Read The Old Witcheroo for Free Online Page B

one. If that postcard had indeed been Sophia’s, she’d called someone the one.
    “Do you think the one meant Officer Nelson?” I finally asked, breaking out of my thoughts.
    “If he was as serious about her as he appeared, and certainly she was incredibly fond of him , if what I witnessed was real, the possibility is there.”
    “Why wouldn’t she just call or text that to whoever she was sending the postcard to, then? There wasn’t an address on it. It wasn’t even signed. Maybe it wasn’t hers at all…”
    But Win had more theories. “Maybe she has a friend who collects postcards? She was newish in town, right? No family that we know of. It read, ‘love you to the moon and back.’ That certainly suggests a very close relationship, possibly a parent or sibling, wouldn’t you think? In fact, my mother used to say that to me when I was a child.”
    I made a note to ask Liza if she’d sold Sophia any postcards. It had to have been her. For sure it hadn’t been me, and I couldn’t think of anyone else in town who sold that particular postcard, because they were from a local artist who stocked at our store exclusively.
    “What made her move here, I wonder? Did you ever hear Sophia say where she’s from, Win? Like maybe in a passing conversation or something?”
    The sound of Win clucking his tongue clacked in my ear. “Never. In fact, I don’t recall her ever mentioning any family at all, do you?”
    “Come to think of it, no. But we didn’t have in-depth conversations. We chatted about stuff, you know? The weather. My overdue books and the fees that went with them. The end-of-summer fair coming up this month. Our favorite flavor of coffee. Just stuff-stuff.”
    Now I regretted not making a bigger effort to befriend Sophia on a more personal level. Win thought it crucial I make more connections with my fellow Eb Fall-ers. He was always teasing me about how I was going to turn into the town spinster—especially considering I was often caught talking to what outwardly appeared myself.
    “Google, Boss,” Bel reminded. “Get on the web and surf.”
    Nodding, I went to grab my laptop just as the doorbell rang. I think I’ve said this before, but I’m not a fan of my front door as of late.
    Not because it isn’t beautifully refinished courtesy of Enzo, the man who’d turned this monstrosity into a veritable palace, but because nothing good ever seems to be on the other side. Once, there’d been a killer—no, make that twice—and then there was Fakebottom. I consider those three strikes a sign from the universe that I shouldn’t ever have a front door, or at the very least, I should stop answering the doorbell.
    With caution and much trepidation, I called out, “Who is it?”
    “Officer—I mean, Dana. It’s Dana Nelson.”
    My heart crashed inside my chest with a thump that physically hurt. His voice sounded raw, hoarse, as though he’d walked a hundred miles under the blazing heat of an African sun.
    I yanked the door open to find his face ashen and pale under normally ruddy skin, his eyes dull, his body language, well…broken, defeated.
    He was still in his uniform, even hours after I’d found Sophia, but it wasn’t in the pristine condition I’m so accustomed to seeing. There were patches of dirt on his knees where’d he sunk into the sand by the boat and sweat stains under his armpits and around his collar. His chestnut hair was windblown rather than slicked back away from his face, and his brow was covered in beads of sweat.
    “Dana! Come in, please. Get out of that heat,” I croaked, choking up all over again as a hot blast of air greeted me. Even at almost seven in the evening, it was muggy and thick out there.
    When Dana didn’t make a move, I grabbed his big hand and tugged him inside, shutting the door behind him to block out the sun. I clung to his fingers, but he didn’t cling back. In fact, he was almost unresponsive to my touch.
    “He’s still in shock, Stevie. Bring him