until she could speak to Quirk again. She hated to put the young man in the middle, but she decided she had no choice. Someone had to locate Evie Harrison. She may very well have witnessed the murder, and there was an outside chance she had committed it.
After Skye finished telling Anthony about her run-in with Evie, and he relayed the message to Quirk, Skye drifted from group to group, checking to see what people were saying and trying to locate Hope and Nina.
The only interesting fact she learned was that another bunch of haunted-house workers had gathered near the front entrance. The police weren’t allowing anyone to leave their present locations, so it was impossible to judge who was stuck in the lobby and who was really missing.
It took nearly an hour for the crime scene techs to arrive—the Stanley County seat was located in Laurel, down forty-five miles of winding country roads. Once the techs got there, the Scumble River police started interviewing the people who had been detained. But even after all were spoken to, they still weren’t allowed to leave. No one knew why they were being held, but Skye guessed the police wouldn’t release anyone until they had identified the victim.
Skye was in the first group questioned, and once she was finished giving her statement, she talked to the people around her. No one had seen anything prior to the police’s arrival, or afterward. And no one had seen Nina or Hope either. Skye was trying to think of what else to do when she noticed that Simon had come out into the hallway and was using his cell phone.
After he hung up, she went over to him. “Has the victim been identified?”
“No.” Simon looked at her quizzically. “Haven’t you talked to Roy?”
Skye was torn. “Uh . . .” Should she admit Quirk was cutting her out of the loop or pretend she was still on the team? “Not really.”
Simon tilted his head. “It’s not the same when Boyd’s not here, is it?”
“Well . . .”
“I suppose Roy’s within his rights. After all, you’re a consultant. If he doesn’t think he needs your help, he doesn’t have to include you.”
“But—”
“But he’d be a fool not to utilize your talents,” Simon said matter-of-factly.
Skye was too surprised to do more than nod. She would have bet good money that Simon didn’t place much value on what she did for the police department, that he disapproved of her involvement in investigations. She narrowed her eyes. Which of her other assumptions about Simon were wrong?
“I’m guessing Roy’s lack of an invitation is not going to deter you from looking into this case,” Simon said.
The denial died on her lips when she saw the devilish look in his eyes. “I can help. I’m familiar with the people and the haunted-house setup.”
“So, what do you want to know?” Simon took her arm and steered her to a more secluded area.
“You said the victim hasn’t been identified yet, but were you able to determine a time of death?”
“According to the liver temp, between when you found her and thirty minutes prior.”
Skye rummaged in her backpack for a notepad and pen, handing superfluous items to Simon as she searched. He raised an eyebrow when she produced the string of garlic, and bit his lip to stifle a grin when she pulled out the crucifix. At last she found what she was looking for and allowed Simon to give back what he’d been holding.
Amusement and tenderness flickered in his expression when he said, “Being here really scares you, doesn’t it?”
“A little.” She was glad the green makeup hid the flush she felt creeping up her neck.
“I remember your telling me how much you hated haunted houses after what happened to you when you were little. Why did you volunteer?”
Skye couldn’t meet his eyes. “I was trying to get over my phobia.” How could she admit she’d been prompted by her insecurity regarding the new social worker? Especially since Simon was apparently dating Jackie.
Simon didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop. “What else do you want to know?”
“What are they doing to identify the victim?” Skye asked. She had told Quirk who the other two witches were supposed to be, but she hadn’t been able to tell whether he thought that information was important or not.
“I overheard them saying they found Hope Kennedy and she was fine, but no one has seen Mrs. Miles.”
Skye was thrilled that the teacher was okay, but felt her heart sink at the news that Nina was missing. There couldn’t be a good outcome, but she’d held on to the hope that a terminally ill stranger had wandered into the haunted house, donned the witch costume and makeup, and died of natural causes.
Simon went on, “I called Xavier, and he’s bringing over makeup remover and rubbing alcohol to loosen the spirit gum holding on the prosthetics.” Xavier Ryan was Simon’s assistant at the funeral home. “Once we reveal her face, we’ll ask Mr. Miles to take a look. Roy told Anthony to call and have him come over.”
“Poor man.” Skye shook her head and tried not to think about how awful it would be for him. “What reason did Anthony give Mr. Miles for asking him to come?”
“Roy told Anthony to say there was a problem at the haunted house and he should come right away, then hang up.” Simon rubbed his chin. “Not to give him a chance to ask for details.”
“You know his daughter is here somewhere. She’s one of the zombie cheerleaders. Quirk needs to take her aside now, before she hears something.”
“Anthony said something to that effect, but Roy didn’t want to alert anyone, so he refused.”
Skye’s mouth tightened. “I understand his reasoning, but Bree’s an eighteen-year-old girl.” Roy Quirk was really beginning to annoy her. “It’s not right for her to find out about her mother through the grapevine.” Wally would get an earful when he called.
“I’m sure once Mr. Miles makes the identification, Roy will have an officer bring the girl to her father.”
“Maybe I should go find her and sort of stand nearby until that happens.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” Simon ran a hand through his short auburn hair. “But Roy’s not going to be happy I’ve told you all this.”
“I’ll be subtle.” She gave Simon a conspiratorial grin. “Besides, Quirk isn’t the boss of you.”
Simon chuckled softly, but broke off when Xavier approached and handed him a small paper bag. Xavier nodded to Skye, then said to Simon, “Here’s the makeup remover and rubbing alcohol you wanted. Give me a call if you need anything else. I’ll be waiting in the hearse.”
When Skye had first met Xavier, his pale blue lashless eyes magnified behind old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses had made him seem reptilian, but she had come to like and respect Simon’s soft-spoken assistant. He was a widower, and his daughter, Frannie, was a freshman in college.
Skye thought Xavier was probably lonely with her gone—or maybe not. Frannie had been one of Skye’s favorite students, but she was extremely intelligent and curious, not always the easiest qualities for a parent to deal with.
Simon touched Skye’s hand. “I’ve got to return to the victim. Once we make the identification, I’ll be transporting the body. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.” Skye squeezed his arm. “Thanks . . . for everything.”
After Simon left, Skye scanned the area for Bree Miles. Four girls were dressed as zombie cheerleaders, and Skye wasn’t sure which one was Bree. She could eliminate Cheyenne Harrison and Linnea Paine, but the other two were unfamiliar to her. Luckily, since they were all huddled together, it didn’t matter.
Skye dragged a chair over to a spot against the wall next to the group and pulled a book out of her backpack, pretending to be engrossed in the novel. Although it was only October, the girls were talking about the prom.
Skye shook her head. Cats were the only ones that were supposed to have nine lives, but teenagers certainly carried on as if they did, too. The girls had to have heard that someone had died, yet as far as Skye could tell, the big topic of conversation, after who was going with whom to the prom, was the dress each wanted and how much it would cost.
A half hour went by, and Cheyenne was describing an elaborate copper-colored strapless dress with a mermaid hem, made by some designer named BCBG for only seven hundred dollars, when an angry-looking man in his early forties marched over and said, “Bree, get your things. It’s time to go home.”
“But, Dad, Mom said I could stay out until midnight.”
“A woman’s been killed.” Mr. Miles pulled the girl aside and said so softly that Skye had to lean forward to hear, “They thought it was your mother.”
