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“Victoriya,” Joy offered by way of explanation. Not that she disagreed with the mat’s sentiment.
“Finally,” Gus groaned, poking his shaggy, brunette head around the kitchen door. “I’ve got an idea how we can help.”
Gabi’s eyes swept the hall, the rooms branching off from it, and the well-worn stairs that led to the bedrooms and bathroom, taking in all the details that had changed—and everything that had stayed the same.
Joy watched her shoulders drop in relief, and desperately wished she could know what was going through Gabi’s head.
“Alright,” Joy said, shutting the door behind them, feeling better for that barrier between her and the dark world outside. “What’s your big idea, Gus?”
SIXTEEN
GABI
Despite the fact the coven had come together so Gabi could tell them what she needed, last night they ended up tellingherwhat they were going to do. Gabi didn’t argue—what did she know about witchcraft, after all? All she understood was they would gather the ingredients to glimpse ascene, but not how that scene would narrow down a suspect pool. It was a name Gabi was most interested in—if the coven could uncover the killer’s identity, she could have them arrested and locked uptonight. Anticipation wormed through her stomach even as she tried to quell the hope.
Until she heard from Joy later, she had work to do, and she needed a clear head.
Freya’s funeral had been this morning, a mere twenty-four hours after she’d released the body. Witch burials were quick—Gabi remembered that from Joy’s mum’s death. Memories had pelted her like stones when she attended Freya’s funeral, her attention travelling over everyone in attendance. But there’s been no one out of place but Gabi, the rest of Freya’s family. It was a long shot, but it wouldn’t have been the first time a killer attended their victim’s funeral.
Gabi sat in her car now, settling herself into a better headspace. She’d read over the statement the witness—a male witch called Abram Charles—had given to Paulina, and she already knew where she wanted to focus her questioning. More importantly, she wanted to know if he was in Paulina’s back pocket.
Being a witch meant heknewPaulina, even if she wasn’t the type of head witch to take an interest in her coven’s personal lives, unlike the previous head witch—Todd Mackenzie, Joy’s dad.
Gabi tightened her black ponytail and stepped onto the street, slamming the car door behind her. She locked away her personal reasons for wanting this case shut, pushed back the part of her that was furious this man was responsible for locking Joy in a freezing, damp cell at the mercy of Paulina. The way Joy looked the night before, suffering and traumatised from her incarceration but so strong…
Gabi had to physically shake herself to bring focus back, but when she knocked on the door, that all fell away. Cool professionalism settled over her, squaring her shoulders, lifting her head.
“Abram Charles?” she asked briskly when he opened the door. He was a slight, balding mixed-race man in a battered brown suit and slippers. “I’m Gabriella Pride. I’d like to ask you a few questions about the morning of the second of December. Can I come in?”
“Um,” the man replied, his hand tight around the side of the door. He looked from Gabi to the rowan cross hanging over her head, and reluctantly opened the door to let her through. Gabi took notice of three other crosses before she entered the hall and was swamped in a heavy, herbal scent.
She didn’t know much about witchcraft, but she knew those crosses were for one thing alone: protection. What was this man so afraid of?
“I told Paulina everything I know,” Abram said without prompting, leading Gabi into a musty front room occupied by large bookshelves and old, dark furniture. A pot of tea sat cooling on a well-loved coffee table, perfuming the air with spices and witchcraft like Joy’s house had when her mum, Charity, had been alive.
“It’s just a routine call,” Gabi said to put Abram’s mind at ease. His eyes flicked around the room, alighting on her but not for long, his fingers twisted into a knot in front of him. “I want to check some details, if you don’t mind.”
It didn’t matter if he did mind, but this was a trick she’d learned in her communication classes. Offer them the illusion that they’re in charge.
“That’s okay,” Abram replied, though his nervous tone suggested he was anything but okay. His brown eyes flicked to the window, then back to Gabi.
“You were on the beach at five-fifteen, you said in your statement. Is that correct?”
Abram nodded his shaved head, twisting his fingers together until the knuckles turned pale. “That’s right.”
Gabi got a notebook from her bag and flipped it open in case she needed to take notes. “Can I ask why you were out so early?”
“Oh, I—I was walking my dog.”
“Your dog?” Gabi kept her face blank, but internally she catalogued the tidiness of the house, the lack of hair on the sofas, the absence of pet beds, toys, and general signs of a canine living in a house. Even Joy’s house was covered in fur, and some corners of her furniture had been gnawed on thanks to Victoriya’s pack.
“Yes,” Abram said quickly, breathlessly. “He’s out with my sister right now, she walks him in the afternoon you see; she gets lonely.”
Gabi gave him a bland smile and jotted down her suspicions. “Can you tell me about the person you saw on the beach? I know you told Paulina, but I want to make sure I have the details right.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Abram reached for a cup of tea that must have been cold and choked it down. “Well, it was still quite dark, so I didn’t see her face, but she was definitely a woman. Quite tall but not overly so, not too thin, long hair—I can’t say what colour. I watched her walk from the end of Beach Road down towards the east end, but I didn’t think anything of it until I heard you’d found that poor girl. Like I told Paulina, she looked young, twenties maybe, and she was wearing those tight trousers girls are wearing these days.”Leggings, Gabi translated, taking note of everything. “And this big, fur coat.”
“Fur coat,” Gabi repeated, tapping her pen on paper.
