“We shouldn’t,” I said, but there was no conviction behind my words.
“We won’t do anything that will get us in trouble,” she said.
“Yeah, right,” I retorted with a chuckle. “I know you better than that.”
“There’s no law against us going to talk to the ex-wife,” Reggie said.
“I’m pretty sure if it interferes with a homicide investigation, there’s probably a law or two against it,” I said.
“We’re not going to interfere, and since when do you care?” Reggie asked.
“Since I promised both my husband and Jeremy that I wouldn’t put myself in any danger,” I said. “I’m trying to stick to my word.”
“We’re not going to be in any danger,” Reggie said. “We’re just going to have a conversation. There won’t even be any breaking and entering. If anyone knows who might have wanted that man dead, I’m betting on his ex-wife.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“If she was married to an abusive man, she’s far more likely to talk to us than to Thorn or Jeremy. We’d actually be doing them a favor,” Reggie said.
And just like that, we were in the car headed for the address Reggie found on the internet. Apparently, Dorian had a subscription to some website where you could get people’s addresses and phone numbers, and Reggie had swiped the login. It was supposed to be used by members of the press and private investigators, but that didn’t stop Reggie.
There was water everywhere as we drove to the address outside of Coventry. For a while, I thought we might not make it all the way there. The fields on either side of the road were flooded all the way up to the shoulder. It looked like we were driving across a road right down the middle of a massive lake. It was unnerving, to say the least.
The bridge we had to cross wasn’t washed out, though, and it looked to still be in good shape. The water level in the creek below it had fallen to the point where there was a few feet of clearance, so I decided it was safe and drove across.
“This is so strange,” Reggie said as we turned onto the road where Melanie Parker lived with her son, Dixon, and husband, John. I only knew his name because it was listed in the database where Reggie had gotten the address.
“What we’re doing?” I asked as I slowed down. The GPS had alerted me that we were arriving at our destination.
“No, the water everywhere. I can’t remember ever seeing flooding like this. It’s like some massive ocean decided to swallow us up,” she said.
“It is unnerving,” I said.
We pulled into the driveway of a small, white farmhouse. It looked virtually untouched by the storm, and I couldn’t help but think the tornado really had targeted Coventry. That was a silly thought, though. Nature was a wild thing. It had no intent. We’d just happened to be in the path of its occasional fury.
Reggie and I made our way across the sidewalk and then up the front steps. For a brief second before I knocked, I considered turning around and going back to the car.
I swallowed my apprehension and knocked anyway. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone with my misbehaving magic, but I did need to go back to the basics. I’d have to relearn the techniques I’d used to manage it when I was a teenager. I had to start over again.
A few seconds after I knocked, a woman cracked the door open and peeked out. She had bright blue eyes and long, chestnut hair.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“My name is Kinsley Skeenbauer, and this is my friend Reggie. We wanted to talk to you about your ex-husband,” I said.
“I already told the sheriff when he called that Dixon is here,” she said warily. “But we didn’t kidnap him, if that’s what my good-for-nothing ex is saying. I know that it’s his visitation time, but Dixon was threatening to walk off… into that storm. I had to send John to pick him up. I’ll be happy to tell the judge all about it.”
“I understand,” I said softly. “I… I’m not with the sheriff’s office or the court. Can we please come in and talk to you for a few minutes?”
She studied me for a second and then opened the door wider to beckon us inside. “I was just making coffee. Would you ladies like a cup?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” I said.
“Not at all,” Melanie said as we walked into a living room area. “Have a seat, and I’ll be right back.”
There was a blue armchair, matching blue sofa, and a brown recliner. Reggie and I sat down on either side of the sofa and waited silently for Melanie to return.
She came back a few minutes later with three mismatched mugs on a pine tray. There was also a blue plastic sugar container and a thing of powdered coffee creamer.
“Hang on, I’ve got cookies too,” she said after setting the tray down. I’d thought I’d smelled the scent of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies when we’d entered the house. Melanie came back a minute later with a plate full of them. “They are Dixon’s favorite. I figured it would cheer him up, but I always bake way too many.”
I was hesitant at first to take any of the cookies given that we were there to pry into her life with her ex, but they smelled too good to resist.
“Thank you,” I said and took two.
Reggie did the same.
“So, what are you ladies really here for?” Melanie said and looked at us with eyes that could pierce lead. She’d been through some things, and while it hadn’t dulled the light in her eyes, there was a worldly weariness around the edges.
“I don’t know if the sheriff’s department in Coventry told you about your
