Page 61 of Witch and Tell

“Byron would never be so stupid as to keep Tyrone’s wallet. You can bet he burnt it, minus the cash,” Ian said.

A thought began to crystallize. “What keys did they find?”

“A key ring, I think she said.”

I remembered the key hooks near the Wallingford Guest House’s front door. Each key hung on a brass tag. “Was the guest house key found?”

“Patty didn’t mention it.”

“Tyrone would have had it on his body somewhere. Maybe it’s still out there,” I said.

“You mean, maybe Byron has it,” Ian said. “That’s an idea.”

“He wouldn’t know he still has the key, of course,” I said. “He might simply have overlooked it.”

Lalena reached for her phone and tapped out a text. Almost instantly, her phone chimed in reply. “Patty doesn’t know. She’s texting Candace.”

The next minutes stretched on. My hope alternately grew and was crushed as I ran through scenarios in my mind. If Byron had overlooked the guest house key and kept it, it might provide the evidence the sheriff needed to arrest him. People overlooked details, especially people under a lot of stress. Byron had easy access to the zip ties at the Empress, and Tyrone would have trusted him enough to follow him into the woods.

On the other hand, my future as a free person rested on a slender piece of metal. If Byron was smart enough to destroy anything linking Tyrone to the body in the woods, he surely would have tossed the key into the river.

Lalena’s phone chimed again. Ian and I watched her as if she were reading the results of a blood test for a possibly terminal case.

“Patty says Candace says Marjorie says ‘No.’ No guest house key.”

I had a chance after all. I rose and grabbed the butterfly-lensed sunglasses.

“Where are you going?” Lalena asked.

“To get that key. Or at least to see if Byron has it. If he does, we’ll know for certain he killed Tyrone.”

“No, you don’t,” Ian said. “You can’t just charge out of here and ask Byron if he happens to have a dead man’s room key, or you’ll be his next victim. Guaran teed.”

“If she doesn’t get picked up by the sheriff first,” Lalena added.

“If Byron has the key, he doesn’t know it,” I said. “If he has it—”

“A bigif,” Ian said.

“—it’s in his van, likely in the pocket of whatever he wore that night.” There would have been no reason to destroy his clothes. Any scraps left from burning them might be traced to him.

“You’re going to break into his van and search for the key?” Lalena stood, her voice incredulous. “That’s nuts. Besides, what if you do find it? The sheriff will think you had the key all along and that you planted it on Byron. You definitely don’t want your fingerprints on it.”

I had plans for that key. If the key existed, that was. I needed it for more than clearing my name with the sheriff’s office. This would be the biggest test of my magic yet.

“True,” I said. “This is not your problem—it’s mine. You two have done enough to help, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“Josie, don’t be foolish. You don’t know Byron like I do. You read the article. He won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Lalena’s eyes were wide. “I know you’re desperate, but don’t put yourself at risk. Look at what happened to Ian.”

Ian rolled back a few inches. “To me?”

“The injury, your scar,” she said. “Byron is ruthless.”

“This?” Ian gestured toward his legs. “I got injured falling off the bleachers at a concert. What did you think happened?”

Lalena hugged him. “Never mind. We can talk about it later. Bottom line, it would still be stupid for Josie to look for the room key.”