The Windhaven Witches Omnibus Edition : Complete Paranormal Suspense Series, Books 1-4 Carissa Andrews (the beginning after the end read novel txt) 📖

follow after the sheriff to a small conference room down the hall. Sheriff Gordon steps inside, standing beside the door until we both walk in and take a seat at the small table. Without a word, he quietly clicks it shut and sits down opposite us.

Again, he flashes a grin and extends his hand to me. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Autumn Blackwood,” I say, shaking his hand.

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “Lyle’s girl. I thought you looked familiar. Been awhile. Are you back in town now?”

I narrow my gaze, trying to process. “I—yes, actually. I’m going to school at Windhaven Academy.”

His eyebrows rise into his hairline, but he nods absently. “Certain amount of sense to that.”

I press my lips together and tap the top of the table with my fingertips.

“So,” Sheriff Gordon says, turning back to Wade, “What can I do for you?”

Wade’s nostrils flare as he breathes in deeply. “I have a confession to make.”

The sheriff’s eyes widen, and his jaw hardens. He looks over his shoulder at the mirror behind him and pulls his chair in tighter to the table. “Before we go much further, do you mind if I record this?” he says, pulling out a small voice recorder from his breast pocket and placing it on the table between them.

Wade doesn’t say anything, but he shakes his head.

Sheriff Gordon tips his head. “All right, what kind of confession are we talking here?”

Clasping his hands together, Wade drops his gaze to his fingers. An awkward pause follows, and he licks his lower lip. “I know what happened at Mistwood Point Cemetery last week. I know I should have come forward sooner. It’s just—”

“Okay, hold up,” Sheriff Gordon says, holding a hand out. “Are you saying you were there?”

“Yeah, I was there,” Wade says, refusing to look my direction.

The desire to speak up and say I was, too, almost bowls me over. Wade must sense it, because he taps his foot against mine. Clamping my lips shut, I focus on watching the two men’s reactions.

“All right, go on,” the sheriff says.

“The cemetery director called and let me know my grandfather’s columbarium was fixed, so I went to have a look. I wanted to make sure things were restored to the way they were before,” Wade says, swallowing hard. “Especially since his ashes haven’t been…”

The sheriff holds very still, watching every movement Wade makes like he’s waiting for something that will tell him whether or not to pounce.

“When I was there,” Wade continues, his tongue skating across his lower lip as he shoots me a quick sideways glance, “I was attacked.”

This was clearly not the confession the sheriff was expecting, as his eyebrows arch high. “You were attacked? Why didn’t you report anything?”

Wade scratches at the back of his head. “I was afraid. I knew how things looked, and people at Windhaven Academy were already assuming I was involved with the desecration earlier because one of the graves that was vandalized was my grandfather’s. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself if I could help it.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrow, but he nods. “All right, continue. Who attacked you?”

Wade casts a super-fast glance in my direction and says, “The dead did.”

Sheriff Gordon’s green eyes flash. “Excuse me?”

“The graves that were robbed—I don’t think it’s a prank. I think someone is raising the dead,” Wade reiterates.

“Is that a thing now?” Sheriff Gordon says, scratching at his chin. “Zombies?”

“Revenants, actually,” I say, unable to help myself.

The sheriff’s gaze flits to me. “I’ve been around a long time and I’ve seen some weird things in this town thanks to the supers…but zombies? Now, that’s new.”

“Revenants,” I repeat.

“Right, revenants,” he nods. “Well, see, here’s the thing. We’ve had another five or so graves desecrated over the course of the past week. I haven’t checked in with the Mistwood PD, but I’ll wager they’d be real interested to hear your story, Mr. Hoffman.”

Relief flashes through Wade’s features and he leans back in his chair. “You—you believe me?”

Sheriff Gordon mimics Wade’s position, shifting back into his chair. “I’m not sure what in the hell I believe at the moment. But what I do know is this... We’ve had almost a dozen graves desecrated over the past few weeks and all of them are from folks who were recently deceased. It’s turning into a circus as we try to calm down their next of kin. To top it all off, I’ve had not one, but two accounts from citizens saying they’ve seen the dead wandering the streets. We’ve had to take two of them down because they were terrorizing anyone in their path. So, I’m a tad inclined to follow up on your story here. Especially since it would mean there could be more out there.”

Wade’s eyelashes flutter and his mouth drops open. “Others have seen them?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” he says, lowering his eyebrows.

“That’s actually kind of a relief. I was beginning to feel like they were being sent after me,” Wade says, dropping his gaze to the table.

“Now, why would you think that?” The sheriff asks, leaning in again.

Wade shakes his head. “No reason, I guess. It just sorta felt that way when it was my grandpa’s columbarium that was desecrated—and then to have the revenants come after me when I was out there.”

I bite my lip, settling my gaze on my hands. The fact that his dead grandpa is locked in the boathouse, when he should be nothing but ashes, hasn’t been mentioned.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say this isn’t about you, Mr. Hoffman. But I’d sure appreciate any insights you might have about this. Now, you said the dead attacked you. Do you remember anything specific about it? Or who they were?”

“There were two of them and they sorta just came out of nowhere,” Wade says, his gaze softening as he tries to remember. “I was just there and it was like they were drawn to me. I ran, trying to find someplace where I