Free The Witch's Stone by Dawn Brown

maybe--and a blur of people standing over him.
    But no pain. Not then. He’d probably still been too drunk to feel anything.
    When he woke next, he was in a hospital room, wrapped in an agony he hadn't known existed.  
    Caid pushed the memories away, forcing himself to concentrate on the here and now. The narrow road curved in a loose snake shape, the terrain alternating between wide, flat fields and patches of forest. He preferred driving through the woods. The trees provided a natural barrier, blocking the wind.
    Ten minutes and he’d be at Glendon House. He slowed through another sharp curve. Gnarled trees rose up on either side of him, their branches hanging into the road like reaching fingers.
    Coming out of the bend, his heart leapt into his throat and he jumped on the brake. A flashing light atop a police car in the center of the road acted as a sort of beacon for the mangled wreck compressed against the wall of trees.
    A thin line of sweat trickled down Caid’s back as he pulled over. Struggling to ignore the nausea swirling in his stomach, he climbed out of the car into the cold rain. Bristol, covered in a tent-like slicker, waddled over to him.
    “What happened?” Caid had to yell to be heard over the wind and rain.
    “Jimmy and Nancy Fraser,” Bristol said. “As best I can tell, they lost control on the wet road and swerved into the trees.” His round face was pale beneath the slicker’s hood.
    Bristol said the names as if Caid should know who they were. For a moment, he was tempted to remind Bristol that he hadn’t been in Culcraig since he was ten years old, but changed his mind. What was the point?
    “Can I do anything?” he asked, instead.
    “No. The ambulance has already come. I’m waiting until what’s left of the car is towed away. I dinnae want any more accidents tonight.” He shook his head slowly. “There’s a dark cloud hanging over the aged in this village.”
    Caid didn’t know what to say, but no response seemed needed.
    “Are you on yer way to Glendon House?” Bristol asked.
    Caid nodded.
    “You best be off then. Drive safely.”
    “Be careful,” Caid told the officer, then slid back behind the wheel. Bristol gave a short wave as Caid pulled away.
    Shivering, he switched on the heat so warm air blasted from the vents in an attempt to dry his rain-soaked clothes. But the effort was futile at best. God, he wanted a hot shower. Hopefully, his parents had hired someone to give Aunt Agie’s bathroom a bit of a clean. They must have. There was no bloody way his mother would have stayed there without certain civilities being met.
    He turned up the long drive and the manor rose from the gloom--a welcome relief after the drive. A few lights glowed weakly from the windows. He parked behind Hillary’s rental, grabbed a bag from the back and dashed from the car to the door. Though why he bothered to run when he was already wet, he didn’t know.
    As soon as he stepped into the hall, Hillary raced down the stairs as if she’d been waiting for him. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes dark with fear. Confused, he lowered his bag to the floor.
    “You’re back,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I’m so glad you’re back.” She gripped his sleeve in a tight fist. “There’s someone in the house.”
    Her voice trembled a little, and he was struck with the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but thought better of it. Their agreement was built on a shaky foundation as it was. No need to complicate matters. Still, he shouldn’t have left her alone for so long. Not after she’d found Agnes little more than a week ago. For all her sharp words there was a softness about Hillary. A vulnerability.
    “Were you a wee bit nervous on yer own?” he asked, gently.
    She released his sweater and took a step back, narrowing her eyes. “I was fine alone,” she said, enunciating each word as though he were dense. “I didn’t get nervous until I realized I wasn’t alone. Are you