.
    And even more surprised to see who was leaning against its hood.
    Nick Sawyer.
    Missy started dancing, jigging back and forth. She yapped happily until I let her go, and she bounded over to Nick.
    He bent down to rub under her chin, but she pulled away as though looking for someone else.
    “Sorry, Mimi’s not with me today,” he said to the dog.
    Mimi was Nick’s twelve-year-old daughter, and Missy had taken an extreme liking to both of them.
    Me too. Maybe a little too much. After my divorce, I’d sworn off men, but Nick had certainly dented the armor around my heart.
    Confused, I looked at him and then at the yellow four-door MINI Cooper. “I thought you turned down the job offer?”
    After the murder that occurred two months ago, it had become obvious that the village police force needed a complete overhaul. The police chief had been forced to retire and Sylar Dewitt, the village council chairman (or as Harper liked to call him, the grand hoo-ha), had offered Nick, a security expert and a former Rhode Island state trooper, the job.
    “Sylar is persistent. He finally made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. That”—he smiled—“and Mimi insisted.”
    I knew he’d had some concerns about taking the job and how it would affect his daughter. As a state trooper, he’d once been shot in the line of duty and his former wife, Melina, had demanded he quit his job in fear of him losing his life.
    The sad irony of that situation didn’t escape me. Not long after he retired from the state police, the two separatedand divorced. Then she fell terminally ill with cancer and eventually passed away.
    Missy suddenly growled low in