Page 71 of Witch and Tell

She breathed heavily for a moment, then ripped off her cap. “I’m losing my mind.”

“What are you doing here?”

She burst into loud, body-wracking sobs. “I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

I led her to a chair, and she sat, no resistance. Rodney surprised me by jumping into her lap, and Wanda surprised me even more by, still sobbing, petting him.

“I . . . I’m a bad person,” she said. She paused, petting Rodney long enough to pull off a black glove and blow her nose into it.

“You’re a good person,” I said. “You saved my life.” I needed to call the sheriff’s office. Byron wouldn’t stay unconscious for long.

“No, I’m not. I came here to steal books from the kids’ section.” She waved toward the garbage sack.

“Books about cats,” I said.

At that, Rodney jumped from her lap and trotted purposefully from the room.

Wanda nodded in bewilderment. “Yes. And throw them in the river.” Her sobbing quieted, but the tears still flowed. “I’ve completely gone ’round the bend. Who have I become?”

Remembering Duke’s story about her broken engagement, I said, “You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“That’s no excuse. I jimmied Old Man Thurston’s office window and crawled in. Then I saw you and that man….”

I retrieved a box of tissues from Circulation and handed it to her.

“Somehow,” she said, “seeing him threatening you, it all came to me at once, and I thought,what am I doing?I’m actually breaking into a library to . . . to steal children’s books.” She looked at me with tearfilled eyes. “Then, boom! I was angry. Like, really angry. I had some”—she glanced at me—“disappointments lately, and I hadn’t felt a whit of anger. Just now it all came roaring in.” Her hands flopped to her sides. “Wow.” She sniffed and, ignoring the box of tissues, honked into her glove again.

She’d sure chosen the right way to express that anger. “Excuse me a moment. Don’t go anywhere.”

As I climbed the service stairs to call 911, I heard my phone chiming, over and over. I fetched it from the side table and watched text after text flood its screen. Emotion thickened in my throat as the messages appeared. I only caught glimpses of them—see you, love you, when, why. The number on my voicemail box ticked up, too. All from Sam. Realization dawned. To make my life worse and so build my need for her, Aunt Beata had been blocking Sam’s communication. Now that she was banished, the spell had snapped. All those texts and calls had been released.

I ran downstairs, phone in hand, and nearly collided with Sam, also holding his phone. “Sam.”

“Josie,” he said.

I fell into his arms. This was home. The salty smell of his skin, his warm embrace. Complete, utter happiness. I yanked myself away. “Let’s talk. But first, I need you to arrest a murderer.”

I grabbed his hand—that wonderful strong hand— and pulled him into the atrium, where Byron was coming to, his wrists still tightly bound behind him. Wanda stood guard over him, looking like a cross between Johnny Cash and a ninja.

Rodney nosed between us and dropped something on Byron’s chest.

It was Tyrone’s room key.

Chapter Thirty-eight

Afew hours later, in my apartment, Sam cradled my head on his chest. “I thought you didn’t want me, that I hadn’t responded right when you told me about your….” he said.

“That I’m a witch,” I finished.

After Sam had seen Byron Marshall and questioned him briefly, he’d arrested him and called backup to take him to jail. Between the key, Wanda’s testimony, and Byron’s status as a fugitive, it was a good bet Byron would never see the outside of a correctional institution again. When the sheriff’s deputies left, Sam had followed me upstairs.

“I needed time to let your news about being a witch sink in,” he told me. “That’s all. I texted you the next morning to see if we could talk, but you never responded.”

“I know,” I’d said dreamily.

“This witch thing,” he said, “it’s not such a crazy idea to me as you might think. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t reply to my texts or calls. Then I had to leave town for work. Maybe, I thought, the time apart would give you the chance to think things through. I’d hoped you’d want to talk with me when I returned. Then I saw you coming out of the tavern with Tyrone Beaudrie.”

I ran a hand over Sam’s arm. “Nothing was going on there. Tyrone was no you.”