“The girl is still alive.” He gave his neck a crack.

She’d suspected that, but didn’t want to give the thought too much credence. Could he stop the neck cracking? The noise sent a shudder through her body. She’d asked him many times but had now handed it over to the gods.

“There’s a journalist snooping around. She approached us with some questions earlier on in the day.”

“And?”

“My brother told her to go read Harry Potter—in a nice sort of way.”

“That was nice of him, but why?”

“She’s talked about witchcraft in a negative light. Saying that there was a sacrifice of some sort and bringing the words ‘attempted murder’ into the equation.”

“That was nice of her.”

“It was.”

“Is there much police activity?”

“Yes. SES workers are combing the parkland. Saw the police barge over on the other island. Being the detective that I am, I would say they were visiting the ferry company’s main office and seeing who visited the island on the weekend. I would imagine the door-knocking will start soon.”

There was a change in her partner’s demeanour. His eyes had a sparkle and gleam. 

He was biting down on his lip, suppressing a smile. “We may need to get rid of the boat—they could establish a link to it. We’ve probably left some impression in the mud that may well still be on the boat.”

She nodded. “Best we do that. Did the SES people have metal detectors?”

“Not when I saw them. Wouldn’t worry about your pendant. Even if they did find it, it would be hard to match it up with you. You only wore them on Circle nights, didn’t you?”

“Yes, you’re right.” At least from what she could remember. “You know, all I know about the girl is that she had red hair. She was easy to pick out with the star on her robe, but I didn’t get a good look at her.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because this snooping mate of yours may well have a picture of her.”

He took out his phone and scrolled it few times. He zoomed in on something and turned the phone to show her.

She took the phone. The picture showed a police vehicle and the occupant in the back seat was a girl with thick red hair. The chances would be quite high that it was the girl. She zoomed in closer. She recognised her. She was the girl reflected in her magic mirror. No. That was a distorted face, with a focus only on the red hair. Then she remembered.

“Amazing. The gods are with us. I know this girl. She visits a doctor at my clinic.”

“Well, what do the gods want us to do with her?” Her partner rubbed his hands together.

“I’m not sure. The initial communication came from the mirror. Maybe it’s time to visit my magic mirror and see what secret it wants to reveal to me.”

26 – Too many Jills

JACK COULD SEE WHY people lived in the bayside suburbs: minimal traffic, minimal noise, and the cool fresh breeze coming off the bay waters. Maybe he and Erica should consider a move . . . but was it any different to an outer suburb? Yes—the difference was in the air.

A spider had built a web around the door chime, which gave the house a witchy feel. Were the cobwebs there because the chime was broken, or because it wasn’t used much? He tried the door chime, and heard it echo inside the house. Not broken, then. Catherine nodded her head to the tunes of the chime, and Jack shook his head and looked to the sky.

Footsteps and the door opened.

“Mrs Jill Spencer?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

She didn’t look surprised and spoke again before Jack could explain their calling.

“I know why you’re here. I’ve been wondering whether to call you or not. Please come in.”

Jack looked at Catherine and raised his eyebrows.

They were led into a neat cosy room with oversized couches and chairs. Jill gestured for them to sit on the couch.

“Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Tea for me,” Catherine said. “But we should introduce ourselves. I’m Detective Catherine York, and my partner here is Detective Sergeant Jack Kinnaird.”

“Nice to meet you both.” She smiled, folded her hands, and looked at Jack. “Tea or Coffee, Detective Sergeant?”

“Coffee would be nice. Thanks,” Jack said. He always accepted these invitations whether he wanted coffee or not. It gave him the opportunity to try and tune into the house while the host was out of the room. 

He stood up. The smell of honey filled the room. Several paintings and posters all relating to nature hung on the sandy coloured walls. A bookshelf with some picture frames resting on top of it sat under a painting of the ocean. Jack strolled over to take a look at the books—a number were related to Wicca. He looked at the pictures. A younger Jill Spencer with her arms around two teenagers. One of them looked familiar.

“Hey, Cath, come here.”

Catherine walked over.

Jack pointed to a figure in a picture. “Does that girl look familiar?”

“It’s my daughter, Shoana.” 

Jack turned to see Jill standing in the doorway with a cup in her hand.

“Yes, she was there as well. She has followed me into the world of Wicca.” She walked over and placed the tea on the coffee table.” Coffee is more complex, Detective. I have an espresso machine. Latte okay for you?”

“Yes, that’s great. Sorry for snooping.”

“That’s okay. That’s what you’re paid to do. I have nothing to hide.” She gave a soft smile. “Now back to your coffee.” She turned and left the room.

“Her daughter. Makes sense,” Catherine said. “But I didn’t sense a closeness when they saw each other at the ferry terminal.” Catherine went and sat back down on the couch.

Jack heard the distinctive sound of milk being steamed. “Could’ve been the circumstances.” He joined Catherine on the couch.

The coffee making machinery had gone quiet. A few moments later Jill walked in with the latte and placed it on the table.

“That poor girl. I had no idea.” Jill spurted out as she seated herself on the lounge chair.

“Obviously, you know why we’re here.” Jack knew the local area commanding officer had given a media brief. “We’re interviewing participants in the event and trying to work out what transpired.”