Three Witches and a Killer: Wicked Western Witches Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

Could you have been mistaken?”
    “I wasn’t mistaken. Look at the skid marks on the road,” I pointed out.
    Buck cocked his head to one side. “I heard you were partying last night. Maybe there’s some residue left from that. Have you been sampling your Aunt Sophie’s moonshine? I know she has a tendency to get the ingredients mixed up sometimes.”
    “Buck Hascall,” I exclaimed, folding my arms in front of me. “That was just plain mean.”
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just saying, there’s no one dead in the road like you reported.”
    “I’m well aware of that.” I frowned.
    “I reckon you can call back if you happen to see him again.
    “I’ll do that,” I told him without much enthusiasm. “And thanks, Buck. I’m sorry the victim disappeared.”
    Buck nodded. “No problem, but you should be happy. At least you didn’t kill anyone.”
    That was certainly a better way of looking at the situation. I might be totally loony, but at least I didn’t kill anyone.
    After Buck and the ambulance guys were gone, I carefully pulled away from the sagebrush that I’d put my dad’s car in, flinching when I heard the brush scratching the paint.
    My dad was going to kill me.
    The road was completely deserted, which was fine with me. Hopefully, no one else would decide to step in front of the car.
    Taking a deep breath, I turned on the radio. Immediately, bible thumper chaos blared from the speakers so I quickly hit the off button.
    Had Dad suddenly gone over the edge?
    He never listened to that stuff.
    Wasn’t there some kind of rule against putting that fire and brimstone stuff on the airwaves during the week?
    Not that I didn’t believe in a supreme power, but it was my opinion that God was a mite more forgiving in nature.
    Soon the sage gave way to massive pines and aspens. There was so sign to point out the turn-off, but I knew where it was. As kids, we would drive by Draven Street and contemplate sneaking onto the property. They were rumored to have a killer swimming pool, though they also had killer watchdogs. The killer part of the swimming pool might be literally true, at least if we were to believe the official story of Canton Petrova’s death.
    They were hiding the truth and I couldn’t understand why. Maybe the Petrovas were planning a revenge attack. Of course, that attack would likely be against the Trevils. As far as I knew, there was no evidence the Trevils were involved at all.
    The monstrosity known as Draven Court was located several miles west of town. The Petrovas liked their privacy, as did the Trevils.
    On the other hand, the Costellos didn’t mind being right in the mix of things. Our family estate, better known as Moonstone Hall, was just on the edge of Shadow Crossing. True, the old place looked like something out of a horror movie and it was haunted. I was pretty sure it was haunted, anyway. Whenever I visited the old place, I could feel unseen eyes watching my every move.
    Of course, Day and I hadn’t grown up in the old homestead but my cousins had. They’d never seemed to have a problem with it.
    I turned off the main highway and onto Draven Street, which was really just a dirt road. Like all three of the original Shadow Crossing families, the Petrovas had an ego as large as Texas and had apparently felt the need to name the street after their estate.
    It was a short road. Actually, more of a driveway that ended abruptly at an impressive wrought iron gate. Fortunately, there were some modern amenities, such as the gate being electric with a call button attached to a gray stone pillar.
    Rolling down the car window, I pushed the big red button. A moment later, a male voice came over the speaker.
    “Welcome to Draven Court. How can I help you today?” he asked, sounding a bit like Boris Karloff.
    “I’m here in regards to Mr. Pentrova’s drowning. I need to ask a few questions. Is there someone in the family available?”
    “Are you the police?” he