Free 09 - Return Of The Witch by Dana E. Donovan Page B

witch?”
    “Was, mayhap. I fear now she is gone, her dust scattered here and yon.”
    “All right then. Go. Make it quick.”
    She hopped out, leaving the car door open and started up the walk in a quick but purposeful pace. The old man hadn’t noticed the car sitting out by the curb, but it didn’t take him long to notice Ursula. He started across the yard, holding his index finger up to stop her.
    “See here! What are you doing? The police are on their way, you know. I called them. They’re on their way!”
    I hollered out the window, “Move it, Ursula! Run!”
    She snatched up the little gnome, tucked it under her arm like a football and sprinted back to the car, all the while giggling like a schoolgirl.
    Just as she was about to hop in, a police cruiser rounded the corner, lights on, siren chirping.
    “Get in!” I shouted. She had stopped to look at the approaching cop car. “Ursula!”
    Whoop-whoop, the sirens chirped again, this time, ending in a drawn out whirl. I dropped the car into gear. “Move your ass, girl. Let’s go!”
    She pitched the gnome into the back seat, but before getting in, I saw her pump her fist in the air and then splayed her fingers wide. “Stop!” she ordered, as if they might. Incredibly, though, the breaks on the cruiser locked up immediately. The car squealed to a stop just ten yards from my back bumper.
    “Get in!” I yelled.
    She did, and before she could close her door, I hit the gas hard, laying down a patch of rubber fifteen feet long. We rounded the corner at the end of the street and kept the pedal to the metal until we reached Route 128.
    Comfortable enough then that the cops weren’t following us, I settled in with the flow of traffic and asked Ursula, “What was that back there?”
    “What was what?”
    “Did you stop that cop car?”
    “I think not. I only wished they would and they did.”
    “But you pitched a zip ball at them, right?”
    “I do not know.”
    “You had to. You probably didn’t realize it , but that’s the only thing you could have done. A zip ball would have fried their ignition.” I nodded, more so to convince myself than to convince her. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
    We headed south on 128 and then north on the interstate. Ursula didn’t need to guess where we were going next.
    “Georgetown ,” she surmised.
    “Y up, Georgetown. We’ll see if we have better luck at Amber Burns’ home.”
    “I like Georgetown. ”
    “Do ya?”
    “Aye. `Twas rowdy in my day, but fair and decent were its people.”
    “Good. We’ll need fair and decent if we’re going to learn anything about this case.”

 
     
     
    Chapter 9
     
     
    T raffic on I-95 was lighter than expected, and with the roads completely dried from the rains earlier, we were able to get to Georgetown in just outside of twenty minutes.
    L ike most of the houses in her heavily wooded neighborhood, Amber’s was difficult to spot from the road. The GPS satellite image I pulled up on my phone looked like broccoli patches with tiny rooftops peppered throughout. We zeroed in on one of those rooftops and navigated up Amber’s graveled driveway.
    “Well?” I said to Ursula. “What do you think?”
    She pursed her lips and made a tic sound through her teeth. “`Tis the house of a witch to be sure.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    She pointed at a lawn ornament painted up to look like a goofy dwarf holding a lantern. I pointed at her and wagged my finger. “No, Ursula. It stays. You understand me?”
    “ On my honor.” She crossed her heart, turned in her seat to look at the one she had stolen from Terri Cotta’s yard. “I have Harry. I need no other.”
    “Harry ? You named him already?”
    “Aye. He is family now, this grand old soul. What hath thee against it?”
    “It’s not a soul, Ursula. It’s a chunk of ceramic.”
    “Still.” She turned around and plopped back against her seat. “He is mine now. I want for naught in this vein.”
    “All right, remember