Murmurs on the Mist, page 1
Murmurs on the Mist
Book 5 in The Cherry Blossom Bay Mystery Series
H. C. Cardona
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
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Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
I hadn't even started my first day as a record's clerk for the Cherry Blossom Bay Police Department and I already hated it.
I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, tugging at the collar of the light blue shirt. The fabric scratched my neck, and no amount of adjusting seemed to make it sit right. My usual sundresses were soft, flowing, giving me freedom. This uniform felt like a straitjacket, stiff and unforgiving.
The pants didn't help either. They clung awkwardly to my legs, reminding me of every movement I made. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to find some semblance of comfort, but it was useless. Even the color seemed off—too dark, too sterile—like it was designed to strip away any individuality.
And the shoes. I refused to even look at the ugly but functioning black shoes on my feet. The socks smothered my poor toes, hiding the cute pedicure I got yesterday, thinking I'd be able to show it off.
With a sigh, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Stray curls rebelled against the elastic band, framing my face in an unruly halo. The uniform demanded neatness and order; my hair had other ideas. I caught my reflection's eyes and saw frustration staring back at me.
“This isn’t you,” I muttered under my breath.
I turned away from the mirror and paced the small bathroom. The linoleum floor felt cold underfoot, grounding me in this new reality. The last few days had been a whirlwind—leaving behind my old life and stepping into this unfamiliar role. It was supposed to be a fresh start, but standing here now, wrapped in this confining fabric, I felt more out of place than ever.
I checked my phone again; the screen lighting up my hopeful face only to dim back down with no new messages. The notifications bar remained frustratingly empty. Kitsune's silence gnawed at me, each minute that passed without a word from him deepening the ache in my chest. He was always like that—reserved, keeping his thoughts close to his chest. But now, in my bathroom, his absence felt like a chasm.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, trying to focus on the task at hand. But my mind wandered, imagining his voice on the other end of the line, calling me back. Maybe he’d have some new mystery that needed unraveling or a case too delicate for anyone but us. The fantasy brought a fleeting smile to my lips, but reality crashed back down when the silence persisted. My heart hurt more than I cared to admit, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being adrift without his guidance, without our shared purpose anchoring me to something meaningful.
I grabbed my bag from the bathroom counter and slung it over my shoulder, feeling its familiar weight against my side.
I couldn’t wait around feeling sorry for myself. I stepped out of the bathroom and into the small living room of the cottage, my home for now. Agatha’s property sprawled out beyond the window, and I needed to clear my head before facing the day.
I grabbed my bag from the couch, its weight familiar and grounding. I stepped outside, closing the door gently behind me. The early morning air was crisp, carrying a hint of salt from the nearby ocean. The garden Agatha tended with such care was bathed in the soft light of dawn. Rows of roses, their petals still closed, lined the path leading to the main house. Their scent mingled with the salty breeze, creating a fragrance both delicate and robust.
I walked slowly, taking in the serenity of the garden. The dew on the grass soaked through my shoes, but I didn’t mind. It was a small discomfort compared to everything else. The leaves rustled softly in the gentle wind, whispering secrets I would never understand.
Agatha’s main house loomed ahead, a comforting sight. The whitewashed walls gleamed in the early light, and I could see smoke rising from the chimney—She must already be up, preparing for her day.
As I made my way down the path, I let my fingers trail over the rose bushes. Their thorns pricked my skin lightly, a reminder that beauty often came with its own set of challenges. The cobblestone path beneath my feet felt uneven but familiar. Each step brought me closer to the house and further away from my swirling thoughts.
The salt in the air grew stronger as I neared the main house, mingling with the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting from an open window. It was a scent that always reminded me of my aunt—strong and invigorating.
Reaching the back door, I paused for a moment, taking one last deep breath of the morning air before stepping inside. The day lay ahead of me like an uncharted map, filled with possibilities and uncertainties. But for now, there was comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone on this journey… even if it felt that way.
I stepped into the kitchen, the scent of coffee wrapping around me like a warm blanket. Agatha stood by the stove, her back turned, but the second she saw me, she burst into laughter. Her laughter was rich and hearty, filling the room with its sound.
"I don't remember the last time I saw you wear pants, kid," she said between chuckles.
I scowled but took the offered mug of coffee from her outstretched hand. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it."
She shook her head, still grinning. "I guess you better get used to it, what with fall being next month."
Agatha was a force of nature. She had the same commanding presence as any leader—strong-willed and fiercely independent. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, strands of silver glinting like threads of wisdom among gold. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent, always seeming to see right through any facade.
Despite her age, Agatha carried herself with the confidence and strength of someone half her years. Her skin had a healthy glow, though lines of experience traced paths across her face. She wore a simple outfit: dark slacks and a fitted blouse that highlighted her ample bosom. There was an aura of authority around her that made it clear why she was Cherry Blossom Bay's police chief.
I took a sip of the coffee, savoring its bitter warmth. "I don't know how you drink this stuff black," I muttered.
Agatha shrugged, pouring herself another cup. "You get used to it."
I settled onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, watching her move around with practiced ease. The kitchen was cozy yet functional—pots and pans hung neatly on hooks, jars of spices lined up like soldiers on a mission. It reflected her personality: organized and efficient.
She leaned against the counter, studying me with those piercing eyes. "You ready for your first day?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," I replied, taking another gulp of coffee for courage.
Her gaze softened slightly. "You'll do fine. Just remember why you're doing this."
I nodded but didn't trust myself to speak. The truth was, I wasn't sure why I was doing this—taking on a job that felt so foreign to me when my heart yearned for something else entirely.
But for now, sitting in Agatha's kitchen with a steaming mug in my hands, I felt a small measure of peace. Maybe that was enough to start with.
The clock on the wall ticked softly in the background, each second bringing me closer to whatever awaited outside.
My aunt placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me, the aroma filling the room and momentarily distracting me from my thoughts. I poked at the eggs with my fork, my appetite dulled by the knot in my stomach.
"You think Kitsune's okay?" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
I fiddled with my eggs, immediately regretting the question. It hung in the air between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
Hers eyes softened as she watched me. "Kitsune is fine," she said firmly. "He's a grown man, even if he is acting like a child."
Her tone had a hint of exasperation mixed with affection. She always had a soft spot for him, even when he drove her up the wall. I knew she understood him better than most.
"I do understand why he did what he did, Piper," she continued. "He's trying to protect you."
"No, he's not," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "He's trying to protect himself."
The room fell silent.
She looked at me, her expression unreadable. The ticking clock seemed louder in the stillness. "He lost a lot of people," she said after a while. "He doesn't want to lose you."
Her words cut deep, echoing my own fears. I swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in my throat.
"Maybe he already has," I pointed out, my voice steadier than I felt. "Especially if I'm not going to be part of his life anymore."
Agatha sighed and walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. Her touch was warm and grounding.
"Give it time," she said softly. "Sometimes people need space to figure things out."
I nodded, but doubt still gnawed at me. Time was something we seemed to have too much of lately, and yet not enough where it mattered.
I stared down at my plate again; the food growing colder by the minute. The day ahead felt daunting, but Agatha’s presence provided a small comfort.
"Finish your breakfast," she urged gently. "You’ll need your strength for today. Those records aren’t going to file themselves.”
And then she burst into more laughter.
I grabbed my fork again and took a bite, hoping it would settle the annoying amount of emotions I had bubbling inside of me. I picked at the eggs, my fork scraping against the plate. The food felt like lead in my stomach, but I forced myself to finish. The coffee remained mostly untouched; its bitter taste didn't mix well with my mood.
Agatha watched me with a frown on her face. She had already finished her breakfast and was now leaning against the counter, her arms crossed. "Come on, brat," she urged, glancing at the clock. "We don't have all day."
I swallowed the last bite and pushed the plate away, standing up to take it to the sink. The water ran cold over my hands as I scrubbed the dishes clean. Agatha's footsteps approached behind me.
"Go brush your teeth and meet me back here," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I don't want to have to write you up for being late on your first day."
I sighed, rinsing off the soap suds. "I'm carpooling with you," I reminded her.
She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No nepotism in my department," she said firmly. "I'm going to be harder on you than anyone else. If you don't want to be late, you better hurry."
I rolled my eyes but didn't argue. Instead, I finished washing up and headed toward the bathroom. The small space still smelled faintly of my morning routine—shampoo and soap mingling in the air.
I brushed my teeth quickly, the minty freshness doing little to chase away my lingering doubts. Staring into the mirror, I saw someone who was trying to fit into a mold that didn’t quite suit her.
With a final rinse, I headed back to the kitchen where Agatha waited, keys already in hand. She looked at me with a mixture of sternness and affection.
"Ready?" she asked.
"As I'll ever be," I replied, grabbing my bag from where I'd left it on a stool.
We stepped out into the crisp morning air together, each of us preparing for what lay ahead in our own way.
Chapter 2
As Agatha and I pulled into the police department's parking lot, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. The building loomed ahead, a squat, utilitarian structure made of gray concrete. It didn't have the charm of Cherry Blossom Bay's other buildings, but it radiated a sense of purpose and order.
We parked near the entrance, and I followed Agatha inside. The lobby was spacious, with tiled floors that echoed our footsteps. A few officers milled about, their eyes briefly glancing our way before returning to their tasks. Agatha greeted them with nods and brief words, her presence commanding respect.
"Come on," she said, leading me down a hallway. "Let's get you settled."
The corridors were lined with framed photographs and commendations. The smell of coffee and faint hints of disinfectant lingered in the air. We passed several offices and conference rooms until we reached a door marked Records Department.
Agatha pushed it open, revealing a room that felt almost like a vault. Rows of metal filing cabinets lined the walls, each labeled meticulously. A large desk sat in the center, cluttered with stacks of papers, manila folders, and an old computer monitor.
"No windows," I noted aloud.
"Records need to be secure," she explained. "Plus, it keeps distractions to a minimum."
Seemed more like a prison to me, but I knew better than to say that out loud.
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a sterile glow over everything. Despite the lack of natural light, the room felt surprisingly organized—each item seemed to have its place.
"This is where you'll be working," Agatha said, gesturing around the room. "You'll handle filing, data entry, and assisting with any records requests."
I nodded, taking it all in. The task ahead seemed straightforward enough but far from thrilling. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was an important step for me.
She led me to an office tucked in the corner by the Watch Commander's office. She knocked twice, then opened the door. Inside, a woman with sleek black hair, probably in her early thirties, looked up from her desk.
"Casie," Agatha said. "This is my niece, Piper."
"Piper," Casie said with a warm smile. "I've heard so much about you."
I returned her smile, feeling a bit more at ease. "Nice to meet you."
Agatha glanced at her watch. "I've got to get back to my duties," she said. "If you need anything, Casie will help you. I'll get you at three."
"Thanks," I replied.
She gave me one last look before heading back down the hallway. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone in the quiet room.
Casie stood up and walked around her desk, extending her hand. "Welcome to the team, Piper."
I shook her hand, grateful for the friendly reception. "Thanks. I appreciate it."
"Let's get you settled in," she said, motioning for me to follow her back into the Records Department. "It's not glamorous, but it's essential work."
I nodded as we re-entered the room filled with filing cabinets and paperwork. "I understand."
Casie pointed to a small desk near the wall opposite the door. "That's your station," she said. "You'll find everything you need there—pens, notepads, and access to our digital filing system."
I took a seat and glanced around at my new workspace. It was modest but functional.
"So," she continued, leaning against one of the filing cabinets, "Agatha mentioned you're good with computers?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I did a lot of data management in college."
"Great," she said. "That'll come in handy here." She handed me a stack of files. "Start with these. Enter them into the system and then file them alphabetically. I'm going to introduce you to Kylie Hawke. She'll train you on the systems, get you the codes and login information, whatever you need."
Casie waved at someone across the room, and a girl a little older than me, wearing the same uniform, headed over. She moved with a confident stride, her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she approached.
"Kylie," Casie said, "this is Piper, our record's clerk."
"Hey there," Kylie greeted me with a friendly smile. "Welcome aboard."
"Thanks," I replied, trying to match her enthusiasm.
"All right," Casie said, glancing between us. "I'll leave you two to it. Kylie will get you up to speed on everything."
Casie left the room, and Kylie turned her full attention to me. Up close, I noticed the faintest sprinkle of freckles across her nose and the easy confidence in her stance.
"Well," Kylie began, moving next to my chair, "let's get you started. First things first—do you know anything about OnBase or iLeads?"
I shook my head. "Not really. I'm familiar with data management software but not those specifically."
"No worries," she said. "OnBase is our document management system. We use it for storing digital files—things like case reports, witness statements, that kind of stuff. It's pretty straightforward once you get the hang of it."
She pulled up a chair next to mine and opened the program on my computer. "See this?" She pointed to a series of tabs on the screen. "These are different categories for files—cases, personnel records, general correspondence."
I nodded, trying to absorb the information.
"When you enter data into OnBase," she continued, "you'll select the appropriate category first." She clicked on 'Cases' and opened a new file form. "Then you'll fill in these fields—case number, date, involved parties. It's all pretty self-explanatory."
