Free Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books) by Brenda M. Collins Page A

didn’t mention it when they visited. But the sheriff isn’t interested in century old bank records . ” She put the older receipt in the file marked Misc. Family Docs and tucked the more recent paper in her jeans pocket with the list.
    Something tugged at her mind. The swivel chair squeaked as Avy leaned back and dropped her hand to stroke Busby’s back. “It couldn’t be their box, 1911 is too far back. It had to belong to one of their parents.”
    Her grandparents had died before she was born and her parents rarely mentioned them. She’d realized very young that the subject was off limits so she’d stopped asking questions. “Crap. I needed to know about them.” Some of her overwhelming grief slipped over into anger. “Even just for medical reasons, they should have told me something about them, right?” She looked down at the dog as if he’d answer.
    Busby gave her a shoulder glance but returned to his guard duties.
    She’d assumed, without giving it much thought, her grandparents had died. The idea of her parents having siblings simply hadn’t occurred to her. But, now that she thought about it, that didn’t make sense. What were the odds of both sets of grandparents dying early and neither of her parents having any siblings, cousins, other relatives? Her parents must have cut themselves, and her, off from their families. She needed to find out why. Avy sat up in the chair and went back to sorting papers. This time with a sharper eye to names, places, any detail that might relate to her family.
    It took an hour to get all the papers neatly filed back into the desk drawers, at which point Avy stood up, nudged Busby out from underfoot and stretched. The dog watched as Avy twisted her back and rolled her shoulders. When she moved towards the sofa, he fell in at her side, waited for her to sit and then jumped up to snuggle beside her. Avy chuckled. “I guess there’s no point telling you to stay off the sofa, when you’ve already slept in my bed.” He looked at her with the ends of his mouth tipped up in an almost human smile.
    Avy leaned back against the cushion with a sigh. So much had happened through the day that she was surprised to realize the evening sun was still in the sky. She touched her lips and remembered the kiss from Marcus. She remembered the feel of his hand warm on her neck as he’d pulled her towards him. Was there any chance it was more than first aid for him? Her lips still tingled—it felt like more than that for her.
    A weight thumped onto her leg. Without lifting his chin from her thigh, Busby looked up at her. “Okay, Busby, I know. More food.”
    A half hour later, with both their stomachs full, Busby was settled on the carpet at her feet as she sat on the sofa. Avy settled against the soft back cushion and rolled her head from side to side, trying to ease the tension headache throbbing at her hairline. She wrinkled her nose at the faint, yet familiar, smell hanging in the air.
    The door to the root cellar caught her eye. Some of her mother’s lavender would freshen the air in the house in no time. She stood up and looked at the cellar entrance again. Except she’d have to go down and get it. As a child she’d been afraid to go down to the dark crawl space where her mother kept all her herbs and other ritual paraphernalia. She straightened her shoulders. She stopped being afraid of the dark when she was ten.
    “Come on, Busby.”
    The dog looked up, growled at the door and dropped his head back down on his paws.
    Avy gave him a gentle push with her toe and he slid to a standing position on the floor. He did not move forward.
    “I’m not going down there alone.”
    Busby raised his head again and whi ned .
    “Some guard dog you are, ya big baby.” She hadn’t gone into the cellar in years but her memory of a single, weak overhead light bulb made her sidetrack to the kitchen to pick up a flashlight from a shelf above the sink. Then she strode over to the cellar and