Page 11 of Charlotte's Story
“Sounds like it.” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to think things through. “Did you hear the officers say they’d like you to go back to the station with them?”
“Yes. They were very clear with their expectations.” The furrow between his brows deepened with his frown. “They’ve asked me to go to the station with them to see if they can get a better read on the magic residue while it still lasts. I’m sure they still have questions, but they haven’t read me my rights or restrained me, so I’m categorizing my status as… pending.”
“You really didn’t hurt that woman?”
His eyes widened. “I would never! I… I can’t explain it, but everything in me is against that idea.” He held a hand to his stomach as if the idea made him sick. “I even avoid hurting bugs if I can help it.”
I stared him down, searching for any signs of guilt. His eyes, which, under closer scrutiny, were not quite hazel, not quite green, met mine straight on for a moment before looking away, and his round cheeks flushed. Despite the lack of eye contact, I still found it hard to believe he could be guilty.
“But you don’t remember anything, right? Like if you know her or not.”
“No,” he admitted slowly, his hand returning to trace the cuff of his sweater. “But everything in me recoils at the idea that I might’ve hurt someone like that. Plus, if I had done something like this, I doubt I’d return to the scene of the crime covered in evidence.”
Was he telling the truth about the amnesia or was it his attempt at getting out of trouble for the crime he’d committed?
Tessa returned. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but we have to get back to the station.”
“I understand.” I stepped away with one last look at Firth.
He shrugged. “I wish I knew the right thing to say at a time like this.”
“Me too.” I studied him from the corner of my eye. Lizzy would’ve scoffed at him claiming he didn’t know what to say, but she’d never seen this side of him. Was his softness now another effect of the amnesia, or was this the real Firth? Yes, he gave those fiery sermons on Sundays, but he probably spent just as much time agonizing over every word beforehand. And maybe his flamboyant compliments were a kind of armor—his way of masking how hard it was to find the right words.
The police cars rolled out of the driveway one at a time. Firth’s gaze caught mine, and then he was gone.
For a moment, I simply stood there in the falling snow, stealing a moment for myself just to breathe and think. I tugged the blanket tighter around my shoulders to ward off theconfusion and fear swirling around me even heavier than the falling snow. What would happen now?
The blanket glimmered with the residue of magic, and my fingers tingled where it touched it. I must’ve activated a warming charm sewn into the blanket somehow, because now it released a subtle pulse of magic that kept the chill from settling too deeply.
The murmur of voices intruded into my thoughts, so I made my way back to the nosy group of neighbors. I passed the frozen koi pond—a small drop of Japan that Firth must’ve added for me since I was pretty sure it hadn’t been here before. I could almost hear the babble of water from the garden at my grandparents’ house in Kyoto. My hand drifted to the necklace again before I dropped it back to my side.
I stopped by the tree line and glanced at the group. “So… did you all hear everything that’s going on?”
Lenora nodded. “Quite the unexpected wedding night, I suspect.”
“Understatement of the century.” I sighed.
“And what was that about amnesia?” she asked.
“It sounds like you know as much as I do,” I said. “Apparently, he doesn’t remember anything.”
The sprite squinted at me. “Interesting how all of this happened right after he got married.”
I stiffened, her words a welcome reminder that if I wasn’t careful, the town’s gossipy nature could turn on me next. I couldn’t afford a bad reputation now—not when I was so close to opening my shop. That would kill my chances before it even started.
Plus, I didn’t want to get my family involved in something like this. They weren’t nearly as dialed into the gossip as others in town—read Lizzy’s mom—but it was only a matter of time before they heard about what happened. All it would take was one run in with Mayor Pembroke, one visit to Cupid’s Confections,or one brief conversation with Ms. Bates—who actually made it nearly impossible to have brief conversations—and they’d be caught up in the drama and the stress of it too. And that was the last thing I wanted for my family.
“The timing is terrible, right?” I said.
“Not that I mind much.” Harold shook his head with a little shrug. “I never much cared for Dahlia’s magic or that of her uncles.”
Lenora frowned at him. “How can you say that? The poor girl is dead.”
Her words were like dumping a bucket of ice water on the conversation. Everyone froze and the conversation died.
“I was wondering if any of you knew more about Dahlia, like how long she’s been in town and where she’s been staying, or anything like that.” I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, maybe a reason why Dahlia was even in Firth’s yard.
“I saw her at the Christmas Market in town the other day,” the sprite said. “I see her there every year when she visits. I go for Lady Catherine’s ornaments, of course. There are few booths quite as grand as hers.”
