Hidden Secrets: Blackmoore Sisters Cozy Mystery Series Book 9 Read online

  HIDDEN SECRETS

  BLACKMOORE SISTERS COZY MYSTERY SERIES BOOK 9

  LEIGHANN DOBBS

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Also by Leighann Dobbs

  A Note From The Author

  About the Author

  SUMMARY

  Morgan Blackmoore has a secret, and she’s desperate to hide it from her sisters. So when local paranormal healer Clementine Vega is murdered and Morgan is accused of the crime, she has to do something she’s never done before—lie to her family. But soon one lie turns into another, and she finds herself navigating a tangled web of deceit.

  * * *

  Now, with her sisters on the verge of war with paranormals, Morgan must uncover the killer’s mysterious motive before her sisters spark a paranormal war that they might not win, or worse, before they discover the shocking secret that Morgan has been hiding from them.

  CHAPTER ONE

  M organ Blackmoore had a secret, and she was terrified that her sisters might discover what it was. For the first time in her life, Morgan felt isolated, her dark thoughts eating away at her and driving her to retreat from the people who were closest to her.

  As she looked out the window of the old family cottage that she and her sister Fiona now used as their shop, Sticks and Stones, her thoughts were bleak like the early winter that had descended upon their seaside town of Noquitt, Maine.

  Normally being here at the cottage made Morgan happy but not today. Set off the beaten path, the cottage was nestled in a forest filled with old gnarled trees and wildlife. If she walked to the back edge of the property, she could see the Atlantic Ocean. The briny smell sometimes wafted into the cottage itself, and Morgan swore that she could occasionally hear the waves crashing amidst the creaking of the old pine floors and the sounds of the cottage settling.

  Inside, it was largely the way it had been when they were kids. Same lovingly worn floors, same beadboard walls, even much of the same furniture. They’d made a few changes to make it suitable for a shop. Morgan had set one side up to mix her herbs, Fiona the other to fashion her healing gemstone jewelry. A large counter made from old scarred wood ran along Morgan’s side of the shop with an old-fashioned cash register to ring up purchases.

  The holidays were fast approaching, so right now the place was decorated with lots of red bows, holly, and pine garlands, the fresh scent of which tickled Morgan’s nose and complemented the gentle fall of powdery snow that dusted the branches of the pines surrounding the cottage.

  Morgan turned away from the window and attempted to focus on her work. A new batch of herbs had just arrived, and she wanted to put them away in her antique apothecary chest for easy access. Currently, the bags and boxes were scattered across the big counter, where she usually mixed her poultices and ground her ingredients with the large stone mortar and pestle nearby.

  Across the room, Fiona tinkered away at her long worktable, using her jewelers’ tools to fashion moonstones into a new bracelet. Her long red curls hung down, pooling on the table as she bent over to work the jewels. Her sister’s incessant humming of Holiday tunes would normally be welcome in early December, but today it only put Morgan further on edge.

  With a sigh, she stuffed the new ingredients into the chest then got to work mixing a fresh batch of a general healing ointment. As she blended together aloe vera, peppermint, thyme, and rosemary, she did her best not to worry, all the while casting furtive glances at Fiona to try to deduce if her sister suspected her secret.

  Fiona was diligently working away, seemingly oblivious to Morgan’s inner turmoil, and Morgan relaxed a bit. Then she glanced at their cat, Belladonna, who sat atop an antique velvet chair as if it were her throne. Her snow-white fur reflected the scenery outside the window, and her ice-blue eyes—the same exact color that Morgan and her three sisters shared—gazed back at Morgan with a far-too-perceptive intelligence.

  From the narrowed feline stare, it almost felt like Belladonna knew Morgan’s inner thoughts. She frowned and pushed those thoughts aside, concentrating on her work instead.

  “So, what’s your take on Jolene and Mateo?” Fiona asked about their younger sister out of the blue, jarring Morgan from her anxious thoughts.

  “Uh, I think it’s good,” Morgan said, adding healthy helpings of chamomile, marigold, sage, and lavender to the mix. All the lovely smells wafted around her, soothing her frazzled nerves a bit. Having something else to think about besides her own problems helped too. What better topic to distract her than their love lives? All of the Blackmoore sisters had been lucky enough to find their mate. Morgan had Luke Hunter, Fiona had Jake Cooper, Celeste had Calvin Reed, and now Jolene had Mateo. “They’ve gotten a lot closer since the mission on Rune Island, and I for one think it’s great.”

  “Me too,” Fiona said. “Mateo’s a good guy. He’s saved our butts more than once.”

  “True. And he’s obviously smitten with Jolene.” Morgan ground the herbs to a fine powder then scooped in a dollop of cream to make it into an ointment. Mateo had been a bit of an enigma until just recently, seeing as how he’d just turned up randomly one day. They’d all been suspicious of him in the beginning, and rightly so. They’d been battling their archnemesis, Dr. Bly, at the time and had wondered if Mateo might’ve been one of his spies. He wasn’t, of course, but since then, he’d proven himself to be a good guy, if still a tad mysterious. He had a tendency to leave on missions without much explanation or warning. “Good thing she got over the whole business of owing him for saving her life in Salem.”

  “Yeah.” Fiona straightened and rolled her shoulders. She’d been bent over that worktable for at least an hour, peering through a magnifying glass as she carefully fitted each stone into its setting using a pair of tweezers. Morgan had no idea how her sister didn’t end up a hunchback sometimes, or cross-eyed. Give Morgan a handful of herbs any day over a crick in her neck and a migraine from squinting too much. “I can understand her not wanting to be beholden to the guy, but I’m glad she stopped avoiding him and finally let nature take its course.”

  “Hmm.” Morgan stirred the pulverized herbs and other ingredients together then scooped the mixture into a jar for safekeeping until it was needed. “She’s stubborn though. It won’t be easy for them. Jolene hates to admit her feelings.”

  “True. Maybe that’s a good thing though. I mean, I like Mateo and all, but I still don’t think they should rush into anything. She’s too young to settle down. Let them take it slow.” Fiona stood and stretched then walked over to her toolbox to search through the endless array of tiny screwdrivers and minuscule tools of her trade. They all looked the same to Morgan, but Fiona knew each and every one and was very particular about her tools. Which was fine, since Morgan felt the same way about her herbs. Her sisters sometimes teased her by saying she had “many flavors in her spice rack,” but all the different plants had their place and their purpose. They could save lives or take them, hurt or heal, bring joy or sorrow, all depending on how they were used. Morgan loved her herbs. Or at least she used to.

  She screwed the lid on tight to the new container of oint
ment then set it under her counter, joining the neat rows of other concoctions already there. With winter upon them, she’d stocked up on soothing creams for muscle strains and joint pain, knowing how the cold tended to aggravate people’s arthritis. “I’m just concerned that with Mateo disappearing all the time on missions, things between them won’t progress like they should. Developing a relationship means spending time together, learning about each other, sharing hopes and dreams for the future. His work makes that difficult.”

  Mateo Ortiz worked for the global paranormal tribunal, a group that investigated cases of otherworldly interference and abuses of power in the human world. That meant he was one of the good guys and that he was gone a lot. Jolene deserved a man who could put her first, be there when she needed him. Considering things that way, maybe Mateo wasn’t the best choice for her youngest sister’s mate after all. Then again, their tiny town of Noquitt, Maine, wasn’t exactly crawling with eligible single guys either. Especially ones who wouldn’t blink twice at a girl with some “extraordinary” abilities.

  As she took her hand away from the jar of ointment, Morgan waited for the telltale tiny flicker of magic that she always got from one of her mixtures, but it didn’t come. She frowned and turned away, her stomach knotting tighter.

  Morgan sighed as she tidied up her counter, double-checking all the tiny drawers in her cabinet to make sure her stock was in good order. She kept them all in alphabetical order for easy tracking. Acacia, Balm of Gilead, Boneset, Chickweed, Eucalyptus. She stopped to make a note to order more of that one. Lavender, Peppermint, Rose.

  The work calmed her and helped her refocus. She willed her thoughts back to Jolene and Mateo, but soon that turned into thoughts of their missions, which ratcheted up her anxiety again. The missions were the reason that Morgan was all worked up. The reason for her secret. Because on those missions, the sisters often had to use their paranormal gifts to fight enemy paranormals. Like the last mission to Rune Island. It had been successful but not because of Morgan. Because that was when she’d felt her powers starting to weaken. She’d been no help at all, but luckily her brand of intuition and herbal healing hadn’t been called on much and her sisters hadn’t noticed. At the time, she’d hoped it was just temporary, like a cold or the flu, and her powers would return. But that was months ago, and if anything, she felt even less powerful now.

  Please don’t let it be permanent. She closed her eyes and whispered the silent prayer to the heavens. Her sisters depended on her when they were called into danger to help the world of the paranormals.

  They worked as a four-person team, and her gift of intuition was critical in helping them anticipate the enemy’s next move. The last thing she wanted was to put them in any danger. And if her sisters found out, she was terrified they’d be disappointed in her. She was the oldest and should set an example, be a leader. Without her gifts, she couldn’t do either.

  Worse, she never wanted to be labeled the “useless one.” She still had a lot of years left. Thirty-five was hardly decrepit, but still. With a fourteen-year gap between her and Jolene, she sometimes felt more like a surrogate mother than a sister.

  Belladonna jumped down off the chair and wandered over to Morgan, twining about her ankles and sticking close to her side. The cat had been doing that a lot lately, which was strange, almost like she was trying to tell Morgan something or comfort her in her time of need. Like the feline knew there was something wrong with her, that something was happening inside Morgan, something bad. Or maybe Belladonna was scared Morgan would screw up and wanted to be there to pick up the slack. Whatever it was, she’d always secretly suspected there was more to Belladonna than just a normal house cat. It couldn’t be just coincidence that the cat shared the exact same eye color as the sisters, right?

  Morgan finished making her list of supplies for reorder then began straightening the display shelves in the store. With winter on their doorstep, they didn’t get as many patrons as they did in the busy summer tourist season, but still. People depended on her remedies for all sorts of things. She and Fiona had built a reputation in the natural healing community because their products were extremely powerful due to their unique gifts. Even people who didn’t believe in paranormal powers made special trips to their store. People came from far and wide to purchase her herbal wares because of their potency. Of course now that her gifts were gone, who knew how potent they’d be?

  As she fiddled with jars and polished the display cases where Fiona’s jewelry sparkled in the front windows, Morgan couldn’t help wishing she had someone to talk to about all this. But she couldn’t risk telling anyone. If word got back to her sisters, that would not be good. Sure, they would be kind and understanding, but Morgan wouldn’t be able to stand the looks of pity that would inevitably come.

  In her desperation to find out what was wrong, she’d even tried visiting the local paranormal healer, Clementine Vega, sneaking out of the shop the day before when Fiona had had a morning appointment.

  Morgan was just about to go in the back to get another couple of jars for new ointments for one of the displays when the front door of the shop opened, and in walked Sheriff Donna White. A tall, sturdy woman, she was scowling, as usual, from beneath the brim of her hat. At least she was marginally better than the last sheriff they’d had, though. Sheriff Overton had had a vendetta against the Blackmoore sisters for reasons unknown, but as far as Morgan knew, Donna White had no beef with them. Until today, apparently, if her dour expression was any indication.

  “What can we do for you today, Sheriff?” Fiona asked, looking up from her work.

  “I think you know,” Sheriff White said, tone as brisk as the freezing air outside.

  Fiona gave her a flat look, her tone snarky. “Sorry. Nope. How about an amulet? Or maybe some chamomile poultice to help loosen you up a bit? I think Morgan just got in some fresh St. John’s wort. Hear that’s great for fixing crappy attitudes.”

  Sheriff White glared at Fiona for a second before fixing her attention on Morgan. “I don’t want any of your questionable goods. I’m here to interview a person of interest.”

  “Person of interest?” Morgan scrunched her nose. “Interest in what?”

  Fiona frowned and walked over to stand beside her sister. “Yeah. In what?”

  Sheriff White gave them both a disparaging glance. “In the murder of Clementine Vega, that’s what. She was killed yesterday. I’ve got witnesses who say they saw Morgan’s beat-up old Toyota at the scene of the crime.”

  MORGAN’S CHEST SQUEEZED TIGHT, and she gripped the edge of the counter to keep from passing out. Clementine. The healer she’d gone to see the day before on the sly. Dead. Oh, that wasn’t good at all.

  “Wait a minute!” Fiona moved to stand between the sheriff and Morgan. “I’m sure my sister had nothing to do with that. Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened?”

  “And why doesn’t your sister tell me exactly what she was doing there?” Sheriff White countered.

  “She wasn’t there,” Fiona said before Morgan could answer. “She was here at the shop. All day. Working.” She turned and glanced over her shoulder at Morgan. “Right?”

  Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Morgan nodded. “Yes. I was here at the shop.”

  If she let slip that she’d closed the place and made an emergency visit to the healer, then she’d have to explain why, and she wasn’t ready to go there. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Besides, Sheriff White couldn’t be doing more than grasping at straws. When Morgan had left Clementine’s place yesterday, the woman had still been alive and fine.

  “That so?” Sheriff White asked, her tone skeptical. “Anyone around here who can vouch for your whereabouts? Customers perhaps?”

  “No.” Morgan’s shoulders slumped slightly. “It was slow yesterday. Only a few people came in after Fiona left. Not locals either. Tourists I think. I’d never seen them before.”

  Belladonna sniffed around the sheriff’s ankles, rubbing lightly against her,
leaving a trail of white hair stuck to the woman’s dark-brown uniform pants. If she hadn’t been so nervous, Morgan would’ve chuckled at her cat’s rudeness. Go Belladonna.

  “It doesn’t matter if no one can vouch for her being here at the shop,” Fiona said, continuing to defend her sister. “Morgan’s got no reason to kill Clementine. They barely know each other.”

  “People do all sorts of crazy things for all sorts of crazy reasons.” Sheriff White scowled down at the cat hair on the hem of her uniform pants. “Hey, cut that out. I just had these things dry cleaned.”

  Belladonna blinked up at the sheriff with innocent eyes, and Morgan could have sworn she saw a flicker of a smile tug at Sheriff White’s lips. Go figure, the sheriff was human after all, and she liked cats. Of course only the most hard of hearts could resist Belladonna’s cute face.

  But then the sheriff’s face hardened, and she glanced up, pinning Morgan in place with her gaze as Fiona scooped up Belladonna into her arms. “Are you accusing my sister of murder?”

  “Not yet.” Sheriff White gave a small, mirthless smile. “Like I said, she’s a person of interest.”

  “Just because someone said they saw a Toyota parked out in front of Clementine’s house?” Fiona snorted. “Plenty of people own old Toyotas these days.”

  “True.” The sheriff’s smile widened a bit. “But not many people have been accused of murder before, like Morgan here. Have they?”

  The vise grip on Morgan’s chest tightened even further. Yes, she had been, but those charges had been false. Drummed up by Sheriff Overton. The real killer had eventually been caught. Morgan had never killed anyone in her life—well, unless you counted those evil paranormals on their missions. But they deserved it.

  “That’s crazy! Sheriff Overton—” Fiona started before Sheriff White cut her off.