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“We don’t want to answer any more questions. Leave,” the young man said.
“Daniel!” Brenna chided.
“I know this may be difficult, but we want to learn more about your sister,” Evelyn said.
“And do what?” Daniel said.
“Make sure it hopefully doesn’t happen to anyone else,” Cyrus said, his tone soft, not an ounce of impatience or authority.
“Yes, of course, please come in,” Brenna said.
She opened the door wider, and Daniel led them into a small kitchen area. An older man, whom Evelyn recognized as Jack McCarthy and McKenna’s father, sat at a wooden table.
Brenna motioned for Evelyn and Cyrus to sit. “I’d offer ya some tea, but seeing as the last two days haven’t been, well . . . We’ve not had much time to go into town and get groceries.”
Jack regarded them wearily as everyone took seats at the wooden table, except for Daniel, who leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.
“First, we’re sorry for your loss,” Cyrus said, again his voice soft, even gentle.
During the beat of silence that followed, Evelyn’s magic sensed the sorrow, the absence in the home.
“She was only twenty,” Jack whispered more to himself than anyone else.
Brenna nodded, but her eyes were absent, constantly searching around the house, unable to sit still. The McCarthy family receded into themselves, a darkness settling around them. The clay walls appeared to be cast in shadow. The house was in disarray. Empty mugs and bowls scattered about. Furniture upturned. The table cluttered.
The fire crackled to Evelyn’s left, the familiar sound fueling her resolve. The flame was dying, the tin bin beside the fireplace almost empty of wood.
Evelyn sighed and started. “Can you tell us anything about McKenna’s day-to-day? Did anything change recently?”
“McKenna was a clerk in Callum,” Jack said. “Got the job at eighteen. Too smart for her own good sometimes.”
Brenna’s smile was tight, as if it hurt to even attempt speaking. “She left shortly after the sun came over the north hill and always returned an hour before it fell.”
“McKenna was a good girl. Sassy at times, but sweet most of it.”
“And recently?” Cyrus asked. “Did she mention seeing anyone? Being followed, perhaps?”
Both parents shook their heads, but Evelyn’s magic detected unease.
Daniel’s eyes darted between his parents, and he seemed undecided if he should cross his arms or put his hands in his pockets.
Brenna’s sudden tears pulled Evelyn’s attention back to the table.
“Have you heard the wretched rumors?” Brenna said through streaming tears. “They sayin’ McKenna brought this upon herself, too independent for her own good. The rumors have been cruel.”
“The Kerrys can rot,” Jack muttered.
Evelyn recalled the Kerry family name, a well-to-do merchant who supplied most of Miss Patricia’s stock at the Runaway Radish. In small towns like Callum, gossip flitted on the wind like pollen. Once it spread, it couldn’t be stopped. A victim of unwanted gossip herself, Evelyn understood the stain it left, the whispers as harsh as a brand on one’s character. She’d always been too something, according to her tutors, not enough to other witches. But like pollen, it was best to brush it off and move onward.
“Right now,” Evelyn said, “we are trying to understand patterns, learn anything we can about McKenna. When did you discover she was missing?”
“Wednesday morning,” Brenna said.
That was the morning McKenna’s body had been found.
“She never came in for morning tea. She always sat with me before she left for work. I went to check on her, and she wasn’t there. I thought maybe she went in early for the day. Her bed was made. Satchel gone. Something in the air didn’t feel right that morning—a mother knows—so I decided to go into town to check.”
The cottage went still as they waited for Brenna to finish.
