"I know you're not here to talk about the weather. What's up?"

"First, I hear Abby's better?"

"Yes. Thank you for posting the guard on her room. We appreciate it."

"No problem. What with her greenhouse getting trashed and someone attacking her, it makes sense they might try something foolish again. We've got a car going by the house every so often too."

"That's good to know."

"Ahh..." Bill twirled his hat in his hand. "Henry said you know Gus Pike's dead."

"Yes," I answered sadly.

"Know anything about an anonymous tip we got on the weapon the killer used to mark Gus?" he asked, suddenly catching me off-guard.

"No."

"Didn't think so. At first, we thought the tip came from Olive Martin, but now we know it was a setup. Someone's idea of a joke," he said, looking squarely at Darci.

She smiled, twisting a strand of hair with her finger. "Was Olive upset?"

"A little," he said, giving Darci a stern look.

She smiled back at him, not saying anything.

He turned the look to me. "We've got a killer on the loose and I intend to catch him. Last fall you almost got yourself killed 'cause you stuck your nose in the wrong person's business."

I knew where he was going with this. I held up my hand, stopping him.

"I know what you're going to say, Bill. 'Stay out of it.'"

"Right, I am. Trust Henry and me to do our jobs."

I looked up at the clouds blowing in, not meeting Bill's eyes. "I will."

He made a small noise in his throat as if he didn't believe me.

"Well, I warned you," he muttered softly.

"Do you have any idea who attacked Abby?" I asked, changing the subject.

"No. I questioned Harley. Wanted to talk to Kyle, but he's gone, of course. We're tracking him down."

"Wait a second. Kyle's gone?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, didn't you hear? PP International pulled out sometime in the middle of the night. Wednesday, the night Abby was hurt. Packed up all those hogs and took off. All that's left are empty buildings and a lagoon full of c.r.a.p the county's going to have to take care of."

Shocked, I glanced at Darci. She shrugged and shook her head.

"Comacho never said anything about PP International leaving," I said.

"He didn't find out about it till last night," Bill replied.

"Does that mean those goons they brought in might've been responsible for the attack on Abby? They're guilty and now they're running?"

Bill scratched his head. "I doubt it, but I'm checking. I think the atmosphere became too uncomfortable for them. They didn't care for all the attention they were getting after Gus's body was found right across the road from their building." Bill settled his hat back on his head. "It'll be good news for Abby when she wakes up, won't it?"

"Yes. Yes, very good news," I said, pondering what this latest development might mean.

"Got to go. I wanted to stop by and have a chat." He looked first at Darci, then at me. "You girls remember what I said about trusting the law," he said, shaking his finger in our direction.

"We will," we said simultaneously.

But I had my fingers crossed.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

After Darci left, I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. One last disgusted look at all the flowers and I headed to Abby's.

I'd been in the greenhouse yesterday with Comacho, but I hadn't gone in the house. I walked up to the wide porch and unlocked the door.

It had been less than a week since I'd been inside the house, but much had changed. Gus Pike was dead, Abby in the hospital. The familiar walls were no more than a sh.e.l.l, a body without a spirit, without Abby's presence to make the house a home.

I felt a growing tightness in my chest and a thickness in my throat made it hard for me to swallow. Not wanting to linger, I walked with my head down through the kitchen and out the back door toward Abby's summer-house.

Taking the key from Abby's hiding place, I unlocked the door and let it swing wide. The faint smell of Abby's special candles reached out of the darkened room and drew me in. Lighting several of them, I scanned the room for Abby's journals.

Moving quickly to the bookshelves, I withdrew several of them and carried them to a chair by the window where the light was sufficient to read. Sitting, I carefully placed the top journal on my lap. With a rag from my pocket, I gently wiped the dust from the cover and opened it. I recognized at once the spidery handwriting of Abby's grandmother, the first owner of my runes.

Tracing the handwriting with my finger, I sensed the woman who'd written these words. I saw her as she toiled by candlelight writing down each spell, each healing. What she'd used, how successful it was. A woman similar to Abby. A strong woman, gentle, but not willing to suffer fools gladly. A woman accustomed to hard work. A woman who spoke her mind and, when she did, expected people to listen.

While I carefully turned over each page, I noticed the handwriting change as she aged. The handwriting became harder and harder to read as I looked further into the book. I knew these yellowed pages represented her life's work and had only been set aside when her eyes could no longer see well enough to write.

This is my heritage, part of who I am, I thought, my hand gliding over the smooth surface. Whether I accepted it or not, I carried a fragment of this woman's spirit inside me. I wondered what she'd think of me.

Settling back in the chair, I read how to make a wand for witching water and how to cure horses of poll-evil, whatever that was. She wrote of destroying warts by using roasted chicken feet.

Yuck. I skipped reading the details for that spell.

She had a tonic recipe for babies with colic. The recipe called for "good" rye whiskey and tobacco smoke.

I shook my head, chuckling. Of course, any baby forced to drink rye whiskey would sleep better.

For weakness of the limbs, she recommended a tea made from white oak. Cotton soaked in camphor oil was good for both an earache and a toothache.

One spell prevented fires in the home. Chicken heads and a piece of cloth, worn by a virgin, were necessary items.

I skipped that one too.

I read about dyeing cloth, using juice from plants I'd never heard of; rendering lard; brewing beer; keeping weevils out of the flour bin.

Not once did I read any spell that required a bottle containing urine, nails, and human hair.

I looked down at the other books on the floor by the chair. I knew I wouldn't find a spell in them either.

Closing the journal, I picked up the rest of the books and walked over to the shelf. After placing them one by one on the shelf, I stroked the spine of the book I'd read; written by a woman whose name I didn't even know. Her book had held the spells she used to heal her neighbors, cure their livestock, and make their lives easier.

Whatever had been used to create the energy in the wine bottle wouldn't be in her book.

That spell was created out of evil.

On the drive home I thought about the killer. I knew he'd left the bottle in the ditch, but for what purpose? And where was he now? I hadn't dreamed about him since Abby had been hurt. Did the lack of dreams mean he'd left Summerset? No, the clipping proved he was still around. Was he watching, waiting to catch me off-guard?

A shiver slid down my back.

What about Harley? Could he have been in Iowa City five years ago and witnessed the girl's seizure? Harley in a library? The thought stretched my imagination.

Shaking the image away, I concentrated again on Harley as a suspect. How superst.i.tious was he? Enough to kill? Did he hate hate enough to kill? enough to kill?

The images of Brian and Gus floated in my mind and I felt a twinge of guilt spring to life. I extinguished it. Darci had been right. Guilt could cloud my thoughts and I couldn't afford to let that happen.

Once home, I changed into my sweats again and checked with Mother on Abby's condition. No change. I prowled the house, but avoided the living room.

I had to do something about those flowers.

Maybe I should go to the hospital. Anything would be better than this feeling of being at loose ends. I stopped and looked out the window. No. What if the killer, the witch hunter, came after me there? It would put Abby and Mother in danger.

Staring out the window, I felt the sudden change in air pressure and smelled the ozone. A storm was coming. Might as well curl up in bed and watch an old movie.

After checking all the windows and door, I climbed the stairs to my room. Queenie ran ahead, but Lady stayed close to my side.

"It's okay," I said, scratching her ear. "We'll watch The Thin Man The Thin Man. You like that one. I know Asta's your hero."

I popped the movie in the DVD/VCR and crawled into bed. Searching for the remote that had somehow gotten buried under the pillows, my hand fell on the bag of runes. I pulled them out and weighed the old leather pouch in my hand.

Hmm, I haven't worked with them since the night I thought I saw the killer across the street. Maybe I should tonight?

I lit a candle and shut off the lights. I sat cross-legged on the bed and, breathing deeply, thought of my question.

How can I find the killer?

I reached into the pouch and drew a rune. After placing it facedown on the bed, I repeated the process two more times. Slowly I turned each one over.

I said each name aloud enunciating each syllable. Laguz.Law-gooze. Thurisaz. Thoor-ee-saw Laguz.Law-gooze. Thurisaz. Thoor-ee-saw.

Dang, not him again. The one with the brambles.

Wunjo.Woon-yo.

I grabbed the journal on my nightstand and looked each one up.

Laguz-represents water; calm surface with hidden mystery lying beneath; secrets; stormy sea: possible loss.

Laguz described the situation as it stood now. A mystery definitely lay hidden beneath the surface. Or did it mean the killer hid beneath a calm appearance? described the situation as it stood now. A mystery definitely lay hidden beneath the surface. Or did it mean the killer hid beneath a calm appearance?

Thurisaz-giant, troll, demon, torturer of women, said to be used to evoke those from the underworld. The hammer of Thor. A rune indicating challenges, tests.

Well, I was facing a challenge all right. Thurisaz Thurisaz didn't tell me anything that I didn't already know. didn't tell me anything that I didn't already know.

Wunjo-peace; prosperity; a hard battle well fought and won; partnership flourishes.

Wunjo was the result if I followed the advice of the rune was the result if I followed the advice of the rune Thurisaz Thurisaz. But what was the rune's advice?

Abby had told me I needed to think outside the box.