A Veiled Deception Read Online Free PDF Page A

wash of emotional pain,” she said, “and knew it belonged to you.” She cupped my cheek. “By the looks of you, I’m guessing I was right.”
    “You were. Thanks for sending Nick.” I wasn’t ready to talk about Jasmine, especially to my father. I saw a reprieve as I noticed the full moon coming into its own.
    “You know what that moon reminds me of?”
    I told her about my recurring dream.
    She listened, giving away nothing.
    “I usually wake up after and expect Mom to be in the room with me. When I saw you at the bottom of the stairs just now, it came to me.”
    “What did, sweetie?”
    “It’s not a dream, is it? It’s a memory.”
    Aunt Fiona took my hands. “One of my favorite memories,” she said, squeezing, asking for . . . approval or acceptance, perhaps.
    Me, Fiona, and my mother, dancing to a full moon. This so wasn’t the time for witchy questions or revelations, not spoken ones, anyway. The best support I could offer was to squeeze her hands back.
    It was enough; I could tell from the way her features relaxed. Still, in a bid for self-preservation, I took the conversation in a different direction.
    “Who else’s emotions can you—”
    “Strong, life-altering emotions,” she clarified.
    “Ah. Who else’s strong, life-altering emotions can you sense, besides mine?”
    She shrugged. “I sense emotions in the people who need me to.”
    In other words, she’d help anyone who needed her, whether it fueled her rep as a witch or not. I’d never known for sure whether Fiona practiced witchcraft. Despite our close relationship, it wasn’t a question I’d ever felt comfortable asking her. After my mother passed I’d never talked about my ghost sightings with anyone. In an odd way I’d felt a reluctance on Fiona’s part to discuss the subject. Not sure how I felt myself, I’d kept quiet. I’d heard rumors in town about Fiona being a witch, but in general it wasn’t something people discussed, especially if she had helped them. Aunt Fiona was known as the town lawyer, not the town witch.
    “Some people’s emotions are harder to sense than others’,” Aunt Fiona said.
    “Reading you and your mother always came easily and naturally.”
    “Which is why you got here before Dad had a chance to call you the morning Mom died.”
    She nodded and a tear slid down her cheek.
    The sound of wailing sirens in the distance brought me back to my purpose. Sound carried over water, which meant that the ambulance and or police could be farther away than they seemed. Maybe.
    I hugged Aunt Fiona once more, and we went inside.
    At least with her there, Dad wouldn’t be alone when he got the news, though they’d rarely spoken more than two words at a family gathering since my mother passed. Dad saw us come in. “Blasted night’s finally over.” He lifted the curtain as the sound of sirens came closer. Much closer. Scrap!
    “Not by a long shot, Dad.”
    He did a double take. “Mad, that ambulance is pulling in here.” He, of course, expected me to explain why.
    What else was new?
    I squeezed his arm as I passed him on my way to the door. “I’m afraid that we need them,” I said and opened it. “Up the stairs, fourth door on the right,” I told the paramedics as I led them to the front stairs.
    Dad lowered himself to a keeping-room chair as I returned. “Madeira, tell me that my children are all right.”
    Aunt Fiona tilted her head. “Maddie, love, what exactly is going on?”
    “Let’s go into the taproom,” I suggested, “where we can be more comfortable.”
    Eventually the coroner would arrive, and Jasmine’s body would be taken down the front stairs and out the door . . . the way my mother’s had been. And you couldn’t see the front stairs from the taproom.
    Bad enough Dad would have to face the police later; he didn’t need to see a replay of the worst day of his life. “Dad, would you like Aunt Fiona to make you a cup of tea?”
    Fiona stopped and waited for his answer.
    My