Read Otherworld 11 - Waking the Witch for Free Online Page A

doing who-knows-what.”
    “Oh, we know what they’re doing,” Bill said with a snicker.
    “So what is that, if not a cult?” Jacob said.
    “Heaven,” Bill replied.
    Laughter from the few patrons listening in.
    “Was the girl who was killed last week from there?”
    “Yeah,” Jacob said. “And she seemed like such a nice kid.”
    Lorraine glowered. “She
was
a nice kid. They all are. It’s not Charles Manson up there. Just kids experimenting with a different way of life. I did some of that at their age.”
    “I heard there were two other girls killed last fall,” I said. “Were they part of the, uh, group?”
    “Ginny and Brandi?” Bill shook his head. “Those girls were into a whole other kind of trouble.”
    “Ginny and Brandi were lost souls,” Lorraine said. “Those girls up at Alastair’s place are lost, too, but they’re getting back on track.”
    “Alastair? So he’s the—?”
    The door banged open. In strode a man of about sixty, rail-thin but walking like a man twice his weight. He wore a uniform and his gaze was fixed on me.
    I slid off my stool, hand extended. “Chief Bruyn. I’m—”
    “Savannah Levine,” he said with a scowl. “Private investigator.”
    Heads whipped my way. Lorraine stepped back fast, distancing herself. Bill scowled at me. Jacob looked confused, like a dog getting a kick after a treat.
    “That’s right,” I said. “I left my card at the station. I wanted to let you know I’m here before I started investigating.”
    “If
you start investigating,” Bruyn said.
    Actually, there was nothing he could do to stop me, but I kept my mouth shut.
    “Well, you’re off to a hell of a start, Miss Levine, bothering these people.”
    “She wasn’t bothering anyone, Chris,” said Jacob. “Just asking about Claire.”
    “Oh, was she? Miss Levine? Come with me, please. You and I need to have a talk.”

six
    A s Bruyn marched me down Main Street, people gawked through windows, some even stepping outside for a better look. I might as well have been in handcuffs—and I was sure, in more than a few recountings of this story, I would be.
    Now, as for why the local police chief was involved in an investigation that should have been handled by the county sheriff’s department, Jesse had said the county was officially investigating, but when the local leads went cold, they’d backed off and now the town looked to Bruyn for answers. Or something like that. It’d been a long explanation and I hadn’t paid much attention. All that mattered to me was that Bruyn was the guy I needed to impress. And I was doing a bang-up job of it so far.
    When we reached the station, Bruyn ushered me inside.
    “Beth?” he said to the receptionist.
    Her white head popped up from behind the desk and she smiled.
    “Is anyone else here?” he asked.
    “No, dear. I mean, sir.”
    “Good. I need you to walk up to the grocer and buy some coffee. We’re low on cream, too. Take your time.”
    “But—”
    He stepped up to the desk, lowering his voice. “We talked about this when I gave you the job, Mom.”
    Mom? He was kidding, right? I looked from him to the old woman. Nope. Not kidding.
    “There are some things you can’t be a part of,” he said. “We discussed that.”
    She shot an anxious glance my way.
    “I need you to leave,” Bruyn said. “Can you do that?”
    She nodded and scooped up her purse. As she passed, she gave me a look that was almost pitying.
    A million stories about small-town cops ran through my mind, images of pistol-whippings and broken fingers. Granted, 99.9 percent of those images came from movies and TV, but still, every now and then I’d hear a story that suggested some of that shit happened in real life.
    With a binding spell at the ready, I followed him into his office.
    He kicked out a chair. “Sit.”
    I did.
    He walked to the window, looked out, and nodded as the tiny figure of his mother headed downtown. Then he filled two mugs from the pot on his