Nora had a vision of Bren’s face, pale as the moonlight washing over her smooth skin. Had a single page from a grimoire led to her death? And if she’d been murdered, then why was the ME having such a hard time figuring out what had killed her?
There were too many questions, and Nora was too drained to think about them anymore.
“You’re exhausted,” Bobbie noted. “You should hit the sack. But if you want to help Celeste, then you should use me. That page must be the key to this mess. If I’m going to unlock its mysteries, then it has to go to New York. You need to convince your sheriff to let me take it.”
Nora walked her friend to the door. “Someone wants that page, Bobbie. Either because it’s valuable, or because of what’s written on it. I think Bren hid it under my mat moments before she was killed. What if her killer learns that you have it? You could be putting yourself in serious danger.”
Bobbie’s gaze turned fierce. “I’ll take my chances. Do you know why? Because I have a daughter, and that girl makes me happy to be alive. No mother should lose her child the way Celeste lost hers. I will carry that page to the ends of the earth if I have to. To find the answers. For Celeste. And for the child she lost.”
Nora walked Bobbie to her rental car, which was parked in the lot behind Miracle Books. After embracing her old friend, she hurried home, eager to reach the safety of her tiny house.
As she locked her door and turned off the lights, she realized that she’d never been afraid of the dark.
Until now.
Chapter 12
The best safety lies in fear.
—William Shakespeare
The next morning, the light bored holes through Nora’s closed eyelids. Her tongue felt like a cotton ball and the hot needle pain inside her head throbbed like a thousand drums. No amount of water could quench her thirst, and her stomach roiled at the thought of food.
Coffee didn’t seem like a good idea either, so Nora dropped a teabag into a mug and filled the electric kettle. Moving slowly, she went outside to get the paper. She waited on the deck with the door open and her eyes closed, until the kettle’s whistle stopped shrieking.
When all was quiet, she went back inside and arranged the paper, her mug of tea, and three ibuprofen tablets on the kitchen table. Next, she reached for her phone.
She had no calls or texts from Jed. He was hours and miles away. He was scared and alone. But he wouldn’t turn to Nora for support anymore.
Nora sat at the table, cradling her mug, and cried.
After a time, the tea and the ibuprofen worked their magic. The sharp stabs in her head became a dull ache. Her queasiness disappeared, so she ate two slices of toast with raspberry jam. The flavor brought back one of her first memories of Jed.
Nora remembered how much she’d wanted to kiss him that summer day. She remembered how the sun had painted gold into his hair and how she’d watched him pull the raspberries off the branches. His fingers had been deft and gentle. She’d imagined them touching her. Moving over the curve of her cheek and down the slope of her neck.
Thinking of this day, and of many others, Nora decided that she wasn’t going to let Jed walk away simply because she hadn’t agreed to his request. She dialed his number and left a message describing that memory of berry picking. She hoped it would inspire him to reach out to her. If not, she would keep calling. She would keep reminding him that they had a good thing going.
Setting the phone aside, Nora pulled the paper out of its plastic sleeve and flattened it.
She scanned the national news, her hand poised to turn the first page, when she saw the headline below the fold. It read ALLERGIC REACTION PROVES FATAL FOR LOCAL WOMAN. Brenna Leopold’s name appeared in the opening line.
“What?” Nora cried.
Her eyes raced over the words. The date of the tragic incident. A quote from the ME regarding evidence of anaphylaxis and a sudden drop of blood pressure. The presence of a rash resembling eczema. The need to consult with colleagues before establishing the “alpha-gal” diagnosis and the ruling of accidental death. How Bren and her mother, Celeste, were newcomers to Miracle Springs. How Celeste could not be reached for comment. Medical records from Washington County indicated that the late Ms. Leopold was diagnosed with the unusual condition two years ago.
“She may have accidentally eaten red meat at the farm-to-table festival,” Deputy Fuentes had told the reporter. “There could have been a mix-up with her order. It’s hard to say exactly what happened. Our thoughts and prayers are with the young lady’s mother during this difficult time.”