Abigail worried the edge of her apron, a different one, similarly aged and patched as the one she was wearing when we found her on Tuesday. She picked up where her husband left off. “Clifford found them in the orchard, back by the oldest trees, the ones that haven’t been doing so well. We considered tearing those trees out, but then we decided the boys could make that decision, once they get here.” She continued, “There were no bodies, just the heads. We didn’t know who to call or what more to do so we decided to store them until we could figure out our next step.” Tears streamed down Abigail’s face, and her thin voice had begun to waver. “We did not kill those poor souls. We’ve lived with them on this land for as long as I can remember. Peacefully. They like the trees, and the trees like them.”
“Did you find the tunnels?” asked Clifford.
“We found three under older trees that look to be healthy and producing apples,” I said. “Are those the ones you’re referring to?”
Clifford nodded. “Did you explore ’em?”
“One of our colleagues went down the ladder,” Tanner answered, “but didn’t go farther.”
“When I was younger and more agile, I’d stick my head down, check things out. Bring food.” Cliff looked at Abi and smiled. “Trolls liked my wife’s goat cheese. They took good care of the trees. And we left them in peace.”
Abigail’s hands began to shake even more. “Clifford, tell them the rest. Tell them about why we maintain the tunnels.”
“Those tunnels are meant to be places of refuge and safety for whoever needs them. The Pearmains have done their best to keep them open and passable for over a hundred years.”
“When you say, whoever needs them,” I interrupted, “what do you mean?”
“I mean those tunnels have sheltered more’n trolls. They’re part of a network that runs through this island. I know of two other orchards that connect to ours.”
Rose came off her chair and stood protectively in front of Abigail. “Tanner, Calliope, I think these two have had enough questions for one day. River and I can stay until tomorrow. Then I have a date with Calliope over the weekend.”
Her stern voice and withering look conveyed that she would not be argued with, about either point, yet I was surprised to hear my weekend was spoken for. I hadn’t started taking the herbal tinctures Belle had given me; even if I had, it was far too soon for results. Or maybe I didn’t need to have my period for this particular ritual.
“One more question, Rose,” I said, lifting my hand like I was back in grade school, “and then we can call it a day.” Clifford looked to his wife and they nodded in agreement. “You returned to the house after your walk Sunday evening.”
“That’s right. Went to bed around ten.”
“Did anything unusual happen on Monday?”
“The realtor that pesters us about selling stopped by, like she does most every Monday. Said she had a new client who was very interested in acquiring orchards. I stuck her card on the side of the refrigerator, underneath one of those big magnets from the hardware store.”
“Can you describe what she looked like?”
Cliff turned to Abi. “You have a better eye for that sort of thing.”
She nodded. “She always dressed in a skirt and jacket. Short, dark brown hair. Not what I would call a soft woman, all angles. And not very amiable, considering she wanted our business. She never once stayed for tea.”
“And after she left?”
Cliff and Abi exchanged confused glances. “Next thing I remember was waking up with Abi lying next to me. And an awful headache.”
Chapter 9
“What’s your take on all this?” Tanner asked when River returned from helping Rose escort the older couple into the house for a rest. “You’ve been with them for two days. Have they mentioned anything else?”
The two men and I headed to the newer section of the orchard with the intention of looping around to collect water samples from the three ponds before finishing with the section of trees that housed the tunnels. Tanner took over labelling the individual vials and bags as I handed them to him.
River placed marks on a map to indicate where the samples had been taken. “Neither of them mentioned the realtor before today,” he said, digging into a back pocket, “but the business card was stuck to the side of the fridge.”
He handed the card to Tanner, who passed it to me.
“I don’t recognize her name, but she works for my ex-husband’s family,” I said.
When I flipped the card, the familiar tingle of magic prickled along my skin and the printing on the front disappeared.
“Tanner, quick, write this down.” I recited the name and phone number and handed over the piece of paper. “Bag this too. It might be useless, but I want to keep it just in case.”
“Will you look at that.” Tanner examined the now blank business card and swore under his breath. “Clever.”
Clever—not a word I would use when describing Doug. But his mother? The mounting connections to the Flechette family were putting me on edge. I stuffed back my discomfort to mull over later. “River, want to check out the tunnels? Plenty of light.”
“I’m game.”
“I want to go down too,” I said. If staying front and center in this investigation meant I had to confront old fears, I was ready. Mostly. Maybe it would help knowing Tanner and River didn’t seem the types to toss taunts down the ladder and refuse to help me if I freaked out underground. After Cliff’s story, and this morning’s wild ride, I needed to see and experience the tunnels for myself.
“I wonder if Cliff has a map.”
“Bet he does.”
We looked at each other before mutually deciding to forego the map.
“Shall we each take a tree?” asked River.
Tanner shook his head and crossed his arms
