She wanted to hear her daughter talk about normal things. Boys and books and the Korean soap operas both girls loved.
“‘How’s life?’ You’re really worrying me now, Mama.”
There was no point in pretending nothing was up. Breanna could see straight through her. “Okay, fine. I was calling to let you both know not to get upset if you spot me on the news this evening.”
“Oh my God, Mom!”
“No, no, no. Don’t jump to conclusions. Nothing happened to me. I just—” Nessa took in a breath. “I found a dead girl today.”
Breanna went quiet. Her next words were a whisper. “Who was it?”
Nessa had never hidden anything from her daughters. They knew all about the family legacy. She’d sat them both down at the age of ten and told them every story she could recall about their great-grandmother Dolores and Miss Ella. When Nessa confessed that she, too, had the gift, Breanna had sobbed for hours.
“I don’t know who it was yet,” Nessa admitted. “Just someone who needed to be found.”
“So it’s started?”
“I suppose so.” Nessa suddenly felt exhausted.
“Was it horrible? You can tell me.”
Nessa could imagine her daughter cringing on the other end of the line. Breanna didn’t want to hear the details. Like other normal people, she preferred to avoid the subject of death. But Nessa knew her daughter would listen if she needed her to.
“Yes, it was horrible,” Nessa confirmed. “She was just a young girl. They killed her and dumped her by the highway like a piece of trash.”
They. The word had slipped right out of her mouth. She’d always assumed there was a single killer. But the truth was, she didn’t know that for sure.
“Oh my God, Mama, that’s awful,” Breanna moaned. “Do you need us to come home to be with you?”
“No!” Nessa wasn’t going to say so, but the last thing she wanted was her two girls in town with people going around killing women their age.
“I wish the gift had gone to someone else. You sure you don’t need our help?”
“I’ve got help,” Nessa told her.
Breanna knew what that meant. “You’re saying you found a witch like Miss Ella?”
“I found two. A protector and a punisher.”
“In Mattauk? Hold up. Jordan just came in.” Breanna put the phone down, but Nessa could hear her talking to her sister in the background. “Mama found a dead girl today.” Then she heard a thump and a thud as the phone changed hands.
“Where’d you find her?” That was Jordan—just like her father the cop. Loving and warm, but always straight to business.
“In some scrubland between the beach and the road.”
“Which beach? Which road?”
“Danskammer.”
Jordan’s next question followed so quickly, it took Nessa by surprise. “Was she redheaded?”
“No,” Nessa said, thinking only of the girl in blue. “Why?”
“Hey, Breanna.” Nessa heard her daughter put the phone down. “Mama found the girl out by Danskammer Beach,” Jordan told her sister.
“You’re kidding!” Breanna responded in the background.
“You remember Mandy Welsh?” Jordan asked her mom.
“No,” Nessa said. “Don’t think so. Should I?” There were vast stretches of time when Nessa had been oblivious to everything but her daughters, her parents, and her patients.