A Frightening Fangs-giving

is out of my life—and everyone else’s life for good.
My muscles go rigid as I try to absorb his thoughts.
“What’s the matter?” Jasper pulls me in close while Juni and Georgie get busy passing out fliers and shouting Wonky quilts half off at the concert at the cove! “Is it Georgie?”
“No.” My chest heaves as thoughts of what Flint Butler might be capable of swirl through my mind. “I think I know who the killer is. And I don’t think Ember Sweet was their first victim.”

Chapter 11
November ushers in the first inklings of winter. It seems as if fall is always anxious for an early release as the air grows increasingly icy. The sky is dark with purple and red tinged clouds, but thankfully there is no rain in the forecast today. However, there is something ominous and brooding in the air. It’s almost as if the weather were in on something I’m not privy to yet.
Jasper and I spent the last few days researching Laurel Crabtree, and for the most part, we found her via a few social media posts that she was included in. Her own social media footprint is nonexistent. We’re stumped as to who she is and where she might be. The only thing I know for sure is that she’s a pretty brunette, mid-to-late twenties, with light serious eyes and was once somehow linked to Flint Butler.
It’s the day of the concert at the cove, and the warm-up band for Sugar Shack already has the crowd shaking what it’s got, down on the sand.
Fish and Sherlock are darting around from one end of the cove to the other, and I’ve got the trio of kittens in a papoose strapped to my chest. I’ll admit, they’ve been warming me nicely.
Jasper had an emergency at the office but said he’d try to be here in plenty of time to see Sugar Shack perform. But Georgie, Juni, and my mother have not been tardy. They showed up in the wee hours of the morning and reserved a space for themselves near the stage. As soon as the first few bodies trickled in, cold, hard cash was being thrust their way in exchange for their wonky quilts. And just like that, those wonky quilts have quickly become a fad that no one at this concert seems able to resist.
The wind is glacial, the crowd is thick, and everyone seems to have a drink in hand, mostly hot apple cider sold at the refreshment table. The free donuts Emmie set out have already disappeared, and she’s busy whipping up batch after batch and sending them out in a steady stream.
Thankfully, the town is footing the bill for those, so the inn won’t have to worry about going bankrupt by way of donuts. Although, they’re so delicious they would have been worth any fiscal challenge they could have brought on.
The Country Cottage Café is selling both hot and cold meals in a booth we’ve set up just outside of the café, and there’s a long line of people looking to fill their hungry bellies. Jordy is manning the grill, and the air is scented with the barbeque chicken and steak. And every last one of my senses insists I head in that direction, but as fate or my bad luck would have it, Mackenzie is coming my way.
“Mayor Woods.” I pull a tight smile as Mack comes at me with her orange wool suit. The jacket is cut to accentuate her figure, and I can see a pair of dark-brown boots peering from her pants. Even though I’ve come to understand that Mackenzie pushed me into that whiskey barrel all those years ago on a dare—from my own brother no less—I still can’t help but pin the blame of my telesensual abilities on her smug shoulders. “Nice turnout today.”
“It could be better.” She sniffs as she looks to the crowd. “But I suppose there’s still time.” She pokes her finger to my chest. “I just spoke to Jordy. He says the inn is officially haunted. What’s with this poltergeist business, Bizzy? The last thing I need is you turning this town into a paranormal ghost hunter circus.”
My lips invert a moment. “There’s no ghost,” I’m quick to offer up the false assurance. “Some books were scattered on the floor in the lending library, and there were handprints on the windows in the spa that look as if they were smeared with blood. It was nothing but childish pranks.” Three different guests reported seeing a woman walking the halls in a glowing white gown in the middle of the night, moaning and repeating the words you’ll be sorry. That was disconcerting, but there’s no reason to bring that up to Mackenzie. Jordy set up security cameras this morning, so if there is a ghost, or a living troublemaker, we’ll be sure to catch them either way.
“It had better be nothing. You’re not permitted for ghosts.”
“I didn’t realize you were in charge of building and safety for the other side.” It would figure Mackenzie wants power in both this life and the next.
“I’m everywhere, Baker.”
“Wilder,” I correct.
“Whatever.” She cranes her neck as she scans the crowd.
“Looking for your next victim?” I smear a smile her way, and she glowers twice as hard.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is that a dig of some sort due to the fact I’m seeing your brother? You don’t think we’re serious, do you?” I suppose if she knew I was looking for Elliot, she would change her tune. Although, if she saw me with Elliot, it would also prove her point. Oh, never mind. She’s got me all confused and for no good reason. I swear I lose IQ points just standing next to Bizzy Baker, and I don’t care if she is married. Who would have thought a nitwit like Bizzy would have beaten me to the altar? And because she wanted to, not because she had to.
I suck in a breath at the insult.
And