“I’m obviously biased, but that sure as hell felt intentional to me.” Benton’s jaw clenches, and he squeezes his hands into fists. The severe expression cracks when he falls into another round of coughing. He wipes the back of his arm across his mouth. “Whoever it was, I’m going to find them.”
“You’re what?”
“I’m going to figure out who did this.” Benton looks up at me, his eyes wide and full of hope. “But I’ll need your help.”
“Benton, I...”
“I won’t be able to sleep until this guy is behind bars.” He reaches for my hand, and I bury the urge to remind him the culprit could also be a girl. Or someone who isn’t either of those genders. “Please, Hannah.”
“Why me? I don’t know the first thing about investigating accidents. Or crimes.” I add that second bit when Benton gives me an unamused look. I don’t know why he’s so convinced, but he clearly is. If I hadn’t spent the better part of the past two weeks thinking a Blood Witch was after me, I might call him paranoid. But even I’m not that much of a hypocrite.
“Come on, Hannah. I almostdied. I have to know who’s responsible for that, even if it was an accident.” He gives me his best puppy-dog look, his hazel eyes wide and glittering. “Please? Even if we don’t find the bad guy, it’ll still be fun to hang out before I go to college.”
That final bit wins me over. I’m slammed with an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, and he hasn’t even left for Boston yet. “Fine, fine. I’m in. But I expect to get some serious pool time out of this.”
Benton laughs. “You can come over every day if that’s what it takes.” He uses the counter to pull himself out of the chair and wraps me in a hug. Like me, he still smells faintly of smoke. “You won’t regret this.” He pulls out his phone and checks the time. “When does your shift end? We could meet at my place to go over what we already know. Make a game plan.”
“I can’t.”
“But I thought you said—”
“My parents grounded me. They weren’t super understanding about the whole almost-getting-arrested thing.”
“Ah. Yeah, that complicates things.”
The curtain in the back of the shop swings open. Lauren and Evan head toward the counter, still deep in conversation.
“We’ll figure something out.” Benton reaches for the door. “I’ll see you soon.” He pivots on his heel and is gone before my boss makes it back to the counter. I hurry to my place behind the register, my mind already spinning with wildly convoluted explanations for the fire.
“Everything go okay?” I ask Evan when Lauren disappears down the book aisle.
Evan nods. He still looks shaken, but there’s a little more color in his face now.
Lauren returns with a copy ofWicca for Beginnersand a set of altar candles. She rings up the order, applies the discount she gives all her students, and bags up the supplies. “I’ll see you back here in a week. Be prepared to discuss the Wiccan Rede with a special look at the Threefold Law and the tenet of harm none. In the meantime, I’ll light a candle for your family.”
“Thank you.” Evan offers a cautious smile to both of us and leaves with a very different type of supplies than he ever bought before.
“Is he going to be okay?”
Lauren nods. “He’s made some missteps, and he has a long road ahead of him, but his life isn’t over. He’ll be okay.”
11
THE RICH SCENT OFbubbling chocolate fills the kitchen with warmth. When the timer ticks down to the final second, I turn it off before it can beep, grabbing a towel to pull the homemade brownies out of the oven. After checking them with a toothpick, I set them on a rack to cool.
My parents are both at work—Mom teaching summer classes at the university and Dad preparing to prosecute his next case. I have the day off, and I’m not about to squander it. I raced through Mom’s mile-long chore list this morning and still had time to bake for the illicit visitor I’m expecting any min—
Our doorbell rings. Right on time. “Just a sec!” I hang up the towel and hurry to open the front door, smiling at my new detective partner. “Hey, Benton. Come on in.” Behind him, his beast of a car sits in the driveway. The matte-black BMW looks ridiculously out of place beside my old-as-dirt Toyota, and I’m suddenly self-conscious about him being here.
Benton adjusts the messenger bag he’s got slung over one shoulder. “Nice place,” he says, but he’s being polite. My house is a shack compared to his family’s mansion. He perches his sunglasses on top of his dark, choppy hair. “Where should we set up?”
“We can work in my bedroom. It’s upstairs.” I lead the way, Benton trailing close behind.
He circles my small space and comes to a stop before theself-portrait Veronica said made me look broken. “I remember you starting this in class. It turned out great.”
“Thanks.” I fuss with the hem of my shirt. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to people looking so closely at my work—especially the pieces I do mostly for myself. “We should get started. You can use my desk.”
“Sure.” Benton clears his raspy throat and slips the messenger bag off his shoulder. He sets a notebook and pen on the desk before reaching into the bag again. This time, he pulls out a sleeve of Thin Mints. “I thought these might help us concentrate.”
