“You let me in to help you to bed, dear,” he said. “Don’t you remember?”
“No,” she said as she brushed her teeth, then looked at him in the mirror. “What are you doing in my house?” It was lovely, like a chalkboard being erased each time it was written on. She wouldn’t remember anything.
Now she was in bed, still very confused, but more than likely already forgetting he’d been there. It was risky trusting his magic like he did. Now it was time to put a stop to Zazie once and for all. He had a plan and it involved waiting on her to go and see her mother. Once she was in the old lady’s home, he’d simply talk her into coming with him.
He knew she wanted to know what had happened to her darling boy, and he knew. All he had to do was tell her he would give her the answers if she just came with him. She cared about Samuel more than anything in the world, and he would take pleasure in telling her that he was no longer anywhere near Woodland Creek. After he led her on, of course.
Chloe woke up in her bed and sat straight up. She looked around her as she searched her mind for what had happened the day before. The last thing she remembered was being at work and someone had come to see her. Maybe it was Brent? She couldn’t remember. It was hazy. She didn’t know how she’d gotten home. The clock read six o’clock. It was too early. Maybe if she just lay there for a little while it would come back to her.
After an hour, she realized it wasn’t going to come back to her at all. There was just a blank space where her memory of the night before had been. She’d made money; there were tips in her apron. Maybe she was suffering some kind of mental breakdown. Losing her best friend would be the thing that sent her into a psychotic break if anything would.
Throwing the covers off, she got up and headed into the kitchen to make some coffee. It probably wouldn’t help, but she really needed it.
Her phone had two missed calls and she saw it was Connie Adams’ number. She hadn’t talked to Layla’s mom since the day she’d found her daughter and then it had been sobbing into the phone uncontrollably until the police chief had taken over. She called Connie back, thinking maybe they’d found something. She’d called the police a couple of times and they hadn’t given her any new information. Taking that to mean they didn’t have a clue, she was worried they might never know what happened. The person who did it was still out there, and they could do it again.
“Hi, Chloe.” Connie sounded small on the phone, like talking was taking a lot of strength she didn’t have.
“Hi, Connie, I’m so sorry I haven’t called to check on you. I’ve just been trying to, I don’t know what I’ve been trying to do, and I’m just sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s been a couple days since I identified her on the scene. I want to go see her at the funeral home and I have to take the clothes she’ll wear in the casket. Will you go with me, Chloe? I can’t see her like that by myself again.”
“I’m sorry, Connie, of course.” Guilt hit her hard. She should have been there for her when she saw Layla. She should have stayed. It was selfish of her wanting to get away from the scene. “I’ll come pick you up if you want?”
“Thank you, Chloe, I’ll be ready around ten. You don’t have to work today?”
“What day is it?” She was completely serious. Losing a day had really screwed with her and she wasn’t sure what day it was anymore.
“It’s Tuesday, honey.” Only two days had gone by since that horrible day, yet it felt like a lifetime. So she’d lost most of Monday. It had to be because she was in shock or mourning. It felt strange that she couldn’t remember how she’d made it home.
“I work at three on Tuesdays, we have plenty of time. I’ll see you soon.”
She walked around in circles for a while, not sure what to wear to go to a funeral home. It was closer to eight now, so she had two hours to kill.
* * *
“Wake up,” someone was yelling at him, but he didn’t want to get up. He’d been dreaming about flying with Chloe. It was nice.
“Narb,” he garbled and threw a pillow at the offending noise.
“Get the hell up, boy.” His ear suddenly hurt and then got hot, causing him to yelp. He realized Zazie was pinching it hard.
“What the hell, Z?” He sat up, pushing her hand away from his ear.
“We’re going to see Mama,” she said and threw a shirt at him she’d apparently taken out of his drawer. “Cover up those man tits and let’s go.”
“I don’t have man tits,” he said, clutching his chest. “Why the hell are you here at,” he looked at the clock, “eight o’clock, Z? We aren’t going until noon. Don’t you remember?”
“I told you noon, but didn’t you see the crow sitting in the window while we were talking?” she asked.
“No,” he said, completely annoyed and confused.
“A wizard’s familiar, I saw it open the window. That was someone eavesdropping and we don’t need whoever that was to know where we’re going to be at any time. I have a feeling that was the killer or someone who knows what’s going on.”
“So the wizard had a shifter spy on us?” He rubbed his eyes, still not follo
wing.
“No, the crow is a crow that he or she called to be his or her eyes. It’s not a shifter, it’s a crow under the control of a wizard.”