Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books) by Brenda M. Collins Page A

to the back.
    Sheriff Morgan stood waiting for them at the vault door. Or at least where the vault door used to be. It had been blown off its hinges and outward into the counter area, sending pamphlets and forms flying. The sheriff reached out and clasped her hand. With a head nod, he sent the deputy to look after other duties.
    “Sorry to drag you in on this, Avy. I know you’ve been through so much already,” he said.
    “It’s okay, Sheriff.” The afterglow of Marcus's kiss still made her feel grounded. She stole a look back at Marcus. He was standing motionless behind her but his eyes were scanning every detail of the scene as if the robber might jump out and attack them at any moment. More like a bodyguard than a vet. Confident. Safe. She turned back to the sheriff and asked, “What does this have to do with Mom and Dad?”
    Sheriff Morgan looked surprised but then shrugged and motioned her into the vault. She followed and felt Marcus at her back. The odd smell was stronger in here. “Do you know what caused the explosion yet, Sheriff?” she asked, still thinking it might be dynamite.
    “Not yet,” he said. “But the strange thing is the apparent target.”
    He pushed back his Stetson and rubbed his forehead as he looked across at the row of security boxes.
    “Lots of people put stock certificates and other valuables in their security boxes, Sheriff. Robbers would know that.”
    “Yup,” he replied, looking back at her. “But why were they only interested in your parents’ box?”
    She felt her mouth drop open. When no words came to mind, she snapped it shut. Stepping closer, she could see that the sheriff was right. Despite the evidence of the blast around the door of the vault, the inside was relatively undisturbed. Scanning the rows of boxes, it was obvious that only one space was empty. The ones on either side of it showed scorch marks but were still closed. Only one security box had been taken by the robbers.
    She felt movement behind her and then Marcus was standing by her side making the bank vault feel small and cramped. His strong arm came around her waist.
    “Do you know what your parents kept in their box?” he asked gently.
    She searched her mind for the answer. It didn’t exactly surprise her that her parents had a safety deposit box. Most people had one, didn’t they? It wasn’t something she would have talked to them about specifically.
    “Ah, I guess their insurance papers.” With a stab to her heart, she added, “Maybe their will?”
    The sheriff’s eyes were deep wells of compassion. He nodded to Marcus as if tossing an invisible ball into his court.
    “Honey, think hard. Did they have anything special in it that you remember? Jewellery, maybe?”
    Something tugged on her memory. Some paper she’d seen recently. She concentrated trying to retrieve it. She didn’t want to think about yesterday. Or the day before. The harder she thought the more she wanted to cry. Couldn’t she break out of this cloud of sadness that had fallen around her? She was so tired of reeling from one shock to the next. Feeling overwhelmed with grief.
    There it was. The mental picture. She was in the living room the day before, sifting through the papers on the floor.
    She looked at Marcus, trying to draw in some of his strength. She was startled when the eyes looking down at her were the purple blue of an amethyst. As his gaze settled on her face, he blinked, and his irises flickered back to normal—or at least normal for him. She squeezed her eyes closed and then looked again. Warm hazel eyes looked back at her. Deciding it must have been sensory overload, she focused back on the paper she’d found.
    For his benefit, she explained, “The house was ransacked when my parents were murdered.” Then turning back to the sheriff, she said, “I came across a lot of papers when I was cleaning up yesterday. One of them was an insurance record for things in the house. But you know my parents didn’t have